down an angry flush. “No.”
He raised a dark brow. He wanted a “Sir” out of her, damn him. But giving it would prove to him that she understood protocol—and could embrace it.
And if she wanted another Dom, she needed to play his game.
“No, Sir,” she murmured. “But—”
“That was slow and insincere. Your manners need work, Agent Jacobs. Logan may make you uncomfortable, but I believe he will be effective. I’ve watched you with Axel this week. I saw from the observation room when you first realized that Logan had come for you. Your reaction was ...very enlightening.” He prowled around to the edge of his desk again. “For the first time since you stepped in this door, you snapped to attention and listened. I’ll bet he made you wet. There’s a reason a sweet sub like you denies her nature, and Logan will get to the bottom of that. Besides, if you truly are unable to trust him ever again, this will be good training for your mission. You’ll never trust an international slave dealer who wants you to kneel at his feet so he can sell you to the highest bidder. Pretending obedience will do you good.”
“But wouldn’t it take less time to prepare me if—”
“You are not without recourse,” Thorpe broke in. “You will be monitored, for safety’s sake. If Logan genuinely pushes you past what’s bearable or forces any act on you, you always have your safe word. Should you truly need to use it, we’ll discuss your options then.” He rose from the desk and opened his door. “Good-bye.”
Tara rose to her feet stiffly. The bastard thought he had this all figured out. Fine. If he wasn’t going to believe her, there was no sense wasting more time arguing. Giving one hundred percent to her mission and rescuing Darcy was the priority. Thorpe had all but told her the way out of this nonsense. Now all she needed was an opportunity.
Whirling to face the club’s owner, she opened her mouth—and closed it when she saw they were no longer alone. Logan leaned against the doorjamb, staring at her with a dissecting blue gaze that promised punishment. Against her will, her womb clenched.
“C’mon, Cherry. Apparently, I need to start with that spanking, after all. Let’s go.”
Chapter Three
T ARA swallowed. Her heart fell to her knees as Logan stepped aside just enough for her to exit Thorpe’s office. She didn’t look his way as she turned down the hall. Even without seeing the harsh angles of Logan’s face, she felt his heat and leashed anger simmering behind her. He was furious that she’d tried to have him replaced. Why the hell did he care? He’d cast her aside twelve years ago. Yes, he’d been reeling after his mother’s murder, and she would have excused anger or aloofness. But not his cruelty. What the hell did he want now? The sick thrill of hurting her again? She’d be damned if she let him, because she—and more important, Darcy—didn’t need Logan’s head games.
But she couldn’t deny that rankling his Edgington pride had given her a thrill.
Logan steered her with a light touch at the small of her back, his fingertips like a brand as he guided her down the long hallway that led to more shadowy rooms with equipment that shocked her—and jolted her with a shameful hot spark. Tara hated that, almost as much as she wanted to hate his touch.
“We’re going to be spending a lot of time in my dungeon, Cherry.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.
“While you’re training, you have no control over what I call you, what you do, or what you wear. Your only choices are to obey or quit.”
Immediately, Tara got his game. “And you’re going to push in every way possible to induce me to throw in the towel, aren’t you?”
He raised an intimidating brow, but said nothing.
Bastard . Clearly he didn’t know how much spine she’d grown since high school. Yet.
“You think I can’t handle it.”
“I’d prefer you out of harm’s way.”
“It’s my job to do
He raised a dark brow. He wanted a “Sir” out of her, damn him. But giving it would prove to him that she understood protocol—and could embrace it.
And if she wanted another Dom, she needed to play his game.
“No, Sir,” she murmured. “But—”
“That was slow and insincere. Your manners need work, Agent Jacobs. Logan may make you uncomfortable, but I believe he will be effective. I’ve watched you with Axel this week. I saw from the observation room when you first realized that Logan had come for you. Your reaction was ...very enlightening.” He prowled around to the edge of his desk again. “For the first time since you stepped in this door, you snapped to attention and listened. I’ll bet he made you wet. There’s a reason a sweet sub like you denies her nature, and Logan will get to the bottom of that. Besides, if you truly are unable to trust him ever again, this will be good training for your mission. You’ll never trust an international slave dealer who wants you to kneel at his feet so he can sell you to the highest bidder. Pretending obedience will do you good.”
“But wouldn’t it take less time to prepare me if—”
“You are not without recourse,” Thorpe broke in. “You will be monitored, for safety’s sake. If Logan genuinely pushes you past what’s bearable or forces any act on you, you always have your safe word. Should you truly need to use it, we’ll discuss your options then.” He rose from the desk and opened his door. “Good-bye.”
Tara rose to her feet stiffly. The bastard thought he had this all figured out. Fine. If he wasn’t going to believe her, there was no sense wasting more time arguing. Giving one hundred percent to her mission and rescuing Darcy was the priority. Thorpe had all but told her the way out of this nonsense. Now all she needed was an opportunity.
Whirling to face the club’s owner, she opened her mouth—and closed it when she saw they were no longer alone. Logan leaned against the doorjamb, staring at her with a dissecting blue gaze that promised punishment. Against her will, her womb clenched.
“C’mon, Cherry. Apparently, I need to start with that spanking, after all. Let’s go.”
Chapter Three
T ARA swallowed. Her heart fell to her knees as Logan stepped aside just enough for her to exit Thorpe’s office. She didn’t look his way as she turned down the hall. Even without seeing the harsh angles of Logan’s face, she felt his heat and leashed anger simmering behind her. He was furious that she’d tried to have him replaced. Why the hell did he care? He’d cast her aside twelve years ago. Yes, he’d been reeling after his mother’s murder, and she would have excused anger or aloofness. But not his cruelty. What the hell did he want now? The sick thrill of hurting her again? She’d be damned if she let him, because she—and more important, Darcy—didn’t need Logan’s head games.
But she couldn’t deny that rankling his Edgington pride had given her a thrill.
Logan steered her with a light touch at the small of her back, his fingertips like a brand as he guided her down the long hallway that led to more shadowy rooms with equipment that shocked her—and jolted her with a shameful hot spark. Tara hated that, almost as much as she wanted to hate his touch.
“We’re going to be spending a lot of time in my dungeon, Cherry.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.
“While you’re training, you have no control over what I call you, what you do, or what you wear. Your only choices are to obey or quit.”
Immediately, Tara got his game. “And you’re going to push in every way possible to induce me to throw in the towel, aren’t you?”
He raised an intimidating brow, but said nothing.
Bastard . Clearly he didn’t know how much spine she’d grown since high school. Yet.
“You think I can’t handle it.”
“I’d prefer you out of harm’s way.”
“It’s my job to do
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