Surrender to Fire: Maison Chronicles, Book 3 (25 page)

The rogue thought combined with the fry he’d popped in his mouth threw him into a coughing fit. He slowed on the empty late-night road until he regained control of himself and dislodged the piece of potato slipping down his throat.

A small hand pounded on his shoulder blades then stroked across the back of his tee-shirt. His skin warmed at the touch of her hand.

“Drink?”

He nodded and sipped the proffered cup, moving as little as possible, in hopes of prolonging the moment. Her hands on him twice in one night. He wanted to sear this feeling into his memory.

When Carrie removed her hand, he started down the road again, this time without incident.

By tacit mutual agreement and the habit of months, they made their way up from the parking structure and both stopped in front of his door while he unlocked it.

They always ate at his place because she didn’t have a kitchen table. Or a TV. Carrie, minimalist to the core.

David unlocked his front door and a flying fur ball tangled around his legs. He nudged the cat away and set the food on his counter.

Cooing sounds from over his shoulder startled him. He turned to see Carrie holding his cat, Psyche, on her back. She rubbed the cat’s belly and made mock purring noises. David almost pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. She hadn’t paid any attention to Psyche before.

Carrie met his incredulous gaze with a small laugh. “A stray cat adopted us in Rwanda.” The half smile melted from her face. She cleared her throat. “He went home with one of the other anthropologists.” She set Psyche down and straightened her back before getting two plates down from his cupboard.

Whether she’d meant to or not, she’d made herself at home. In his home. And he liked it more than was smart.

Sometimes they would chat about current events or entertainment news—anything but work. Otherwise, they would veg on the couch and watch TV. Tonight, they ate in amiable silence and caught up on the shows he’d recorded for her while she’d been gone. David kept his focus on the screen and tamped down the barely leashed desire that rose in her presence. Besides, if he ignored the not-so-secret glances he was getting from Carrie, she might continue to study him.

Carrie’s wry, no-nonsense attitude thinly veiled something more—something he wanted to expose—and made her an irresistible puzzle. She’d grown on him, her eccentricities burrowing their way into his heart.

For example, Carrie had discovered a particular fondness for
The Real Housewives
of any city. David humored her, even recording some of the episodes. He liked to hear her analyze the “foreign” group dynamics and behavior.

He would spend the mind-numbing hour cycling through cranial anatomy as a distraction from her reactions to the show: her mouth open in shock, her tongue darting out to moisten her full bottom lip, the little quirk of a smile that flashed across her face.

Tonight, after a month’s absence, she was even more appealing.

When the show finally ended, he rose to take the remnants of their dinner into the kitchen.

Two slim arms clasped his waist and the empty fast-food bags almost slipped from his hands. A glance down showed Carrie’s small hands, lightly calloused from her work outdoors, her nails short and unpainted—hands he loved to look at. Hands he’d dreamed about having on his body.

“Carrie? What—”

“I need you, David.” Though quiet, her words quavered in the air. Her embrace tightened, and one of those delicately strong hands slipped lower.

He would have stopped her if his brain hadn’t short-circuited. Maybe he’d fallen asleep on the couch, or had an aneurysm and was on the brink of death. Anything but reality would explain this.

She cupped his growing erection and his hand pressed against hers as he pivoted to face her.

“Carrie, please.” He wasn’t sure if he was begging for more or asking her to slow down.

She gave a slight shake of her head, set the takeout bags in the trash and led him into the bedroom. He followed like a puppy.

Sleeping with the colonel’s daughter? Risky. Making her call you Sir? Reckless.

Own

© 2014 Katie Porter

Command Force Alpha, Book 1

When a mission against the Russian mafia goes south, Colonel Stafford, head of a deep-cover ops team, wrests a hospital-bed promise from his protégé. Although eager to return to the field, Evan Sommers swears to keep the colonel’s daughter, Katsu, safe from retaliation.

The task isn’t simple for the battle-tested Marine Corps captain. Four years have passed since his secret affair with sweet, compliant Katsu. Now she’s a streetwise pool shark who refuses to obey any command.

Kat resists the need for Evan’s protective shadow, until deadly threats expose her vulnerability. Her future depends on this hardened soldier, and their sizzling dynamic reveals what Kat’s bland college dating life lacked—a man with the will and desire to tame her.

Danger creates potent, unexpected scenarios that test their sexual limits, yet a real relationship is impossible. Evan is the warrior who could be her Master, but how can she fully submit? The next mission—even the next knock on the door—could rob Kat of the man she loves.

Warning:
This book contains a reformed playboy Specials Ops stud who knows how to tease, demand and spank what he wants out of a colonel’s unruly pool shark of a daughter. Wait…how is this supposed to be a warning?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Own:

Evan swept his hand behind Katsu’s head and pulled her in for a swift, soft, promising kiss. She tasted of deep sweetness that hit him as a straight shot of visceral memory. They were breathless when he backed away. He dropped his hand. Withdrew contact. The way she leaned so slightly into his space was a dead giveaway. God, did she realize how she responded to him, or how he responded to her?

Four years hadn’t changed a thing. They were still detonator meets plastique.

“When I look into your eyes, I see need.” He was glad they weren’t touching, because a fine trembling had overtaken his hands. Christ, he’d need to be a lot more restrained if was going to make her obey. “I see needs that dovetail with mine. You want order. I know you do. Tell me the truth. Some days that apartment of yours bugs the ever-lovin’ fuck out of you.”

A sheen covered her magnetic eyes. She barely nodded.

“Then why not do something about it?”

“I can’t. It’s…it’s overwhelming.” She shook her head and stared through the windowpane. Since when had she taken hold of the door handle? “I don’t know where to start. And there’s no one there… Shit. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“I will not, Katsu. Finish that sentence.”

The shiver that rippled across her shoulders shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did. His words affected her. His voice and his commands. Goddamn that was sexy.

“And there’s no one there to tell me I did a good job. It’s fucked up. I should be able to live the way I want to. But I can’t. Mom, so perfectly composed. Dad, Mr. Marine Corps poster boy. The quest for perfection at boarding school, with all its precise rules. Who the fuck gives a damn now?”

“I do,” he said firmly. He got out of the car and came around to meet her at the passenger side. She was barely a head taller than the roof of the long, squat Oldsmobile. “And you were right, by the way. I won’t tolerate vulgarity from you anymore. If you cuss any more, I
will
spank you. Bare ass. My hand. Got it?”

She rolled her eyes, but again, there was the spark of what could only be
yes, please, more
.

Rather than kiss her, he grabbed their bags and angled his head for Kat to follow. He trudged down eight steps that led to the basement residence.

The building also housed a coin-operated laundry, which meant the brick-sided walls were thick with industrial paint. Constant traffic in and out of the small parking lot did well to conceal comings and goings. Soon Evan would duck back out and hide the Oldsmobile around the corner for the night.

Evan used the thumbprint detector hidden behind a loose brick to open the electrified steel door. From the outside, it looked like old wood in need of some TLC. Kat raised her eyebrows. Funny thing though, the tension in her shoulders loosened. She might be pretending to shrug off Evan’s protective measures, but those same measures seemed to set her at ease.

He flicked on the light just inside the door then made his way down another six steps. The corridor was narrow and painted stark white. Once Katsu was out of the way and he dropped the bags in the small living room, he went back up to secure the door.

“It’s technically a fire hazard, isn’t it?” she said, assessing the place. “No windows.”

He met her in the living room, hands in his pockets. “Some of the best safe houses have views of concrete. Now stay put. I’m going to ditch the car. Then I have another small task to attend.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kat watched as he moved around the apartment. Her gaze was like a touch as he went from security camera to security camera…and turned all of them off. He needed to smash two. There were eight in all, even one in the bathroom. Normally he’d consider that invasion of privacy a small exchange for the protection afforded him.

Tonight, however, he didn’t want anyone to witness whatever took place between him and Kat.

“Privacy?” she asked quietly, still rooted to the avocado-green shag carpet.

“Yup.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not just for you.” He smiled, and it felt good. “Believe me.”

“No?”

“Would you want to go into work in the morning and know
everyone
had seen what you were up to the night before?”

“Hell no.”

“Shall I give you a warning or—” He crossed his arms and fisted his hands beneath his armpits, trying to ignore the painful jump of adrenaline in his chest. “No, fuck it. You got your warning in the car.”

“You…” She backed up as he advanced. “You can cuss but I can’t,” she said, her words petulant.

“Don’t take another step away from me.”

She stopped, dropped her head, exhaled.

Holy shit.

Only then did Evan really take in the full extent of her body language. He dug past his damn libido and assessed her with the eyes of a man who read people for a living—among other things. She was exhausted. It showed in the slight pout around her sharp chin and the extra softness of her cheeks. In truth, he was exhausted too, which was probably why he couldn’t stop this runaway train. First, he needed a release. Maybe she did too.

“Katsu, be honest with me. Right now. This is important. Lift your head and look at me.”

She did as she was told, but her mysterious eyes were clear of the subservience he craved. She was herself. And she was ready to be serious. “Yes?”

“You’re tired. You’re scared. None of this is normal.”

“All true.”

“Do you want this?”

“What is…this, exactly?”

“I intend to own you tonight.”

She actually covered her throat with one hand, but Evan saw the tight swallow where it shifted her stubborn jaw. She never looked away. “I want this.”

“Then here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to give you the spanking you just earned yourself. Then we’re going to go get something to eat.”

“That simple?”

It wasn’t that simple, not really. Considering the break-in at Katsu’s apartment, the stakes were obviously escalating. They had to have gotten some sort of information out of Laurie for Katsu to have been found. But she needed something light to cling to. Her eyes were huge and her fingers trembled.

If Evan could give her this, it would be worth staying carefully on guard. “Do you want it to be complicated? Because I can tell you what to wear if that floats your boat.”

Her whole body jolted. Her eyes brightened until onyx burned like fire. The pout leached out of her mouth, and her dusky pink lips fell open on a silent gasp.

Evan was in serious trouble here.

He did the only thing he could. He took it out on Katsu.

“Come here,” he said, his tone gratifyingly even. There would be no anger, no roughness. It felt right. The calm of the moment felt
so
damn right. They were perched on the edge of something life-altering, and he didn’t care. It was like floating.

Kat walked to where he stood by the couch.

“Turn, now. Face the armrest. Unzip your jeans and pull them down to your knees.”

She did, with a quiet whimper. He was going to fucking explode.

“Your panties too. Down to your knees.” He watched her hands tremble as she complied. “Bend over.”

With one hand on the too-soft cushion and the other braced on the back of the couch, she leaned over the armrest. Her ass was bare, smooth, pert. The lighting was too harsh, but he could still admire the perfect golden glow of her skin. It wouldn’t be perfect much longer.

“What did you do to deserve this, Katsu?”

“I cussed.”

“That’s right.”