Protecting Fate (7 page)

“Mexican is always good.”

She laughed, the sound high and bright and perfectly Sara. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Yeah, he did. But he liked hearing her laugh. It made him want to do or say something to draw out that sound again. Instead, he answered her question. “I thought it was, though I’ve learned a thing or two since then.”

Her grin widened. “I imagine so.”

“Your turn, sweetheart.”

“His name was Stephen and he wasn’t a sweet boy, and my favorite food is paella.” She hopped onto the counter next to the stove. “Okay, this could be fun. Why did you start the whole mercenary business? You seem like you would have fit in just fine with the normal military.”

He had. He had fucking loved it. But the choice had been taken away because of one shitty decision. It wasn’t something he was going to get into now, though. “Men like me—like your brother—sometimes have a hard time fitting back into society after the service. I floundered a bit, but when I looked around, I realized there was a need that I was uniquely qualified to meet.”

“And that’s…it? You were qualified and so you stepped up?”

It sounded foolish when she said it like that. Z crossed his arms over his chest, giving the idea more thought than he had in years. “I like what I do. More than that, if I wasn’t the one doing it, someone else would be—and they’d be doing a shittier job of it. I make sure we only take missions that don’t compromise my men.” Though he wasn’t above taking those missions himself on occasion. “And I stack the deck as best I can to make sure they get home safely.” The explanation still felt inadequate, but Sara nodded like she understood, so he asked, “And you? Why the fixer business?”

“Because there are far too many problems in this world that don’t have easy fixes. Or any fixes at all.” She eyed the saucepan. “I think Uncle Rodger had a similar experience to yours when he got out of the service. He might be a right bastard on occasion, but he’s got an honorable streak a mile wide. Growing up with him was like knowing a real life hero.” She shrugged. “I guess some of that rubbed off on me. I like puzzles. I like taking a seemingly impossible situation and twisting it to my client’s benefit. I like the relief and gratitude in their eyes when I can deliver on my promises.”

“Seems you have a little bit of a heroic streak, yourself.”

“Nah. I’ll leave that to folk like you and my brother and my uncle.” Sara crossed her legs, drawing his attention to the long line of skin disappearing under the bottom of her robe.

He wanted her. Fuck, he wanted her more than he’d wanted something in a very long time. But, strangely enough, he wanted to continue this conversation more than he wanted to bury himself between her legs. “What else do you want to know?” A bold question—reckless even.

A strange look passed over her face, something like fear. “I think that’s enough for now. The food’s ready.”

Chapter Nine

Sara couldn’t believe she’d let herself get drawn into such a potentially exposing conversation with Z. Sure, they hadn’t talked about anything particularly revealing, but she still felt a little raw. A little vulnerable. Because, for just a few minutes, she’d forgotten that this man was one she was sleeping with. There was a place for friends who she spilled out her heart to, and a place for men who drove her out of her mind with pleasure like Z had done earlier.

And ne’er the two shall meet.

Except she…liked talking to him. Even as she dumped half the stir-fry into a bowl and slid it across the island to him, she wanted to ask him more questions, to find out more about him. Doing so meant revealing more of herself, though, and she couldn’t do that. He already knew too much.

Sex was so much easier. There was no need for heart to hearts or finding out that he liked Mexican food and had a hero complex to rival her brother’s. There was no excuse for her curiosity. None.

She took a bite to distract herself, but all it did was give her more opportunity to study him. He watched her just as closely, an unreadable look on his face. She found she liked those pale green eyes of his, liked how they were such a contrast to the rest of him and yet managed to fit him perfectly.

She wanted to know what got him kicked out of the military. Sara couldn’t imagine what it could have been. From the tone of his voice and the look on his face when he skated over that particular conversational landmine, his discharge hadn’t been by choice. He didn’t move like someone injured, so she doubted it was honorable discharge related to some kind of wartime injury.

So what was it?

She stamped down her curiosity and focused on eating. It was none of her business. Yes, they were sleeping together—at least for now—but that didn’t mean he owed her a truth that was obviously a painful one. She sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him about her hopes and fears.

But a part of her wanted to.

She’d been going it alone for so long, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation like this, let alone with someone who wasn’t family or Ridley. The uncomfortable thought rose that maybe she’d
never
gone there before.

Calm down, idiot. It’s not like you gave him the key to your soul. It was just a silly little talk about things that you don’t talk to anyone about. No big deal
.

She finished her bowl and moved to the sink to wash it out. It gave her the illusion of space, but she could feel Z’s gaze on the back of her neck. If she were smart, she’d do something to turn this back to sex and the comfortable box she’d created. Instead, all she wanted to do was flee.

“So—” She turned around and let loose an embarrassingly girly scream when she found him six inches away. “What the hell? Give me the courtesy of making some damn noise when you move.”

He reached around her to set his bowl in the sink, bringing them nearly chest-to-chest. “We need to talk about hard limits.”

This, she could do. This was just sex. Sara ignored how much that term felt like a lie and leaned against the counter. “Easy—nothing beyond light pain play, no age play, no furries.” She hesitated, then plunged on. “I’m also not into sharing.”

“If at any point, you want to update the list, tell me immediately.”

“I will. You know, I
have
done this kind of thing before.”

A small smile pulled at the edges of his lips. “I’m aware. Now, one more question, sweetheart.”

She didn’t
want
any more questions. It was startlingly easy to talk to him, and God only knew what would come out of her mouth if she let her guard down. She kind of
liked
Z. She liked how quiet he was, and how closely he seemed to watch everything around him.

Oh yeah, and she liked how he could command her body as if she belonged to him and him alone.

It was that last thing that had her sliding sideways, needing more space between them. “I’m tired of this game.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

She opened her mouth to say she wasn’t afraid of a single damn thing, but it was a lie. There were plenty of things she was afraid of, things that she wasn’t about to utter aloud. So she deflected, “This has been fun, but you wore me out and I’m going to bed.”

She made it a full step before his voice stopped her in her tracks. “My room.”
Absolutely not
. She spun, but he was already speaking again, “That wasn’t a request.”

“The only place you get to order me around is in the bedroom.” She might play the role of sub when it suited her, but she wasn’t looking for the deeper role that some people craved. She didn’t need a Dom in every aspect of her life, interfering and generally being a pain in the ass.

“You gave yourself to me until our timeline runs out. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

The arrogant ass knew she’d done no such thing. This whole situation might tread right on the line of making her want to run for the hills, but she wanted the way he made her feel more than she wanted to protect herself from potential hurt. She glared. “I’m not a coward.”

“I never said you were.”

Maybe not, but she was starting to feel like one for being worried.
It’ll be okay. I have this under control
.

Right.

…

As soon as she nodded, Z was moving. He didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind. Without saying a word, he scooped her up and headed for his bedroom. He chose not to comment on her muttering dark things under her breath. She’d agreed to his demand, had chosen to continue this instead of calling the whole thing off. She was entitled to some muttering if it made her feel better.

Plus, he liked the feeling of her in his arms. She was soft and welcoming and her hair draped over his shoulder when she finally gave up and rested her head there. He reached his room all too soon, and nudged open the door with his foot. It looked much the same as every other room in this place, but he found the cool gray walls and black furniture soothing.

He shifted his grip on her, pulled down the bedding, and set her down. “You’ll sleep with me until this ends.”

“
Sleep?
” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You’re already done for the night? Pity. I guess you aren’t as young as you used to be.”

He stared until she dropped her gaze. “That was your one pass, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“No.” He sat on the opposite corner of the bed, keeping the distance between them. She’d wanted this, but now she was uncomfortable, and he wanted to know why. “This bothers you.”

She drew her knees up to her chest, still looking down. “A lot of things bother me.”

“But this bothers you more than most. Why?”

“I thought we were done playing twenty questions. My Sir commands it, and so I obey.”

He recognized the ploy for what it was, but that didn’t mean her words left him unaffected. “As you should. But right now your Sir is commanding answers.”

“Why?”

The question had merit. No matter how possessive he currently felt about her, this couldn’t last. She’d put a limit on them, and he’d agreed to it. They might fit together unbelievably well in the bedroom, he might like talking with her a whole hell of a lot more than he should, but they led different lives. He was down in Baltimore, and she was in New York. But, more than that, she had her entire life ahead of her. He was on his second chance. A woman like her deserved better than he could offer.

But he still wanted to know. “Because I want them. Now, tell me.”

She sighed, her internal conflict written all over her face. Clearly she wanted to tell him to fuck off. Hell, he might deserve it. There was nothing in their verbal contract that covered him traipsing all over her emotional hot buttons. If he were smart, he’d let her go back to her own room, and keep this thing restricted to sex and sex alone.

Knowing that didn’t stop him from sitting there and waiting her out, though.

Finally, she relented. “I don’t sleep over.”

He expected her to keep talking, but that seemed all she intended to give up. “You never sleep over?”

“No.” A shrug. “What’s the point? Any guy I sleep with knows the rules—three times. There’s no need to pretty it up or try to get intimate outside of having sweaty naked fun.” Sara still wouldn’t meet his gaze. She picked at a thread in the comforter. “I don’t like it.”

He leaned against the footboard, considering. Z had known this woman had walls—like called to like, after all—but it was only now becoming clear just how high they were. She’d been hurt in the past, because a person didn’t simply come up with rules like hers without reason. He wanted to know who’d hurt her so horribly, even though he damn well knew he had no right to the knowledge. “Your rule of three isn’t just for me.”

“It’s an overarching thing.” She still wouldn’t look at him, but her body was so tense, she seemed half a second from shattering and running from the room.

Z hadn’t had a submissive under his command since the one that had ended so badly, but he sometimes had to stake his life and the lives of his men on his ability to read a person or situation. He’d pushed Sara as far as he could tonight without breaking something—and he might like rough bedroom games, but he didn’t want to actually hurt her. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Thank you for answering my question honestly—all my questions.” He shucked off his pants and got beneath the covers on the opposite side of the bed. Since it was a king, even with his size, there was an ocean of space between them. He waited for her to do the same, and then shut off the light and lay down, the light of the pool casting strange patterns on the ceiling. “Come here.” If she feared intimacy, he could give her the one thing she’d accept—lust.

It was playing dirty, and he damn well knew it, but the thought of being in the same bed as her and
not
having his arms around her was too much to bear. If the only thing she’d allow him was sex based, then he’d use that to his own ends.

She slid over to lie next to him, her body as stiff as a board. He wasted no time pulling her so her back rested against his chest, her wonderfully curved ass tucked against his already hard cock. She jerked. “I take back the old man comment.”

He grinned, amused despite himself. “I appreciate that.” Before she could move away or say anything else, he slipped his hand down to hook around her knee and lift it up so her foot rested on the bed behind his legs, leaving her open for him. “I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I was far from done with you.”

He kissed the back of her neck, biting the sensitive tendon there, and cupped her pussy. “Wet again, sweetheart? You’re damn near as insatiable as I am.”

“Don’t take it personally. It’s been awhile.” And she was obviously still pissed.

“You wound me.” He took his time, exploring her with his fingers, parting her folds and delving inside, moving on to circle her clit, and then starting all over again. It wasn’t enough to get her off and he damn well knew it, but he liked her little indrawn breaths when his palm slid over her clit and the way she shook when he pushed two fingers inside her.

Z shifted, sliding his other arm beneath her and rolled back enough that he could cup her breast, her body totally open to him. As he circled her nipple while keeping up his exploration between her legs, one of her arms reached back to touch him. He grabbed her wrist. “No.”

“But—”

If he let her touch him, he wouldn’t maintain the tightrope of control he currently walked. He couldn’t afford to forget that he wasn’t fucking her again tonight. “No.” He slid his fingers inside her and used his other hand to roll her clit between his fingers.

She cried out. “Z, I’m going to—”

“Not yet.” He moved up to cup both breasts, touching her nipples how he already knew she liked, keeping her on the edge, but not enough to push her over. Her hips squirmed, ass rubbing against his cock in a way that made him groan. “The things you do to me. You don’t even know.”

“I think I have some idea.”

Enough. He couldn’t hold on any longer and still maintain his goal to
not
drive his cock deep inside her again. He bit the back of her neck and shoved two fingers into her. “Ride me, sweetheart.” He growled when she instantly moved to obey. “Yeah, just like that.”

“
Z
.”

“You have permission.” He squeezed her nipple and she cried out, her pussy milking his fingers as she came apart around him. A part of him resented the darkness of the room and their position, keeping her expression hidden from him, but she needed this more than he did at this point. It was a gift, the only kind she was willing to take.

The only kind he was able to give her.

He gentled his touches and finally moved his hand up to cup her hip. The curve fit the palm of his hand as if made for him. Z tried to dismiss the thought, not so far gone that he didn’t realize the danger of it. Sara wasn’t his, not in any kind of permanent way. But he would take care of her while they were together. “Now, sleep.”

She laughed hoarsely. “You can’t just command me to sleep and have it happen.”

He kissed her behind her ear, inhaling her lily scent and reminding himself for the millionth time that he couldn’t take this any farther than he already had. He’d lived through worse than a devastating case of blue balls before, and he had no doubt that he would again. “Sleep.”