In a Bind

Dear Zoe,

It’s me—your twenty-two-year-old self writing to say that when you get this letter, I hope you have everything in our life figured out. I hope you’re married to a great guy and contemplating a family. I say this because I hope between now and then, you will have explored the world and yourself, and will be satisfied that your choices are good ones.

Dr. Alexander asked us to write down our sexual fantasies because she says that unless we know what turns us on physically, we can’t ask for it or expect it from our partners. And that we’ll never be truly fulfilled in a long-term relationship unless our partner knows and understands our innermost fantasies, no matter how outrageous they might be. She says that the strongest emotional connection comes from an intense physical connection, and a strong physical connection is the foundation for intimacy and fidelity. If someone is getting everything they need from one person, Dr. Alexander says, they’ll have no need to stray.

I like the sound of that because fidelity is very important to me. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want someone to be with me and not be completely happy…like my parents. Arguing is their only form of communication. I want to ask them sometimes why they stay together because they obviously don’t like each other. I hope they’re not together for my sake because they’re miserable, and I’m miserable when they fight.

Anyway, I haven’t had that much experience with sex. I’m not a virgin, but so far, to be honest, sex has been disappointing. Every time I’ve gone all the way with a guy, I hoped it was going to be the way I imagined sex would be—mind-blowing. Like a drug, something you can’t live without. But it never is.

Maybe it’s my fault. Because I’m outgoing and I speak my mind, I think guys assume that I want to take control. I’ve never told anyone that what I really want is to give up control. What I really want in my secret of secret places is to be tied to a bed…to be handcuffed…to be strapped down. And to be made love to six different ways.

Zoe looked up from the letter, her face heated. The words made her squirm in her seat—it must have taken a great effort for her to write them ten years ago. And if she remembered correctly, a great relief. With no small amount of trepidation, she continued reading.

It sounds dirty, which is why I’ve kept this to myself. I’m not looking for someone to mistreat me—I don’t want that kind of man in my life. But someday I hope I’ll meet the right guy to share my fantasy, someone I trust not to hurt me, someone who won’t judge me, who won’t think any less of me for wanting to explore the darker side of sex, the pleasure and the pain. Someone who knows when to stop, and when to push beyond. Someone who is also looking for that deep emotional and physical bond that Dr. Alexander described to us.

So, Zoe, wherever you are, I hope you found that guy. For both our sakes.

Zoe glanced up from the letter, her heart thudding. Her mind sifted through the internal revelations unveiled in what was supposed to be an innocent letter written by a naive college student. Instead it planted seeds of troubling thoughts. What if the naive letter writer had had more insight and wisdom than her grown-up self? She put her hand over her mouth, shaken by the prophetic words she’d written as a young woman.

“Are you okay?” the woman next to her asked kindly.

Zoe turned her head and registered that the woman was beautiful—short, spiky black hair with a pink streak and oddly colored eyes. Maybe violet? It was hard to tell in the low lighting. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I hope that isn’t bad news,” the woman said, nodding to the letter.

Zoe hastily refolded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. “No. Just a note from an old friend, that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Is it someone you miss?”

Zoe considered the question and her mind went back to the person she’d been in college…full of optimism and adventure, determined to meet the world and people in it on her own terms, determined not to settle for less than supreme happiness and a one-of-a-kind love.

“Yes, I do miss her,” she said wistfully.

“Then maybe you should plan a little reunion.” The woman winked and turned back to her book.

It was an interesting suggestion, Zoe conceded—getting in touch with the woman she’d been ten years ago. Curious, carefree and thrill-seeking. Traveling all over the world, fearlessly sampling different cultures. Then one day she’d looked around and all of her girlfriends had paired off with men they planned to marry. Zoe’s mother began to pressure her to settle down. Someone introduced her to Kevin, and they’d hit it off.

And somewhere along the way, she’d become a paler version of herself, like a favorite shirt that had been laundered too many times, but was still serviceable enough to wear to the grocery store.

Yet before she gave in to the panic tickling her stomach, Zoe stopped. Did she still feel the same way about sex and love? Did she still entertain the same fantasies?

Yes, she realized with a sinking heart. When Kevin made love to her, she closed her eyes and imagined all the things he wasn’t doing to her.

So had she made a good choice? Had she found the right man to marry?

She visualized telling Kevin that she wanted him to tie her to the bed or to lash her down with his leather belt. He would laugh at her. Kevin was a congenial fellow whose mind didn’t go to dark places, especially where sex was concerned. He’d been scandalized when she’d once suggested they rent an X-rated movie on pay-per-view. He was a meat-and-potatoes missionary man. And since all of his intimate parts had fit hers generally well, she’d decided that bondage fantasies were for women who wanted to remain single. Forgoing her darkest desires seemed a small price to pay for dependability and friendship.

Her hand tightened around the letter. Dependability? Friendship? It sounded as if she was talking about a dog, not the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. Kevin would be her last bed partner. Was theirs a one-of-a-kind love, or were they simply good together? Were both of them simply relieved that they didn’t argue like both sets of their parents? What they had was fine…

But was it enough to bind herself to him for the rest of her life?

And why was her mind suddenly filled with the image of a pair of hooded green eyes?

COLIN REACHED THE LAST PAGE of the annual report, then realized he couldn’t remember a word of what he’d just read. He pulled a hand down his face and reread two paragraphs before giving up and closing the report.

That woman—Zoe. Did she realize that she’d hit him like a ton of bricks?

Colin laughed to himself. His mother’s Americanisms had rubbed off on him. Virginia Cannon teased him no end when one of her phrases slipped out of his mouth. And she would be intrigued to know that an American woman had captured his attention—a Southern American woman, no less. Like his mother.

Maybe it was Zoe’s rich Southern accent that captivated him, because it reminded him of his mother’s lilting, loving voice. But he’d met countless southern women on his many trips to Atlanta and none of them had affected him this way. He prided himself on being in control of his body and his mind. So when a woman hijacked his focus with a prim uniform and a handful of conversation, it was unsettling. Especially since she, too, seemed to be resisting the unexpected attraction between them.

Colin turned in his seat, but the first-class cabin was still dark and he couldn’t see past the curtain leading to coach. She was back there somewhere, wedged into a small seat among grumpy salespeople and crying babies. Had she felt the electricity between them? Was she thinking about him, too? Wondering what might’ve happened if they’d met under different circumstances…what could still happen?

He’d never joined the mile-high club; in fact, he’d never even considered it. And he was pretty damned sure that a flight attendant could get fired for doing something as illicit as having sex in the loo. But he knew he couldn’t go another minute without finding out if she was as curious about this thing between them as he was.

Colin pushed to his feet, then turned and strode down the aisle, headed for the coach cabin. He could live with rejection—but not regret.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to find her in the semidark cabin and he had no idea what he was going to say. How did one proposition someone on an airplane? Blood rushed through his ears as he scanned the rows of passengers. His pulse jumped higher when he saw her, chewing on her thumbnail, seemingly lost in thought. He stopped, noting with frustration that she was sitting in the center of several packed rows. It would be hard to get her attention without disturbing others, without making a fool out of himself.

He stopped and reconsidered. This was madness, after all, feeling so physically drawn to this woman that he was pursuing her at ten thousand meters in the air.

But then Zoe looked up and saw him, sending lust ripping through his body like an arrow. Her expression went from surprised to questioning.

He straightened and jammed his hands on his hips. At a loss, he tried to communicate to her what he was thinking by holding her gaze. Her mouth parted, her eyes softened. When after almost a minute she didn’t look away, he took a deep breath, then nodded as imperceptibly as possible toward the bay of loos in the center of the plane. She understood because she pressed her lips together.

Colin turned and made his way to one of the cubicles, acknowledging wryly that his cock was as stiff as a lad’s. He sincerely hoped that the lovely Zoe decided to join him. One way or another he would have to find release, and he’d much prefer to do it with her than without her.

ZOE SAT STOCK-STILL, afraid to move. In the midst of her musings, Colin Cannon had appeared like a mirage and made it clear that he’d come looking for her. And now he was waiting for her to join him in the lavatory. Had she been sending him vibes? How else could he have known that she was sitting in the back thinking about him?

Because he’d been sitting in the front thinking about her.

On some level she wasn’t entirely surprised. From the moment he’d boarded the plane, something unexplainable had sprung up between them. Their mouths said polite things to each other, but their bodies had been having an entirely different conversation.

And now the moment of truth. Did she dare go to him? She twisted the engagement ring on her hand, trying to plant the image of Kevin in her mind. Fidelity was still very important to her.

On the other hand, they weren’t married yet…. She hadn’t taken any vows. Kevin never had to know. She could sample this bizarre, compulsive lust that she felt for the Aussie, and it would all be over by the time they landed.

Zoe glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed him singling her out. The black-haired woman next to her was absorbed in her book. Erica sat in the row behind her, fast asleep. The cabin was still dark, but everyone would be rousing soon as they flew into daylight. It was now or never.

As if she were watching someone else, Zoe picked up her flight bag that contained a change of clothes and headed toward the row of lavatories. Her limbs were almost weak with apprehension—or was it anticipation? She might regret this terribly.

Yet somehow, she didn’t think so.

3

ZOE STARED AT THE ROW of four lavatory doors, her heart in her throat. Which one was he in?

Two of them read Vacant, so she knocked lightly and tried those first, but they were both empty. She approached the first door that read Occupied, and after a bolstering breath, rapped lightly. The sign clicked to Vacant, meaning the door had been unlocked. Zoe swallowed hard and glanced all around to make sure no one saw her going inside. And she told herself that she could still change her mind.

But even through the door she could feel his pull on her and was almost powerless to resist him. She had to find out why this man could entice her into doing things that she wouldn’t have considered mere hours ago.

She twisted the handle, pushed open the door and slipped inside.

The space was generous by airplane facilities’ standards—it was twice as big as lavatories on domestic flights. But Colin Cannon’s big body took up most of it. He leaned against the side wall studying her with those incredible green eyes. Did he wonder what kind of a woman would do this?

A woman like her, she realized. She stood rigid, holding her bag with a white-knuckled grip as she waited for him to move, to talk, to breathe. The space felt insular with the hum of the plane vibrating all around them.

He straightened and reached past her to lock the door, then took the bag and set it on a shelf, out of the way.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said.

“Neither have I,” he said, then lifted his hand to her cheek. “You’re beautiful.” His voice had turned low and husky. “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

“I didn’t know, either,” she admitted. “I’m still not sure why I did.”

“Then we’re equally puzzled by one another.” He lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.

Zoe waited for the shock to her system, having another man’s mouth on hers, but the only shock she had was how good it felt, how sensual. He kissed her thoroughly, cupping her face with both hands and delving deep with his strong tongue. She heard a moaning sound and realized it was her. Her hands, too, seemed disembodied. They slid up his chest, across the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, unfastening any buttons they encountered.

He smoothed his hands down her back and pulled her pelvis against his. The burn of his erection through the thin fabric of their clothes flipped some kind of carnal switch in Zoe. Heat flooded her body, she became feverish. Her breasts ached for his touch, her sex throbbed. She wanted his body sliding against hers…inside her.

Her sweater and bra went first, then his tie and shirt, then her panty hose and panties, then his belt. She released his bulging sex and sucked in an appreciative breath at the size of him. When she clasped the length of him, his eyes closed and he groaned with pleasure. He fumbled in his back pocket for a wallet and pulled out a condom.

“It’s the only one I have,” he murmured. “Let’s make it last.”

Zoe rolled it on and felt her body readying itself for him…warming, opening, expanding. He kissed her again, hungrily, nipping and licking. When he caught one nipple between his teeth and clamped down, she let him know she enjoyed the flash of pleasure-pain by squeezing his cock. “Now,” she whispered.

He turned her around to face the mirror and kissed her neck while watching her reaction in the mirror. Then he removed the pins holding her hair and loosened it to lay in waves around her shoulders. “Look at you,” he said near her ear, then tugged the lobe with his teeth.

Zoe almost didn’t recognize herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth bruised and open. Her eyes were nearly closed. She looked wanton, sexy…and thoroughly aroused.

He cupped her heavy breasts, brown fingers against the pale globes, and twisted the tips until they were distended. Lust like she’d never experienced coursed through her body. She thought she might faint from wanting him. She undulated her hips against his erection, and wanted her skirt to be gone. But when she reached for her hem, he clasped her hands and held them over her head.

“Soon,” he murmured, “but not yet.”

Holding both her hands with one of his, he wrapped his silk tie around her wrists again and again, then fashioned a loose knot. She could’ve gotten away if she wanted to, she thought distantly, but she didn’t want to. As he held her hands against the coolness of the mirror, he worked magic on her body with the other hand, lifting her skirt and reaching around to stroke her slick folds and massage her clit. Zoe moaned and writhed against him, urging him with her body to take her. But he seemed determined to torture her with pleasure.

He worked her clit and kissed her neck, watching her all the while. His eyes, his hands, his body…God, she thought she might explode. A vibration deep in her womb was wending its way to the surface, but too slowly. She ground herself against his fingers to hasten the release and at last, a fierce orgasm claimed her. He kissed her, absorbing her cries.

Zoe was vaguely glad that one of them had the presence of mind to keep from drawing attention to their cubicle. She seemed unable to think at the moment, unable to do anything but feel…feel the numbing in her hands from the constriction of the tie, feel the edge of the sink as it cut into the front of her thighs, feel the pressure of his big body against hers. She knew the length of him would stretch her limits. She was weak with wanting him inside her.

And despite his promise to make her wait, she could tell by the clench of his hands and the set of his jaw that he, too, was nearing his breaking point. She spread her legs wider and thrust back against him, impaling herself on the head of his cock. A guttural noise escaped him, and on their next breath, he filled her completely.

Zoe’s knees buckled from the sensory overload, but she leaned into the mirror and concentrated on keeping her eyes open. She wanted to see his face while he made love to her.

He was a beautiful man. His arms were long and muscular, his chest broad and covered with light hair. His face was ruggedly handsome and surprisingly expressive. From the pleasure playing over his face, he was enjoying the sex at least half as much as she was. Pure feminine satisfaction flooded her body as she met his long strokes, contracting her internal muscles around him. Not being able to use her hands helped her focus on other parts of her body—her nipples seemed ultrasensitive, and in this position, he seemed to be hitting a sweet spot…

Zoe came again, this orgasm more sudden and more intense. He put his arm in front of her mouth and she bit down to smother her cries. He buried his face in her hair, then climaxed with a powerful contraction of his hips. His muffled groan reverberated in her ear. In that moment, she felt utterly sated.

He pulsed inside her for a long minute, allowing them both to recover. Then he gently unwound his tie from her wrists and helped to retrieve stray pieces of clothing. Zoe covered her breasts with her sweater and combed her hair back from her face with her hand. “I’d like to stay and freshen up.”

He nodded and shrugged into his dress shirt, buttoning it and tucking it in with practiced ease. “Sure thing. By the way, that was amazing,” he said matter-of-factly as he threaded his belt through the loops of his slacks.

She was staggered at how relaxed they both were, and conceded that not nearly enough oxygen had fully returned to her brain. The incident certainly qualified as mind-blowing.

He looped the wrinkled tie around his neck and fashioned a loose Windsor knot. “Can I see you again?”

Zoe blinked in surprise—she hadn’t seen that coming. She’d just assumed that he was a traveling businessman looking for a quickie. In fact, she hadn’t believed him when he’d said he’d never done this before. But no matter what his motivation or his circumstances, she couldn’t ignore her own. “No, that’s not possible. I’m—” she held up her left hand and her diamond engagement ring twinkled back “—I’m getting married in a month.”

“Ah, I see,” he said with a little smile that hinted of disappointment.

“I don’t regret what happened,” she said. “I wanted it, too. But I’m sure you understand why it has to end here.”

“I do,” he said, then winked. “I guess that’s the groom’s line, though, isn’t it?”

She winced, then nodded. Her mind flashed to the black velvet ring box in Colin’s jacket pocket, but she didn’t mention it—she wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.

“Too bad,” he said, washing his hands in the sink and taking a minute to splash water on his face. For some reason, watching him wash up somehow seemed more intimate than what they had just shared. “It would’ve been a good time,” he said, tossing the paper towels in the trash. He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, his green eyes lit with renewed cheer. “Good luck, Zoe.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling awkward for the first time since their encounter.

He started to say something, then changed his mind. His white upper teeth sank into his lower lip. “He’s a lucky bloke,” he said finally, then left and closed the door behind him.

Zoe locked the door, then leaned into the sink to face herself in the mirror. She looked as if she’d been ridden hard…and had enjoyed it. Shame mixed with remorse started a slow drip as Kevin, whose face she could barely visualize before, now seemed branded on her mind. He would feel so betrayed if he knew what she’d done…and how good it had felt.

So she would never tell him. She’d had her little fling with a man who made her knees weak and had even gotten a taste of light bondage. It was over…done. Now she could move forward with the life she and Kevin had planned together and wouldn’t have to wonder what she’d missed out on.

Can I see you again?

Moving quickly lest someone became suspicious of how long the bathroom had been occupied, she ran water in the sink and freshened up, then changed out of her uniform and into clothes that would travel well to the resort where she was staying in Sydney. Finally she rewound her hair into a thick knot at the nape of her neck.

Can I see you again?

When she emerged from the lavatory, passengers were beginning to rouse from their sleep. Light seeped into the cabin from windows that had been raised a few inches. She felt self-conscious as she made her way back to her seat, but no one seemed to know that she’d just had slam sex in the bathroom with a stranger.

Can I see you again?

Erica was awake and frowned at Zoe’s new outfit. They rarely changed clothes before leaving the plane. Zoe gave Erica a little wave that she hoped came off as casual before reclaiming her seat. But once she was settled, her gaze kept straying to the curtain that divided coach from first class.

Can I see you again?

“It wouldn’t work,” she murmured.

“Did you say something?” the funky black-haired woman sitting next to her asked.

Zoe turned. The woman’s eyes were indeed violet. How strange. Perhaps they were contact lenses. “No. I…was talking to myself.”

“Helpful habit,” the woman said with a smile. “It’s amazing what you can talk yourself into.”

“Or out of,” Zoe added ruefully.

“Careful with that one,” the woman said. “There are always plenty of people around who are more than happy to talk you out of doing things. Don’t jump on the bandwagon.”

Zoe smiled. “I’m Zoe. Is this your first trip to Australia?”

“I’m Lillian, and yes, it is. I can’t wait to experience everything. You’ve probably been here dozens of times.”

“Several,” Zoe admitted. “This is my last trip, though. I’m transferring to a domestic route so that I can be home more. I’m getting married soon.”

“Oh, how lovely.”

“Yes,” Zoe said, hoping she sounded more excited to the woman than she sounded to herself.

“So this is your last hurrah as a single woman?” her companion teased.

“Something like that,” Zoe admitted.

“And afterward, maybe you can have that reunion with your old friend who wrote the letter.”

Zoe nodded and smiled politely, but she knew that married Zoe would have to say goodbye forever to the Zoe who had written about her fantasies. Still, the letter had been the catalyst to indulging in the tryst in the lavatory. She had good memories to take home, something exciting to think about when she closed her eyes…

She did manage to doze off for a little while, and then they were landing.

“Why did you change clothes?” Erica asked when they met at the gate inside the terminal.