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 fuck 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 fuck 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?”
“Tara is not your damn toy anymore. She’s my fiancée, and I won’t let you hurt her. Let her go this second.”
Like hell. “How did you get down to the dungeon level? This area is security restricted.”
“Flashing the credentials of an Assistant District Attorney at stupid receptionists usually works. She nearly fell all over herself to help me find you down in this labyrinth.”
Misty, or Sweet Pea, as everyone called her, was an efficient receptionist and a sweet little sub, but skittish around anyone with a badge. She’d nearly fainted when meeting York.
“Get the fuck out before I call security.” Logan turned his back to leave.
Thompson grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, throwing a left hook. Logan had known it was coming from the way the man’s body tensed. He ducked, then recovered, shoving his right fist into Brad’s stomach. Thompson grunted and turned an even darker shade of red.
“Listen up, because I’ll only say this once. On a professional level, stalking your fiancée while she’s working won’t go over well with her superiors or help her learn the skills necessary to survive her mission.”
Brad jerked away. “I saw your whisker burn on her body last night. You’re not teaching her a damn thing, just setting her up to hurt her again.”
Logan shook his head. “You’re wrong. And on a personal level, do you think spying on Tara is going to win you any brownie points?”
“I care about her well-being. It’s my responsibility to keep her safe.” Brad glared.
“While we’re working, she’s my responsibility. I’ll take excellent care of her—always.”
“Is that some kind of innuendo? A veiled threat that you’re going to try to seduce her?”
“No innuendo at all. I’ll lay it flat out for you right now.” Logan got in Brad’s face. “Tara is made for what I can give her, and whatever vanilla sex you’re having with her isn’t getting the job done. Her heart was mine first. If she wants me, I won’t rest until it’s mine again.”
“Tara will be my wife, the mother of my children. You’re not getting in my way.”
Thompson swung at him again, and Logan plowed his fist into the man’s jaw. Brad staggered back, nearly tripping over some folding chairs. Logan helped out by backing him into the concrete wall, then shoving a forearm to his throat. “I don’t know how you duped her into marrying you, but I know the kind of scab you are.”
“And you’re a real gentleman, chaining women up,” he croaked. “Do you honestly think she’ll fall for that?” With narrowed eyes and ruthless pleasure, Thompson smiled. “But go ahead and hit me some more. She’ll hate you even more, not that it matters. Regardless of what you do, she’ll never love you again.”
That possibility worried Logan. He could train her to be submissive. She had both the urge and the aptitude. He could even make her want him; already she responded. But was it possible to make her fall for him again in a week? Logan was tempted to blurt the truth about their breakup to Cherry, whether or not she wanted to hear it. But he’d taken so many other choices from her when pressing Thorpe to honor his prior claim. Trying to wrestle absolution from her was counterproductive. He had to tamp down his impatience and let things play out.
“Get the fuck out and don’t ever darken my dungeon door again.”
Logan slammed his way out of the observation room. In the hallway, he let out a calming breath, rolled his shoulders to clear the tension. It wasn’t working. Motherfucker. He’d always hated Brad Thompson in high school, the slimy, two-faced bastard.
But now he had to focus on Cherry.
Letting himself in his dungeon, Logan locked the door behind him once more. If Thompson was smart he’d leave. And yeah, he could call security and have the asshole tossed out. But Logan was betting that Tara’s fiancé wasn’t smart. He’d stay and watch out of some misguided sense of duty. Or maybe because he wasn’t as sure of Tara’s love as he pretended. Logan didn’t really give a shit. But if Thompson was fool enough to hang around . . . well, Logan would be happy to put on a show and do whatever necessary to prove that he pleased Tara sexually in a way Brad couldn’t because her feelings for him lingered. It ought to be a big wake-up call for the ass wipe.