He leaned against her, his forehead against her shoulder, his shaky breaths warming her chest. She wished her arms were free so she could hold him tight. She nuzzled her face against his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled his body against hers—chest to breasts, belly to belly, cock to seam. She didn’t move, afraid he’d pull away. His hips began to grind, rubbing the length of his still hard cock against her opening. He moaned as if in agony and his cockhead slipped inside her. Yes, she thought. Please. But she stayed silent, her eyes squeezed shut in preparation for his rejection.

He shifted his hips downward, but instead of pulling away, he pressed up inside her, claiming another inch. She clung to the piano beneath her hands. God, how she wanted to hold him as he slowly entered her in a deepening pattern of retreat and conquer. Her body adjusted to his thickness, stretching to accommodate his girth. When his balls pressed against her and she knew she had all of him, a tear dripped from beneath her eyelid and streaked down her cheek.

He buried his hands in her hair and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Dawn?” he whispered brokenly. “What did I just do?”

She wanted to speak, to soothe him, to say it’s okay, Kellen, it’s okay, but emotion clogged her throat and she couldn’t find the words.

He jerked abruptly away, pulling free of her body, away from her, and she couldn’t cling to him, couldn’t stop him from fleeing into the bathroom and slamming the door. And she couldn’t stop the tears flowing down her cheeks unchecked.

Kellen leaned back against the inner surface of the bathroom door, trying to catch his breath. What had he done? Shit. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been thinking. He’d completely lost control.

It was Dawn’s fault for being so beautiful, so sweet, so warm and wonderful and willing. So absolutely amazing and accepting and so… not Sara.

He slammed his fist into the wall, relishing the pain that snaked through his knuckles and up his arm.

He could still taste Dawn’s juices, still smell the musk of her sex, still feel her warm, soft heat sheathing his cock.

How could have done that? Just entered her like that? Promises to Sara aside, he hadn’t even been wearing a condom.

He approached the sink, fumbling in the dark until he found the faucet. He turned on the water and cupped his hand to draw several sips to his mouth.

His promise to Sara echoed through his head. Never, honey. I promise I’ll never come inside another woman. You’re my one and only forever.

Technically, he hadn’t come inside Dawn. He’d entered her after he’d spent himself all over her.

He banged the wall again.

What in the fuck am I doing? Qualifying my actions so I can tolerate the guilt again? He called bullshit on himself. First he had convinced himself that Shibari was okay because he’d never tied Sara, then performing oral was acceptable because Sara didn’t enjoy that particular act, then it was fine if Owen was the one touching him and making him come because Owen wasn’t a woman, and now Kellen was trying to convince himself he could enter a woman, just as long as doing so wasn’t his reason for ejaculating. Hey, Sara, how’s my promise to you looking now? I failed you again.

He had to go back to Dawn. He couldn’t leave her tied like that without supervision. She could easily lose her balance and take a fall from the piano. But how could he face her after using her body so selfishly and then hiding in the bathroom as if he wasn’t utterly lost in her?

Dawn was so sweet. So perfect. He’d been completely absorbed in her—her taste, her scent, the sound of her sighs and moans, the texture of her skin, her warmth, her exquisite beauty. When he’d claimed her body, he’d been seeking something more than pleasure. He’d wanted to be closer to her. He’d wanted to be deep inside—not just physically, but emotionally. And he knew that was a far worse form of infidelity than a round of meaningless sex. His main problem was that he had a hard time ever having meaningless sex. He chose his partners carefully for that reason. He had to have a deeper connection than lust with a woman to make love to her. Fooling around was one thing, but being inside a woman was spiritual to him. It touched far more than his body.

After Sara, every woman he’d been attracted to had drawn him because she reminded him of his lost love in some way. He’d been looking to replace what he’d lost. He knew that. It was sick and twisted and wrong.

And now there was Dawn. Dawn who was nothing like Sara. Yet being with her felt right. Why?

He heard a thump outside the bathroom, and his heart leapt. He tore open the door and rushed to Dawn’s side. He was completely unprepared for what he found.

Dawn wasn’t in any harm, but she’d managed to lie across the piano on one side, her arms still tied securely behind her. She was weeping silently, tears streaming down her face to pool on the shiny black surface beneath her. Deep red strands of curls spread out over her nude body and trailed out behind her, draping her piano.

“Are you in pain?” he asked. “Where does it hurt, Dawn?”

“My heart,” she sobbed.

Was she experiencing cardiac arrest? An extreme panic attack? He’d heard that sometimes a panic attack felt like a heart attack. Being the self-absorbed asshole that he was, he’d forgotten that she’d been freaked-out about being tied unless he was close. He had to get her free as soon as possible. There wasn’t time for him to slowly untie each knot.

He grabbed a candle and hurried to the kitchen. He found a knife in a butcher block and returned to Dawn.

She gasped when she saw him standing over her with a huge knife. There he went scaring her again.

“I’m not going to stab you with it,” he said.

He sawed through each knot holding her arms together, starting at her wrists and working his way upward toward her shoulder blades. When the last knot came free, she surprised him by knocking the blade aside and wrapping both arms around his neck. Her muscles were trembling with fatigue, but she held on to him with surprising strength.

“I hate her,” she sobbed. “I hate her for taking so much of you. I hate her for meeting you first. I hate her fucking guts.”

“Easy,” he said, allowing himself to hold her gently. “I’m sorry I left you by yourself. You shouldn’t have been left unsupervised.” It was the first rule of bondage. “Something bad could have happened to you. I’m so glad you’re not hurt. I would have never forgiven myself.”

“But I do hurt, Kellen,” she said. “I hurt so bad… for you.”

He leaned back and brushed strands of hair from her tear-damp cheeks. He got lost in her very watery hazel eyes. “Is that why you’re crying? For me?”

She nodded. “I wish your heart was free, Kellen. I wish that for me, but I wish it for you even more.”

“I should have nev—”

She covered his lips with two fingertips. “Don’t say you regret it, Kellen. I couldn’t bare it. When you were inside me…” Several tears dripped down her smooth cheeks. “It was beautiful.”

He didn’t regret being inside her. He felt a crippling guilt, but strangely the guilt was worth the connection he couldn’t deny he’d felt. That moment of emotional bonding might not be worth it when Dawn was no longer pressed against his body, holding him close, staring up at him with something he feared was adoration, but in this moment, the guilt was minor in comparison to the joy he felt in just holding this woman.

“I won’t say it,” he whispered. “I won’t say it because it’s not true. Being inside you felt… right.”

She caught his face between her palms, her gaze trained on his mouth. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she said. “And don’t you dare think of her when I do it.”