Dangerously Bound Read online

  “In Dangerously Bound, Eden Bradley has created a delicious tale of second chances and dark yearning, of people exploring love’s shadowed edges. Mick is a hero to inspire wicked dreams, while Allie is a strong woman who is not afraid to admit to a fascination for dominance and submission. I enjoyed every luscious word!”

  —Angela Knight, New York Times bestselling author

  PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF EDEN BRADLEY

  “Intelligent, haunting and sexy as hell . . . for you people who like story and heart with your erotica, I’d definitely recommend any of Eden’s books.”

  —Maya Banks, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “Honest, tender and totally sexy—a feast for the senses and the heart.”

  —Shayla Black, USA Today bestselling author

  “Brilliant, seductive and dangerous. All of my favorite things.”

  —R. G. Alexander, author of Tempt Me

  “A hot and steamy ride to the climactic end . . . This story will steam up your glasses.”

  —Library Journal

  “An exciting, erotic page-turner that does not disappoint . . . Ms. Bradley’s wonderful storytelling ability and knack for description transport you right into the story and hold you there until the very last page.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “Graphic, loving and incredibly well written, the sex scenes ratchet up the drama with unbelievable intensity . . . Sexual desire intertwines with emotional intensity, resulting in a book you won’t want to put down.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “Bradley delivers the goods. There is intense intimacy and heart-wrenching emotions . . . This is delicious and delightful from the first page until the conclusion.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Eden Bradley is an incredible author who writes scorching-hot love scenes with characters who are very memorable and so very well written.”

  —Fallen Angel Reviews

  “Eden Bradley knows how to heat up the pages in a hurry. She creates sexual tension and love scenes that will get your heart racing. But she also creates characters that are realistic and fun to read.”

  —Fiction Vixen

  “Eden Bradley has a knack for penning extraordinary erotic romances.”

  —Wild on Books

  “Dark and seductive; it left me breathless and eager for more. I loved it!”

  —My Secret Romance Book Reviews

  “Highly erotic and sensual.”

  —Under the Covers

  Titles by Eden Bradley

  DANGEROUSLY BOUND

  Writing as Eve Berlin

  PLEASURE’S EDGE

  DESIRE’S EDGE

  TEMPTATION’S EDGE

  Anthologies

  EXCLUSIVE

  (with Jaci Burton and Lisa Renee Jones)

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

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  A Penguin Random House Company

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  Copyright © 2014 by Eden Bradley.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

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  eBook ISBN: 978-0-425-26962-6

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bradley, Eden.

  Dangerously Bound / Eden Bradley.

  pages cm. — (A dangerous romance ; 1)

  ISBN 978-0-425-26962-6 (paperback)

  1. Sadomasochism—Fiction. 2. Bondage (Sexual behavior)—Fiction. 3. Erotic fiction. I. Title.

  PS3602.R34266D34 2014

  813'.6—dc23 2013051060

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley trade paperback edition / April 2014

  Cover photo of Rope by Phil Cawley/Alamy; Wrought Iron by Purestock/Getty.

  Cover design by Judith Lagerman.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Version_1

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Dawn, for being the most amazing beta reader ever, and brainstorming this story with me!

  To Sidney Bristol, for cheerfully getting down on the floor to demonstrate the viability of a certain hog-tie. The first dungeon scene in this book only happened the way it did because you were such a willing coconspirator!

  And always, to R. G. Alexander, for being my unending support; for being the person I can take any crazy idea to and talk it out as many times as I need to; for helping me to build depth into my characters and cleverness into my dialogue—but most of all, for being my friend.

  A note to those of you who know rope: Thank you to the many people who have been directly or indirectly involved in my research, through hands-on experience as well as observation. My intention here was to present rope bondage in a way readers who may never have seen it could understand, so I have left out the more technical terms for the beautiful knots, materials and suspensions.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  CHAPTER

  One

  THERE WAS SOMETHING about New Orleans—something about the air itself—a certain sultriness found nowhere else, that silky touch of humidity on skin, like fingertips dragged slowly over your flesh. Or maybe it was only that this was Mick’s town. Every side street and café thick with memories of him, each corner she turned leaving her breathless with the possibility of running into him, seeing him again.

  She couldn’t come back without thinking of him. Without the hard yearning that had never gone away, running like honey in her veins.

  Mick . . .

  Damn it.

  But it was her town, too—her hometown. Allie had been gone for the better part of the last twelve years, away at college in San Francisco, then at culinary school in Europe, then back to San Francisco to practice her pastry arts. She’d returned to New Orleans on occasion to visit family and friends, but Mick had always managed to avoid her. Except for that one summer when she
was twenty years old. The summer Mick had finally—finally!—come to his senses and had her.

  One night. One night that had left her shattered. And more unable to forget him than ever.

  She stepped off the running board of the trolley car that ran the length of Chartres Street and moved toward the small French café that was her destination. Patrons sat at white-clothed tables in front of the old brick structure. Like so many in New Orleans it was a little decayed by the tropical moisture, the bricks literally crumbling at the corners. Yet it was covered in the yellow and pink lantana that lent a spicy perfume to the air all over the old city.

  She paused, catching her reflection in a shop window, and ran a hand through her long, dark hair.

  He’d always loved her hair.

  She could see his face in her mind, the face she’d known since those very first moments when her body had awakened to desire and come to know what it was to be female.

  He had hard features, but he was beautiful in the most masculine way. So tall, towering over her. She loved that about him—that he could intimidate with his height, with that well-earned air of bad boy. She loved the way his black hair fell into his face. And those soft gray eyes that always melted her . . .

  A woman bumped into her, apologizing, and the noise of the passing cars and the crowds on the sidewalk came to her as she shook her head, shook herself out of the memories that tried to come flooding back. If she was going to be in New Orleans, live here again, she’d better get a hold of herself. It wasn’t as if she’d come back specifically for Mick, although he was definitely on her radar.

  Which was why she was meeting Jamie for lunch today, only a few days after she’d returned to the city. He was one of her oldest friends—and Mick’s best friend. Not that she didn’t want to see Jamie—she did, of course. She’d missed him. But the struggle she fought against every day, between the part of her that wanted to forget Mick and the part that yearned to know every detail of his life, was impossible in New Orleans. Their town, where everything had happened. She couldn’t resist asking Jamie about him. And if Mick was still available—and since her best friend was married to Mick’s brother she had some insider information that told her he was—well, she had a plan. Jamie was the one person who could help her execute it.

  Feeling like she was involved in some espionage plot, and a little silly, as well, she settled her purse on her shoulder and squeezed between the outdoor tables and into the cozy bistro where they were having lunch.

  She spotted Jamie at a table by the window, all six feet of his long legs sprawled out in front of him, but he rose as soon as he saw her, a wide grin on his gorgeous face.

  “Allie.”

  He pulled her into a long hug, and she stood on her toes to wrap her arms around him. It felt lovely, familiar, and she realized with a sudden pang how much she’d missed New Orleans and all the people in it. But she was done missing everyone. She may have let Mick Reid chase her away all those years ago, but she was back. And she was determined that everything would be different this time.

  Pulling back, she took a good look at Jamie. “You’ve shaved your hair almost completely off!” She ran a hand over the brown buzz cut. “Ooh—it’s soft. And it suits you. I like the eyebrow piercing, too.”

  He laughed and pulled out a chair for her, held it while she settled into it before seating himself across the small table from her. “I’m glad you approve. You can give me all the style advice you want. I’m just glad you’re back.”

  “I am, too. It’s so good to see you. What have you been up to?”

  “The usual. Working on cars. Trying to stay out of trouble.”

  “How’s the shop doing?” she asked. Jamie’s business was restoring vintage muscle cars, work he’d loved since high school.

  “It’s doing great. We’re finally recovering, along with the rest of the city. Business is good. In fact, my cousin Duff is coming in from Scotland in a few months. We’ll be expanding the shop to include his specialty—he restores vintage motorcycles. We just gutted the space next door and are about to start the build-out. What about you? Are you settling into the house?”

  “The house” was a small cottage in the Garden District left to her by her great-aunt Joséphine, her father’s aunt—the reason she’d initially decided to return to the city and make it her home once more.

  “The house is a bit of a mess, actually. The kitchen needs to be completely redone, and it needs to be painted—a few other things. I wanted to ask if your brother Allister is available to take on the job.”

  “Of course. He runs several crews these days. I’ll talk to him, have him give you a call.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled at him over her menu.

  The waitress brought water to the table, and they ordered.

  “So . . .” Allie started, wanting and not wanting to ask about Mick.

  Jamie raised an eyebrow. “So?”

  “So . . . I ran into Summer yesterday.”

  “Summer Grace?”

  “Yes. It was nice to see her. We ended up sitting down and talking over coffee. You know she still has the hots for you.”

  He groaned. “Jesus, do people still say ‘has the hots’?”

  Allie couldn’t help but grin at his discomfort. Summer Grace Rae—Brandon’s sister—had been after Jamie since they were all kids. “She’s a total sex kitten, that girl. You could do worse.”

  “Worse than hitting on my best friend’s little sister? The one who he asked me on his deathbed to look after?”

  “That could be one way of doing it,” she teased.

  He blew out a breath, his hand rubbing the stubble on his head. “Why do I have the feeling you’re using this to avoid the conversation you came here to have with me?”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yes,” he answered simply.

  She bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the white cotton napkin she held. What the hell—she was going to ask sooner or later.

  “Okay. So, I was wondering . . . How’s Mick? Is he in town?”

  “Mick’s fine. And yeah, he’s here in town. What’s the rest of the question?”

  Allie tried to laugh, but it came out short and sharp. “You know me too well.”

  “I know you both too well.”

  “Just tell me, Jamie. What’s going on with him? Is he . . . is he single? And God, did I really just ask you that?”

  Jamie laughed. “You did, sweetheart. And it’s Mick. Of course he’s still single.”

  Allie folded her napkin, laid it carefully across her lap, avoiding her friend’s gaze.

  “Is he still playing at the club? The Bastille?”

  “We both are.” He narrowed his gaze at her. “What do you know about The Bastille?”

  She looked up then, met his gaze. “Everything. I know about your kink, about Mick’s. Maybe it’s time we talked about mine.”

  He raised his brows. “Yours? Your kink? What are you saying, Allie?”

  She took a deep breath. “I should have told you sooner. I don’t know why I didn’t, especially since I’ve always known you would never judge me.” She paused. “I learned a lot while I was away. In Berlin. Amsterdam. I went to my first club when I went to culinary school in Paris. It was . . . eye-opening. Life changing, really. I belong to two of the top clubs in San Francisco—I’m sure you know their names. Sanctuary. The Ring. Everywhere I went to learn pastry, I went to the clubs. I’ve probably had as much experience with kink as you. Maybe more.”

  “More, huh?” He nodded thoughtfully, and she could see he was trying to absorb everything she’d just revealed to him. “I do know of those places in San Francisco. Good clubs. Solid reputations.”

  “I joined The Bastille a few months ago when I knew I was coming back here. I’ve seen your online p
rofile. And Mick’s. You’ve admitted to some of this stuff over the years so it was no surprise. And Mick . . . well, I’ve known about him for a long time. And I understand that’s why he never thought he could be with me.”

  “You know that’s only part of it, Allie. You know Mick. All that lone-wolf bullshit.”

  She caught his gaze. “Exactly. It’s bullshit.”

  Jamie let out a long breath. “I imagine you’ll be coming to The Bastille, then, now that you’re living here. That could be . . . awkward, where Mick is concerned.”

  “Are you saying you don’t think I should come?”

  He held up his hands. “Of course not. You know me well enough to know I’d never say that.”

  “I do know. And I get it. I’d really rather it weren’t awkward.” She leaned across the table, grabbed one of his hands. “Jamie, will you help me?”

  “Help you? With what?”

  “With Mick. With this whole . . . situation. It’s more than awkward. It could be untenable. I’ve been thinking about this, and I only see one solution. I want you to help me see him. Not just see him. I want you to negotiate a scene at the club—one between Mick and me.”

  “Allie, you’re crazy if you think he’ll agree to that. You know how he feels. He still sees you as you were at sixteen.”

  “What if I told him—if you helped me tell him—about where I’ve been, the things I’ve done? That I’m an experienced bottom.”

  “He’d always doubt it. He’d doubt himself.”

  She sighed. “Why? I don’t get it. I’m almost thirty years old. This is ridiculous. Are you saying you think he doesn’t want me?”

  “We all know damn well he does. Always has. Always will. That’s the problem. You’re the one he wants. The one he can’t allow himself to have.”

  “Jamie, please. I need you to do this for me.” She knew he was her only chance. “Mick will refuse to see me if I just ask him myself, won’t he?”

  “Jesus, Allie,” he groaned, pulling his hand back.

  “Don’t let me leave here today not knowing how things are going to be when I walk into that club and see him there. This is the only way. You have to get him to sit down with me and talk this out. All you have to do is set it up.”