Read Unrestrained for Free Online

However, the forbidding appearance was meliorated by a wisteria-covered arbor, which graced a separate gate onto the property for foot traffic. A wooden sign stood next to that, telling her in cheerful yellow letters she was at Eddie’s Junkyard and Temporary Home for Good Dogs. A whimsically animated car and puppy had been painted side by side beneath the lettering, both grinning at her.
    “Is there anyone waiting for you at home, Athena? Someone I can call? Answer me.”
    His hand was on her face, commanding her attention the same way his words were. How did he know her name? She must have told him. Or maybe Jimmy had. “No. No one knows I’m out tonight. No one to call.”
    Her domestic staff left at five p.m., so her nights were her own. If she wasn’t there when they arrived tomorrow, they wouldn’t think anything of it. They’d assume she’d left early for the office, or to handle her never-ending list of errands and social engagements. Technically, no one would miss her for a couple of days. It was a stupid thing to tell a stranger, but when he told her to answer him, she did, without thought. She was usually mature enough to make the distinction between erotic fantasy and intelligent reality. Maybe she’d take a nap outside this nice junkyard before heading home.
    He returned to the car, drove it through the now-open gate. The next thing she remembered was him sliding his arms under her legs and back, lifting her out of the car with the same ease he’d lifted her at the gas station.
    “So strong,” she mumbled. “But don’t hurt your back. I can walk.”
    “You’ll stay at my place tonight,” he said shortly, ignoring that. “You’re in no shape to drive, let alone be at home by yourself.”
    Well, he’d obviously been right about that. Coming back to the present and what must be his guest bedroom, she sat up slowly, feeling every ache. Looking in the mirror was probably going to be a bad decision, intensifying the mortification she was starting to feel. Good God. She stayed on top of every detail of her life. She was a problem solver. She didn’t throw good judgment to the wind and trust a stranger to care for her the way a child would. But that was exactly what she’d done. How much vodka had she had in that Diet Coke? Not enough to impede her judgment to that extent. She was very prudent about that type of thing. If she’d overindulged, she never would have driven. She would have called a cab. Which in turn would have made all of this a moot point.
    She cut herself some slack on the whole mugging scenario. She had made the wrong choice there, but it had been a calculated one, thinking she was close enough to the club to be safe. But then there was her behavior in the car with him, touching his hair . . . the things they’d said to one another, the subtle clues she’d given with her responses, or lack thereof. He had very nice hair, thick and soft. Those silver strands tempted a woman’s fingers.
    Looking down, she realized she was in a man’s T-shirt and her panties, and that was it. Her clothes had been hung up and left on the hinge of a closet door. Her bra and stockings were folded into a neat pile on her shoes. They sat on an old wooden rocker. At the foot of the bed was a trunk. Her purse was there.
    He’d changed her clothes. She was wearing his shirt, because it smelled like him. English Leather, mixed with a mint-based soap. When he’d carried her, she’d also detected cinnamon, perhaps his toothpaste, or maybe he was a fan of Big Red gum. It brought to mind the macho, cowboy-styled commercials for it. He was a good fit for that. English Leather and Big Red. One hundred percent testosterone, all the way.
    Modesty wasn’t a big issue in a BDSM club, given that submissives were often fully naked and even Dominants could wear provocative outfits. Environment dictated comfort zone, however, and realizing he’d undressed her in his home, in his guest bedroom, made her feel far