“So?” He braced his elbows on the desk. “This clause doesn’t exist for you to protect your old stomping grounds. It’s to keep two Doms from fighting over a sub. No one else is threatening violence, so . . .”
“I am. If anyone touches my Tara, I will bust them wide open.”
“This territorial crap is unlike you.”
Thorpe sent him a Dom-like stare and waited for him to break. Logan glared back.
“You still haven’t met all the clause’s stipulations,” the club owner pointed out. “Prior Claim can only be invoked if the Dom doing so intends to either collar or marry the sub in question.”
If he could earn her trust again and make her happier than Brad Thompson? And see her through this mission? She’d given up a much desired orgasm when she said her safe word. There was a reason Tara had used such grit to maintain her self-control. Hell, Logan knew he hadn’t. He doubted she’d kept a clear head and manipulated the situation because she was afraid or wanted to quit the mission. She’d never quit anything before. He knew Cherry. She was going to dig in and do the job no matter what he said. She’d simply wanted to shed him as her trainer so she could continue on without him.
“Both.”
“You intend to tie yourself to Agent Jacobs permanently, even though she loathes you?”
“She doesn’t, and yes. I plan on making her mine in every way.”
“You’re actually going to have sex with her yourself, and not send in Xander?”
Logan smiled wide. “In every conceivable way. As soon as possible.”
Thorpe considered him for a very long moment. “You’ve cited a viable club rule and you sound very serious. The clause gives you a week to win her without obstruction or interference. But the FBI is paying me to ensure their agent is trained. Your love life isn’t important to them. Another woman’s life hangs in the balance.”
“I’ve considered that. No Dom will be more invested in Tara than me. No one will have a greater stake in making sure she comes out of this mission alive. I understand that I only have a week. If I’m forced to choose between winning her or preparing her for the mission . . . keeping her safe is my first priority.”
Thorpe kept staring. “The thought of putting the enforcement of her safe word entirely in your hands for the next seven days doesn’t set well with me.”
“If she knows saying it means she’ll get her way, she’ll be a broken record. I will take care of her, but it has to be on my terms or she’ll never truly submit. You can’t throw away your own rulebook for a paycheck. She’s going into our world, or a twisted version of it anyway. She’s going to have to conform to rules or everyone is going to see straight through her.”
Logan stood firm and waited. Doms were sometimes victims of their own rules, like now. Tara couldn’t learn—or succeed—if she didn’t get a dose of true club life. Nor would Thorpe’s selective enforcement of the rules be well received by other club members—and he would know that.
“You’re a shrewd son of a bitch.” Thorpe rose, agitated. “All right. You have seven days, but I’m not letting you off the leash entirely. If I think you’ve crossed the line with Agent Jacobs, or that you’re not adequately preparing her, I’ll revoke both your claim and your membership. Of course, the same holds true if you fail to win her in a week. Do you understand?”
The bastard drove a hard bargain, but Logan smiled. “Perfectly.”
Club Dominion—Friday morning
The following morning, Tara slammed into Logan’s dungeon, fire charring her veins.
She’d arrived expecting to train with another Dom, one she hadn’t stupidly rubbed up against like a cat. But no. Thorpe had explained that she was completely in Logan’s hands for the next week. She’d have to look at the man and remember how utterly she’d responded.
Worse, last night she and Brad had argued; he’d seen the whisker burns on her chin, neck . . . and br**sts. If he’d known who’d given them to her, he would have completely lost his mind, especially after he’d asked her to drop the case, and she’d refused.
Damn it, her life would be much easier if Logan would just get the hell out of it.
As Tara set her purse down and tugged at her black pencil skirt, she struggled to get control of her temper; anger wouldn’t help her focus. But the sight of Logan, brow raised, like he knew she was pissed and didn’t care, nearly derailed her good intentions. Not to mention the hungry blue stare that said he couldn’t wait to unleash his raw sexuality on her again. Tara resented like hell that he got under her skin.
“Good morning.” He glanced at his watch. “You’re three minutes late. Strip and we’ll get started.”
As if nothing important had happened yesterday? Tara hadn’t slept a wink, rehashing where she had gone wrong, unable to forget Logan’s mouth and hands on her, making her feel alive again. Damn it, she had a job to perform, and he was doing his level best to screw that up.
She tugged the lapels of her suit jacket together. “No. I’ve just talked to Thorpe. What kind of game are you playing?”
He cocked his head. “I’m not. We’ll talk, but now isn’t the time, and here isn’t the place.”
“Since this is the only place I see you, I disagree. What happened yesterday—”
“Isn’t the issue. The elephant in the room, our breakup in high school, is.”