Elite Metal-ARE-epub (67 page)

When she caught sight of his glower, for surely that was what it was, she blinked. Her laughter trailed away. He didn’t like that either. That his presence could sober her so. He couldn’t help but shift his glower to Ant, who grinned knowingly. The fucker.

Sterling cleared the gall from his throat. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, ignoring the harsh tone of his voice.

Her lashes flickered. “Um…” He hated that she glanced at Ant. “Are we done?”

The bastard winked at her.
Winked.
Bile surged in Sterling’s stomach. “Yeah. I think so. For today at least. We can keep digging tomorrow. You need some sleep.” He tucked a curl behind her ear in a gesture that made Sterling’s blood boil. It was far too gentle. Far too intimate. He set his teeth.

Roni nodded and ripped her gaze from Ant’s face. “Right. Well, we got a lot done.”

“We did, darlin’.” Ant nodded. “And this gives me a lot to work with.” He stood with a scrape of his chair and picked up his laptop. “I’m…looking forward to tomorrow,” he said in a far too seductive tone. Although Sterling was pretty sure the smarm was for his benefit, based on Ant’s smug glance.

Sterling’s hands closed to fists. He struggled for control. He didn’t know why he felt such roiling possessiveness. Why suddenly he wanted to rip out Ant’s throat for touching her, smiling at her, looking at her. The voice in his head screamed,
mine
.

He hadn’t had feelings like this since…

His chest tightened. Since Dancer.

He’d never thought he’d feel like this again.

Sworn never to feel this way again. It was far too painful.

But it was too late. Roni had crept into his soul, into his veins, into his heart. He had to acknowledge that he wanted her. Not just in his bed—tied to his bed, preferably. He simply
wanted
her. That Ant might want her too, despite his devotion to Beth, made his throat clog.

There was only one course of action.

He had to win her, show her, possess her. Make her realize he was the only man who could touch her. Who
should
touch her.

His resolve firmed. Tonight. Tonight he would take her. All out. Tonight he would give her everything. He hoped that once she knew the full force of his passion, she’d be so boneless, so replete, she’d never look at another man again.

Especially Ant.

It would be a damn shame if he had to kill his friend.

Sterling was silent as he led Roni to the elevator. She shot glances at him beneath her lashes, but his expression was not forthcoming. Well, she could tell one thing. He was definitely pissed. But she had no idea why.

She’d agreed to help them. Indeed, she had. She’d spent the entire day raking through Marcus’ hard drive, pulling up interesting tidbits for Ant. Admittedly, part of her motivation was the opportunity to fuck Marcus over, though she was secretly hoping for some evidence to prove he’d had something to do with the attack that had killed her mother. She hadn’t found it, to her chagrin. Aside from that, helping these guys was the only way out of this mess. But something else had spurred her on as well.

She’d wanted to do it…for him. This glorious man who made her feel like she’d never felt before. Alive. Awake. Revitalized.

The past few years, her life had been a dark and dismal place. But when
he
touched her, her soul sang. When Chrome had suggested Sterling keep her at his place, her gut had lurched. Excitement screamed through her. The two of them? Alone? It would be an opportunity for them to revisit the passion that had flared between them the night before. It was a chance for one more night of bliss.

She’d been certain he was as eager as she.

But now…

Shit.
Now he didn’t look eager in the slightest.

Dour
was a better word.

He continued his bristling silence as they rode up in the elevator. Roni wanted to shatter it—to ask him something, to talk—but she had no idea what to say. She hated the thought that he might take her to his place and lock her in a room and ignore her until morning. Judging from his expression, he might. She resolved
not
to let that happen.

He led her from the hangar and across a field, past a large building and to a series of small cottages on an incongruously domesticated street. The bungalows could have been situated in any small-town neighborhood. Some even had the proverbial white picket fence.

He headed for one of these, held open the gate and ushered her in.

“I…ah… Is this where you live?” she asked, her voice echoing in the silence of the night.

“For now,” he grunted, and then he pushed open the door. She had no idea what that meant, or the gruff, disgruntled tone in which he muttered the words. At least, until she stepped inside.

As grungy as her motel room had been, this was worse. Oh, it was clean. There was nothing littering the table and the carpet was spotless, but it had a…funk. It smelled like stale beer and…desperation.

Definitely a bachelor pad.

And it could definitely use a woman’s touch. There were no knickknacks, no personal items. Just a ratty sofa, a rickety table and a couple chairs.

It hit her hard, in the gut, that he lived like this.

Without any joy.

“You hungry?” he asked, making his way into the kitchen to an old refrigerator. He opened the freezer, revealing several slender boxes. “I have pizza.”

“I could eat. But…” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a fan of pizza.” Why he gaped at her was a mystery. Unless pizza was his staple. Which it probably was.

“I have peanut butter.” Indeed, the cabinet held a jar of it. And a loaf of bread. And little else.

“Okay.” She sat at the table and watched as he made her a sandwich. Again, he said nothing, and it irritated her. There was much to be said between them, but she simply didn’t know how to bring it up. Not when he was like this.

“Beer?” He held up a couple bottles.

Beer? With peanut butter? “No thanks.”

He shrugged and popped off a top, then set her sandwich before her and dropped into the chair by her side. He studied her as he took a swig. Discomfort riffled. This was not what she wanted with him. Not what she’d been fantasizing about all day.

She took a bite of her sandwich. There was just something wrong with plain peanut butter. “Don’t you have any jelly?”

He frowned. “Nope.”

“Honey?”

“Nope.”

“Potato chips?”

“Nope.”

She gusted a sigh. “I should have stayed down below.”

“With Ant?” He practically spat the words. Something fizzled through her. Was that…jealousy? It certainly seemed like jealousy.

All of a sudden, his dour mood didn’t bother her so very much. Something curled within her; it felt like hope. She shot Sterling a blinding smile and fluttered her lashes. “He’s a very good cook.”

Sterling snarled. His knuckles went white on his beer bottle.

“And quite…handsome. And, if I didn’t misread him, he’s rather…” She made it a point to shiver. “Dominant.”

A sharp-cut jaw clenched. His gaze blazed. His energy hummed. “Like that, do you?” he gritted.

“Couldn’t you tell? When you smacked my bottom?” She was teasing him and she knew it. But he, apparently, didn’t. Apparently he had no clue how deeply that one night had scored her, changed her. He had no idea how much she wanted to do that again.

He lurched from his chair and stomped to the fridge and grabbed another beer, though he hadn’t finished the one he was working on. Roni hid a smile at this small hint that she was getting under his skin.

“Steele is sexy too,” she said in an innocent tone, although there was not an innocent bone in her body.

Sterling slammed the fridge door hard; bottles clanked.

“And Chrome.” She fluttered her lashes again, because when one was goading a possessive dominant warrior to release his restraint, one couldn’t flutter them enough. “All your friends are…”—another shiver—“yummy.”

His snarl surprised her. Or maybe not. “Keep away from them. They’re not for you.”

She loved it. Loved his possessive tone. “Really?” She traced the pattern on the table with a fingertip. “And who is for me?” A whisper.

His lips tightened. His nostrils flared. A flush rose on his cheeks. “Me.”

Just that. One word. It sliced through to her womb.
Me.

She slid the sandwich away. She couldn’t manage another bite. Something was clogging her throat, something that tasted like excitement. She flicked a look at him, standing there in the kitchen, magnificent, enraged, hard, with his hands fisted at his sides, his gaze spitting fury.

Yes, awkward and uncomfortable as this exchange had been, she knew now, knew how to break through his wall.

She caught his gaze and licked her lips. “Oh, really?” she said. “Prove it.”

Chapter Eight

Heat lanced him. A screaming, howling, rippling tide of it.

Prove it.

Prove it.

Oh, hell on wheels. He would.

He stormed over to the table and yanked her to her feet. He stared at her face; her expression slayed him. Her eyes were glazed, lips parted, lashes trembling.
Fuck.
He had to kiss her. Had to.

It was not what he intended. Not sweet or seductive or gentle in the slightest. It was a maelstrom. A wild, reckless melding of mouths, a tangling of spirit, a consummation. And the best part? She fucking responded with equal furor.

Like an enraged beast, he pushed her back against the table. It skidded over the Formica. Her plate and his beer bottle wobbled and then fell, crashing to the floor. He didn’t give a shit. But the lack of traction was annoying, so he whipped her up into his arms and—not breaking their connection—carried her to the room he’d been fantasizing about.

Oh, not the bedroom.

The
playroom
.

It took every damn bit of his restraint to release her, to set her on her feet and turn her so she could see what was in store for her. She
eeped
as she took in the equipment, the paraphernalia of his passion. The cross, the spanking bench, the cot with restraints blatantly displayed.

He pulled her back against him so he could nest his raging cock in the pillows of her ass. He loved that she clenched her cheeks, testing his girth. Testing his resolve.

“Is this what you want?” he hissed into her hair. He couldn’t bear to look at her face. Held his breath as he waited for her response. Because if she said no, if she showed any resistance in the slightest, he’d drop his hold and walk away. Right fucking now.

It would kill him, but he would.

“Is it?” He gave her a gentle shake when she didn’t respond quickly enough.

She shuddered. Her head bobbed. Something in his gut released.

“Say it.”

“Y-yes, Sterling.”

“Say it all.”

“This is what I want.”

He nearly collapsed, but he didn’t. There was still work to do before the fun could begin. “Go sit on the cot,” he ordered, holding himself preternaturally still. She did. She sat on the cot, avoiding the restraints with adorable primness. She folded her hands in her lap and kept her gaze down.

“Look at me.”

Ah, it scored him when she did. Her eyes wide, beautiful, her expression so fucking…submissive.

He crossed the room and knelt before her, being very careful not to touch her. It took some effort. He wanted to begin. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Rules,” he clipped out. He should have been more vocal, but he found he was too close to the end of his tether to be all fucking chatty.

“Rules?”

He nodded. Waited.

She stared at him. Her lips worked. “Don’t you, ah, don’t you make the rules?”

Aw, hell. Was she a virgin? Would she require
training
? He set his teeth. “
You
make the rules.
You
set the parameters.
You
call the shots.”

While this surprised her, he could tell she liked it. Her lips tweaked. “Well…” She tortured him for a long while as she thought it over. “You’re definitely spanking me again.”

Relief and heat and pure freaking lust washed through him. “I am.” He fingered the restraints, simple straps with Velcro loops. Once he had her in them, she would be helpless. He tried not to salivate at the thought. “And these?”

“You want to tie me up?” A breathless query. Its eager lilt made his cock twitch.

“If…” He cleared his throat. “If you agree.”

She glanced down. He tipped her chin back up. Even that tentative touch was nearly more than he could take.

“Do you? Agree?”

“Yes.” A whisper.

Need sizzled through him. “Do you have a safeword?”

Her brow rippled. “No?”

He wasn’t sure if it was an answer or a suggestion. “How about…
reporter
.” That would knock him out of the zone but quick.

“I…ah…okay.”

“Anything else you don’t want to do?”

“Anything else you want to do?”

He frowned at her, liked the way she winced. It wasn’t a wince of fear so much as anticipation and acceptance. Of his needs, and her hunger. “If we don’t discuss it, it’s fair game.”

“Just…don’t hurt me.”

Ah, hell. Her expression, the vulnerability, the fear in her tone tore him up.

“I will never hurt you, Roni.” A vow. He had to touch her then. Had to kiss her. And then, when he did, he couldn’t stop. When he finally pulled back, they were both breathless and shaking. “Are you…ready?”

She gulped. And nodded. The submissive cant to her eyes made his pulse rage. He stood, took a step back, trying like hell to look mean and tough when what he really wanted was to crumple before her.

He sucked in a breath and crossed his arms. Girded his loins, so to speak. It was time to begin.

“Okay, Roni. Strip.”

Heat flamed through her at his command. One word.
Strip.

Her body liquefied. She quivered as she rushed to obey, removing her blouse and bra, her shoes, jeans and panties. A flush crawled up her cheeks as she stood before him, buck naked.