Logan held her steady across his lap. “Stay still and answer the question.”
With a huff, she stilled. “I don’t like being spanked.”
“Had a lot of experience with it, have you?”
“What you did yesterday was—”
“Not meant to pleasure you. It was meant to punish. I told you that. Now I’ll show you the difference.”
“If I said no, you’d do it anyway. If I told you to f**k off, you’d only add more. At least the safe word stops you.”
“It does, but if you can’t take a spanking or a little mind f**k, how will you save Darcy or succeed on this mission? If a training exercise scares you this much, then I can’t let you proceed any further.”
Her back went ramrod straight. “I’m not scared. You just . . . annoy me.”
Annoy wasn’t the right word; he got under her skin. This emotional block was one they had to get past. She could probably learn to submit for this assignment, but these walls she thrust between them wouldn’t fly if they were going to progress as a couple. “So you’re giving me a red light because you’re annoyed with me. Is that what a safe word is for? How do you think that’s going to work undercover?”
Her fists clenched, and Logan heard her curse under her breath. Time to pull out his ace in the hole. “I’m scheduled to chat with Thorpe and Bocelli later this afternoon. Cherry, if you can’t do this, then you’re in over your head. You have a submissive nature, but mentally, you’re not allowing yourself to give up control so that you can learn—and get—what you need. I’ll ask Bocelli if he can think of another agent who could pull off the case. I’m in town for another ten days, so I can train—”
“Don’t you dare,” she snarled.
The situation was serious, but Logan had to work to suppress his smile. He knew Cherry. Yeah, she didn’t want to give up this assignment, but she really didn’t like the idea of him training another woman. Whether she knew it or not, by giving up her fiancé and refusing to let another woman take her place in his dungeon, Tara was telling him that he mattered to her.
“I’ll dare if I think you’re not ready. So either admit that you can’t handle this case or take the punishment you’ve earned.”
Tara didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, she drew in an angry breath. “The thirteen swats I had left over from yesterday? Should I count them, Logan?”
He smiled and refrained from a rousing fist pump. “Yes. And I’m adding another seven for your generally bad attitude and leaving without permission. Get ready.”
“Fine.” Her entire body tensed, as if bracing for a mortal blow.
Logan caressed her ass again. She’d find this spanking much different than yesterday’s. This one would push her to the brink until she begged for more.
A strange curl of anticipation writhed in Tara’s belly as Logan braced one palm on the back of her thigh—a gentle reminder of who was in charge—and lifted the other hand to deliver a light smack to the middle of her right cheek. A little sting spread over her flesh with a sizzle.
That was it? No terrible blow? No awful pain? She wanted to ask, but didn’t. Quickly, the sting dissipated. She found herself almost . . . disappointed.
“One.” Tara spoke the number more like a question, feeling decidedly off guard.
Then she waited. So did Logan. As long seconds ticked by, she wondered what the hell he was up to. Tara fought off the urge to look over her shoulder. Instead, she bit her lip and forced herself to remain still.
Finally, he raised his hand, this time smacking her left cheek lower, with a bit more force.
“Two,” she counted with more confidence as the slight tingle flitted across her ass again, then slowly faded. Tara squirmed, trying to extend the sensation, but it didn’t work.
The good news was, she’d easily make it through twenty of these.
“Is there a problem?”
She wriggled again, but the sweet ache was gone. Instead, a more insistent one had taken up residence between her thighs. And she was getting wet. Damn it.
“No problem.”
“Then hold still and take the rest of your punishment.”
Bastard. Tara scowled and held her breath.
Lifting his hand again, Logan rained a series of swats across her ass—on her right thigh, high on her left cheek, over the line that bisected her cheeks.