Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

She’d almost convinced herself of it; then she saw him there. That look, the way he called her to him, those firm lips mouthing the command, and her mind went AWOL.

She didn’t know if she walked or ran. She just knew within three seconds she was pressed up against him, on her toes to reach that mouth. This is crazy, this is crazy, this iscrazy. But God, so wonderful. He cinched his arm around her waist and hauled her up so she could lock her arms around his neck, drink deep, pull him inside her one more time.

Leaning back against the column to give them both an anchor, he cupped her head, taking control of the kiss. All that tall, hard body, so broad and strong, and now she could grip his biceps, run her fingernails over the Don’t Tread on Me tattoo, scrape his skin. He growled in her mouth but she couldn’t resist trailing her fingers through the short hair at his nape as well, letting her hand slide down along his jaw. He made that kiss last a good long time, so long that it was she who had to break it, reluctantly. When he at last let her down to her feet, he kept his hands at her waist, thrilling her with the possessive grip.

“I’m already late for check-in,” she said, cursing the fact she was late. “I can’t miss this one. I’m due back at the base.”

“I know.” His mouth became a determined line. “Dana, I expect to see you again.”

From the flicker in his gaze, she wondered if he’d intended to use more charm, though the raw honesty hit her low and hard. She knew so little of him. Maybe his cock was just tied up with his head. Maybe her mind was no better, spinning with hormones. She couldn’t make this leap right now. She couldn’t. She wasn’t ready.

But the feelings swelling up now at the look in his gray eyes, the feel of his hands on her body, had her rattled down to her toes. She’d been blown away last night. Didn’t matter if it was hormones or not—she couldn’t deny that she’d never reacted to a man like this, not in her whole life. She’d fantasized about a Master like him, right? So how much could she risk of herself to see if he was the real deal? How far would he go to prove it?

“Okay,” she said softly. “Then write to me. Not e-mail. Letters.” Old-fashioned love letters, like the ones Gram had gotten from Grandpa when he was in Vietnam. She’d requested those letters be buried with her.

He studied her, his expression intent, fathomless. “You going to give me an address?”

“You knew to find me here. I expect you can find that easily enough.”

“You’re not going to write me back, are you?” At her quick negative shake, his gaze darkened, that chin getting an obstinate look she knew she’d be powerless to resist.

“I’ll look forward to every one you send me. If it’s meant to be, I’ll see you again.

Please,” she added desperately as he slid his touch up her waist, his thumbs pressing into her rib cage beneath her breasts. “It’s too much, too soon. I . . . can’t handle it any other way.” Please, please write to me.

Leaning down, he brushed her nose with his lips, gave her a close-up of those intense eyes once more. “A test. You want me to prove something to you, protect yourself, okay.

I’ll let you have your way this once, because I don’t want you rattled where you’re going.

But in a year or so, when they let you come home again, you’d better be ready for me, little girl. We’re not done. Not by a long shot. And you won’t be calling the shots then.”

Dana ran her knuckles down his jaw, loving his words, loving that he thought of her safety at the same time he wouldn’t let her think she’d gotten away with anything.

“Thanks, Captain,” she whispered.

So many things she wanted came bubbling up, closing her throat. Maybe if she had enough faith, she would give him everything about her, inside and out. Despite the family she no longer had, she wanted to believe the crazy idea that this virtual stranger could be her new family. She wanted someone in the world to know her down to the deepest level of her soul, be connected to her in a way that even death couldn’t take. She wanted him to be that someone.

God. Which was exactly why it was best to do it this way. If he was the real deal, blurting all that out right now would surely send him into full retreat, back out to the overpriced parking. Right? When he put his hand to her face, that thought vanished. Turning her cheek into that tender gesture, she leaned into his hand, letting him hold her that way, hoping she was conveying . . . something to him. Something that would make it worth it to him to keep writing, even when she wouldn’t let herself write back, the most unfair test possible.

“I hate this.” His jaw flexed. “I want to keep you safe.”

Giving him a smile, she picked up his other hand, opened it. She bent his middle and index fingers inward, leaving the other fingers straight. Tapping those two fingers on her chest, she curled her hand over his. Her fist barely covered his, but she squeezed him hard nevertheless.

“That’s sign language for heart. You’ll hold my heart safe until I see you again.” She swallowed, whispered the next word. “Master.”

His eyes became molten at the title, spoken outside the restrictions of the club, making her glad she’d dared that much. Rising on her toes, she pressed her cheek to his strong jaw, closed her eyes and let herself be totally vulnerable this blink in time, holding their locked hands between them. “Keep your ass down, too. I haven’t