In Bounds Read online

  In Bounds

  A Bound Book

  Bronwyn Green

  In Bounds

  Copyright © 2016, Bronwyn Green

  Edited by Jessica Bimberg and Kris Norris

  Cover Art by Kris Norris

  Published by Bronwyn Green

  Released November 2016

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author, Bronwyn Green.

  Table of Contents

  The Bound Series by Bronwyn Green & Jessica Jarman

  Dedication

  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 Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Bound: Safeword Protected

  Excerpt from Bound: Drawn That Way

  Excerpt from Bound: London Bound

  Excerpt from Bound: The Professor’s Student

  About the Author

  What’s hotter than sexy accents, BDSM, and a bit of rope?

  Not much.

  Enjoy the Bound series by Bronwyn Green & Jessica Jarman

  London Bound by Jessica Jarman

  Drawn that Way by Bronwyn Green

  The Professor’s Student by Bronwyn Green

  Nothing Serious by Jessica Jarman

  Out of Sync by Bronwyn Green

  COMING SOON

  Caught by Bronwyn Green

  Safeword Protected by Jessica Jarman

  Holiday Bound, a Bound short by Jessica Jarman

  Drawn Out, a Bound short by Bronwyn Green

  Dedication

  To Terri DeMoranville Clondas – Thank you so much for all of your unflagging support, but more than that, thank you for being such a kind and positive light in the world. This one’s for you!

  Thank you to Jess Jarman, Kris Norris, Torrance Sené, Jenna Barton, and Elena Johansen for your enthusiasm for Will and Ivy’s story. And Jess, Kris and Torrance for your keen eyes. Thank you Kayleigh Jones and Charlotte Stein for patiently answering my sportsball questions. All mistakes are my own.

  Chapter One

  “I don’t want to do my lessons.” The petulant child crossed her arms over chest and glared balefully at Ivy Wright. “I want to play footie with Uncle Wills.”

  Ivy stared down at eight-year-old, Phoebe, her best friend’s daughter and one of her two pupils for the summer holiday. Well—her summer holiday, anyway. The children were currently attending classes, and she was tutoring them in their off hours. “I understand that, but we all have to do things in life that we don’t particularly care for.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? “Right now, you need to do your reading assignment. You can play soc—footie,” she corrected herself when Phoebe sighed dramatically, “with your uncle afterward.”

  The uncle, in question, was slowly jogging down the hill toward them from the huge manor house. Jogging slowly, she assumed because his knee was in a brace. Ivy forced her features into a semblance of pure, professional detachment as the man drew closer. She hadn’t seen him since Caleb and Charlotte’s wedding reception, and she prayed to the deity of drunken hook-ups that Phoebe’s uncle didn’t remember her. It had been twelve years and zero contact. Chances were good that she might look vaguely familiar to him, but he’d never make the connection. At least, that was her fervent hope.

  “It’s not fair,” Phoebe whined, stomping her foot.

  “Few things are,” Ivy murmured. “Let’s get this over with, and you can run and sweat to your heart’s content.”

  And Ivy could go back to the guesthouse she was occupying for the foreseeable future, crack open a book and a bottle of wine and think of a good excuse not to go to the main house for supper. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have a meal with her friends and their children. However, she’d prefer to avoid as much contact with Charlotte’s brother, Will, as possible. The last thing Ivy needed to top off this shit sundae of a year was for him to remember her and that they’d had ridiculously tanked sex in a closet at his sister’s wedding. Well, she’d been drunk off her ass, anyway. She wasn’t sure about Will. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if he’d even been old enough to drink at the time.

  A little hand tugged on Ivy’s, and she smiled down at Kit, Phoebe’s younger brother.

  “Can I take this back to the house to finish reading it?” he asked.

  She glanced at the dinosaur book he held. “Sure, honey. Go ahead.”

  “Hey, Kit,” Will called to the little boy as he drew closer. “You want to kick the ball around while your sister does her lesson?”

  Ivy tried to ignore the way the low timbre of Will’s voice combined with his English accent sent flutters of awareness trembling through her stomach. She couldn’t remember if his voice had been that deep before, but the accent was the same. And there was something stupidly arousing about it.

  She needed to shove that thought away immediately. There was nothing arousing about Will Darby. Nothing at all. Not his soccer—she corrected herself—football-chiseled body. Not the myriad tattoos curling down his arms and legs. Not the honey-streaked, too-long, brown hair pulled up in some kind of ridiculous man bun. Not the brilliant green eyes that currently watched her from beneath dark eyelashes or the short, trimmed beard that covered his beautifully sculpted face. And certainly not the large broad hand he currently extended toward her.

  “You’re Charlotte’s friend, from the States,” he said with a devastating smile. “I’m Charlotte’s brother, Will.”

  She reached out and shook his hand—his big warm hand. The hand he’d clamped over her mouth as she’d orgasmed, muffling her scream in a broom closet at the wedding reception.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, forcing a smile and hoping he didn’t notice that she hadn’t offered her name. He didn’t look as if he recognized her, but the oddball name, Ivy, might be enough to ring a bell. Or maybe not. The man played professional football. He’d probably had enough concussions to knock any memory of her right out of his head. Was it wrong to hope that he’d suffered enough head injuries that was the case?

  “You’re tutoring the kids, yeah?”

  Ivy nodded, pulling from Will’s grasp. “Charlotte thought it would be a good idea for them to get a bit ahead since they’ll be missing quite a few weeks of classes while they visit Caleb’s family in Michigan.”

  “You won’t be going with them to continue their schooling?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m just here for the summer. I’ll be starting a new job in the fall.”

  He
stared at her as if he were about to say something else.

  She quickly glanced down at Kit whose attention was utterly consumed by velociraptors. “Kit, your uncle wanted to know if you wanted to play soc—football with him.”

  “No, thank you,” he said absently, his eyes glued to the page.

  Will studied the boy with an indulgent smile, then glanced up at Ivy. “He loves to read.”

  She smiled. “He really does. Math, on the other hand...”

  “Numbers don’t make sense,” Kit said, never looking up from his book. “Words do.”

  Will shook his head, then ruffled his nephew’s hair. “Maths never made much sense to me, either, poppet.”

  Ivy tried not to let her ovaries explode at the sweet endearment and Will’s obvious affection for the little boy. She was far too susceptible to finding herself attracted to men who were good with children. In fact, that trait was what had drawn her to her last shitty relationship.

  “I want to play,” Phoebe said, dribbling the ball in circles around them.

  Ivy turned to the child, glad to have a viable distraction from her uncle. “As soon as we finish your lesson, you can play all you want.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Pheebs,” Will said. “We can run the ball when you’re done.”

  “I said, I don’t want to. I don’t want to read. I don’t like reading.”

  Will looked at Ivy. “Are you sure she can’t do her lesson later?”

  “Yes!” Phoebe said happily. “Later.”

  Ivy shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it really does need to be now. Phoebe has trouble sticking to the school schedule, and that’s one of the things Charlotte would like me to work with her on.”

  Will frowned. “Would an hour really make that much difference?”

  Ivy fought the urge to lay into him. Questioning her authority in front of Phoebe was just going to make things more difficult for everyone. “It would, actually,” Ivy said, her voice tight with annoyance. “And in the future, if you’d like to discuss your sister’s educational choices, I’d rather that you do that with her.” She glanced pointedly at the kids then back at Will. “Preferably when the two of you are alone.”

  Will’s eyebrow arched as he stared at her, but she refused to be intimidated. She wasn’t sure if his sudden surliness was caused by her suggestion or her tone. But she also wasn’t sure she really cared. As it was, Phoebe was tearing around the lawn, crowing about not needing to do her lesson, and she was going to be a little monster when Ivy had to rein her in.

  Will stared at Ivy a moment longer, some unidentifiable emotion in his bright gaze. The intensity there settled in the pit of her stomach then traveled lower, and she had to fight to remain completely still. He finally looked away and wandered over to where Kit was still reading, lowering himself to the ground by his nephew.

  “Why don’t you tell me about those? Are those brontosauruses?”

  Ivy stifled her laugh at the withering look Kit shot his uncle. “Those are apatosauruses.”

  “Phoebe, it’s time for your lesson,” Ivy called across the yard.

  Stopping the ball under her foot, Phoebe glared at Ivy. “Uncle Wills said I could do it later.”

  “Uncle Wills was mistaken,” Ivy said, glancing at where the man was reclining on the grass, propped up on his elbows and watching the exchange. “He’s over there waiting for you to finish up, so let’s get this done.”

  “No.”

  From the corner of her eye, Ivy saw Phoebe draw her leg back and kick forward. Hard. Ivy turned to look at the little girl but all she saw was the black and white sphere hurtling toward her. It slammed into her face with a sickening half-slap-half-thud sound and a whole lot of pain.

  The impact startled a cry from her and knocked her back several steps. She landed hard on her ass, the seam of her pencil skirt giving way as her legs splayed.

  “Phoebe Elizabeth,” Will bellowed. “Go to your room, immediately. Kit, go get your mum or your dad.”

  Ivy’s hand was over her face, but she could tell from the sound of Will’s voice he was getting closer.

  “Tell them to bring some of my ice packs from the freezer.”

  “I—I—didn’t mean—”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  From her good eye, Ivy could see the little girl come closer and bend to pick up the ball.

  But Will put his foot on it before she could grab it. “Nope. You’ve lost this for a while.”

  Phoebe burst into tears and ran toward the house.

  “Your room, Phoebe,” Will called after her as he knelt down at Ivy’s side, flinching as he did. Cupping the back of Ivy’s head, he gently tugged her fingers away from her eye with the other. “Let’s have a look, now.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” she said, not really wanting Will to see her face. Not wanting him any closer than he already was.

  “You just took a regulation size football to the face, kicked by a very angry, very strong child. I’m sure it’s not fine.”

  Reluctantly, she let him pull her hand away from her throbbing head. Through her blurry vision, she saw him wince as he inspected her eye. He tenderly prodded her cheek with his huge blunt fingertips, which were surprisingly gentle. Carefully, he moved up and along the outside of her eye, over her brow and down along the bridge of her nose.

  “Just want to make sure your orbital bone is all in one piece.”

  “So, you double as a doctor?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen enough of them.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. “Open your mouth.”

  There was no missing the command in his voice, and her lips automatically parted.

  “Did that hurt?” he asked.

  “No more than it did before I opened it.”

  “Good.” He proceeded to stroke his fingers over her chin and upper lip. “Any numbness here?”

  God, no. She felt every stroke of his callused fingertips.

  He touched the areas again while waiting for her answer, inclining his head toward her slightly.

  “No,” she finally choked out.

  “How about here?” he asked, moving upward to touch her injured cheek.

  “I wish,” she hissed.

  His lips quirked, and she had to close her eyes. The last thing she needed to do was stare at him like a lovesick cow.

  “Any numbness here?” he asked, stroking over her forehead.

  She started to shake her head, then thought better of it as the pain intensified. “No.”

  “Okay, let’s get you up and into the guesthouse.” He slid an arm around her waist, and shifting his weight to the leg without the brace, lifted her up.

  “Really, I can do this,” she muttered, as he tightened his grip around her then stumbled slightly to the side once they were both upright.

  Without warning, he bent and slid his arm beneath her legs, the hair on his arms teasing the backs of her thighs. He hoisted her in his arms, took two steps and muttered, “Fuck.”

  “Oh my god, put me down.” Heat engulfed her already abused face. “I’m way too heavy for you.”

  He shifted her in his arms and stared into her eyes. “You’re not too heavy, at all. Still recovering from knee surgery.”

  “Seriously. Put me down. Immediately.” She considered struggling, but she didn’t want to make his knee worse. God, more than she probably already had. She closed her eyes as another round of embarrassment flooded her face. “Please, Will...put me down before you get hurt worse.”

  He gently lowered her feet to the ground, but he kept his arm locked around her waist. And, when she started to pull away and lost her balance, he tucked her back against his side. “Dizzy?”

  “A little.”

  “Let’s get you inside. There’s a bag of peas in the freezer and ibuprofen in the loo.”

  She glanced at him, fairly certain her confusion was apparent.

  He shrugged. “Normally, this is where I stay, when I’m here.”

&nbs
p; Oh, good. She’d kicked him out of his regular spot and nearly killed him when he’d tried to pick her up. Add a sure-to-be black eye and a kid who was going to be the death of her, and this was shaping up to be the worst day she’d had since she’d found out in the middle of parent-teacher conferences that her principal husband was having an affair with the mom of one of her students. The only thing she really had going for her here was that Will clearly didn’t remember who she was.

  He guided her into the bedroom at the back of the cottage and urged her to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

  Through her good eye, Ivy watched him walk away, trying not to sigh at the way his shorts lovingly clung to his spectacularly muscled ass. What was she doing? She should be thinking about how to deal with Phoebe, not how fucking gorgeous the child’s uncle was.

  Ivy brushed her hair out of her eye and nearly shot through the ceiling at the pain as she grazed the injury. Pushing up off the bed, she crossed the room to peer into the mirror attached to the antique dresser. Bracing her hand on the marble top, she leaned closer and prodded her cheek. Her left eye and the skin all around it was puffy and red and beginning to discolor. Fabulous.

  As she pulled back and straightened, she startled, realizing Will was standing behind her. He was much taller and broader than he’d been twelve years ago. And she was much wider than she’d been twelve years ago—bigger breasts, far fuller hips and a rounded belly she wasn’t crazy about. But she also couldn’t really muster the energy to do anything about it, either.

  Right now, all she wanted to do was bend over, hike up her skirt and let him fill her. And if he wanted to slap that huge hand over her mouth again? She was down for that, too. Slowly becoming aware that she’d met his gaze in the mirror and they were currently staring at one another, she looked away.

  He briefly settled his hands at her waist, and she tried not to react, but her lips parted and a little gasp escaped, anyway.

  “You should be resting,” he said as gestured toward the bed. On the matching nightstand was a glass of water and a bottle of pain killers, and on the bed was a dish towel and the aforementioned package of frozen peas.

  As she settled on the mattress again, he limped over and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and shook a couple out in his palm.