And she would . . . if Brad could arouse her enough to have one.
His smug smile made her heart stutter. “You agreed to be trained. That means I’ll push you far beyond your comfort level so that you’ll become accustomed to acts that, right now, may be uncomfortable. We’ll see what your body says when I’ve got your legs spread and my tongue all over your clit. Again.”
Tara bit her lip to keep from sucking in an inflamed breath. His words flared heat between her legs as memories bombarded her. More moisture coated her panties. Damn it, why did her body react to him with anything other than disgust?
“No commentary?” he asked with an arched brow. “Good. Now where was I? Oh, for your disrespect in calling me a control freak, I’ll add another three smacks. How many is that so far?”
God, she wanted to spit in his face. “Fifteen.”
Logan smiled. “You’re going to have the most gorgeous rosy ass when I’m through with you, Cherry.”
Tara wished she had the luxury of telling him there was no way she was letting him touch her ass, but she needed to rid herself of Logan and get another Dom. Until then, she’d stick it out, no matter how difficult or distasteful.
“Your temper is brewing again. We’ll work on that. But first, I told you to present yourself, not merely pose.”
She froze as his meaning sank in. “You want me naked?”
“Yes. And watch your tone, or I’ll add more punishment.”
“Axel allowed me to train in my bra and panties so I’d be relaxed and comfortable for our lessons.”
Logan snorted. “In BUDs training for SEALs, the instructors deprive the trainees of all relaxation and comfort for hours on end to more closely simulate the stress and difficulty of real combat and covert situations. I subscribe to their theory that immersion training is most effective. What’s this called?” He pointed to the wooden X with dangling manacles. A something-or-other cross. Her terrible curiosity about what it would feel like to be bare as he secured her to one scared the hell out of her.
She willed herself to find the term, but with apprehension and unwanted lust clouding her brain, it didn’t happen in the long, silent minute.
“A St. Andrew’s Cross,” he said into her silence. “What kind of ring is this?” He pointed to the thick metal implement from which the manacles at the top and bottom of the cross dangled.
Tara went blank. “A metal ring?”
“It’s an O ring,” he supplied. “And you ‘learned’ this while in your bra and panties?”
Crap.
“We agreed to train in bathing suits or lingerie. Besides my being engaged, Robert—Agent York—is a coworker. We’ll have to work together after this is over, and we both wanted to avoid as much of the awkwardness as possible.”
“You and York are now undergoing separate training, so problem solved. And I’ve already seen it all, Cherry.”
“Thorpe is watching.”
“He’s likely not the only man who will see you naked before this mission is over. You’re going to last longer if you focus only on pleasing the Dom in front of you. When you’re ready to work, remove everything, fold it neatly at my feet, then resume your position. Hesitating will cost you another ten swats.”
Fury broiled her composure. God, what had she ever seen in him besides those shiver-worthy blue eyes?
Once upon a time, he’d seemed really, really genuine with her. In high school, they’d studied British literature classics, and she’d learned a lot about his heart. He’d debated Shakespeare’s star-crossed teen lovers, worried about Tiny Tim. He’d even wrung his hands waiting for Elizabeth Bennett to have her happily ever after with Mr. Darcy. And she’d delighted at his capacity to feel.
That boy was long gone, if he’d ever really existed.
Now, the bastard was doing everything possible to make her job hell. Tara pressed her lips together and wiped the mulish expression off her face. Think proving yourself on this mission, think Darcy.
“Now,” he barked. “That position you’re in is not only for you to show your obedience, but your willingness to accept your Dom in whatever way he wishes to have you. It’s also to tempt him by showing off your body. I can’t see what you’ve covered, Cherry. Strip.”
Her breath caught. Being naked again for Logan . . . The cold ball of dread settling in her gut warred with the hot ache brewing between her legs. Baring herself to him would make her frighteningly vulnerable, but submitting to his demand so they could get on with this farce was necessary. She swallowed down her nerves.
After a few swats of his hand on her ass, Tara vowed that Logan would be out of her life again—this time for good.
She stood and stepped out of her heels, sliding them aside, then removed her bracelet, earrings, and chunky silver necklace. She shrugged out of her suit coat and unbuttoned her rumpled eggshell blouse, closing her eyes to block out his presence.
“Look at me.”