She shook her head with a sniff, trying again to hold in all the emotions. “I’m sorry. I need to stop. This isn’t professional.”
“It’s necessary.” He cupped her face in the steely heat of his hands. “Doms will expect an honest response. Don’t lie and don’t front—or there will be punishment. Whatever you need to feel, feel it.”
His gentle voice encouraged, but Tara still wanted to crawl into a hole. She had to stop bawling and clinging to him. Instead, she buried her face in Logan’s neck and availed herself of the earthy musk and leather scents. She cuddled closer. How could he comfort her when he was the source of her distress?
“B-But I’m a damn FBI agent. I need t-to act like one.”
Quite simply, Logan brought out every emotion in her. She was usually good at keeping all that in; she had to be. But with him, she couldn’t seem to turn it off.
Logan wiped her fresh tears away with the pad of his thumb. “You have. This is part of training. You’re learning to give into your submissive nature. That’s what this mission requires.”
Perhaps, but she hadn’t been thinking about her mission with Logan’s mouth on her pu**y. She’d been focused on pleasure, on her need for more. That reality filled her with shame.
“This feels so personal.” She scrambled off of his body to sit beside him, curling her knees into her chest.
“You feel off balance, and you’re not used to that.” He tucked a strand of fiery hair behind her ear. “That’s okay. Since you’re independent, you’re going to feel that way in a D/s relationship until you learn to flow with it and trust me. I’ll help you through it. Lie back.” With a gentle, but insistent hand, he pushed her to her back. “Right now, just breathe with me. In . . .”
He demonstrated, lying beside her, inhaling through his nose until his chest rose. Tara followed suit.
“Now let it out.” Logan exhaled until the air was gone, his shoulders slightly slumped.
Again, she did the same. Amazingly, her tears began to dry up. A sense of calm settled over her. It wouldn’t last. She had mountains to climb with this case—and Logan. But right now, she felt more settled than she had in months, maybe years.
But she also felt more connected to him than she ever had to any lover.
Before the alarm bells could go off in her head, Logan rolled over, his body half covering hers, and he possessed her mouth with his in a slow kiss of reverence. Endless, deep. It wasn’t meant to arouse. Instead, Tara had to fight the urge to burrow deeper into his embrace and cling. To connect with him again in every way.
Feelings like that could lead nowhere good. Logan would train her and disappear from her life. She had to be ready to feign an appropriate response to York or any other Dom presented to her.
She broke the kiss and eased to her feet, praying her legs would support her.
“I need a minute. Please. Then we’ll get back to work.” Tara reached for her clothes on the concrete floor.
Logan scooped them up before she could grab the first garment. He tucked the stack against his chest. “When you’re in my dungeon—in most Dom’s dungeons—you won’t be dressed beyond what they allow. If you need to go down the hall to the ladies’ room, I’ll give you your robe.” He placed her clothes in the wardrobe, then handed her the silky cream-colored garment. It wasn’t sheer, but it clung to every bump on her body, especially her stiff, aching ni**les. She crossed her arms over her chest.
Tsking, Logan pushed them down to her sides. “No hiding.”
He cradled her breast in his hand, thumbing her engorged nipple through the silk. Fresh pleasure arced through her body. Her head told her that she should be pulling away. She was engaged. None of the soft touches Logan lavished on her forwarded her training. But her body didn’t care. It wanted him.
“Yes, Logan.”
“Excellent, Cherry.” In reward, he eased the silky lapels of the robe apart, anchoring them on the sides of her exposed br**sts. He leaned in and kissed one nipple, suckled and nipped it gently. More blood rushed to the tip in a flash of sensitivity. Logan did the same to the other hard tip. More desire gathered hotly between her thighs.
As she arched toward him in silent offering, he covered her br**sts up and spun her toward the door.
“Still want a few minutes alone?” he murmured in her ear.
Distance between them would be good, but she no longer wanted it. But was it really wise to experience all that passion again when she was marrying someone else? Someone like Brad, whom her stepfather approved of. Brad shared her desire for marriage and children. He did absolutely nothing for her in bed and could never use sex to control her. Logan could do that twenty-four/seven. Tara sighed. Maybe she should ease her own ache in the bathroom and come back with renewed focus, a clearer head.
“Yes, Logan.”
“Ten minutes. No masturbating. Or that will cost you twenty-five swats and a whole lot of orgasm depravation. That would be a damn shame . . .” He smiled as if he knew that he’d thwarted her plans.
Damn him. He wanted her totally at his mercy. For the case—or for himself? Was he really trying so hard to train her simply for the mission? Did he want to talk about their past merely to clear the air so their rapport would be easier and facilitate the training? Or was this personal for him? His every touch seemed to say so. Tara had to ask herself why. And what was she going to do about the fact that both the scared girl and aching woman inside her wanted to cling to Logan and ask the answers to all her questions?
Tara drew in a bracing breath and opened the dungeon’s door. To her utter horror, Brad stood directly in her path.
Chapter Six