Dare to Love Again

by Maddie Taylor

  Her head snapped around to check the door.

  “I locked it on the way in.”

  She turned back. “Why would you want to get involved with me and all my baggage?”

  “Do you think I haven’t lost anyone? I served for over a decade, Esme. The men who died in my arms weren’t as close as a husband, but they were my brothers.”

  Tears flooded her eyes again, and when one overflowed she whispered, “Oh my God, Finn, I hadn’t even considered— How do you live with the awful memories?”

  “By dwelling on the good, rather than the bad. Death is part of life, a stór, and it sure as hell is a part of war. Mourning those we’ve lost is natural, and heaven knows it’s never easy, but we can’t stop living because someone we love does.”

  Her hand rose to his chest. “I know that, and I’m trying, really, but I have to protect my heart. If I move on someday, it can’t be with a man who faces danger every time he steps outside. I’m sorry, but I won’t get involved with another cop.”

  “I’m not a cop, Esme. And the case Latrice told you about isn’t typical for us. The men in San Antonio have dubbed the Rossi branch here in LA Security to the Stars for a reason. The bulk of our business is installing state of the art security systems and providing personal protection for the Hollywood elite. We take on venue security when they need to beef it up for a high-profile client, and our investigations are mostly into who’s cheating on whom among the rich and famous. And, occasionally, though we’ve had a run of them recently, we have investigated a few celebrity stalker cases.”

  “Then how did a violent drug boss get dropped in your lap?”

  “Our owner/CEO is ex-military, as are most of us. Emphasis on the ex, lass, so don’t think I’ll be deployed come tomorrow.”

  “Andrew was a Marine. That doesn’t help your case, sir. He had hero in his DNA, and I suspect you do too.”

  “Protecting the innocent and standing up for what is right isn’t a bad thing, Esme, but something we should all strive to do.”

  She looked down at her hands, unable to keep from remembering the last hero she’d held in her arms. “So, you were saying about this drug boss thing…”

  “It fell into our laps when we learned one of our clients was in deep with a drug pipeline running from Mexico, through San Antonio, and all the way to LA. The DEA here pieced things together and called Tony. That we were the last to know did not make Tony Rossi happy. We don’t operate dirty—whether it be with money, drugs, guns, or women. Therefore, we did what was necessary to shut down this particular client and make sure we hadn’t been implicated in his dirty drug deals. Lo-and-behold, what was happening in San Antonio led us to Lopez here, something that made the Bureau ecstatic and the LAPD pissed as hell since he’d been slipping through their fingers for months.” He reached out and caught her hands in his, squeezing tight. “He’s locked down now, Esme, as is his crew. In a few weeks, when the papers quit droning on about it, we’ll be out of the spotlight and back to business as usual; designing security systems for multi-million-dollar celebrity homes and dealing with pop diva’s and pretty boy actors needing security for their next personal appearance or award ceremony.”

  She looked up at him, uncertainty roiling in the pit of her stomach. “What about when Lopez gets out? Or, if they call out a hit on you through the Mexican Mafia?”

  His brows slammed together, and his lips dipped, deepening his frown. “Who told you about them?”

  “Mistress Latrice.”

  Anger flickered in his eyes, but he replied gently, “As thanks for getting Lopez off their turf, La Eme is more likely to send me a gift basket than a hitman.”

  “Who?”

  “The M, aka the Mexican Mafia. In the gang world and LA drug trade, Lopez and his clan were small potatoes and more of a pain in the ass for La Eme than competition.”

  None of it sounded safe to her. She shook her head.

  “What if the big one strikes California?”

  “What?” she asked, his question so random she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

  “Or suppose some idiot blowing 4.0 gets behind the wheel and takes me out on the 401? I could keel over from eating too many Guerrilla Tacos chimichangas. I mentioned my obsession with the place so believe me when I say it’s a considerable amount. But there’s always a chance I could live to the ripe old age of ninety-seven and die in my sleep as my grandad did.”

  She closed her eyes, now understanding where he was going with this. It made sense. Had she lived so long in the cocoon she’d woven around herself that she couldn’t even try, for a man as special as Finn?

  He wouldn’t let her shut him out. “Look at me, lass.”

  When she did, he was so close, all she could see was his beautiful green eyes.

  “We can’t predict what will happen, baby. Only the big man knows, so we have to live our lives taking every day as it comes like it could be our last, no holding back.”

  She gazed back at him, the warm, melty feeling inside catching fire and becoming the heat of desire. Still, she’d never been one to gamble, could she do so now? “I’m not exactly a glass half full kind of person,” she told him uncertainly.

  Smiling gently, he curled his hand behind her neck. “I get that, a stór. Lucky for you, I am.” He drew her even nearer until they were nose to nose and his words brushed over her lips when he said, “Stick with me, darlin’, and you’ll be grabbing life by the horns and living like you’re meant to.”

  “Tenacious and stubborn,” she muttered, though with a rasp in her voice and a quickness to her breathing, her resolve all but evaporated.

  “As the day is long. You gave me a taste of something special, and possessive dominant that I am, I’m keeping it for my own.”

  He kissed her then, not gentle, or sweet, but hungry. With avid lips and a wickedly agile tongue, he claimed her, plain and simple, and took her breath away.

  When he raised his head, she was clinging to him, her fingers somehow entwined in his hair without her knowledge.

  “I’m taking you home to rest, lass. We’ll talk more afterward.”

  “My car is here.”

  “I’ll get one of my guys to drive it home for you.”

  She stared up at him, wanting to be with him as much as she wanted to run away. But she’d felt worse in the twenty-four hours away from him than she had in a long while. Suddenly too tired to fight him, she relaxed in his hold.

  “Let me shut down; then I’ll be ready to go with you.”

  With an approving squeeze from his strong arms, he set her off his lap, and moved back around her desk, out of the way so that she could see to her task.

  In fifteen minutes, her hand enveloped by his much bigger one, Finn escorted her out to his car, this time a sleek, low to the ground, F-type Jaguar convertible in charcoal gray. He tucked her inside it, and she sank into the plush bucket seat, running her fingers appreciatively over the leather and suede interior. Either security to the stars or the BDSM club business were lucrative ventures because his car had to cost at least twice what she made in a year.

  As soon as he was behind the wheel, she turned to him. “What happened to your SUV?”

  “That was a company vehicle. The Jag is mine.”

  “It’s amazing.”

  “I think so too,” he agreed as he hit the push-button start. The engine roared to life, then settled into a low, seductive purr.

  She licked her lips as a tingly thrill shot through her. “Do you think, since we’re living for today, you could put the top down and show me what she does? I’ve never ridden in either a convertible or a Jag before.”

  He grinned, flipped a switch, and while the top was opening, crooked his finger at her. “For a price.”

  Returning his grin, she leaned across the console and touched her lips softly to his. He allowed the sweet gesture for about a millisecond before his hand curled around her nape, fingers threading into her hair, and he took over.

 
When he pulled out into traffic several minutes later, she leaned back, dazzled by him and the power of his kisses, and savoring the taste of him still on her tongue. With the sunshine warming her face, Finn, capable and confident at the wheel, not to mention in conqueror-protector mode, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the ride—for all of thirty seconds, then she promptly fell asleep.

  Keiran suspected it would happen, just not so quickly. When her head fell to the side, he picked up his Bluetooth headset, so he wouldn’t be as apt to disturb her and called Eric for her address.

  “I take it you set her straight?” his partner asked.

  “She’s in the Jag next to me, sleeping, and we’re on our way to her house, what do you think?”

  “You set her straight.”

  “If not all the way, I’ll have the kinks hammered out soon enough.”

  “Damn, I hope not all of them? What would be the fun of that?”

  “Her address, Dupree.”

  It took him several minutes to look it up, testing Keiran’s vaunted patience while he chuckled the entire time. But as he glanced at the pretty redhead dozing peacefully in his passenger seat, nothing could spoil his good mood.

  It was only a twenty-minute drive to her home north of the city. Located in a quiet, older neighborhood, Esme’s house sat on a large lot with a privacy fence and set well back from the street with a circle drive lined with tall shade trees. Though it wasn’t big, maybe 2500 square feet, in this part of LA County, it had to go for $600k, at least.

  When he killed the engine and put up the top, she didn’t budge. Nor did she move when he slid her clutch from her lap, dug out her keys, and came around to lift her out.

  Inside, he found her master suite upstairs. Once he set her down, slipped off her shoes, and undressed her enough to be comfortable, he pulled the covers up to her chin and left her to look around. A tri-level with three-bedrooms and three-baths, it was cozy, feminine like Esme, and had a fantastic backyard with a pergola covered patio, raised deck and views of the mountains and the San Fernando Valley.

  He figured her husband had left her enough to cover it since paralegals didn’t bring in enough for an upper six-figure mortgage on their own. At least she had that, and the ability to leave her bad memories behind.

  He couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been for her. Witnessing a brutal killing was traumatic enough, but to have a loved one bleed out in her arms as she tried to staunch the blood... Little wonder she still had flashbacks five years after the fact.

  In the living room, he picked up a framed photo of Esme cuddling a cat. Looking around, he saw none with her husband, her parents, or friends. Poor lass hadn’t only shut down, she’d shut out everything from her past. Not all the submissives he’d been with had baggage, but many did—daddy issues, abandonment, abusive Doms who didn’t deserve to be called such. Esme’s issues were even weightier and would take time and patience to overcome.

  No matter her beauty, most men would run like hell.

  He shook his head ruefully. Eric said he needed a challenge, with Esme he had his work cut out for him, but in his gut, he knew she’d be worth it. Sweet responsive, funny, sexy as hell and the way she opened fully and submitted when she finally let down those walls—fucking beautiful.

  Figuring she’d be out for a few hours, he went out and retrieved his laptop from his car. Might as well get some work done.

  When he came back and set up at her bar, an over-sized tabby surprised him by landing with a solid thud directly across from him on the counter. He stared at him, blinked his big green eyes, then meowed making sure his presence was known before he walked forward and rubbed his cheek and the length of his body along the side of his laptop screen.

  “Hello there, lad,” he murmured extending his forefinger for him to sniff. Tentative at first, it took only a minute before he started rubbing his face against Keiran’s hand. Then, he nudged his head under his fingers, for an ear scratch. “You’re a friendly one,” he commented, still petting the demanding feline who promptly crawled into his lap and purred loudly.

  He chuckled, not offended by being claimed, mostly for a bed, and stroked a finger under the cat’s collar. When it appeared the big guy was settled in for a while, he reached for his wireless mouse and started working his way through the new client applications in his inbox, all fifty of them.

  Chapter 16

  The bed shifted, and something warm brushed against her rousing her from sleep. Thinking it was Phin, she turned onto her side and burrowed deeper under the covers, not ready to get up yet. The something warm moved again, this time up her arm and over her shoulder, then in a long slow sweep down her back. No way could Phinny do that.

  “Mo chuisle, time to wake up.”

  She opened her eyes to find Finn lying next to her, propped on an elbow, his head in his hand. Last night and this morning were coming back to her now. He’d dug into her past, tracked her down at the office, made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she, then kissed her until her toes curled.

  She must have passed out in his car because from then until now, there was nothing. He must have carried her to bed, then stayed. She’d forgotten how nice it was to have a man taking care of her. Other than Pax, no one had since Andrew.

  “If you sleep any longer, you won’t be able to tonight, and tomorrow you’ll be in the same shape, having your days and nights turned around.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just past five.”

  She stretched, her limbs still heavy from sleep. As close as he was, her breasts brushed his chest, and her legs, which were bare, rubbed the heavy fabric of his jeans. She’d been wearing a skirt and heels last time she was conscious; he must have taken care of that too.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked quietly, while his fingers smoothed her mussed hair. He brushed a few tickling strands off her cheek and gently tucked them behind her ear.

  Their conversation from earlier replayed in her head. She could have this closeness, a man’s tender nurturing, spontaneous lunches, check-in phone calls, laughter, fun, drinks at the club, dancing in a pair of strong arms, and sex—exciting, carnal sex with a dominant just like she yearned for so long—and someone to ground her and take charge when she needed him to, and love. That’s where this was headed, she was sure. And she could have it all with Finn if she could set aside her fears and live for the day.

  Did she dare?

  With his warm body next to hers, his feather-light touch caressing her skin, and the tender concern in his voice and his expression, her answer was a resounding yes.

  It translated to a softly uttered, “I’m hungry, sir, but not for food.”

  With her gaze locked on his, she saw the moment his mood shifted and the kind, considerate nurturer stepped back, allowing the passionate, dominant lover to come forward. He needed no other invitation and rolled until he was on top of her. His mouth came down to cover hers as his hand swept down her arm. He found her fingers and interlaced his with her own. Deepening the kiss, he caught her other hand and brought both arms over her head. Balancing over her, he used his knees to spread her thighs, then settled his hips between them, giving her more of his weight.

  She welcomed it, and unable to wait for his next move, arched her back, tilted her hips upward, her body recognizing the hard proof of his desire as surely as it responded to his dominance.

  When he rolled to his side, she whimpered at the loss.

  “I’m not going anywhere, baby. But for this to work, both of us will have to lose some clothes.”

  She heard a zipper, and the crinkle of a wrapper. Next, came the sound of ripping fabric. As cool air wafted over her damp, heated skin, her eyes flew to his, shocked the usually calm, composed, patient Master Finn had torn off her panties.

  “I’ll buy you another pair,” he growled as he moved on top of her again.

  Feeling his skin against hers rather than denim and the insistent nudge of his cock against her pussy instead of
a bulging zipper, she moaned, “I don’t care.”

  There wasn’t much talking after that, mostly because she couldn’t, too overwhelmed by the power of his passion. Everything seemed to happen at once. His mouth captured hers with slow, drugging kisses, then he got to his knees, wedged them up close to her bottom and draped her legs over his thighs. This left her hips tilted upward, and her pussy spread wide for him.

  Wasting no time, with his cock in hand, he slid the broad head of his rigid cock through her slick folds. Her flesh quivered, her legs locking around him as best she could, she tensed with anticipation of him filling and stretching her again. After a few long delicious glides, he changed angles and aligned the tip with her entrance. Esme held her breath, waiting anxiously, a whimper of need emanating from her.

  A second ticked past and another, but he didn’t move.

  “Eyes on me, a stór.”

  Her gaze rose and locked with his.

  “You’ll look at me when I fuck you, Esme. I want to watch your face as I claim your pussy, see your eyes as the climax builds, and as it takes hold of your body and you come, I want to see the pleasure written across your beautiful face.”

  With their green eyes locked together, he plunged deep.

  She cried out because with her hips tipped upward, once fully seated, Finn touched her in places never touched before.

  He stretched out on top of her and reclaimed her hands, which hadn’t budged from where he’d placed them above her head. Then, with faces close, fingers pressed tight, and bodies entwined, he moved. His strokes were slow, sure, possessive and her inner muscles rippled around him in response.

  The delicious friction penetrated every nerve, and each well-timed thrust bumped her clit. She gasped for breath as he groaned and buried his face in her neck.

  “Hand in glove,” he uttered as his mouth opened on her skin, which she took as recognition of how perfectly they fit together.