Re/Paired (Doms of the FBI Book 2)

by Michele Zurlo

  “That is so not the issue!” She jerked her hand from his grasp. “I know what kind of women you tend toward. Maybe they like it, but I doubt it. That’s probably why they kick you to the curb so quickly. Never, ever do that again.”

  He narrowed his eyes, knowing full well how frightening his glare could be. “It wasn’t punishment, though I see I’m going to have to spend some time teaching you to control your orgasms. As I said, I don’t mind if you touch yourself, but you are not to come without my permission.”

  This time she smacked the palm of her hand full on his chest. She packed quite a wallop, but she failed to move him. “Damn it! Stop trying to change the subject. I’m not into humiliation. I don’t mind crawling or sucking your dick or even the fact that you got yourself off this morning when I was barely even awake. I will not countenance you treating me with such disrespect. I’m the same person I was yesterday, and I expect you to treat me with the same dignity and respect.”

  “You’re upset that I came on your face?” He asked to clarify. Though she’d said she was okay with blowing him, he wasn’t sure whether she was upset over the rough treatment or the way he’d finished.

  Fury flared brighter in her eyes, lending a hellish darkness to them. “Don’t play games with me. You know exactly why I’m upset. Everything was fine until you pulled that stunt.”

  As a child, Keith had always been the one to push until someone retaliated. He had instigated more than his share of fights because he looked at the boundaries people set and barreled through them. Telling him to stop was like waving a figurative red flag.

  One swift move, and he had her pinned between the wall and his body. “Let me get this right. You’re okay with me shooting my junk all over your stomach, but not your face?”

  She wiggled her hands between them and pushed, but he had the advantage in weight and height. “I also don’t appreciate being told to shut up. You want to fuck me in the morning, fine. Don’t you ever tell me to be quiet in such a condescending way again. I won’t put up with it, Keith. Maybe your other subs were doormats, but I’m not.”

  “Chest?”

  She shoved harder. “Move. You don’t get to intimidate me when we’re not in a scene.”

  He knew he wasn’t intimidating her. Despite his best effort, or perhaps because of it, she was about three seconds from nailing him in the balls. He thrust a knee between her legs to block that move. “Answer the question. Are you okay with me coming on your chest?”

  Her bathrobe had come loose, and he had a clear view of the softly rounded tops of her breasts. Blood rushed to his cock.

  She stopped struggling and shifted to lean against the wall. “Yes. That’s kind of hot. I did like when you came on me yesterday. Watching you masturbate was definitely a turn-on. I even liked the way you woke me up this morning. It made me feel powerful and important. Like I belonged to you. Like I mattered. But the other things were not cool.”

  Her admission eviscerated any doubts he had about her submissiveness. Though she sounded every bit as pissed off, her voice had softened, and so had her expression. At least until she got to the last part. He pushed back a strand of wet hair that had fallen over her forehead. “That’s the kind of Dom I am, Kitty Kat.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  With a sigh, he stepped back and gave her some space. “It is. I’ve been trying to tell you this since last weekend, but you don’t want to believe it. The evidence is staring you in the face, but you don’t want to face facts. Since you just want me to train you, I’ve actually been nicer and more considerate with you than I’ve ever been with a woman. Still, it’s less than you deserve.”

  Lines scrunched between her eyebrows as she adjusted her robe. “That’s a nice piece of bullshit, but I’m not buying. Maybe it’s the kind of Dom you’ve been, but it’s not who you are. I know you, Keith. I know the sides of yourself that you hide from your lovers. You can’t pretend to be someone you’re not with me. You don’t get a free pass to be an asshole.”

  He backed away and sank down on the edge of her mattress, more than a little defeated. He should have known she wouldn’t be able to accept this side of him. “You want someone who can be gentle, who can look at you with affection and touch you with reverence. That’s not me.”

  She shook her head. “You’re selling yourself short. I won’t let you do that.”

  Her faith in him was tremendously misplaced. He couldn’t win this argument, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to try to convince her to settle for him. He’d been a fool to entertain the possibility that he could have a piece of this dream. At the end of the day, he was only howling at the moon. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here last night.”

  Little by little, her eyes widened and her lips parted as she realized he was breaking it off. “You’re afraid. You’re ending this because you’re scared.”

  Afraid of losing her friendship? Hell, yes. “I can’t take the chance I’ll cause more damage than I already have.”

  She covered her eyes with her hand. He couldn’t tell if she was holding back tears or anger. “Fine. I can’t force you to do something you don’t want to do. I’ll ask Jordan to train me.”

  It killed him to imagine Jordan anywhere near her, but she deserved someone who could cherish her body and soul. Jordan Monaghan could do that. He might look a little rough around the edges, but he knew how to treat a woman—and he had a huge nurturing side to him. “That’s probably for the best.”

  She turned her back to him, though not before he saw the moisture gathering in her eyes, and yanked open a drawer in her dresser.

  Katrina snatched at the stack of panties that was supposed to be on the left side of her top drawer, but she came up empty. The tears blurring her vision brimmed over and burned hot on her cheeks. She’d been stupid to think he wanted this as much as she did. Malcolm had told her several times that Keith was emotionally damaged, that he’d probably never settle down because he didn’t believe he deserved happiness. She’d rolled her eyes at her brother’s dire prediction, but now she saw the truth of his statement. Keith went out of his way to alienate anyone who got too close.

  Well, she couldn’t let him do that to her. She whirled around to give him a further piece of her mind, only to find him standing right behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tight she thought he might crack her ribs.

  “I’m sorry. I never wanted this to happen.”

  She tilted her face up, though it took some doing to get him to ease his hold enough for her to move. “Keith, just because we disagree doesn’t mean it has to end. I want you to train me, not somebody else.”

  The relief in his expression was immeasurable. “I’m not used to such a feisty sub.”

  She thought he probably selected subs who capitulated to his every demand because he thought that was the kind of woman he craved. While she knew he wanted a submissive, she also knew he needed someone who wouldn’t let him get away with being a jerk. He needed to be with someone he liked and respected. If she could just keep him around long enough, she could get him to see that.

  However, she wasn’t naive enough to give voice to her analysis. “Yeah, well, you needed to spice things up anyway.”

  He kissed her thoroughly. It was a comforting clash of tongues and lips, a reacquainting of what they’d almost ended and a confirmation that they hadn’t. When he pulled away, she rested her cheek against his chest. “I need coffee and food before we have any more drama. I’m not cut out for this kind of precaffeine excitement.”

  He smoothed a hand down her back. “I have a caramel macchiato waiting for you in the kitchen that’s probably cool enough for you to chug it.”

  That sounded good. “Okay. Let me get dressed. You and I have some negotiation to do before we do another scene.” She was sure he would prefer to talk while she was naked, but that wasn’t going to happen. Part of her wondered if being naked last night had short-circuited her brain. The litigator in her needed cloth
es to function—at least around Keith.

  He let go slowly, and she sensed his reluctance. They were leaving his comfort zone, but he wasn’t protesting. He got points for that.

  Behind her, the drawer was open. Now that her tears were gone, she could clearly see that it was empty. Her socks and stockings were still there, but her bras and underwear were all missing.

  He headed toward the door. “I picked up some more of that Greek yogurt you like. Do you want it with cereal or fruit?”

  She whirled and regarded him, hands on hips so he knew she meant business. “What did you do with my underthings?”

  He paused in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder. His brows were drawn together, a severe look that only accented the dangerous air he liked to affect. “What?”

  “My bras? My underwear?” She exhaled hard through her nose. “I’m not in the mood for games. My blood sugar is getting low, and I really need to eat. Just tell me where you put them.”

  The expression on his face changed, melting to that inscrutable special-agent-in-charge look. He swept the room visually. A cold chill raced down her spine.

  “I didn’t touch your clothes. I never opened your drawers.” He inspected her bed and bathroom before he slid completely into work mode. “Stay here.”

  While he did his thing, she mentally recounted her activities from the time he’d left Thursday night. She’d wallowed for about ten minutes before anger took over. She’d double-checked her doors and windows. Then she’d done her laundry, folding everything neatly and putting it away, a kind of thumbing her nose at both Keith and the stress causing her to go a little crazy. Plus the thought of someone touching her possessions kept nagging at the back of her mind. She hadn’t been able to go to sleep until she’d washed her clothes.

  A weight lifted as she realized she wasn’t losing her mind. Somebody had indeed been inside her apartment. Though terrified, she felt a bit vindicated.

  Waiting wore on her nerves. She checked all the drawers and her closet, looking to see if anything else was missing. With dread coiling low in her tummy, she dumped her laundry basket. The only items inside should have been the clothes she’d worn to bed Thursday night and a towel from her Friday-morning shower.

  Her panties were missing from the hamper as well.

  Keith returned and let her know with the shake of his head that he’d found nothing. “Everything’s the same. Your clothes from yesterday are still folded on the kitchen counter. Including your underwear and bra.”

  She gestured to the pile at her feet. “My panties are missing from the dirty laundry as well. Why on earth would someone break in and steal my underwear?”

  The expression on his face said too much. She’d worked a few cases in Violent Crimes, enough to recognize the beginning stages of having a stalker.

  “I’m calling Malcolm.” He already had his cell in hand.

  She leaped for it and caught his wrist. “Not Malcolm. How can we explain you being here?”

  Keith lifted a brow. “You want to keep us a secret?”

  Since he seemed surprised, she wondered whether his sense of survival was still intact. “Yes. Malcolm will kill you if he finds out you’re training me. I know he made you promise to stay away from me.”

  Jaw set in a mutinous slant, he studied his phone. “That was a long time ago. Things have changed since then.”

  “He’s still my brother and your best friend. I just think, on top of everything else, you shouldn’t rock that boat.” It had taken her brother a long time to forgive Keith, and she didn’t want to be the one responsible for straining those bonds.

  Keith’s stiff shoulders let her know he wasn’t happy about keeping things under wraps. “Dustin, then. We need to keep this in-house. It could be related to a case you’re working on.”

  She swallowed. Dustin was the best choice. He knew how and when to keep his mouth shut, and he would know this could be related to one of Keith’s or Malcolm’s cases as well. Sometimes criminals targeted family members of agents.

  By the time she agreed, he had already dialed Dustin’s number. She paired leggings with a longer shirt so that nobody would be able to see whether she was wearing panties. Her only pair wasn’t clean. Wearing yesterday’s bra wasn’t a big deal, and she didn’t really have a choice about that. Just being near Keith made her nipples pointy.

  Though they both wanted to maintain the crime scene, Katrina insisted they put away all the bondage toys and stow his bag in a closet. Dustin might figure out what was going on, but he didn’t need to see something she considered private.

  Thirty long minutes later, she sat on her sofa, drinking the cold coffee Keith had brought, and haltingly answered Dustin’s probing questions.

  “When did you first notice the items were missing?”

  She appreciated that he didn’t smirk or smile at the item description. “This morning. I went to get dressed after showering. I opened the drawer, and that’s when I realized they were missing. Everything was here when I left for work yesterday morning.”

  “How many?”

  She shrugged. Who counted their bras and panties? “At least twenty pairs of underwear and six bras.”

  “What kind? Regular or lingerie?” He looked at his notepad, but she knew he was studying her every reaction.

  “Do you really need to know that?” The prosecutor in her searched for a way that information could be used to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

  He regarded her calmly. “Taking your underthings can indicate a desire for control. On the plus side, they weren’t shredded or destroyed, so whoever did this hasn’t reached a violent stage. Knowing what he or she has taken is helpful in profiling.”

  “A mixture. They even took a pair from the laundry hamper.”

  “Nobody was here yesterday when you arrived home?”

  Katrina flicked her gaze to Keith, who stood as a sentinel behind the chair where she’d first discovered the joys of nipple clamps while straddling his lap. From there, he had a sweeping view of the common areas of her condo and the windows overlooking the parking lot. “Keith was waiting outside.”

  Dustin didn’t miss a beat. “Does he have a key?”

  She shook her head. “My parents have a key, but that’s all.”

  “Do you keep one outside for emergencies?”

  “No.”

  “Are your keys ever out of your sight?” He looked around as he asked the question, no doubt searching for where she kept her keys when she was home.

  She helped him out by pointing to her key rack. “When I’m at work, they’re either in my briefcase or locked in a drawer in my desk.” She ran her hand over her eyes. “Yesterday I had the feeling someone had been in my car while it was parked downtown.”

  Keith perked up. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  A little residual anger stirred. “You didn’t really give me a chance. Plus you didn’t actually believe me when I said someone had been in here Thursday night.”

  Dustin touched her wrist, bringing her back to the moment. She focused on his kind eyes. “What happened Thursday night? Was that the first incident?”

  Thinking back, she realized it wasn’t. “Last weekend, when I got home from my cousin’s house, my front door was unlocked. I was sure I’d locked it, but Keith said I probably forgot, and I let it go.”

  She described the incident, relating only the relevant details. He didn’t need to hear anything about her relationship with Keith. Then she told him about her car.

  Keith wandered across the room to the kitchen. He sipped coffee and stood at her counter. He set down his cup at the mention of her car. The sharpness of ceramic against granite clanged through the air.

  It wasn’t like there had been time to tell him about the weirdness of somebody cleaning out her car. She hadn’t thought about it after he’d told her to undress. Dodging the suggestion of anger in Keith’s gesture, she adjusted an outside seam on her leggings. “I find it odd that someone would
want to break into my condo just to move around a lamp or take my clothes or clean my backseat. It doesn’t seem like a normal stalker thing to do.”

  “No,” Dustin agreed. “But stalkers aren’t normal. I’m going to need access to your cases. I’ll file formal requests Monday morning, but if you have anything on you, I’d like to get a jump on it.”

  Katrina nodded. Keith hadn’t planned to let her work this weekend anyway. “My briefcase is in the closet.”

  “One last thing before the team gets here to sweep your place.” He leaned forward, keeping his tone low. “Have you asked anyone else to train you?”

  Surprised at his question, she considered the implications. Since she’d only asked Keith and Dustin, she didn’t see where that information was relevant. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  He shrugged. “You ask someone, or if you’re overheard by someone you didn’t ask, you’re automatically a target. It could explain the disappearance of your underwear, though most pervs prefer used clothing to freshly laundered.”

  “No, I haven’t.” She glanced over at Keith, but he was busy with his phone.

  Dustin lifted a brow, and his gaze sidled to Keith and back. “It’s just a coincidence that you’ve had Rossetti over that many times in one week?”

  Heat crept up her neck, and she felt her cheeks flame. “Dustin, don’t go there.”

  “You have about ten seconds to finish that line of questioning.” Keith’s quiet warning sounded loud in the tenseness of the room. “Malcolm just pulled into the parking lot.”

  Katrina started. “I told you to keep him out of this.”

  “Sweep team is here too.” He pocketed his phone and regarded her with a firm look. “It’s ludicrous to think he won’t hear about this, and that he wouldn’t be pissed if it came from someone other than me or you. Now answer Dustin’s question so he can move forward.”