“I’ll give her whatever she needs,” Logan vowed. She was beautiful and seemingly brave. Field assignments with the FBI didn’t tend to be cakewalks.
“Except sex,” Jason, the bad-boy financial wizard, drawled.
“Fuck off,” Logan muttered.
“Sex isn’t required,” Thorpe advised, tossing a glare Jason’s way. “She just needs to learn protocol and obedience.”
The normally silent Erik shrugged. “You know I like the puttyin-my-hands type. I can tell by the finger wag, that ain’t her.”
Logan looked at her again. Watching that finger wag made him hard. Hell, everything about her made him hard. Any time he could spend touching the gorgeous woman in the next room would be time well spent. Maybe even cathartic. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this stiff so quickly after an orgasm, but looking at the redhead’s lush ass, his dick was fully saluting her.
Zeb, the last of the Doms in the room, just grunted. “I’m heading down to Cabo in a few days for vacation. Man, I’d love to—”
“But since you won’t be here, and I will . . .” Logan cut him off with a smile.
“Lucky bastard,” Zeb groused.
Thorpe stepped between them. “The agents don’t have long before their mission begins. They’re already working against the clock. The female agent is submissive, in my opinion. But she’s not letting go.”
Logan already knew the problem. “She doesn’t trust that guy.”
In fact, the man beside her dropped his shoulders and sighed, clearly trying to reason with her—and showing his frustration. Both were exactly the wrong thing to do to earn obedience.
Axel shook his head. “Dominance isn’t Agent York’s bag.”
“Clearly,” Logan drawled, staring at the two through the glass. “Why not find someone else to take his place?”
“Six days ago, one of their fellow agents working undercover was abducted by the leaders of a sex ring they’re trying to bust. They sent her in alone as a submissive. The only training she’d received was an hour’s briefing.”
“Dear God,” Erik choked. “What the fuck were they thinking?”
Logan shook his head. Sending an agent in that unprepared was more than stupid; it was downright irresponsible. Submission wasn’t something a person learned by reading a piece of paper. Any Dom worth his leathers was able to spot a tourist a mile away. She had been a lamb sent to slaughter. And now the redhead was going in after her, trying to dupe heartless predators for her first undercover assignment? Definitely brave.
“It’s worse than you think. Agent York let me read some cursory information on this sex ring so I’d know how to prep the agents,” Axel said. “The mastermind of this ring is a ruthless motherfucker. Though he’s from somewhere in the U.S., he’s apparently got brothels all over the world, from what the FBI can tell. He’s made a fortune off the backs of ten-year-old girls in Thailand, along with distributing videos of orgies and gang rapes. Apparently, this sick bastard expanded his business to include high-end slave auctions about six months ago. He’s abducting gorgeous, young submissives out of clubs and resorts, then smuggling them out of the country. The minimum bid for the sadistic fucks who want to buy is three million dollars.”
“Damn, that’s twisted.” Zeb frowned. “Who has that kind of cash to drop on pussy?”
“Sheiks, Internet tycoons, obscure European royalty.” Thorpe shrugged. “They’re out there.”
Zeb shook his head as he looked at the woman. “That almost makes me want to change my plans. She’s probably scared to have this thrown at her as a first assignment.”
“She volunteered,” Thorpe clarified, obvious admiration in his voice. “She’s never been out from behind a desk, but she’s willing to risk her life for this. She deserves the best training we can give her, so these two agents are working to go undercover and hopefully recover the missing agent, who I suspect Agent York cares for as more than merely a peer.”
Gorgeous, courageous, submissive. Everything Logan had heard about this woman intrigued him, and Thorpe’s last statement perked him up even more. “So he and the redhead aren’t an item?”
“Definitely not. They’ve made their mutual discomfort of this training well known.”
Sweet.
“And you haven’t had any luck handling her?” Logan asked Axel.
“I’ve spent all my time on York, thinking that if I can train him to lead, she’d follow. Not happening.” Axel’s long blond hair brushed his shoulders as he shrugged. “We’re going to have to divide and conquer. So if you’re willing to take on a novice, I’m more than willing to dump her in your lap. Not that it looks like you’ll mind.”
As he reached for the doorknob, Logan smiled. “I can’t wait.”
Axel pushed past him. “Slow down. She’s a tough cookie. I think she’s a natural sub, but this is all new to her, so you can’t just barge in there and go all Dom on her ass. Let me do the introductions and hand off. Then you can take the girl down to your dungeon.”
“I’ll come along, too,” Xander cut in with a flashy grin. “Thorpe said sex wasn’t required, but you never know what she’ll need . . .”
Wherever there was wet pussy, Xander was never far away. But the thought of his friend grinding his dick inside the redhead made Logan seethe. He shot his buddy a scathing glare.
“What? She has a world-class ass,” Xander defended. “Sue me.”
It was impossible to argue with that. And while he didn’t want to think about Xander fucking her, Logan knew that, chances were, his sudden ache for this woman would likely disappear before she’d ever need sex.
Logan gestured to the door, then followed Axel and Xander down the hall to the next opening on the left. York looked up, tensed, clearly not digging the assignment. The female agent just set her shoulders and ignored him. That would change—damn quick. For now, Logan let Axel ease the way.
Quickly, Axel explained the situation. The male agent glanced at his female counterpart as she rose to her feet. Poor bastard actually looked relieved. Logan smiled, fighting back the urge to rub his hands together.
“You want me to introduce you two?” Axel gestured between Logan and the redhead.
He shook his head. “I got it from here. Face me.”
The woman gasped, stiffened—then darted to the other side of the room.
So she wanted to play games already? That was no problem for him.
Logan took off after her and grabbed her from behind, grasping a handful of that siren red hair. Damn, it was soft. Her breathing hitched, and he turned harder in an instant.
“On your knees. Stay there until I say otherwise. You’re in training with
me
now, and I won’t be as lax as Axel. I’d rather complete introductions before I spank you, but that’s your choice.”
“Let. Go. Of. Me.” The woman fought his hold. “Logan.”
She knew his name? Her voice resonated in his head, crisp yet feminine. So fucking familiar. Impossible. It couldn’t be . . .
He released her hair and grabbed her shoulders, still subduing her struggles. Heart pounding, he spun her to face him. That familiar face, angry dark eyes, and the mulish set of her pert little chin had him mentally flailing with shock.
Holy fuck
.
Logan gasped, stared. “Cherry?”
Chapter Two
“Y
OUR
Cherry?” Xander slanted a questioning glance in his direction.
Logan couldn’t take his eyes off her or unscramble his brain enough to answer. He hadn’t been this close to her in twelve years, one month, fifteen days, six hours, and a handful of minutes. Now
she
was in a dungeon to train as a submissive. With him.
She jerked from his hold and swatted his hand away, glaring at him with the full force of those furious brown eyes. Logan’s belly pulsed with dark thrill and sexual heat. His first urge was to back her against a wall and bury himself deep inside her.
“My name isn’t Cherry,” she hissed. “It’s Tara, not that I expect you remember.”
Oh, he remembered. Hell, he couldn’t forget. How was it possible that taking her virginity at sixteen had virtually ruined him for every other woman? He wished he could deny it, but if he tried, he’d be lying.
Looking at her now, she was twice the woman she’d been as a young girl. He’d seen more beautiful females, but none who flipped his switch more.
“Tara Jacobs,” he murmured, still staring as if she were a mirage that might disappear at any moment. “I wouldn’t have passed sophomore lit if you hadn’t tutored me.” He stared, not really conscious of the words pouring out of his mouth, just the shock fueling them. “Still a tiny thing. Still independent, I gather. Still have that little birthmark on the inside of your left thigh?”
Her jaw dropped, sweet mouth gaping open. God, he’d love to put his cock there. He hadn’t had the chance to do that . . . yet.
“That’s none of your damn business.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
As if that defensive gesture would keep him away.
Pfft
.
“Oh my God,” Xander exclaimed. “She
is
your Cherry. It’s all over your face.”
“Shut the fuck up, Xander,” Logan growled. “Get out.”
Axel cleared his throat. “It appears that you and Agent Jacobs are acquainted. That’s my cue to back off and let you sort this little reunion out. Agent York?” The tattooed Dom turned to the male agent. “Let’s go to Thorpe’s office and talk.”
York speared Tara with a concerned glance that rubbed Logan the wrong way. Just as he was about to offer to rearrange the agent’s face, Tara sent the man a decisive nod.
“Xander, you, too,” Axel said. “Something tells me Logan won’t need your help with this one.”
His one-man cleanup crew shrugged and followed Axel to the door. “We’ll see.”
Beating back his annoyance, Logan watched the trio file out. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Now could he push Cherry up against the wall and bury himself inside her? One look at her face told him that she was less than amenable to that idea. But now that he was training her, he’d have time alone with her. Get to simply touch her. God, he couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried.
Tara stormed across the room, her fiery hair loosening from its clip after his manhandling. She removed it. The fiery tresses fell halfway down her back as she grabbed a robe out of the armoire against the far wall and thrust it on. “What are you doing here?”
He hadn’t given her permission to put that little silken robe on, but they’d get to that. He had questions, and was sure that she did, as well.
Logan shrugged. “I spend a lot of time here, actually. At least when I’m on leave.”
She frowned. “I’d heard you joined the service. Army?”
“Navy,” he corrected. “SEAL.”
That had her raising her delicate ginger brows. “From jock to frogman. That’s a stretch. Still a team player, I guess.”
Oddly, her razor-sharp sarcasm, even in high school, was one of the things he’d missed most about her after their split. The other thing had been her compassion.
A dozen years ago, he’d hurt her badly—and it had nearly killed him to rip her heart out. That she could still spare him even a shred of anger after all these years he took as a good sign. If he was irrelevant to her now, she’d have no emotion beyond mild surprise. She certainly wouldn’t bother to bristle and clutch that robe like a shield.
“From budding author to FBI Agent. That
is
a stretch.”
Then it dawned on him; he would be training
his
Cherry to go into the field, to submit to some unscrupulous asshole who sold females for a living, a man who would touch her, maybe hurt her. One agent had already disappeared, might even be dead. She’d volunteered for immense danger. And he wouldn’t be there to guide her. But York would.
Damn it
.
He crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe that way she wouldn’t see how hard his heart was pounding at the idea of her volunteering to walk into a snake pit. “Since you’re FBI, I presume you’re proficient with a gun and hand-to-hand, but if you don’t have the time or guts to fully prepare for a potentially dangerous BDSM environment, then I won’t train you for this mission.”
“Oh, I have the time and the guts, but you’re right; you won’t train me. I’ll find someone else. But I
am
going to do my job. Darcy Miles, the missing agent, is my friend. And what I do is none of your business.”
Because he’d thrown away the right to say anything when they’d been sixteen, near the end of their sophomore year. She didn’t spit out that she was no longer his, but the unspoken words hung brittle in the air, taking him back to that terrible day . . .
Tyler High School—Twelve years ago
Logan pulled out his cell phone and tried Tara’s number again. Once more, he heard her cheerful little voice telling him to leave a message—just like the last hundred times he’d called. He snapped his phone shut and raked a hand through his hair. God, this couldn’t be happening. Where was she? Why hadn’t she been in British Lit this morning? Clenching his fingers around his open locker, he tried not to hyperventilate or think about the menacing letter.