Own (Command Force Alpha #1) (18 page)

Rather than offering even more contentment, the thought was one to be shoved away. This was a classic scenario. They had history. They were in danger. They escaped dwelling on that danger by dwelling—more like
indulging
—in one another. It wasn’t the time to sleep, or contemplate what a rare treat that would be. Giving himself over to another person so completely was beyond his comprehension.

Kat began to unbutton his shirt and weave her curious fingers beneath the fabric.

“Who said?” he asked, mock serious.

“Me. Until you tell me to stop or give me another command, I’m still a woman, Evan. I’m not some Princess Leia slave girl.”

“She wasn’t defenseless. Princess Leia strangled Jabba.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Two demerits.”

“And what if I used the word
hell
while arguing Biblical semantics?”

“I’d wonder who you were talking to and probably make an exception.”

“Probably?” She tweaked his nipple then pulled the shirt away to reveal his shoulder. Straight white teeth sank gently into his muscle. “I’ll take up the topic with Fletch just to see what happens.”

“Are you flirting by hunting for another spanking?”

An unexpected shudder wiggled down her back. Evan pulled her closer. “I don’t actually like the spankings,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Well, not exactly. It’s not about masochism, if that makes sense.”

“I’d like it to make more sense.”

“It’s back to that idea of the challenge, and making you crazy when I exceed your expectations. So…” She shrugged before returning to the exploratory way she rubbed his chest. “So I take the pain in exchange for all the other good stuff I get out of it.”

“Then with regard to pain, nothing we do will ever go beyond a spanking.”

She stilled. “You make it sound like we’ll be doing more of this.”

“
This.
” Evan briefly closed his eyes before steeling his nerve. “Such a loaded word right now.”

“That’s you. Locked and loaded.” Her smile remained cheeky as she propped on her elbow, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead she pulled the placket of his shirt aside and found the inevitable—the scar along his right ribs.

“Goddamn, Evan,” she breathed. “What is this?” She’d known it was there, but maybe it was unavoidable now.

“I’m going to stop counting for now. My arm will get sore.”

“I’m serious.”

He resisted the cold that washed through his veins, but that wasn’t something a man could will away. “What does it look like, colonel’s daughter?”

“Knife wound,” she choked out. “Serrated blade.”

“Maybe it speaks unfortunate things about your upbringing that you’re right, but yeah, you’re right.”

“And this one.” She touched another scar, this one on his left hip just above his Adonis belt. The view must not have satisfied her, because she yanked aside his open belt and dragged his jeans down another five inches. She flashed him a grim look. “I’ll apologize for not asking permission later.”

“Maybe I’ll accept it.” He took hold of her wrist to still her tentative exploration. Her eyes were dark and hooded, nearly eclipsed by the downward angle of her black hair. “But really, Kat, what did you expect to find on me? A tattoo that says ‘Mom’ with a heart around it?”

“Considering how little you like your parents, definitely not.”

“Between her running off to Texas with some guy, and Dad marrying an heiress—yeah, not exactly worth commemorating in ink.”

Although Kat knew his family history, Evan was glad when she let the bitter comment drop. “So this is small caliber,” she said. “A .22, I’m guessing.”

“Close. It was a .380, but healed well.”

She sat up and hugged her knees, looking across the room toward the door. “I didn’t expect a heart tattoo. It’s just hard to see what you do ripped into your skin. Those won’t ever go away. The memories won’t either, will they? What happened?”

“I can’t—”

“Give me something, Evan. The mystery shit gets
really
old.”

He traced his thumb up the length of the knife scar, pointing it out again. “This was in Chechnya. You remember Gabe Perrine?”

“The glib Englishman? I only met him once.”

“Good memory.”

“You think I let go of these little pearls of information once you or Dad deign hand them over? No way.” She looked back at him. “So?”

“I kept a very unpleasant character from beheading Gabe. The unpleasant character had more on him than just a machete. The knife was about four inches and hurt like a motherfucker. As soon as we got the hell out of Dodge, Gabe and I stitched it up.” When he realized she’d asked about the bullet wound too, Evan sighed. “This was in Nigeria.”

“Another unpleasant character?”

“Aside from the honey traps, they’re all pretty unpleasant.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for some sweet-talking little thing.” The metallic tang of jealousy added a tinny quality to her words.

Evan flipped her on her back and kissed her, not forcefully but without giving quarter. She edged restless hands up his back, found his third scar—the puckered aftermath of shrapnel—and moved on. Breathing a mental sigh of relief, he deepened his kiss by delving between her sweet, luscious lips. He could’ve kissed her for ages and ages, until their tongues were numb and sore and their mouths parched. But long before that, he’d be hard again. The stirring need for her was already gathering in his blood. For Katsu, he was insatiable.

“The only sweet-talking little thing I’ve been suckered into fucking is you,” he said with a nudge of his hips. “And you aren’t very sweet-talking.”

“And I don’t think I suckered you into anything, Mr. Over-the-Armrest.”

His throat was tight, his words low and harsh when he replied. “Tell me you didn’t love it.”

“Can’t.”

“Good.” The sound of his phone froze Evan before he had the chance to kiss Katsu again. “Christ.”

Kat’s eyes were startled and her fingers turned to talons on his back. He had to use more force than he would’ve expected to pry loose. The phone on the nightstand finally stopped its death-knell ringing when he thumbed it on. “Sommers.” He pulled the covers over Kat’s shivering body as he listened, but he didn’t hold her. She was too canny. That she’d try listening in was a given. “Understood. We’ll be in this afternoon.”

“What?” she asked as soon as he ended the call. “Dad?”

“Yeah, but calm down. They’re bringing him out of the coma now. Bascombe says he has the healing powers of Wolverine on steroids, which I’d believe in a heartbeat. We can see him in a few hours when he pulls out.”

She’d lain down beside him after receiving his permission, but her collapse now was more complete. It was body and mind and soul as she wiped at her eyes, lying flat on the pillow. She didn’t blink, only stared at the ceiling as silent tears flowed. “He’ll have scars too. He’s probably got a dozen more than you.”

A thought aligned in Evan’s head, one that simultaneously solved a mystery
and
put more distance between them. “What you said earlier, about how your dad would kill you for getting involved with me—that wasn’t the whole truth. It’s about this,” he said, waving an agitated hand toward his knife scar. “About what we do and you not being able to handle it.”

“And you not making it any easier for me to handle. What did I just tell you? The mystery bullshit drives me insane. According to one quack, it gets me so worked up that I wreck my apartment and fold my clothes all wrong.”

“So call that the truth and we go on as we have been.”

She stilled. “How’s that?”

“Admit one thing to me,” he said, his chest tight, his pulse throbbing. “Be truthful. Promise?”

A slow nod scrunched her hair against the pillow. “Promise.”

“When I tell you what to do, it takes your mind off things.”

“Does that come with your job description when babysitting endangered targets?”

“Deflection, Kat. That should be worth a demerit on its own.”

“Fuck off,” she said, glaring. “And yes, it takes my mind off things when you tell me what to do. Only, it goes both ways, doesn’t it? You love it. You get lost in it.”

“And how is that an asset when I’m supposed to be on the alert?”

Rising like Aphrodite from the surf, she’d regained some of her composure and daring. She placed an open-mouthed kiss below one collarbone, trailing up to his mouth. “I bet your senses are never more on alert than when you’re telling me what to do.”

“Doesn’t speak much for my professionalism,” he said softly. “But you might be right.”

“Then…please? I can’t go see Dad like this.”

He smoothed the hair back from her cheek. “You mean, looking like you’ve been well fucked and smelling of me?”

“You really think a lot of yourself.”

“You haven’t given me any reason not to.” He took her hands. “Come on. I cleaned up earlier, but I didn’t shower. And then I screwed you senseless. You need one too. Up, Katsu,” he commanded. “Now.”

After the shower quickly steamed the mirror of the tiny bathroom, Evan stripped. He hoped the adjoining laundry would mean having access to as much hot water as they wanted. He stepped under the streaming jets and exhaled heavily. Damn, that felt good. How often had he gone without such a simple luxury? That luxury wasn’t simple at all when Kat joined him, appearing half strung between anticipation and resentment.

He needed to ditch the resentment.

“You’ve gone down on me,” he said thickly. “But not as much as I’ve really wanted.”

Kat dipped her head back into the spray and wet her hair. It slicked back from her face, revealing wide cheekbones and the perfect symmetry of her features. “What have you really wanted?”

“Probably what you did.”

“No.” The clarity of her eyes was obscured by the steam, making her appear even more mysterious and unreachable than usual. “You still don’t have the hang of this, do you, big shot? When you tell me what to do, I want what you want.”

Evan bowed his head and planted one hand against the still-cool tile of the shower. The contrast was going to rip him in half. He shuddered, and shuddered again when she grasped his biceps and squeezed, massaged, urged. “Damn you, Kat. You know how dangerous this is.”

“When haven’t we courted danger?”

“Quiet,” he snapped, before reining his control on a sharp inhalation. He blew out the tense breath. She was waiting for his command, no matter her smart-ass comments. He would give them both what they needed, and he’d bask in every moment. “No more talking. Not until I say so. Nod.”

She did, her lips parting.

“I liked your mouth on my prick. You have the dirtiest, most gorgeous mouth. You know that? Like it was made for being fucked. Until now it’s just been foreplay. What I’ve really wanted is to come with your lips wrapped around me. I’ve wanted to see you swallow my come and smile up at me, waiting for me to tell you what a good girl you were in taking every thrust and licking away every drop.”

He didn’t know where the words were bubbling up from, but he couldn’t stop.

“So that’s what you’re going to do. You’ll kneel in front of me again. I like you there. I’m going to hold your head and fuck that filthy mouth. I won’t let you pull away, but I don’t think you’ll even try. You’ll open wider and moan for more. Nod.”

She did again.

Evan pulled her close and softly kissed the lips he’d fantasized about more often than he dared admit. “Afterwards,” he whispered harshly, “we’ll see how still and quiet you can be while I suck your pussy.”

He reached outside the shower and grabbed the nearest towel, then rolled it and handed it to Katsu. He arched his brows and glanced down at his thickening cock. Kat gave him the smallest, slightest smile in return, just before placing the rolled towel on the tub floor and sinking gracefully to her knees.

Chapter Seventeen

Katsu liked to give head. There were times when that had made her feel unusual. During evenings with girlfriends, they giggled over wine and wound up complaining about how their boyfriends all but begged for head. That was the problem. Kat wouldn’t go for a man who begged.

A man who ordered her to her knees and told her exactly what to do…that was a different case.

She filled her hands with his cock and laved him with her tongue. He was full and thick. The head was a plump, tempting arch. She licked him again and again, just because she could, since he tasted clean and good. The slightest hint of salty precome eased from his slit.

She licked that too.

Gaining confidence and enjoying the sharp jumps in her arousal, she moved to the ridge between his head and shaft. She ringed him with her fingers over and over, listening to the noises he made—and the noises he didn’t. He probably thought he was a quiet lover, and for the most part he was. She needed to work for a gorgeous groan to push out from his chest. Tonguing the delicate skin on the underside of his head—that got her a gasp. Licking the thick vein that ridged his cock—that earned a deep breath that flared his nostrils.

She could lose herself in this. She did. Her eyes closed, and she kept moving her mouth. Her knees didn’t hurt because he’d been kind enough to grab that towel. Water soaked it and cascaded across her back in a never-ending patter of sensation.