by Selena Kitt
"He's a good conversationalist."
Pierce barely kept a straight face. "He must be talking about one of his court cases. Maybe how he dazzled the jury. How he found the best expert witnesses. Give him a spellbound audience and he'll go on for hours."
She pressed her lips together.
"He was boring you, wasn't he?" Maybe that's why she'd been shifting from foot to foot, the hem of her skirt swishing with every move. "Tell me I'm wrong," he encouraged.
After a few seconds, obviously to suppress a grin, she quickly added, "He's successful."
"Easier when you get into a good law school on a legacy admission."
"Just because his dad and uncle went there doesn't mean anything."
"Oh? Any idea what his GPA was? Does he talk about that? Or the fact he had a cushy job lined up at his father's firm?"
"Okay, that's enough." She pursed her lips in what he imagined was supposed to be a fierce manner.
It just made her adorable.
"I appreciate your concern," she went on. "But I was having a good time until… Wait. Crap. Did Morgan say something to you? She doesn't like him."
"This is about me, not Morgan."
"In that case, we have nothing left to say. Thank you for the dance. I'll be getting back to Braxton now." She started to pull away.
"You know he's into BDSM?"
Her step faltered, then she missed the next step.
Pierce pulled her close and eased her back into the dance. "So you do know." He was stunned, delighted.
But she seemed appalled. "Oh my God. What did Morgan tell you about me?" Twin lines of scarlet embarrassment stained her face. "She promised to keep it secret."
"Is that what this is about? Do you need your ass spanked, Ella?"
"And what if I do?" Her words were laced with bravado and her hazel eyes flashed with challenge fed by the brush of anger.
"Then I'm happy to oblige you."
"You're…" She trailed off and pressed her lips together. She glanced around, as if to make sure no one was looking at them.
"Right here. Now, if you want. I can take you out back, or to my car, even to the ladies' room if you're desperate."
"This conversation is inappropriate."
"Is it? Is that why you haven't pulled away or slapped my face?"
"I just said that you're my best friend's big brother."
"So?"
"Could you be any more obtuse?"
"Enlighten me," he said easily.
"We are so not having this conversation."
"But you are willing to have it with Junior." That thought pissed him off, and tension crawled up his spine. "You know nothing about him. You're willing to let him tie you up, maybe lay a belt to your gorgeous backside."
"Okay, Pierce. Since you did so much work to get me out here, I'll play along. What do you know about BDSM?"
"Is that an honest question? Or are you issuing a challenge?"
She took a small breath. Her indignation seemed to have momentarily vanished. "I'm curious."
"I've practiced it for over ten years."
Her eyes widened.
"I've been to clubs, to play parties, and I own an assortment of toys that would keep even the neediest, greediest sub happy. I prefer a flogger to anything else, but I'm competent with and happy to use a cane so that you can have a few marks to remember me by. Would you like that? On the backs of your thighs?"
Her breathing became shallow, little gasping breaths.
Oh, yes. The petite spitfire wanted exactly that, no doubt. His arousal spiked, hard and fast. He kept her against him and it felt, seemed, so fucking right. "You could show up at my mom and dad's anniversary party tomorrow in a short dress and spend the evening wondering whether anyone could see the strokes of ecstasy that I seared into your skin."
She still hadn't run, and she had barely blinked. So quietly that he had to strain to hear her above the band, she asked, "You're a Dom?"
"I answered your question. Now it's your turn. What do you know about BDSM?" Why did the thought of anyone else marking her infuriate him?
"I know enough," she replied.
"If that's true, my questions shouldn't unnerve you."
"If you were a man I was considering as a Dominant, they wouldn't," she said.
"I'm telling you this, Ella. If anyone's going to tie you up and beat you tonight, it will be me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"I… We can't."
"Because?"
"Beyond the obvious? You're in the military. I've had enough of men who move along when they're assigned to a new duty station."
He winced at that. His special operations team deployed more frequently than most other members of the army. The assignments tended to be shorter, but also more frequent, up to six times a year. And he wasn't based in Colorado. All of which were strikes against him in her eyes, he was sure.
"I understand what you're saying." Less than a year into his military experience, he'd made a decision not to become involved in a long-term relationship. He dated casually, enjoyed scenes with subs, but he was honest about his lack of availability and his aversion to commitment.
One woman he'd cared for had been convinced they were meant to be together, and she'd expected him to change his mind, especially once mutual friends had announced their engagement. When he hadn't proposed on Christmas, she'd given him a tearful ultimatum.
He'd held her while she cried, and he hadn't flinched when she'd slapped his face before leaving. That night, for the first and only time in his life, he'd gotten drunk.
Ella glanced back toward the table. Her other acquaintances were still gathered around, but Junior wasn't there. She frowned, and Pierce saw her scan the entire room, looking for him.
Ella noticed him a moment later. Junior was at another table, drink in hand, leaning toward another woman, trying to look down her blouse.
Pierce hated for the fucker to hurt her, but he had to admit to being glad that she saw his real nature before she became involved with the bastard. "I'm sorry," he said.
She pasted on a sunny smile, as fake as it was brave.
The song ended. The guitarist said the next song would be a line dance. People—mostly women—abandoned their drinks and partners, grabbed a girlfriend by the wrist and headed toward the dance floor.
Since he had no interest in boot scootin' across the floor, Pierce walked her back to the table.
Junior was still occupied, devouring another woman with his gaze, so Pierce took the other man's spot.
He faced Ella, which seemed fine since the other people at the table were deep in their own conversation. "Do you want to continue our discussion here or somewhere else?" he asked.
"I don't think there's much to discuss." She lifted her water glass and drew a shaky sip through the straw.
But the look she sent him from beneath her lashes told him his words had gotten to her, and that she was thinking about what he'd said.
Junior returned. With a scowl, he snatched up one of Ella's untouched whiskeys and gulped the shot in a single swallow.
"Want me to call you a cab?" Pierce offered.
Junior straightened his tie. "I'm fine."
"From what I've seen, you've had more than enough. The bar's going to be cutting you off. And you don't want to get picked up for drunk driving. Daddy wouldn't like it."
"Can I give you a lift?" Junior asked Ella, ignoring Pierce.
"I'll give her a ride home if she needs one," Pierce responded.
"Why don't we ask the lady?"
"Why don't we?"
They both faced Ella to see the lady's jaw was set. She drew in a deep, heavy breath. "I have my own car. I'll see myself home, thanks."
Pierce gave a feral grin. "This is where you say goodnight, Junior."
"Fuck you, Corporal Holden."
"Staff Sergeant," he corrected easily, ignoring the obvious insult. Figured the pussy needed to get in one shot to feel better about himself. Pierce didn'
t blame him. "Proud to serve my country so that others can sleep well at night, whether they deserve to or not."
Junior rapped his knuckles on the table twice. "I'll be in touch, Ella."
Once he was gone, she turned her furious gaze on Pierce. "I can't believe you sent him away."
"You can thank me later."
"Thank you?" she echoed. "Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how influential his family is?"
"Doesn't scare me."
"Does anything?"
"Yeah. But not cowards like Junior who use intimidation and coercion to get what they want. Rats who think they're above the rules." He shrugged. "Predictable in their patterns and behavior."
"Do you always live recklessly?"
"No."
"But you like danger?"
"I wouldn't say that, either."
"Then?" She angled her head, as if she was genuinely interested in his answer.
"All my risks are calculated. It's the best way to stay alive."
The waitress hurried over with a bill and a scowl, watching as Junior walked out the door.
"He'll take that," Ella said to the woman.
Pierce frowned as he accepted the bill. A glance at the bottom line proved the fucker had indeed sprung for the expensive shit.
"The price of chivalry," Ella said with another of those sunny smiles that he was already starting to dislike.
He dug his wallet from his back pocket.
"Hope it was worth it."
"You are." He gave the server his credit card. "I would have paid ten times that amount to have you alone."
The server accepted with a grateful nod, pressing the card against her chest. He'd have picked up the tab, regardless. No way would he have left Ella or the hardworking woman to cover someone else's bad behavior.
"So, back to the topic at hand. How much do you know about BDSM? Dabbler? Practitioner? Just curious?"
"I wanted to know more about you," she said.
"I'll tell you anything you want to know," he replied. "But not until you answer my question."
Those scarlet streaks were back on her cheeks, brighter than ever.
"More than curious," she admitted.
The music trailed off, and the band announced the brief intermission, leaving the bar somewhat quiet.
She leaned toward him, obviously so they wouldn't be overheard, and his reaction was raw, unwelcome. He hadn't been this turned on in at least three years.
Ever since Karen had stormed out of his life, he'd channeled his energy into his job and training for marathons. "So you've had some experience," he surmised.
"The last guy I was seriously involved with was a Dom. It was my introduction." She toyed with her straw.
"And?"
She swirled the straw around and around. He wondered if she was ever going to answer.
"Honestly?" She stared into the bottom of the glass before looking up. "I miss it."
"What parts?"
Ella pressed her lips together. After glancing around to ensure others were occupied with their own conversations, she quietly admitted, "Mostly the physical contact. There's something exhilarating about being pushed, about pushing myself."
"So you really do need a spanking."
"Pierce…"
"I'm happy to give you one."
She opened her mouth slightly. He couldn't look away. That damnable, kissable red lipstick was ready to drive him off a cliff.
"I can't tell whether you're kidding or not."
"I don't say things I don't mean, Ella. Especially about something so important." He met her gaze, held it. Something vibrant flared in her eyes, something that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. The spark of temptation? If so, he was ready to ignite it. "You're as safe with me as you want to be."
Chapter Two
Erotic thoughts careened through Ella, driving her mad with excitement.
Pierce Holden, a man she'd had a crush on for years, was serious.
Unbidden, the idea of him flogging her naked body flashed through her, impossible, and so tempting she ached to say yes.
Back then, he'd been just as much of a protector as he was now.
He'd looked after her and Morgan, making sure they'd arrived home safely after prom. Another night, he'd driven them home from a party when they'd been out too late. Someone had spiked the punch, something they hadn't figured out until much later in the evening when Morgan had slurred her words and Ella had burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. When they realized they'd unintentionally been drinking, they'd been too scared to call their parents.
Every time she'd seen him, Ella had thought he was big, strong, serious, and oh-so fucking handsome. She recalled the way he'd dressed, in tight jeans, tighter T-shirts, and scarred, black boots. With his fast cars and faster motorcycles, he'd liked danger and adventure, not conformity. He'd never fit his parents' idea of the perfect son. He'd moved out of the house during his senior year in high school, worked in an automobile repair shop that his father hadn't owned, and paid his own bills.
To her, he'd been larger than life, a man who knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it.
On more than one occasion, she'd gone to bed and fantasized about him pushing her against a wall and kissing her. But he'd never been anything other than damnably, unfailingly polite.
Tonight, though…
At first, the way he'd taken charge of the situation had annoyed her. She'd been enjoying the conversation with Braxton. The man was from a well-respected, old money Denver family. He was a member of the country club where she worked. And she'd heard rumors from a woman in the accounting department that he was into BDSM. So when he'd walked over to her table and offered to buy her a drink, she'd been thrilled.
But when she'd been in Pierce's arms on the dance floor, she'd felt the power of his touch, inhaled his scent of danger and spice. And when she'd missed a step, he'd been there, steadying her. Eventually her resistance had vanished.
And when she'd seen Braxton flirting with the other woman and realized he'd had way too much to drink, she'd had to admit Pierce was probably right to intervene.
He'd potentially saved her from a big mistake.
She was scared as hell that standing here talking to him might lead to a bigger one.
"I promise you, Ella, I will meet all of your needs. Maybe a few you don't even know you have." His deep, rich, rumbly voice sent skitters up her spine.
She waged an internal battle. As she'd told him, she wasn't interested in military men. But it went deeper than that. One-night stands and casual hookups weren't for her. She became too attached, too quickly, and breakups devastated her.
Over the past two years, since she'd found out that Lance had another girlfriend/sub in Killeen, Texas, Ella had concentrated on building her savings account, buying a small condo, working her way into a management position, and avoiding potential hurt. Now that she was taking the first steps on the dating path, she was focused, searching for a solid, stable man and a long-term relationship, preferably one that led to marriage. If a man showed no interest in that, she moved on after the third date.
"You were willing to tell Junior what you wanted," Pierce reminded her.
She rubbed her bare arms, trying to get rid of the sudden chill that raced through her. "He doesn't scare me," she admitted. At least: not in the same way. All day, every day, she dealt with men like Braxton. She understood how to soothe them, inflate their egos, make them feel good. She had no clue how to deal with a man as complicated as Pierce. "You make me feel as if I've been swept up in a tornado."
He regarded her intently, and she noticed the tiny grooves etched next to his blue eyes, lines that hadn't been there years before. Life experience, she knew. The result of events and challenges she could never imagine. From Morgan, Ella knew Pierce wasn't just military. He was in some special operations unit. She'd guessed maybe it was involved with counterterrorism. But the last time Ella had asked his mother how he was doing, s
he'd smiled and offered another glass of lemonade.
Even to his own family, he seemed to be somewhat of a mystery.
That should be reason enough for her to stay away from him.
But she couldn't stop looking at him.
Over the years, he'd become more hardened. He was still lean, with the physique of a swimmer or maybe a runner. He wore a short-sleeved navy T-shirt that showed his well-defined biceps. Jeans that were too soft to be new fit his thighs and hips snugly. Invitingly. And his boot selection hadn't changed over the years. They were black and battle-scarred.
His dark hair was cut short, severely buzzed on the sides, a bit longer on the top. Enough for her to grab onto.
Ella blinked in a vain attempt to shove away the unwelcome thought.
He carried himself with ease, and with the confidence that came from knowing he could take care of himself and any situation he found himself in. Everything about him radiated control and determination. She had never been more flustered in her life.
The waitress returned with Pierce's credit card and the receipt, shattering the tension and allowing Ella to breathe again. For a moment, she felt guilty for sticking him with the bill. And when she saw the large tip he added, she felt worse. "Let me pay you back," she said, grabbing her purse from the hook beneath the table.
He shook his head.
"At least half?"
"I've got it."
The band took the stage and began tuning their instruments, making conversation more difficult.
"Would you like to go somewhere quieter?" he asked. "A coffee shop? Maybe take a walk in the park? It's a nice evening."
"Are you staying with your parents?"
"No. A hotel near Parker and Arapahoe. Not too far from here, and close to Mom and Dad's."
"But not too close," she said.
He nodded.
What had happened that caused him to leave home? And more, why had he stayed away? Was it his job or something more?
She told herself it didn't matter, shouldn't matter. But she couldn't tamp down the curiosity. "There's a Starbucks on Parker Road," she said, decision made. "I think it's open for at least another hour." It would be busy with students and couples on dates, but not too noisy to talk. On the other hand, this conversation might not be one she wanted others overhearing.