A small pause. “No. But what will you make me feel?”
She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. Since they’d begun working together, Tara had been desperately trying to hide her apprehension and desire, but in that moment, she dropped her mask. Her face glowed with arousal—and tightened with worry. Both were so honest that triumph rushed through him. Some small part of her was beginning to trust him with her feelings.
“You’ll feel whatever needed so that you’re willingly in my control. While our interaction may be different than Jason and Greta’s, I will do whatever necessary to make you give yourself over to me. Step up, Cherry.” He waved her against the cross. “Normally, I’d have you face away from me, but I want to see your every reaction. Back against the cross.”
She smoothed out a shuddering breath, then turned, easing against the smooth, dark wood. Every muscle in her soft body went tight. Under that pretty, pale skin, Logan was sure she fought the urge to fidget and shiver. That instinct would serve her well.
“Place yourself in the manacles and lock them.”
Her brown eyes flew up to him with a startled glance. Wisely, she held her tongue. After a moment’s hesitation, she secured her left ankle, then her right. The second she straightened up and glanced at the wrist shackles, Logan knew she was questioning her own wisdom.
He gave her a moment to work it out in her head. As their training went on, her response times would have to become instant and fluid. Behaving like an untrained sub would only make her stand out. Like a soldier unable to complete an evolution of any special forces training, negative attention wasn’t the kind anyone sought.
“What is your hesitation, Cherry?”
“I’ve never been restrained.”
That fact thrilled Logan. He’d be the first—and last—man to show her the true joy of the power exchange she secretly ached for. She might experience a dark version of it during her mission, but she’d only truly submit to him.
He lowered his voice, peppering it with disapproval. “We’ve been over this. I won’t hurt you. What is the real issue?”
“It’s a logical fear to put yourself at someone else’s mercy.”
Especially someone who has hurt you. Tara didn’t say it, but Logan heard the subtext.
“It is, but I’ll reward your trust. And you’ll be one step closer to saving Agent Miles.”
With that, she nodded, then drew in a bracing breath as she stretched one hand up to a manacle and closed it with other. Then she looked to him for approval, and that expression, her need to please, went straight to his cock.
He drew off his T-shirt, gratified as her eyes widened, then he stepped close, lifting her chin with his finger. “Very good, Cherry. You’re being very brave.”
Then he laid his lips over hers, a small, reassuring peck. Her breath caught. It was almost indiscernible—but he felt it, felt her begin to give herself over. His chest tightening, Logan took her free hand, leaned in, and slowly pressed it to his torso. She took over, moving across his skin. God, those soft little fingers were like brands sizzling across his abdomen, brushing over his nipple. Her delicate palm settling over his heartbeat all but seared him.
With every moment that passed between them, Logan was more certain that he’d made the right decision to risk everything to win Cherry back. Smiling, he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to her palm, then eased it into the last manacle.
As it snapped shut, the little red light in the corner flashed, indicating that someone had tripped the motion detector in his observation room. Someone had entered without his knowledge or permission. It wasn’t Thorpe; he’d scheduled a tour of the facility to a new member. Had he sent someone to watch in his stead? Possibly, but Jason had to get back to work. Xander rarely showed up before noon. Most of the other Doms weren’t here, and Thorpe would never allow any of the casual club members this deep into the club. He didn’t think Axel would waste his needed time with Agent York to watch Tara’s progress. So who the hell was spying on them?
“Wait here.”
“But—”
“Cherry,” he cut her off. “I promise I’ll be back. Nothing will happen to you. I’m watching from the next room.”
It pained Logan to leave her naked and hanging on the cross, looking so beautiful and uncertain that she hurt his eyes. But whoever observed them without obtaining permission was breaching protocol. And it pissed Logan off.
He shoved out of the dungeon, stalked a few steps to the observation room, and pushed the door open, ready to see just about anyone—except Tara’s fiancé, Brad Thompson.
“What the f**k are you doing here?” Logan demanded.
Brad stood under the harsh glare of the industrial light with his face red and his fists clenched. “What the f**k are you doing here, Edgington? I pounded on that damn door, and you ignored me.”
“It’s soundproof for a reason.”
“You underhanded bastard. I don’t know how you talked Tara into participating in this degrading tie-’em-up crap with you, of all people, but I demand that you to unchain her and return her clothes now.” The man looked him up and down with disdain. “My God, what kind of animal are you?”
The kind of animal who made Cherry flushed and wet. The kind who looked forward to getting her off until she screamed her throat raw. But Logan didn’t mention that.
Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Brad like he was an insect. “What do you want?”