Bonds of Courage by Lynda Aicher Read Free Book Online

trumped intelligence.
    Too bad. Or maybe thank God.
    His little top-of-the-head kiss on the rooftop had been way too personal, the gentle affection too close to intimate. No, the man blurred too many lines in her life and she couldn’t afford to let that happen.
    Even if, for the first time in her life, she’d been tempted.
    * * *
    The echo of the door closing hit Holden like a check to the boards. So much for not letting her go. Hell, he’d never had control of that. She’d left no doubt as to what she thought of him and his actions. Shit.
    The need to move had him twisting his hands and cocking his shoulder to reach one of the easy-release straps on the wrist cuffs. He wrenched it off, the tearing sound ripping through the room. The second one came off a moment later, and he quickly undid the clip that kept them bound to his belt buckle.
    He rubbed at his wrists, the skin moist beneath his touch as he battled between the sense of loss and relief. The urge to toss the cuffs and leash to the ground was curbed by a need to respect Vanessa even if she wasn’t there. It was one hundred percent his fault that she’d left. Swiping a hand through his damp hair, he stalked to the small desk and set the items next to the forgotten hood.
    His stomach clenched at the sight of the objects by each other. He drifted his fingers over the soft material of the hood. A longing for what he’d been so close to getting spurred him to spin away.
    Fuck.
    He scratched at his chest, rubbed his neck and stretched his arms. When that didn’t work, he swung his arms around in an attempt to rid himself of the pent-up energy that hummed beneath his skin and kept his erection pointed high. Nothing helped.
    I need to get out of here.
    Screw his shirt. He had a dozen more in his closet, but he didn’t know the back way out and parading through the club would suck.
    Taking a deep breath, he squatted down and gripped his hands behind his neck. Another deep breath pushed the air through his nose and started the calming process he’d learned when he was barely a teen. He focused on the pull in his thigh and calf muscles, the stretch along his spine, the control of each muscle group as he slowly straightened. He dipped down again, repeating the process, rounding his thoughts inward until there was just his body and the movement.
    He was on set number thirty before the door clicked open again. He pushed up, dropping his hands to meet the gaze of one of the men from the rooftop. The band that had held his hair at his nape was gone so it now swayed over his shoulders as he closed the door and stepped up to Holden.
    “Mr. Hauke.” He extended his hand. “I’m Seth Mathews. Vanessa told me I’d find you here.” He held up his other hand, revealing Holden’s shirt.
    Holden shook the man’s hand. “Thanks,” he said, taking his shirt. He slipped it on and started on the buttons.
    Seth waited, hands in his pockets until Holden looked up. “What happened?” The flat question gave no indication of what the man was thinking.
    Holden sucked in a breath and stalled for time by working on the buttons at his wrists. There were multiple options available to him, but only one felt right. “I lied. She got pissed.”
    “I saw the aftermath,” Seth said, a small chuckle following. “I don’t blame her though.”
    Holden tucked the ends of his shirt into his pants and finally had no reasons left to avoid meeting the other man’s eyes. The relief at finding Seth’s lips quirked up in a half smile instead of a frown brought a smirk to his own face. “Yeah,” he mumbled, ducking his head, the guilt heavy. “It was stupid.”
    He’d been caught in a lie and deserved the punishment. Maybe that was why he’d enjoyed Vanessa’s hard slaps to his ass so much. And that thought had his dick responding when he’d just gotten the bastard under control. Traitor.
    “Why’d you do it then?”
    The directness was appreciated. At least the man was giving him a