by Sasha White
He chuckled roughly. “Yeah, I get that.”
She leaned over and kissed him. She couldn’t help herself. He was just so deliciously male, and she knew for him to even say something like that, that they were okay.
Fisting her hair, he took over her kiss, slanting his mouth over hers and thrusting his tongue in to ravish her mouth. When he pulled back, they were both breathing heavy and she’d completely lost track of the conversation.
“I never believed in that shit until I met you,” Adam said. “But I think, if soul mates do exist, you’re mine.”
“Ohh, Adam,” she sighed, leaning into him again.
He moved, putting a bit of distance between them, and she stilled.
“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out, Adam. What’s going on?”
He stood, paced around the room once then sat back down next to her. “You’re a good woman,” he said. “I tried to tell you that you were slumming with me, and when I’m with you, I can forget about a lot of things I’ve done.
But last night made something very clear. You need to know me, all of me, before we can go any further, because if we keep going and I do something you can’t handle, and you hate me for it…. It would probably break me.”
“Oh, Adam,” she said, seeing how much she’d already hurt him. “I’m so sorry for reacting so badly last night. You were protecting me and reacting to a threat the way you were trained. I know that. I don’t blame you for anything.”
He didn’t relax, and fear tickled her spine.
“There’s more you need to know, Olivia.”
“Okay,” she said. “Tell me what you have to tell me, but I can tell you right now, it won’t change the way I see you, Adam. We might not have known each other long, but I do know you’re a good man.”
“Do you remember the first night, at my place, when we first talked and I said you hit a sore spot when you mentioned a reward for saving you?”
“I remember.”
“I never really explained what it was that hit me wrong.”
“Are you going to explain now?”
He was silent for so long she wasn’t sure he was going to answer her.
“When I was a teenager, I had a girlfriend. Maria and I were together for a couple of years. We lost our virginity together, we learned about sex together, and not just the mechanics of it, but what we liked and didn’t like.”
“I understand,” she said, unsure where this was going. Was Maria back, did they have a child together or something?
He continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “We lived in a rough neighborhood in East L.A., and she took a lot of crap for being with me, one of the few white families around there. It didn’t matter that Jon, my older brother, was in the gang one of her uncles ran, because as far as they were concerned, not only wasn’t I Latino, but I hadn’t proven myself. No matter how many fights I got in, how many asses I kicked, or how many cars I stole, I was still just white trash to them, and that’s saying a lot coming from them.”
She got it. She might not have grown up in that environment, but in her world, the judgment was just as hard, and her family just as hard to please, in their own way.
“It was blood-in and blood-out with her family. The thing is, it was Maria who kept me mostly straight. She wanted to get out of that place so bad, and she knew if I was jumped in, it would never happen. She fought to keep me and her younger brother, Miguel, out of it.”
He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. Seeing something she couldn’t. “The three of us were tight. Then, a week after I turned seventeen, Jon was gunned down in a drive by. My mom knew Maria’s uncle would send her older brothers for me after that, to initiate me and have me avenge Jon. So, she begged me to join the Army and get away from it all.” He shrugged. “So, I did. I left, leaving my mom, Maria, and Miguel behind.”
The psychologist in her wasn’t surprised by his revelations. His story explained a lot.
The woman in her wanted nothing more than to hold Adam and take away the pain he obviously still felt. She shifted closer and rested her head against his shoulder. She was afraid to ask, but she knew he had to finish the story.
“Did Maria and Miguel get out?”
“No. Miguel runs the gang now and has held it for the last two years. My mom helped Maria right after high school to apply for some subsidies and stuff. She got herself through beauty school and into a good job, even though she still lived in the same neighborhood. I’d see her when I came home every now and then, but teen love fades, ya know?”
“I know,” she said, even though she really didn’t. She’d never been in love.
“Just before I discharged, I got a call from Miguel. Maria had hooked up with some rich guy, and he’d killed her.”
“What!” Horror filled her. “I’m so sorry, Adam.”
“The hot button you hit wasn’t so much about wanting a reward, but the implication that I’d stepped in because I wanted anything other than to protect you.”
Understanding dawned, and her heart ached for him. “What happened to Maria wasn’t your fault, Adam.”
“The thing is, there was no proof this guy killed her,” he said, as if he never even heard what she’d said. “She met him at one of the BDSM clubs by the airport and continued to hook up with him outside the place on her own. Miguel said she was thrilled. He was rich, white, and he wanted her to quit her job and move in with him. So, she did. Two weeks later, he got a call from her saying she was trapped, and he wouldn’t let her leave, but it was cut off before Miguel could find out where she was. The next day he got a call asking him to go identify her body. Official ruling was overdose, but those of us who knew her knew she never touched drugs. Her brothers would’ve killed her themselves if she did.”
“Was there an investigation?”
“Miguel tried to get them to look at the boyfriend, but he said she never moved in with him. That he had no idea where she’d been for the two weeks before her death. When Miguel and his guys tried to get to him, they couldn’t get past his estate security.”
“Who was he?”
“Michael Masterson.”
The name was familiar. Unease tickled the back of her neck, and she sat up. “The man that was beaten and shot dead in his home a few years ago?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything, and Olivia sucked in a deep breath. “They never caught who did it, did they?”
He met her questioning gaze head on. “No, they didn’t.”
He’d done it. He’d killed that man.
She knew he’d killed before. He’d been to war several times in many different places, but this was different. This wasn’t in self-defense, or even in defense of another, or of God and Country. It was vengeance.
It was murder.
Adam watched the color drain from Beauty’s face as realization dawned. Her eyes widened, the pulse at the base of her throat kicked, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“Adam….”
He didn’t say anything. To his way of thinking, putting Masterson down wasn’t the worst thing he’d done, and he didn’t regret it for a second. He wouldn’t apologize or make excuses, and he needed her to see who he was. To accept him as he was, so they could move forward and build a life together.
Olivia stood and walked to the kitchen. She pulled a glass and a bottle from the cupboard and poured herself a shot of something clear. She walked back to the living room and sat down in the chair across from him. The whole time he watched her, her expression remained blank, and his heart pounded.
“You know, in college I learned a lot of weird little facts about human psychology,” she said, crossing her legs and looking right at him. “Like the fact that it’s not unusual for young girls to dream—in a non-sexual way—of marrying their father. Sounds kinda freaky, right?”
He nodded, unsure of what the hell she was talking about but hanging on her every word.
“It never struck me as weird that I'd never dreamt of marrying mine becaus
e mine is a real piece of work, but I did sometimes wonder why I’d never dreamt of marrying anyone. All my life I never thought of being with any one man forever. Here I am, a woman in my mid-forties, never been married, never even had a truly serious relationship, and despite the occasional bout with loneliness and yearning for someone to cuddle on the sofa with to watch movies, I was okay with staying single.” She smiled. “Until you.”
Adam’s chest tightened, hope rising. He got up and went to her, kneeling on the floor in front of her chair.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
She uncrossed her legs, set her drink on the table, and slid off the chair and onto her knees in front of him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she smiled up at him. “I’m saying you are a good man, Adam Kessler. I understand you are capable of bad, violent things, but you are not a bad, violent man. You’re strong, not only of body, but of mind and spirit, and I’m in love with you.”
“Thank fucking god,” he said, wrapping his arms around her as his heart lifted.
Their gazes locked, both of them grinning like idiots as he lowered her to the floor. Stretching his body over hers, he braced himself on his elbows and stroked her hair back from her soft face as he gazed at her. She was so beautiful. He didn’t see the shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep, the love shining from them eclipsing everything. She looked like perfection.
He lowered his head and kissed her, gently at first, then with more hunger as she moved beneath him, and her hands clutched greedily at his back. Clothes disappeared fast, and he was inside her, moving, claiming her body as she’d claimed his soul.
There was no doubt she belonged to him. They fit together perfectly. Her taste was the one he’d been hungering for his whole life, her touch the one that made his heart beat in a way it never had before.
The whole time he moved within her, their eyes remained locked. Hers promised a haven for him, while he showed her everything he was.
Six weeks later.
Olivia was anxious. He could see it in the set of her shoulders and the stiffness of her stance as walked slowly around the closed club. It made him smile.
“You’re smiling,” Sharp said. “Again.”
Adam didn’t bother to look at the man leaning against the bar across from him. “Your point being?”
“No point, brother, other than I’m happy for you.”
That made Adam look at his friend. Simon looked like he always did. Tall, strong, and relaxed. Adam took a closer look, noting that Simon didn’t look so much relaxed as … tired. No, not tired, worn-out.
“You okay, brother?” He asked, suddenly aware that he’d been spending so much time with Olivia that maybe he’d missed something going on with his friend.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.”
Adam watched closely as Simon gazed over the small crowd wandering around the club. Potential new members who were there for the first night of the new training sessions. Just thinking of that had him searching for his woman in the group. He knew she was both excited and nervous to go through the program. Nervous because he didn’t act as one of the trainers. Excited because his Beauty was thinking of it like going back to school, and the whole mental aspects of everything BDSM fascinated her.
Shit, he’d been living with kink in his life for fifteen years, and she was digging deeper into it than he ever had. While he’d let her sit in the office and watch the surveillance cams with one of the men, or hang out on the viewing walk when the club was open, he hadn’t let her walk the floor, or participate yet. She had to complete the training before that was allowed, just like everyone else.
That’s not to say he hadn’t brought her down to try out some of the equipment when the club was closed and it was just the two of them. There were some perks to being the owner.
Adam watch as his girl walked by the spanking bench, stroking the leather softly, a small smile playing at her luscious lips. Yeah, she’d enjoyed her introduction to that piece of equipment.
He reached down, adjusting his hardening dick so it didn’t punch through his zipper. He’d enjoyed it, too, and was strangely eager to strap her onto it again, and put her on display. He’d never really been into public play before, but with her, he wanted to show her off. Let the whole world see that she was his, and they had that magic connection.
The door to the club opened and he tore his gaze from Olivia to see the last of their new trainees walk in. She stood there, gazing around the club like they all do. Before he could move to greet her, she was down the steps and moving toward the bar, long hair swinging around her shoulders, breasts bouncing nicely.
“Tabitha Marks?” he asked when she got closer, already knowing it was her.
“That’s me,” she said with a smile. “Are you Master Adam?”
Simon snorted and Adam ignored him. “Just call me Adam, Tabitha. Can I get you a drink?”
She said no, thanks and turned a bold look to Simon. Adam bit back a laugh as her eyes played up and down his friends body, clearly liking what she saw.
Sharp straightened from the bar, looming over the woman in a way Adam recognized. Just when he thought Simon would say something, take over the new trainee, he turned on his heel and strode to the back of the club without a word. Surprised, Adam watched him go. There was definitely something off with him. It wasn’t like Sharp to pass up an invitation, and even though it hand’t been verbal, that was what Tabitha had just offered. They all knew it too.
“Tabitha,” he said when he saw she was still staring after Simon. “I’d like to chat with you for a moment before the orientation begins. Please, have a seat.”
He had to give it to her, she brushed off Sharp’s dismissal and kept her focus on him while he gave her his personal welcome. She was an experienced sub, new to Los Angeles though, and she wasn’t surprised by anything he said. There’d been a flicker in her eyes though, when he’d handed her his card. One that made his radar ping. He’d need to keep an eye on her for sure.
Adam sent her to join the rest at the front of the club, where he saw Beauty smiling and chatting with two of the others. She threw back her head, laughing. When the husky sound his his ears, his dick stood at attention and he smiled.
It never failed.
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Gifted with a salacious imagination, Bestselling Author Sasha White’s brand of Romance with Heat, and Erotica with Heart is all about sassy women and sexy men. With a voice that is called “distinctive and delicious” by The Romance Studio, this Canadian author has become a reader favorite.
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PROLOGUE
I want a man who wants ME. Someone I can tell my deepest desires and feel no shame or embarrassment.
I want a man who can look past the boyish body and the grease beneath my nails to see the woman I am. I need a man who will see me as the sexual creature I am, not just as “one of the guys” or the girl mechanic with the magic touch. He’ll see me, want me, and take pride in knowing I am his—and that I’ll do anything for him.
Ronnie stared down at the words she’d just written and sucked in a deep breath. It was one thing to have those thoughts when lying in bed alone at night and another to see them in stark black and white. Knowing that others were going to read them made her feel very raw—exposed in a way she’d never really anticipated.
“Get used to it,” she muttered to herself before taking a sip from the glass of Don Julio in front of her. It was the good stuff, a treat to herself on her thirty-fourth birthday. Too bad she ha
d nobody to share it with.
Which brought her right back to the application forms in front of her.
She’d laid it all out—the fantasy man she’d been dreaming of for as long as she could remember, even though she didn’t really believe it was possible to find him. That was okay, though. She was ready to settle for just the sexual fantasy. Since she was giving up on the romantic one, maybe she should scratch out the last line of her answer.
With a glance around her empty apartment, and a nod to the bottle of tequila in front of her, Ronnie decided to leave it as it was. Mason Hardin, the guy who’d sent her the membership applications and information on Overwatch, had said to be as honest and to-the-point as possible when she filled out the forms, so she’d listen to him. And the truth was, no matter how cynical she’d become in her mind, deep in her heart she still held the same dream almost every woman did—that there was a Mr. Perfect-for-her out there somewhere.
Men never saw her as anything more than the female mechanic with the magic touch. She was great with engines, could make any of them purr like a kitten or roar like a lion. But with men? Not so great. This was Los Angeles, where super-models and actresses walked the streets and the average woman was a D cup. Men looked at her plain features, straight body, and the grease under her fingernails ... and she disappeared as a woman.
To them, she was just one of the guys, another mechanic in the shop. She was barely a female in their minds, let alone an attractive one, and she was tired of it. She wanted to be seen as a woman. A strong, sexy, desirable woman who inspired lust and all sorts of dirty thoughts in a man. And she wanted to follow through on those dirty thoughts.
It might be wrong to admit it, but she dreamed of being a man’s sexual plaything. Of being touched, teased, and used. Ultimately, she wanted a man who would love that about her, one who would cherish the gift she’d make of herself in the bedroom, but she was thinking that was an impossible dream. Getting into Overwatch would help her figure that out, and filling out this questionnaire was the first step to getting there.