Forty-six minutes later Logan found exactly the loophole he needed. Tucking the papers in his back pocket, he sprinted out his door, locking it behind him. Rush hour traffic would be thick now, and he had to reach Dominion before Thorpe left for the day because he intended to fucking settle this now.
Club Dominion—Thursday evening
In less than eight minutes, Logan climbed off his motorcycle in Dominion’s parking lot and slammed through the front door, past Thorpe’s usual bouncers and the crew setting up for the night. Axel was preparing for a demonstration with a single tail whip. Jason was checking the club’s public playroom. Logan was supposed to be helping, but first, he and Thorpe were going to have it out.
Logan stalked down the hall, his boots striking the concrete floors, the pendant lights above providing one soft pool of light after another on the otherwise unrelenting gray. When he reached Thorpe’s door, he entered without knocking.
The club’s owner looked up, then glared. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it. Agent Jacobs warned me that she couldn’t work with you. You got her naked and lost all control. There was no training happening there. I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but it’s not mine or hers. Get out.”
Logan slapped his copy of the club’s rules on Thorpe’s desk. “Rule twenty-one dot three dot five. I’m invoking it.”
“Prior claim?” Thorpe wouldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said he was the freaking Easter Bunny. “Because you fucked this girl in the past.”
“Yes.”
Thorpe slanted him a long, considering look. “If I hadn’t heard her say so during your session, I’d think you were full of shit, given how many women you’ve refused to share your sheets with.”
Logan forced down his impatience and leaned over the desk. “If you heard everything she said, then you heard that I have the ultimate prior claim: her virginity.”
“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 breasts. 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.”
His words couldn’t have shocked Tara more, especially when something somber and pensive crossed his face. Why would he want to discuss that?
“I was a naïve girl, and you were a hormonal teenage prick. After your mom’s death, you were hurting and lashed out at me. End of story.”
Logan shook his head. “There was far more involved. I’d like to explain.”
Was he out of his mind? Give a player like him more opportunities to spin his lies and woo her back into bed so he could hurt her again? “No.”
He looked disappointed, but resigned. “This isn’t a part of your training. This is personal between us. If you change your mind, ask me outside this place, when we don’t have an audience. I genuinely believe it will change the way you feel.”
Tara opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. That crushed, angry girl still inside of her wanted to hear his explanation, but only if it ended with some confession of Logan’s undying love. She gave a cynical snort. Stupid. Far more likely that he’d been confused and grieving, and received a great deal of comfort in Brittany Fuller’s legendary blow jobs. Besides, what good would rehashing the past do? She needed to keep him at arm’s length and focus on her job.
“I doubt that, so I’ll skip it.”
“That offer is always on the table. But we’ll get back to training for now. I gave you an order to strip. And while it wasn’t first on my agenda, we can finish yesterday’s punishment now. If you’re disobedient, I’ll add to it.”
“I said my safe word. You should respect that, as should Thorpe. Why the hell is he violating his own club’s rules by giving me back to you?”
Logan stalked closer, and she didn’t want to notice the way his black T-shirt hugged each rippling muscle of his torso or that his leather pants clung to every inch of his erection. Nothing to the imagination there. No denying, he looked good. Okay, great. Mouthwatering. But he was definitely up to no good.
“Thorpe and I had a . . . heart-to-heart yesterday. We understand each other, and for the next seven days, you are completely in my hands. End of story. Any questions, Cherry?”
“What’s your angle? Are you hoping to nail me so you can cut me cold and see if I bleed again. You get off on my humiliation?”
“I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t then, and I don’t now. Besides, do you really think humiliating you crossed my mind yesterday when I had my tongue in your mouth and my fingers in your pussy?”
Tara wanted to cringe—but refused. “Thank God my taste in men has improved since I was sixteen.”
“Brad sold exam keys and crystal meth to anyone with cash back in high school, so I’m gonna disagree.” Logan smiled tightly. “Understand that invoking the safe word only ends the current scene, it doesn’t sever the contact between us. So you can stop me if you’re very uncomfortable with whatever is happening. But screaming ‘Romeo’ won’t make me disappear. Do you understand?”
That unless she wanted to let Darcy die and give up on following in her stepfather’s footsteps to make him proud, she was stuck with Logan with virtually no recourse for a week? Fine, she’d suck it up. She was the perfect bait and she wasn’t going to let her colleagues down. “Yes.”
Besides, no way in hell would she let him get the best of her ever again.
“Yes, Logan,” he corrected. “I want to hear my name on your lips.”
She gave him a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, Logan.”
“That attitude is going to get your ass spanked a lot. I’d think carefully, if I were you.”
“But you’re not me, Logan.”
He gritted his teeth. “True, and we’ll get back to your attitude. Right now, I’d like to apologize for losing control of the situation yesterday and pushing you so hard and so quickly.”
That set her back. Was he trying to get under her guard to seduce her again? Did that explain why he suddenly wanted to discuss their past? Logan looked sincere . . . but he’d only apologized for pushing her, not for kissing her in the first place.
“Assuming you actually mean that and given that we’re going to be working together, I have a condition: Don’t kiss me again. You’re supposed to be mentally preparing me to submit for a mission, not seducing me.”
A faint smile curled up the edges of his mouth, but he wasn’t amused. “Mental preparation is at the top of my agenda, but that’s going to involve touching you in about every way possible. You don’t get to give me any parameters. So if you’d like to stop arguing and get down to work so you can save Agent Miles, I suggest you strip.”
God, she hated that command. It made her vulnerable to him, which was precisely why he was so fond of it. But it turned him on, too. She’d use that to her advantage if he pressed her again.
“If I have to repeat the command again, it won’t be pretty.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.
Tara tried not to grit her teeth. Once undercover, she might be given to a Dom who would insist on her nudity twenty-four/seven. She had to ditch her inhibitions and the discomfort of having her less-than-perfect body scrutinized. And she had to stop interacting with Logan on a personal level. He was her trainer. He wanted her naked. She needed to comply.
“Should I fold my garments and lay them at your feet?” Even saying the words burned through her anger and began a dangerous pulse of hunger in her belly.