by Meghan March
Then I saw her at the auction. Saw her and watched her.
I knew I’d been lying to myself. I would have gone after her. Found a way to lure her back to the club. I should have waited. Shouldn’t have met her that second night when I covered her in a blanket. It took every bit of my self-control to walk out of that room. I wanted to say fuck it to the job I was already late leaving for, even though it would have destroyed my reputation and possibly cost me my life.
Temperance Ransom has no idea how dangerous she is. Every man has one thing that could lead to his downfall. I’ve always been so fucking smug that I didn’t.
Until I met her.
I should be cursing her, but all I want to do is make her feel the same storm that’s raging inside me. I want her to feel this addiction.
Fuck. I want to keep her.
And that would be the final nail in my coffin. But not tonight. Tonight, we steal whatever we can get.
“Are you coming?” she asks.
Fuck yes, I think. We’re both coming tonight.
I let a lazy smile stretch my lips before wiping it away, and grip the metal handle on the glass separating us. “When I open this door, you’re mine. You follow my orders. Obey my commands.”
Her dark eyebrows rise. “I guess we’ll see if you can make me, Kane.”
She emphasizes my name, and it unleashes another rush of need as I yank the door open. Staring at me through her lashes, she plays with her nipples, and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip.
Temperance the temptress.
And all fucking mine.
13
Temperance
When his gaze meets mine again, I swallow. “I want to know how you taste when you come down my throat.”
It’s like unleashing a beast.
“Fuck me,” he says on a groan before attacking my mouth.
There’s no hesitation, only dominance. His lips crash against mine as his tongue demands entrance, and he swallows my moans and mumbled words—most likely begging. He doesn’t stop until my body feels like it’s on fire, and the only way to put it out is to climb him and slide down on his cock until I’m stretched so full that there’s no more him and me, only us.
My hips buck against him as my right leg rises of its own volition, wrapping around his hip, trying to force his cock against my pussy.
“I need you. Now.”
He tears his lips away and lifts my chin to force my gaze up to his. “Changing your mind so quick? I thought you wanted this—” His hips flex against me, and his shaft is rock hard. “Down your throat.”
“But—”
“Anyone can throw out bold words, princess. But can you back them up?”
I nod.
His blue gaze burns hotter. “Good. Because you don’t get my cock until you swallow every drop of my cum and suck me until I’m hard again.”
I inhale sharply, his words just as powerful as his dominating kiss.
If he thinks I’m going to back down and shy away from his dark desires, he doesn’t know me that well. He doesn’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this—a man strong enough to take control and bend me to his will, but masterful enough to make me love every second of my submission.
An alpha female only bows to a man strong enough to be worthy of her.
“Make me.” I form each word with purpose. With hope. It may be perverse, but I want him to push me.
His expression blazes with approval, his pupils dilating. He loves this. And so do I.
His hands lock around my wrists and he leads me back toward the built-in bench. A single towel hangs on the bar above it. He reaches behind him to snag it before dropping it on the floor.
“On your knees, temptress.”
He releases my wrists and I glance down at the towel, which is quickly turning damp in the thick steam. I’m shocked by his thoughtfulness. So shocked, I almost do it. But I pause, reaching down to fold the towel in a neat cushion before looking him in the eye again.
“How bad do you want me on my knees, Kane?”
His eyes flash with intensity. He understands what I need.
Kane reaches out and grips my shoulders with his huge hands. “Bad enough to put you there myself.”
He increases the pressure, and I resist for only a moment before I bend. His grip tightens just before he releases me.
“Men would kill to have you on your knees before them if they had any idea how fucking incredibly beautiful you look there.” He grips the base of his cock with a rough tug, but his other hand finds my chin, forcing my gaze upward. “I can feel your power rolling off you in waves. Even though you’re on your knees, you still know you’re in control.”
His astute observation shocks me—because he’s right.
I open my mouth to reply, but his thumb slides over my bottom lip and pushes inside.
“I’m still going to test your limits, temptress. Because you’re trying to destroy mine. Now, suck. Show me you want my cock between these lips.”
The gauntlet has been thrown. This isn’t just sex, it’s a decadent exchange of power and control. Give and get. Bend and receive. But I’m still determined to make him break first.
I wrap my lips around his thumb and stroke the pad with my tongue. I moan as I suck, taking it all as he pushes it deeper. I pretend it’s his cock and worship it. He strokes his dick harder and harder with each second his thumb is between my lips.
I’m jealous of his fingers as he sweeps a drop of his pre-cum from the tip. My thoughts must be stamped on my face.
“You want this?”
Slowly, I nod, and he pulls his thumb free and releases his grip on his cock to spread the wetness across my lower lip. My tongue swipes out to taste that saltiness. But it’s all a tease.
I want more. I want him to push me to the edge.
14
Kane
Greedy. That’s exactly how she looks as she licks my pre-cum off her lips.
Greed has never looked so fucking sexy.
“You want my dick? You’re going to take it like a good girl?”
She nods.
“I want to hear you say it.”
Temperance leans forward, presses her palms against my quads, and drags her cheek alongside my shaft, barely making contact.
Her gaze cuts to mine. “I want to see how much I can fit in my mouth.”
Like before, her words are bold, but I’m bolder. I cup the side of her face.
“You’re going to take every inch, even if it means you’re swallowing me down your pretty throat.” Her fingers tense on my legs as I use my other hand to grasp the base of my dick and bring the head to her lips. “Lick. I want you tonguing the head like you did my thumb.”
Her eyes widen, and for a moment I wonder if she’ll balk again, but she smiles.
“Finally.” She wraps her lips around the head and proceeds to destroy me.
15
Temperance
It’s not just a blow job—it’s a battle of wills. Or, at least, it is for the first minute. But when he groans out his pleasure, I completely forget about anything but hearing him make that sound again. I lick and suck and take him deeper.
“Fuck. Yes. Like that.”
He holds my face, keeping me in place as his guttural sounds increase, and so does the intensity of his thrusts. He hits the back of my throat, and my eyes prick with tears as I gag. I talked a big game, but I truly have little experience in this. And somehow, Kane knows.
He strokes my cheek. “You can take it all, princess. Swallow next time. Breathe through your nose.”
He pulls out and goes slower the next time, watching me closely. I gag again and pull back, wiping at the tears on my lashes.
“You okay?”
I’m not, but I feel less powerful than I did when I was making promises with my lips that apparently my throat can’t cash.
I close my eyes.
“Look at me.” His tone is firm but gentle as he strokes my cheek, and I glance up
at him. “If you change your mind, say so. Then we stop or switch it up. I’ll never push you past a hard limit. If you aren’t getting off on something we’re doing, neither am I.”
Something about his understanding shifts the pieces inside me, putting a jagged crack in the wall I’ve had in place around my heart for as long as I can remember.
“You don’t have any problem telling me what you do want. The same goes for what you don’t want. Got it?”
I nod again, but instead of feeling dumb, I’m calm and determined. “Would you sit down?”
He glances at the bench behind him. “Whatever you want, princess.”
I smirk. “Be careful what you say.”
“Not tonight.” He lowers his big body onto the bench, shivering for a moment when he touches the cold tile.
“Spread your legs.”
He complies with my request, and I scoot the towel forward and reposition myself.
“Say the word and I’ll fuck you against the wall instead.”
I shake my head. “Maybe later. I’m busy right now.”
16
Kane
I know why Ransom always warned me away from his little sister. She’s fucking incredible. Before, she was an addiction. Now, she’s becoming something even more dangerous.
A habit.
It’s no secret I like to watch. That’s what I do. Study and observe.
With Temperance, though, I marvel.
From the doorway to my bedroom, I watch her sleep curled around my pillow like she was curled around me before I climbed out of bed. Or, more accurately, as I forced myself to let her go.
It’s been over fifteen years since I’ve spent the night with a woman, and even then it wasn’t sleeping with them so much as passing out drunk. I haven’t wanted to be that close to someone for an entire night. But Temperance is different.
Temperance is a .50-caliber round to the head—game over.
At that thought, I force myself to turn away and get to work. With one last backward glance, I leave the sleeping woman behind to face another far less desirable subject . . .
The mess her brother made that I have to clean up.
17
Temperance
The next morning, I wake to an empty bed and tangled sheets that aren’t my own. It takes a moment of panic and confusion for me to remember where I am.
With my stranger. No, he has a name now. With Kane.
Memories of what we did last night come back with complete clarity, despite the alcohol I drank. Shockingly, I don’t have so much as a headache, even though I tossed back the hard liquor like it was my job. Hit-man trick?
The offhand thought stops me cold.
Hit man.
My brother is a smuggler, and I’ve helped boost and chop cars, so it’s not like I can get on my high horse and judge anyone . . . but this feels different.
Bigger. Foreign. Scary.
I’ve always been able to convince myself that Rafe’s smuggling is a victimless crime. I know that’s essentially burying my head in the sand, but it’s what helps me sleep at night. I’ve chalked up my past life of crime to poor decision-making or necessity. After all, beggars can’t be choosers, and I’ve fallen into the beggar category for most of my formative years.
But a hit man? That’s even harder to accept in the morning light.
The scent of coffee wafts into the room as the man at the center of my thoughts steps through the threshold carrying a mug.
“I wasn’t sure how you take it, so I guessed black.”
He crosses the room, stopping at the edge of the bed and holding it out. I accept the warm mug and inhale the rich aroma. It smells completely different from the industrial-type brew we make at the distillery in the communal pot.
“Black works.”
The mug’s heat soaks into the palms of my hands as I curl them around the pottery. When I take a sip, my assumption is confirmed—it tastes like manna from heaven. As he said before, wet work pays well. And not just well enough to afford the fancy coffee, but a massive warehouse and the world’s largest collection of restored four-wheel drives.
The delicious coffee suddenly tastes a little more harsh and bitter on my tongue as I’m reminded of the blood money that bought it.
I can’t stop myself from asking the question burning in my mind. “How do you live with yourself? Doing what you do?”
The warmth in Kane’s expression turns to frost. He pivots and strides out of the room without a word.
Great way to start the day, Temperance.
Feeling like a complete asshole, especially when I find my clothes neatly folded on a chair, I dress and linger over the cooling coffee. I’m not sure I want to face him, and definitely uncertain whether I can apologize for the question.
I shore up my courage and carry the mug out of the bedroom, forcing myself down each stair to face him. How is that I felt so connected to him last night, but everything feels so different this morning? I should have started with asking about my brother and what progress he’s made in that direction.
That’s what matters.
Nothing else.
I tread carefully on the stairs and pause midway down when I spy the cluttered countertops of the kitchen.
What the hell?
Kane has his back to me while he works at the stove, but he must know I’m there because he stiffens. But all of this is secondary to the stacks of newspapers on the bar.
I glance at him and finish my trek down the stairs.
“You want an answer? How can I live with myself being a trigger man? Pick up any one of those papers and tell me the world wouldn’t be better off without at least one of those sick fucks.”
I cross to the first stack of papers and read the top headline.
* * *
Girl Held Captive for 16 Years Finally Speaks Out
* * *
Then the next one.
* * *
Man Responsible for Mall Shooting on Trial
* * *
The next stack has a paper from Paris, and my French, while not perfect, comes through.
* * *
Terrorists Kill 7 by Crashing Car into Crowd
* * *
“If you don’t want the hands of a killer on you, I won’t blame you. I also won’t apologize for what I do.”
I find my voice. “So some people just need killing?” I whisper. “Is that it? It isn’t about the money at all?”
“No amount of money can make me take a job if I won’t be able to live with myself after it’s done.”
I look up at his somber face and somehow find comfort in his solemn tone.
This isn’t a man who kills indiscriminately and has no care for the value of human life. He actually probably understands that value more than anyone, because he knows how it feels to pull the trigger and end it.
“I believe you.” I set the coffee mug on the counter and pick up the paper to my left. The one with the headline about the girl who was held captive by a deranged man. “I would’ve killed this bastard myself if I’d had the chance.”
His icy expression melts a few degrees.
“I’m not just saying that. I mean it.”
“I believe you.” He echoes my words from a few moments before.
For almost a minute, we stare at each other in silence, and I’m not certain what to say next. Thankfully, Kane speaks first, changing the subject.
“What time do you need to be at work?”
I glance at the clock on the oven. “As soon as I can. I’m usually there before anyone else.”
“And you stay later than everyone else.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “Usually.”
“You’re going to have to cut your hours shorter this week.”
“Because we’re going to be working on finding Rafe?”
“I am going to be working on that.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m helping. He’s my brother. I know him and his pat
terns better than anyone.”
“Which is why you’re going to tell me all of it and let me do my job.”
Oh, hell no. “You aren’t cutting me out of this. You told me yourself that I’m in danger too if we don’t figure this out, so don’t expect me to sit on the sidelines.”
He opens his mouth.
“And don’t you dare tell me it’s too dangerous. I’m not going to be on lockdown and shut out of whatever you’re doing.”
“Get ready for work. We’ll discuss it on the way.”
“As long as the discussion ends with you agreeing with me, I’m fine with that.”
I turn on a heel and head back up the stairs, already thinking of the order in which I’m going to unveil my arguments on the drive to the distillery.
Kane hasn’t seen anything yet.
18
Kane
I thought Temperance was impressive on the drive in, when despite having her eyes covered by the beanie, she laid out a four-pronged argument in favor of her being an integral part of Operation: Save Rafe’s Ass, as she called it. But it wasn’t until I saw her in action at Seven Sinners that I realized how much of a badass she truly is.
The woman is an unstoppable force of nature when she gets rolling.
From a guest chair in her office at Seven Sinners, I follow along as she rips a supplier a new one for missing a delivery date, threatening to sue for breach of contract if they don’t have the delivery there within the next twelve hours so they don’t slow down production.