Re/Paired (Doms of the FBI Book 2) Page 3

  She wanted a real relationship. The submissive side of her nature clamored for his domination. Though she’d played some games with lovers over the years, she knew there was a huge difference between the slap-and-tickle quality of those interactions and what Keith did. Keith was the real deal. It wasn’t a game to him, and she didn’t have the experience to know exactly what that entailed.

  “To see if the memory is as good as the real thing.” He’d lowered his head so that when he spoke, his breath whispered across the place where her neck met her shoulder. “I never meant to ruin anything for you.”

  She turned to face him, and he backed up to give her space. He’d never behaved like this around her. All those times she’d thought she had caught flickers of lust, desire, or interest in his eyes had resulted in nothing. “So this is a friend thing? A favor?”

  Something flashed behind his eyes. His devious smile had long since vanished. “Sure.”

  Favor or not, she wanted this. Only a fool would turn him down.

  “Okay.”

  He cupped her face in one hand and ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. He hadn’t done that before, and the move all but guaranteed the impending kiss would rock her world. She felt like groaning, but she lacked the ability to make sounds.

  He leaned closer. His lips brushed against hers, the bottom one moving sinfully slow. He spread his fingers and slid them through her hair so that he controlled her head with his palm. She couldn’t move unless he allowed it. Tension stiffened her spine, and she became hyperaware of the proximity of his body to hers. She longed to close the distance, but she was terrified he’d break off the kiss if she was too forward.

  He teased his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she parted them, granting entry. The warmth of his palm penetrated her sweatpants where he gripped her hip. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. With her knees about to buckle, she grabbed for his chest. She met with a solid wall of hot flesh. How had she forgotten he wasn’t wearing a shirt?

  Her touch seemed to give him permission. He moved the hand he’d parked on her hip and banded his arm around her waist to hold her close. Their thighs molded together, and her breasts pressed against his chest. So many sensations rioted in her body.

  The masterful way he controlled the kiss canceled her ability to think. She became a creature of response, grasping at his chest and shoulders in search of an anchor. A frantic noise escaped her throat, a sound that was a cross between a growl and a whimper.

  He tightened a fist in her hair and tilted her head back, breaking the kiss violently. She gasped, gulping at air because she’d forgotten how to breathe. Heat smoldered in her core, and he wasn’t finished. He trailed firm kisses along her jaw, nipping her skin every few inches. The sharp little bites both stung and sent her nerve endings into overdrive. Mindlessly, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

  The savage kisses didn’t stop there. He licked the column of her throat and sank his teeth into the muscle running along the top ridge of her shoulder. She yelped, not because it hurt, but because it felt so damn good. Sensations she’d never experienced ran unchecked through her body.

  He jerked away, ripping from her grip in a manner that left scratches down his shoulders and across his arms. Turning his back to her, he pressed his palms against the counter that divided the small kitchen from the tiny dining area. His shoulders heaved as he took deep breaths.

  Every muscle in her body trembled in the aftermath of his onslaught. Was that what she’d missed out on all these years? Sure, she’d dabbled in bondage and played spanking games, but she’d never let a man take control of her body and soul the way Keith had just done. If a kiss made her feel this way, what would be left of her after a scene?

  Suddenly she needed more. She’d always wanted Keith, but she’d held her emotions in check, instinctively understanding that he didn’t have anything more to give. The plea tumbled out, surprising her with its desperate quality.

  “Train me.”

  His entire body tensed, not that he’d been the portrait of the relaxed man a moment ago. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” He didn’t turn around to look at her as he dismissed her request.

  “I do too know what I’m asking.” Then she realized her mistake. Submissives didn’t demand. They asked. They begged. At least she’d done that last part right. And they knelt, naked, at their Master’s feet.

  Keith whirled on her, controlled fury glittering from his emerald eyes. Unnerved by an expression she’d never seen on him, Katrina trembled even more.

  If she knew anything about Keith, she knew better than to show weakness at a moment like this. He was the ultimate predator, and he regarded her as prey. Rivulets of pleasure ran across her belly. The raw air of danger seeping from his pores excited her like nothing else. She wanted to be naked and kneeling at his feet. She wanted him to show her what it felt like to belong to him.

  Moving slowly, she lifted the hem of her shirt.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Taking off my clothes.” She would prove to him that she was serious. “I’m not ignorant, just not trained. You want me to get on my knees and ask properly, right?”

  He gripped her hand hard, halting her attempt to undress and hurting her a little. It must have shown on her face because he eased up on the pressure. “Kat, I don’t want you to ask at all. I didn’t mean to kiss you like that.”

  Which either supported her point or should hurt really, really badly. He had been overcome with passion, just like she had been. Was it a momentary thing, or did he still feel the pull of passion unsated? She put her other hand over his, holding it lightly. “But you did.”

  A shadow of pain passed behind his eyes, a haunted look she’d seen before. “You’re not cut out for that kind of life. You’re too…” He shook his head, a short movement she barely detected.

  When he didn’t continue, she tried to force the issue. She wouldn’t her drop it, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. “Don’t you dare call me delicate. I want this. I want to learn about this side of myself.”

  He took his hand away and leaned down so that his face was the only thing she could see. Though she could read the desperation in his eyes, he spoke through clenched teeth. “I spank my submissives whenever the whim strikes me. They’re mine to use however and whenever I want. I make them kneel at my feet and crawl naked across the room. I tie them up and flog them. I hurt them because I get off on their pain. I torture them sexually. Sometimes I tie them up and don’t touch them at all. I make them do anything I want, just because I can, and I get off on the power I have over them. You’re too good for that.”

  Standing over her, he was the very essence of intimidation. He might scare anyone else with his growled warning, but not her. She knew him too well to think he would ever hurt her in a way she didn’t want to be hurt. Nobody had flogged her before, and she was sure nobody had spanked her the way he would, but nothing he said sounded horrible to her. She’d never fantasized about crawling, but she had considered the other things. It was difficult to imagine submission when she didn’t know what it really felt like, what it would really be like.

  She lifted a hand and caressed his smooth cheek. “This is what I want, and I trust you.”

  When he closed his eyes and seemed to luxuriate in her affection, she thought she had him. But then he gently removed her hand from his cheek and dropped it between them. “I know you do. That’s why I’m telling you no. I thought the kiss would fail, that it would help you get over me.”

  The shaking in her knees had its root in her humiliation. “But you felt it too.” And now she sounded like a petulant child. Rejection sat heavy on her chest.

  “I’m sorry. I really am. But you’re one of the few people I care about. You would learn to hate me.” Misery etched lines around his mouth. “I just can’t take the chance I’d lose your friendship.”

  This was difficult, as painful for him to say as it was for her to hea
r. She realized that now. She realized she’d stepped over a boundary he’d put in place long ago, and she knew how much he needed those impenetrable lines.

  “I’m sorry.” And she was. Sorry she’d asked. Sorry he’d refused. “I shouldn’t have asked you. Can we forget about it?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry too, Kat.”

  Chapter Two

  Monday morning, she woke up singing the chorus of that song about hating Mondays. She didn’t know more than a few lines, and they pulsed through her brain to the rhythm of her headache. Normally she looked forward to the workweek. She loved her job as an assistant US attorney, and she very much enjoyed her coworkers.

  Though she hadn’t done anything much except for the rest of her laundry on Sunday, the day had passed slowly. Each time she found thoughts of Keith occupying her mind, she unearthed another demanding mental task to kick it out, or she played games on her computer that ate up the time.

  By the time her head hit the pillow, she’d written three briefs and beat her high score on a game whose primary objective seemed to be the obliteration of little colored balls. Ghosts of the graphics invaded her dreams. Now she was neither rested nor ready to face the day. Her body felt battered. She dragged herself to work and plopped down at her desk. Luckily she wasn’t due in court. Only those nearby would be treated to the sight of her bloodshot, puffy eyes.

  “Was it that good or that bad?”

  She glanced up to find Aaron Buttermore sitting on the corner of her desk, a caramel macchiato, her favorite drink, in his hand. He handed it over. As she sipped, she realized she hadn’t unpacked her briefcase, and she wasn’t wearing nylons under her knee-length skirt.

  With a sigh, she set the cup of heaven next to her keyboard. “Neither. I stayed home all alone. Worked a little. Did a whole lot of nothing. Woke up feeling like my head’s full of cotton. Thanks for the coffee. You rock.”

  He smiled, an expression that lit his friendly face. When he’d first begun working at the US Attorney’s office last summer, she’d toyed briefly with the idea of dating him. He was handsome and tall. With his clipped blond hair and mossy green eyes, he seemed a watered-down version of Keith. However, the chemistry between them had fizzled within the first five seconds of actual conversation. They had so much in common, and he behaved more like a girlfriend than boyfriend material. It was just a matter of time before he met the perfect woman and they had a perfect wedding and perfect kids.

  “No problem. You should have called me. I would have helped.”

  Katrina shook her head. She didn’t need a witness to her wallowing. With the first smile of the day blooming on her face, she lifted her coffee in a toast to Aaron. “You helped.”

  He grimaced and looked away.

  She realized he had something on his mind, but he was waiting until she could gain her composure. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to make anything better, so she took another deep breath and squared her shoulders. “What’s going on?”

  “I wasn’t assigned to the Holbrook case.”

  The Holbrook case involved a school district superintendent who funneled payments intended to pay for physical therapy for special-needs students into his personal bank account. In the current political climate, nailing anyone in the schools for embezzlement and fraud meant garnering the attention of powerful people. Aaron had been schmoozing Elizabeth Alder, the chief of the White Collar Crimes Unit and their immediate boss, for the past month.

  In addition to kissing up, he’d also done a ton of grunt work leading up to the indictment. Katrina squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. Maybe next time?”

  He stared at the place she touched him for a long moment. “Hopefully. I won’t stop trying; that’s for sure. Alder said I don’t have enough experience yet.”

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have let her attention wander, but at that moment, she figured out the real reason Keith had turned her down. His kiss, the one that had knocked both of them senseless, proved he found her attractive. He was reluctant to take her on because her lack of experience increased the likelihood that he’d do something she wouldn’t enjoy. Training meant experiencing new things. Some of them she’d like; some of them she wouldn’t. Keith didn’t want to take the chance he’d wreck their friendship with something she didn’t like.

  Aaron was still talking, but she only heard the buzzing in her head. Keith couldn’t turn her down if she had experience. He wasn’t the only Dom she knew. If Keith wouldn’t train her, she would find someone else who would. Then she could go back to him with the kind of knowledge and experience he required.

  Just before lunch, Special Agent Jordan Monaghan dropped in on her. Though he was a newer agent and younger than them all, he had already struck up a close friendship with her brother and Keith. Jordan didn’t seem to have much in common with many of the other agents she knew. He wore his black hair long and loose. Dark stubble perpetually lined his cheeks and jaw. The knot of his tie hung level with the third button of his shirt, which gaped open at the neck. The relaxed, semi-scraggly look worked for him, and he only cleaned up for court. The first time she’d seen his transformation, it had taken her several moments to realize who he was. He’d grinned at her the entire time.

  Jordan was also a Dom. A handsome face hid behind his facial hair and the locks falling over his eyes and ears. He wasn’t her type, not at all, but he was a Dom. She put him on her list, but not at the top.

  He took off his wraparound sunglasses and sank into a chair next to her desk. “Do you have a few minutes? I have some theoretical questions I’d like to discuss.” He studied her intently, no smile on his face.

  She slid her laptop aside and nodded. “For you? Of course.”

  He flashed a quick smile, more a dutiful reaction than an indication of emotion. “Let’s say there were some discrepancies in the evidence logs.”

  Katrina knew he was talking to her for a reason. Though they knew each other socially, they weren’t close. The details of cases she was currently working zinged through her brain. She needed more from Jordan. “How do you know there are discrepancies?”

  Jordan tapped his thigh. “A hunch. Some of that evidence has gone missing, or it has been conveniently misplaced.”

  Missing evidence could destroy a case. Tampering with the chain of evidence could also destroy a case. Katrina frowned. “The evidence rooms are kept under surveillance.”

  “Sometimes criminals are smart enough to hide their faces and any identifying features.” He stared at her hard, studying her face.

  She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Jordan, what’s going on?”

  He shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

  She wanted to ask how much of this theoretical problem involved her, but she knew better than to ask questions whose answers could jeopardize cases. If Jordan had enough to speak in absolutes, he would.

  “Sometimes the FBI installs cameras that nobody knows about.”

  Jordan chuckled, but his laugh wasn’t real. “You’re confusing us with the CIA.”

  She wanted to help, but she could only offer insights he already had. “Investigate the cases. Follow the money. Find a motive, find the bad guy.”

  This time, he snorted and gave her a genuine smile. “It’s just like you lawyer types want everything handed to you on a silver platter.”

  She grinned. “I prefer platinum.”

  An intern whose name Katrina didn’t know came over. She folded her hands demurely in front of her. “Agent Monaghan? Chief Alder will see you now.”

  Jordan rose with a grace that surprised Katrina. “I’ll catch you later, Legato.”

  __________

  Keith’s office on the fifth floor overlooked Cass Avenue. If he followed that corridor down to Bagley, he’d find the location of the first BDSM club he’d ever attended. He thought about that club now, long since vanquished by the economy and frequent law enforcement raids, and longed to rewind the clock a few years.

  The cl
ub had featured trained experts who would, for a reasonable fee, whip him into oblivion. Submission was not obligatory, and he always opted to exclude that element. He wasn’t submissive, but he did have a masochistic streak that occasionally required nurturing. He could use that kind of anonymous, mind-numbing subspace right about now.

  A knock tore his attention from the dark places it had wandered. “Come in.” He kept his invitation curt, his way of letting his unscheduled visitor know they were intruding on his valuable brooding time.

  Juliette strode into the room, unaffected by his gruff demeanor. Tall and willowy, she had a stately air about her that she’d probably possessed her entire life. She’d been an administrative assistant at the McNamara Building long before he’d arrived on the scene, and she didn’t hesitate to let him know it. He might be an agent, but she was in charge.

  She smacked a piece of paper down on his desk. “I’m not your personal assistant. It isn’t in my job description to field calls from your family.”

  He glanced down to see that his sister had called six times since Monday. Given that they were only halfway through Tuesday, that was a lot, even for her. Normally Juliette would forward messages like this electronically. Writing it on paper meant she knew he didn’t want evidence of his personal life in the official records, and e-mail was an official record. He appreciated her effort.

  “Thanks, Jules. I’ll take care of it.” He fought the urge to crumple it up and throw it in the trash. There was a reason his parents and sisters didn’t have his cell number. He wanted nothing to do with them, but they didn’t seem to care about what he wanted. Nothing new about that.

  “Hey, Jules.”

  Keith’s day officially became more difficult. Malcolm stood in the threshold, leaning against the jamb. Dressed in a suit, minus his jacket, he managed to look every inch the federal agent he was. The affable smile on his face never failed to put people at ease. He radiated confidence and acceptance. People naturally gravitated to Malcolm. Now that he was in love, his magnetism had increased.