by Angel Payne
The answer to that was apparently a big affirmative. Because she walked out again, lugging a tray full of extra drink garnishes, and he could’ve sworn the woman glowed.
“I’ll get a cab back,” he told his friend. “Think I want a nightcap, after all.”
“Because the half keg you sucked down at the Whisky wasn’t enough?”
He gritted his jaw until the ache matched his chest. “Just go, would you?”
Kell’s stare went the shade of a thunderhead. He probed it deeper back, beyond Tait, to where the only sight of Luna now was the top of her head as she bent to restock the garnishes. “Be careful.” His storm-dark tone injected the words into the special translator they shared again. Be careful, asshat, and think about this woman with your big head as well as your small one. The FBI may trust her but I still don’t.
“Thanks, Mom.” Without another word, Tait made his way back toward Luna.
She’d just shut the mini cooler and pushed up to her feet when he slid onto the stool in front of her. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted, even hinting at a smile, before the bureau programming took over and her cavalier façade slammed back down. She didn’t even greet him until after a bar rag was in her hand and she’d taken an order from the only other guy left on her end of the room.
“You’re missing the train back to Hogwarts, Weasley.”
His grin likely made him look like an idiot but he didn’t care. “Appears that way.”
She spread her arms and braced her hands to the bar. The rope lights played across her tattoo like divine light that couldn’t make up its mind. Angels or demons? He smirked a little. Maybe it was possible to be both.
“So what’s up?” she finally asked.
He shrugged. “You asked if I was thirsty. The answer’s yes.”
“Okay.” She tossed out a napkin. “What’s your poison?”
He locked his elbows to the dark wood between them, determined to hold her gaze this time. Success, though his nervous system paid the price. Every inch of it sizzled like rice in hot oil as he took in the depths of her eyes. Goddamn, how had he forgotten how mesmerizing those purple depths could get, especially when she started to shed the feline detachment that the world saw most of the time? How had he forgotten what it did to him? How he longed to throw himself over the bar, hike her ass onto that cooler, and fuck her like a caveman with his tongue rammed down her throat?
You. My poison is you. And I can’t think of a better way to die.
“A beer is fine.”
She cocked her head, seeming a little surprised by that, though she pulled out a bottle of a dark import, popped the top, and set it in front of him. After he took an appreciative swig, she ventured, “So you’re not scared of catching cooties from crazy Luna?”
“Never was.” He pushed the beer aside and went for her hand, which she’d left on the bar after sliding the bottle out. “You know that.”
For a second, she returned his clasp. But a heavy swallow went down her slender throat. “Tait…look…”
“That’s what I’m doing, flower.”
He didn’t try to hide the tenderness from it. Or the protective longing. She’d hissed like a ticked adder when he’d first called her that nearly eight months ago, ordering him never to use it again. But he’d never been one for following orders that didn’t make sense.
The woman didn’t hiss this time. She broke into a little laugh. Sweet. Musical. Incredible. “You’ve got a pair of those stupid Victorian poet pants stashed underneath those shorts, don’t you?”
He tossed back more of the beer for fortitude. “Let the op report show that you introduced the subject of what’s in my shorts.”
“Let the report show that you noticed.”
“Just willing to do my part for the success of the mission.”
Her gaze darkened to the color of the sky over Rainier before sundown. “Tait, we can’t.”
He shifted off the barstool and reached for her again. Too slow. She’d already stepped out of range, breathing hard against the arms she wrapped around herself.
“Why not?” he demanded.
“Because officially, I’m still the property of the Washington State penal system.”
“So we’re living dangerously. I’m sort of used to that.”
“You didn’t let me get to the unofficial part.”
It hung on the air between them, weighted with a thousand times more meaning than what those nine words contained. Tait watched her lips work frantically against each other, took in the violet intensity in her eyes. The desire there. The need.
“I’m letting you now.”
She swallowed again. Shifted from one foot to the other. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so—”
As soon as she started the words, he surged into action. He’d been sitting near the end of the bar, so one swoop and a couple of steps got him behind it then seizing one of her hands. Without a word, he stalked toward the storeroom. On the way, he steeled himself for her sputtering protest, for some colorful sentence strings comparing him to an ape, an asshole, or worse, but Luna didn’t utter a peep. She actually kept pace with him.
All those facts confirmed an instinct that had grown over the last two minutes. The woman had to maintain a tigress’s front for the world without a break. Perhaps the last time she’d let everything go was the hour she’d let him hold her in that private room at the Bastille. Now, she definitely remembered what she craved but had lost the nerve, perhaps even the words, to ask for it. Her vacillation was likely worsened by the last experience she’d had with Domination. It wasn’t Zeke’s fault. It wasn’t her fault. It just was. But now that truth would change.
Now, it was time the tigress got reminded how good it was to get devoured.
An affirming growl raged up his throat as he pushed her against the walk-in cooler. A moment later, he had her hip-to-hip and mouth-to-mouth. She moaned as he spread her lips and thrust in his tongue, claiming her with feral intent. He kept his grip on her hand long enough to fling it around his neck, and guided her other arm to do the same. She tightened her hold as if instinctively knowing, maybe begging, for what he’d do next.
He clawed both hands into her thighs and lifted them around his. Dear fuck, she felt good. As the apexes of their bodies slammed together, his blood roared and his cock surged. He groaned and grunted before sliding his grip around her ass.
“Now what were you saying?” He gave her the taunt as his lips hovered over hers. Yeah, that abstinence wasn’t going to last long. Their tongues were tangled again the next second, urgently mating as he began rocking her body against his. Tait gulped hard and gritted his teeth as he increased the pace, watching the ecstasy start to bloom across his flower’s perfect features. He loved watching her brow knit. Her lips purse. Her nostrils flare. And her lips, stung from the pounding of his own, now pant arousal.
“We—we can’t—”
“We can.” He kissed her again, letting another growl escape as she enhanced the pace by engaging her hip muscles, working with him on each crash of their bodies. “You can. Yes, Luna. Yesssss.”
“Help me,” she pleaded.
He pulled back enough so that their stares met. Her eyes were hooded, heavy pools of purple lust. “You mean hurt you,” he said.
Her answer took three seconds to come. “Yes. Yes. Make me forget…everything. Make it hurt. Please!”
He nodded. Slowly set her down. As soon as he was certain she could stand again, he grabbed her and turned her toward the kitchen’s little chopping block. It smelled like a citrus grove. This is where those fresh drink garnishes had been prepared. How convenient that someone had left behind a whole box of those cute toothpicks with the colored swizzle tops.
He actually felt himself grinning as he pushed her over the block, facedown. She writhed and sighed in pleasure. He let her squirm in that state for close to a minute as he paced around the block, making sure she saw him stroking the growing mound at the center of his thighs. Only th
en did he spoke again.
“Unbutton your pants, flower. Shove them down to your knees along with your panties.” He broke the seal on a new box of toothpicks and let the contents flow out along the block in front of her face. “I’m going to give you what you need, Luna. I’m going to hurt you, then I’m going to fuck you. I know you’ve got a few issues with safe words, but it’s been a while for you, so call that red if needed.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Sir.”
He repositioned himself behind her, stroking her spine in appreciation for this stolen, perfect moment of time. Fuck, what a night. It had gone from crazy-good to crazy-bad at Bella’s, then just plain crazy in the team’s meeting, and now escalated to crazy-ecstatic.
He never should have underestimated the power of crazy-bad.
“Laudia?”
The shout came from the old bartender, now standing on the storeroom side of the swinging door. It was a good thing half Tait’s brain was still in hyper response mode, because he got Luna yanked up and turned around a second before the guy’s gaze landed on them.
“Harvey!” Her voice was overly bright, though Tait doubted Grandpa Simpson noticed.
“Laudia?” He shot it at her in a teasing mutter.
“Cover name,” she whispered back.
“Yeah, but Laudia? You didn’t have time to bother with one more letter?”
She elbowed him as she gave Harvey a smile that likely raised the man’s blood sugar by ten points. “Sorry. You need me? I was catching up with an old friend. I’d like you to meet…errm…Abnuss. Yes, this is my friend Abnuss.”
Grandpa gave him a brief wave. “Nice to meet ya, Ab.” He glanced back at Luna. “Sorry to break it up but we got a rush. Was there something goin’ on at the Bowl tonight?”
“Likely.” She was still more falsely cheerful than the first runner-up in a beauty pageant. “It’s summer and they are the Hollywood Bowl.”
“Hmmppff.” Whether that meant the guy agreed, disagreed, or just had bad gas, Tait couldn’t tell. After “Laudia’s” assurance she’d be out in a second and the guy finally left, he turned and pinned her with a playfully dark glower.
“Abnuss?”
She smirked in feline defiance. “That’ll teach you to hate on my cover.”
He moved in on her again with two prowling steps. “Yeah, about covers. Or as I prefer, no ‘covers’ at all…”
He kicked up a new grin. Just as hers descended.
“A-actually…Harvey probably saved us.”
He gritted against the renewed ache in his chest. “Why does that sound like the Luna Lawrence version of ‘we need to talk’?”
She tipped her head, again regarding him with that strange mix she’d given him out at the bar. Part curiosity, part needy, with a giant slather of sadness on top. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Their hands touched. She laced her fingers into his, one by one. “You know it as well as I do.”
He breathed hard, waiting for the pain in his chest to explode into fury. Didn’t take long. He broke from her clasp to grab her face with both hands, ravaging her lips with an angry, biting kiss. He needed to brand her, make her feel—
What?
He jerked back, stunned by the charge that came from a corner of his mind. What did he want from her? What had he wanted from being with her tonight?
The answer burst at him immediately. Straight from the depths of the gut she couldn’t stop wringing like a goddamn towel in a flood plain.
He didn’t want anything.
He’d only wanted to give her what life itself couldn’t.
Freedom.
In the depths of her mind, at the heights of her soul, with the submission of her body. If only for a few precious minutes…he’d wanted to set her free.
But gazing at her now, with the shutters back over her eyes and the tension re-wrapped in her stance, divine revelation smacked him again. A tigress can leave her cage only if she wants to.
He heaved a leaden sigh. Kissed her again, this time with gentle resignation. But he didn’t let go of her hand. He only did that after he grabbed a pen off a nearby clipboard and wrote the number of their hotel into the center of her palm.
“Just in case the cage closes in on you.”
He turned after he whispered it, leaving the bar via the back door, treasuring the tiny gift she’d given him to take with him. The single tear he’d just thumbed off her cheek.
Chapter Twelve
It was five a.m. and Ava’s cell came alive with the strains of Britney Spears’s Piece of Me. Six months ago, she’d linked the song to one special person as a good karma move. The day after, her sister had packed up and moved to Las Vegas after landing one of the most sought-after gigs in the city. She’d been chosen as a backup dancer in the star’s sexy Planet Hollywood Resort show.
She rolled over in bed and scooped up the phone, almost stunned to observe that her hand looked normal against the device. After what Ethan had done to her body last night, she thought she’d be glowing. “Mmmm, buenos dias, mi hermana.”
For a long second, Zoe didn’t say anything. “I think I’m going to call back and ask for the real Ava Chestain to pick up the phone.”
“Laughing out loud…not.”
“It’s five in the morning. You’re supposed to bitch at me that you were trying to catch ten more minutes of sleep. Then I’m supposed to argue that this is the only time you’ll pick up the phone. Then you’re supposed to tell me how my diva is doing and I’m supposed to ask how yours is doing. Then I’m supposed to tell you that I just got moved up to lead on the dance team, and you’re supposed to—”
Ava cut her off with a joyous shriek.
“Something like that,” Zoe finished with a giggle.
Ava laughed in return and lowered her voice to a rasp. “Oh, shit. Rayna’s in the guest room with Zeke. They came home later than me, too. Bet you’ll become her favorite cousin now.”
“What? I wasn’t always her favorite?”
Ava scooted herself up and propped against the headboard. “Wow. I’m so proud of you, hermana. You worked your cute little ass off for this.”
“Awww. Te amo, cariña.”
There was a telling pause. Uh oh. Ava could feel her sister’s assessment even through the miles that separated them. She needed to fill the gap fast with a chit-chatty question or comment, but nothing entered her mind except the man who’d filled this bed six hours ago. Who’d filled her…made so many of her forbidden fantasies come true in ways she never could have dreamed. In the hands of Ethan Archer, her submissiveness had become a gift as much for her as him. Even his abrupt departure, leaping to the call of his team, somehow added to the magic of being with him. The way he’d gotten dressed inside a minute, followed by his rough kiss and a growled promise to call so they could meet again before he went home, all imprinted his raw masculinity even deeper on her body and psyche. Even the lingering scent of him in the sheets, musk and midnight and pure man, made her blood sing and her body clench, wanting more…
“So, errrmm…what else is new in the city of sin these days? You still seeing that cop who gets mistaken for Chris Hemsworth every time you go out?”
Zoe laughed. “Yeah. Sorta.”
“Sorta?”
A discomfited whine trickled over the line. “He’s a little weird.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah.” Zo sighed. “I don’t know. He looks at me strange sometimes. Like he’s appraising me for an estate sale or something.”
She put Ethan on the back burner for a second and straightened in alarm. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“Meh. It’s probably just a cop thing. I probably need to end it. We’re just not on the same page. It’s great to have a guy who understands my working hours but other than that, we’re not…”
“Not what?” Ava prompted after Zo’s trail-off became a long pause.
“In sync,” she supplied. “You know what I mean?” Her frustrated groan filled the lin
e. “Agghh. Maybe it’s asking for too much, to have a guy who just…reads you right, you know?”
Ava couldn’t help it. She smiled. It flowed up from her soul and into her reply. “It’s not asking too much.”
One long moment passed. Another. “Wait a minute.” All three of the words were drawn out with Zo’s older sister knowingness. “I know that tone.”
“What tone?”
“You’ve met someone.” When Ava feebly attempted a scoff, Zoe persisted, “You have!”
Discomfort set in. Was Ethan now a “someone”? In the roughly two hundred and one days since their forest encounter, she’d kept him firmly in the Man Moments Best Forgotten file. In the space of one day, he’d not only jumped out of the folder but was tempting her to torch the damn thing.
That left the question of what file he went into next.
“I don’t know if I’d call it that,” she muttered.
“What, so you didn’t ‘meet’ him? Does he work on the set? Or was it one of those cute things, like you slammed grocery carts and his bread got mashed against your Ding Dongs?”
“My Ding Dongs?” She giggled.
“Don’t diss the Ding Dongs. They’re one of the main food groups.”
She took advantage of Zoe’s aren’t-I-hilarious moment to slip in her revelation. “I met him when I went back home to visit Rayna before the holidays. At Sage Weston’s wedding. Well, almost-wedding.”
“The day that crazy convict held everyone hostage and nearly killed Garrett’s friend?”
She purposely kept her voice light. “It was a memorable day, for sure.”
“Wait.” Zoe’s tone took a fast turn into apprehension. “Weren’t a lot of the guys at that thing from the base? Garrett’s friends?”
Ava took a long breath and let her sister hear it. “I can tell where this conversation is headed.”
The line went loud with Zo’s huff. “Estás loca? Have you not learned anything after the shit that flew after Colin and Flynn?”
She punched a pillow. “Mierda. You don’t even know his name.”