Read The Bound Heart for Free Online Page B

gone well.
    She had not gone out since then.
    No point.
    Her hand glided over her coat pocket where the photos were. She would never be interested unless it was him.
    The bell rang as she stepped out. Mr. Howard said the usual, “Walk safe, careful of the carriages; they don’t stop. See you next week, dear.”
    The air outside was cool as it pressed over her hot face. A soothing flow.
    Her body navigated the pedestrians, the streets. Closer to home, her voice worked automatically as it answered greetings, yet her mind was thought free, empty, numb.
    The walk home, the narrow alley they lived off, the stench of waste in the gutters. She opened the door to the smell of soup. Her sister, the five kids, the husband all bustling in the room. Mum thankfully not there. Her other sister with a man of her own two streets over.
    Up the stairs was a small room, hers. She sat on the bed. Basket at her feet. Hat and coat still on. It still hadn’t sunk in.
    Perhaps she didn’t have a place for it to go.
    The only place he does it…
    Yet.
    Her hand shook as she pulled the photos out of her pocket.
    That one was on the top.
    Fire ran between her legs in a fierce, vibrant ache.
    That was his finger. That was him.
    The heat pushed and throbbed through her body.
    Olive looked at the next image.
    The rope.
    Her heart beat faster.
    The small cues, the way he always held himself back, the sure confidence as he wrapped the ribbon around her calf.
    “That’s not something for you, Olive,” Evie had said. Yet it didn’t feel like that. Right now and up in the workshop with him, she felt more alive, more right than for what seemed like forever.
    Had there even been a time when she’d felt like this?
    Every bit of her skin was on fire, hungry for things she didn’t even know.
    Downstairs, the kids were crying. Her sister and her husband were arguing. It sounded so far away. Her body made it impossible to think.
    A door slammed; her sister’s husband had left again. Olive knew she should go down and help, but going into normality with her body in this state was an impossibility.
    Putting the pictures down, Olive stood, took off her gloves, removed her hatpin and hat, and placed them on the small table next to the bed as her legs wobbled. Her core was hot and drenched with a need she may never fill in the way she needed.
    She walked over to the door and locked it, unbuttoned her coat and placed it on the hook behind the door. Then she placed her leg with the brace on the rung under the chair next to the door. She pushed her face into her coat and lugged up her skirt. Her hand slid under her waistband and down her drawers. She closed her eyes as her fingers slid over wet, slippery folds, and her head dropped back.
    Her finger slipped in and out. She was going to come fast.
    “Olive, luv,” her sister called.
    The memory of his hand, his fingers touching her there and she rocked into her hand. Her fingers slid in, out. Touched herself as he had begun to do. She ran her fingers up and around her hard peak.
    His lips were surprisingly gentle. Firm and full, they moved over hers with passion, hunger and yet control.
    The fullness of him in the palm of her hand, as he strained against his trousers. What would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted?
    Now that she’d seen the pictures, she understood why he didn’t snatch and grab.
    Images moved behind her closed eyes. Images she shouldn’t be able to think or to want. Images out of that box Evie had. Her fingers moved a little faster.
    “Olive!”
    Her face pushed into her coat, her mouth opened; please…his face was right there in her mind, so close, the warm puff of his breath as he had leaned forward washed her face.
    She let the thick scratchy surface of the wool rub her cheeks and lips. It smelled of the book glue in his workshop or so she imagined. Felt like the bristles on his cheek.
    She thrust her hips forward. The lock rattled, once, twice, three times as her hips thrust