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by Rebecca Zanetti


  “Couldn’t sleep.” Tension surrounded them, and not just from the storm.

  Lightning flashed, and he frowned. “Does it ever stop raining here?”

  She stepped back in the doorway. “Yes. This is a normal spring, though.” What was wrong with him? His shoulders were one tense line, and this close, she could see the vein ticking in his neck. “Rough day?” she asked.

  His scoff was more of a growl. “You could say that.” He scrubbed a rough hand through his already wet hair. The rain molded his thin cotton shirt to cut muscles.

  Energy seemed to ricochet off him. Dark and deep ... angry even. “Where’s your jacket?” she asked, looking for anything to say. Anything to gauge his mood.

  He frowned and looked down the now silent road. “Left it in the truck.”

  Her knees weakened just a little. Her hands trembled, and every ounce of her wanted to take another step back. “Um, do you want to tell me about your day?” Her lungs felt odd.

  “No.” That green gaze slashed back to hers, looking down from an intimidating height. This was a part of him she hadn’t seen before. “I’m tired of being lied to. Tired of being manipulated. Tired of being undercover.”

  Yeah, she’d figured he was undercover again. Hopefully, he was talking about his job and not her right now. When she’d been scared, he’d helped. “Would you like to come in and cuddle?” Gathering her strength, she reached for his wet shoulder, curling her fingers over the taut muscle. “I could rub your shoulders.”

  “My shoulders aren’t what I want you to rub.” His voice thickened.

  She blinked. The crudeness caught her off guard, and yet her body softened. Everywhere. “Come in, Malcolm.”

  “No.” He shrugged off her hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” The scent of whiskey drifted on the wind around him. “This isn’t good, Pippa. I’m not in a safe place right now. For you.”

  What did that mean? She didn’t know much, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. “It’s okay.”

  His hands slid into his wet jean pockets, as if to keep from touching her. “No, it really isn’t. Not tonight. I can’t be gentle like before. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

  “That was you gentle?” she blurted out, more than a little intrigued.

  His chuckle held a warning. “Yeah, baby. That was me gentle.”

  Heat bloomed in her abdomen, tugging low. She needed to talk to him, but not when he was in this mood. There was something so tortured about him, she wanted to help. To somehow soothe this beast of anger. “Then come inside and don’t be gentle.” She faced him, being as brave as she knew how to be.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.” The dim light from inside played over his hard features, and his dark gaze trapped hers like a magnet. “Trust me on this. Go inside and go to bed.”

  “No.” Her chin lifted. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  He moved closer to her, and enough heat poured off him that steam rose between them. “You’re smarter than that. Get your ass back to bed.”

  A thrill zapped down her torso, flashing a surge of adrenaline through her veins. This was a challenge, a game she didn’t know how to play. But if he thought the rough order would make her back down, he’d miscalculated. “Why?” she whispered, sliding toward him. She couldn’t stop. Curiosity and an edgy need propelled her.

  He looked down at her small bare feet against his thick boots. Tension ticked between them, harsh and full. “Last chance, Pippa. Go back to bed.”

  Even though the storm bellowed around them, she suddenly felt like she’d jumped into the path of a tornado. Might as well poke the tiger literally. She pressed her finger into his chest. “Make me.”

  His head snapped back up, a raw hunger in every line. “Okay.” Faster than a gasp, he ducked a shoulder into her stomach and lifted her right off her feet. Her stomach hit his hard muscles, and the air blew out of her lungs. Shock kept her silent for a minute.

  Her hair hung down, and suddenly, they were back in her house. She started to struggle.

  “Stop it.” She fisted her hand and nailed him in the right kidney.

  His muffled oath was the only prelude to his hand descending on her butt. Hard. She yelped as pain radiated from his hand. Oh, it hurt. But it felt good, too. Warm and tingly. What the hell? She started twisting again, and he flipped her over, planting her on the kitchen counter.

  Her breath panted out.

  “I need to know.” His voice went beyond rough to raw, the sound hoarse. “Do you have triggers?”

  She blinked. “Triggers?” Like on a gun?

  He snarled, his face moving closer. “Yes. Don’t mess with me right now, Pippa. I heard the nightmare. Have you been abused? Touched? Do I need to back away right now? Tell me the truth. I will.”

  Oh. Her heart swelled right then, despite the rioting flash flood ripping through her body. “Abused? Probably, definitely emotionally. Psychologically. All of that.” She’d worked through much of it with her counselors.

  The sound he made was animalistic. “If they’re not dead yet, they will be.” His body was one rigid line of deadliness. Of promise. Of danger.

  She gulped. “There was no touching as a kid. Nothing physical. No triggers. I’m okay.” For the first time in way too long, she meant the words. Her body and mind concentrated only on him with a razor-sharp focus that made breathing nearly impossible.

  The intense color of his eyes trapped hers, and his face came even closer. Within inches. “If I held you down, you’d be all right?”

  A shocking thrill jolted through her. The mere idea sharpened her nipples into points so hard they hurt. “Yes.” Her voice was hoarse this time. “Though you might not be.”

  His chin lifted at the challenge. “You ever been spanked?”

  The spit in her mouth dried up. “No,” she whispered, her skin becoming sensitized.

  “You challenge me again, you will be.”

  It was a clear threat, and it made her wet. Wetter. She should be embarrassed or even concerned. But she wanted this. She wanted him, completely unleashed. The wildness she’d sensed in him, the primitive side that had drawn her from that first day . . . that she craved. She arched out and cupped his steel-hard erection. “I think you’re full of shit, Malcolm.”

  He reared back, his shoulders seeming to broaden. “What did you say?” The words were mangled.

  What was she doing? She couldn’t seem to stop herself. He was trying so hard to stay in control. To treat her as something fragile he couldn’t be himself with. This darkness? She wanted it. If it was part of him, she needed it. “All of this talk. You’re the one who’s scared.” Her mouth just wouldn’t quit.

  Thunder bellowed outside, and the rain beat mercilessly against the windows.

  He didn’t move, but seemed to vibrate in place. It was as if the entire world held its breath. When he did finally move, it was with a deliberate control that caught her by surprise. One second she was facing him, the next he’d manacled her and flipped her around, facedown on the kitchen table. “I’d hate to be full of shit,” he muttered, yanking her yoga pants down her legs.

  She sucked in a harsh breath. Her feet dangled in the air. She’d dared him to do this. “Mal—”

  The first smack on her bare ass stopped the words in her throat. She tried to lever herself up, and he planted one hand across her entire lower back, holding her in place. Then he brought his huge palm down on her ass a second time. The sound was a sharp crack, the sting a quick burn. Tears instantly filled her eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Oh, you did mean.” Four hard smacks punctuated his words.

  More tears filled her eyes because he really wasn’t holding back. He’d given her the out, and she’d challenged him. She could stop him. If she asked, he’d stop. But the raw, hot, pulsing ache between her legs kept her silent.

  Pain and pleasure. She’d never explored this. He flipped on the light by the door, and she closed her eyes in protest.

&nbs
p; “Now, that’s better.” The sound he made was full of hunger as he ran his palm over her heated butt. “So pretty and bright pink.” He spanked her again.

  She arched up, heat sliding from her butt to her clit. She whimpered.

  He leaned down then, his broad hand pinning her to the table, his breath hot at her ear. “Here’s the question, baby. You pushed me, you haven’t really protested, your body is a nice little pink. Did you like your first spanking?” Dark and rough, his voice shivered over her.

  She pressed her lips together. Even so, she couldn’t give him everything. “No?”

  His chuckle made her shiver. “You don’t want to lie to me.” He caressed down the small of her back, over her burning butt and between her legs. His fingers brushed her bare flesh, and a gasp escaped her from the electric shock. “And yet you did.” He slid a finger through her slick folds and up across her engorged clit.

  A low moan escaped her, and a tremble shook her entire body. Pleasure pierced her with a shocking intensity.

  “Liars get punished.” He palmed her sex while his other hand spanked her. Hard.

  She cried out, thrown into an orgasm so sudden, she didn’t have time to tense her body. It bore down on her and she ground against him with a desperation that had her panting in time with the waves.

  With a sob, she relaxed against the cool wood of the table, her heart thundering way too fast to be healthy.

  “Do. Not. Move.” He squeezed her butt, and the pain shot through her, blending into pleasure that shoved her closer to the brink again. The rasp of his belt unbuckling was thunderous in the quiet kitchen.

  She stiffened.

  He chuckled, the sound so dark it made her tremble more. Like a sapling caught in a tornado. His jeans zipper released. The feel of leather rubbing across her punished butt made her jolt and suck in a breath. “I told you not to move.”

  Her eyelids flashed open, and she shook, her body rioting.

  He placed the belt by her head. “You haven’t been that bad, baby.” Amusement filtered from him. He leaned down again, sucking her earlobe into his mouth. Wet and hot and oh-so-firm. He released her with a soft plop. “Are you okay?”

  The fact that he asked nearly made her cry. She blinked away tears and turned her head to see his shadowed face. “Yes. That all you got?” Her voice trembled, but she’d made her point.

  “No. I’ve got a bit more. You haven’t submitted completely yet.” He rose up, and a condom wrapper crinkled. Then he pressed himself at her entrance and his hands lifted her hips straight up and off the table.

  She took a deep breath to prepare like last time.

  He shoved inside her with one incredibly strong stroke, all the way to the hilt. She tossed her head back, arching against the painful invasion. Deep and hard, he filled all of her. With his angle and control of her lower body, she couldn’t move. She was helpless in his grip, his rough thighs against the back of hers.

  The idea nearly threw her into an orgasm. She softened to the table, losing her tenseness.

  “There you go,” he murmured, his fingers tightening on her skin. “Next time I spank you, you’ll submit instantly.”

  Next time? She wasn’t sure she’d survive this time.

  He didn’t give her time to regroup. His thrusts were hard and powerful, moving her across the table before he yanked her back against him. The pain mixed with a sharp pleasure, keeping her on an edge that blurred the entire room.

  The sound of his harsh breathing and the slap of flesh on flesh overwhelmed the thunder outside. He kept going, keeping her so close to falling over the edge, his stamina stronger than any animal’s.

  Without warning, he reached down and tapped her clit.

  She exploded, crying out his name, her body shuddering uncontrollably. Stars flashed across her eyes, and her body fired in every direction. The orgasm was so powerful, she shut her eyes and let it take her over.

  He planted himself hard inside her and stopped moving, his body jerking as he found his own release.

  For several heartbeats, they remained in place. Then he withdrew and gently turned her around, lifting her against his chest. He leaned down and kissed her, his lips gentle. “Let’s finish this in bed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mal’s phone yanked him from the first peaceful sleep he’d had in too long. “What?” he muttered into the speaker, not opening his eyes, his back flat on the mattress.

  “It’s Angus. We caught something on the bug you planted in Isaac Leon’s office. We waited to call, but we’re ten minutes out now.”

  Mal forced his gritty eyes open. He’d been drugged before drinking way too much, and then he’d had the best sex of his life. He glanced at the clock on the phone. It was only four in the morning. “I can’t sustain only getting one hour of sleep.” Shit. Less than an hour. He and Pippa had gone at it for several rounds.

  “Sorry. We need you. Get mentally prepared—we’re on Op.” Angus clicked off.

  Mal breathed out, trying to wake his body. Pippa slept quietly, curled into him like a little kitten with her knees in his ribs and her head on his chest.

  A surge of possessiveness grabbed him by the throat. A deep, dangerous, hungry possessiveness that was too feral to tame. They had crossed the line tonight—all sorts of lines. She was his, whether either one of them was ready for that or not.

  He gently extricated himself from her and slid from the bed, turning to make sure she was covered.

  She murmured and then curled back onto her side. “Malcolm?” Her sleepy voice was sultry and sexy.

  “It’s okay. I have to go to work.” Where were his jeans? He looked around at the dark floor but couldn’t see anything. Wait a minute. He’d left all their clothing in the kitchen during round one—along with his gun. “Go back to sleep.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. We need to talk.”

  Yeah, they probably did. It was time to level with each other and figure out where to go from there. He leaned over and kissed her. “We’ll talk when I get back. Enough with the secrets, Pippa. We go on together from here.” Then to make sure she got him, he nipped her bottom lip. “For now, get some sleep.”

  She kissed him. “If you’re hungry, there are some biscuits left from when Angus visited earlier. Take those.” She snuggled back down with a soft sigh.

  “Angus Force was here?” he asked, his entire body going cold and then hot. Way too hot.

  She murmured something, already falling back to sleep.

  What the holy hell? He found his jeans and shirt in the other room and had just finished buckling his belt when Wolfe’s truck pulled up outside.

  Tucking in his gun, he hustled out the door, making sure it was locked behind him. Then he strode toward the truck and yanked open the passenger side door. He jumped in, his hand fisting in Force’s shirt. “What the fuck were you doing here earlier?”

  Wolfe looked over from the driver’s seat, his dark gaze observing. But he didn’t make a move.

  Raider cleared his throat from the backseat. “How about we talk about this as we drive? We don’t have much time.”

  Force didn’t try to dislodge Mal’s hold. “I stopped by and had a nice chat with Pippa. Somebody who isn’t screwing her needed to at least get a small read. A profile, if you will. She makes excellent biscuits and a nice lavender tea.”

  Asshole. Mal shoved him and then slammed the door before jumping into the backseat with Raider. His leather jacket was right where he’d left it, and he shrugged into it. “Leave her alone.”

  Wolfe backed the truck out and opened the throttle toward town.

  Force sighed. “She’s sweet, and I see why you like her. We didn’t get a chance to talk world domination or mass killings, but I can tell you she had a messed-up childhood.”

  “No shit,” Mal murmured, his gaze out the window at the darkness. “That’s all you got?”

  “No. She’s head over heels for you, and she doesn’t seem to be fightin
g it any. Makes me think maybe she’s looking for a future, which would mean no suicide bomb. But again, I didn’t have much time with her,” Force said.

  “I’ve had plenty. She’s not involved with the cult,” Mal said, his eyes aching with the need to sleep.

  “Okay,” Force said quietly. “But for the record, she did have me look at her car. Said it wasn’t working.”

  Mal stiffened. “Where was she trying to go?”

  “Didn’t say.”

  Maybe she’d just wanted to visit her friend. It wasn’t like she’d tried to get away the night before, and they hadn’t had a chance to talk, so there was no reason she would’ve told him about her nonworking car. He should probably fix it. “She’s not trying to run.”

  “Agreed,” Force said.

  Raider sighed. “Sorry to call you in. I was listening to the bug, and Isaac sent two of his guys to rob a pharmacy in Minuteville. The plan was decent, actually. It sounded like they’ve been working on it for at least a month. I have Brigid running searches all over the country for similar robberies.”

  “Drugs and money,” Mal said. “Makes sense. What’s the plan?”

  “They’re gonna get caught,” Force said, settling back in his seat. “Loudly.”

  Raider grinned. “We have the local PD on stakeout, and I’m fairly certain they’ve already tipped off the media. If they haven’t, I will as soon as we take them down.”

  “Whose arrest will it be?” Mal asked, putting the pieces together.

  “Local cops, but then, because it’s a drug issue, the federal government will step in. Those two will be in our custody within the hour, if all goes well.” Angus turned and nodded at Raider. “You and I will represent the HDD. I’d like to keep Wolfe and West under wraps for now.”

  “Agreed,” Raider said.

  Angus partially turned around. “West and Wolfe, I want you guys on the perimeter, just in case one of the cult assholes gets loose. We have to take them down tonight. It’s imperative.”

  “What’s the urgency?” Raider asked.

  Force shook his head. “Not sure. Orchid says they’re gearing up for something in days—something big. She’s not on the inside of whatever it is.”

 

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