Rogue (6 page)

“How long have you been with the New York unit?”  Reed asked abruptly, mercifully
changing the subject.  I clung to the distraction like a lifeline.

“Two years,” I told him, the words nearly tumbling from my mouth in their haste to
escape.  “I was assigned to New York straight out of Quantico.”

Reed grinned at me.  “At least we have one thing in common, then.  I’m guessing the
unit’s okay if you haven’t requested a transfer yet.”

No, not yet,
I thought darkly.  The idea sent a pang through my heart.  I didn’t want to leave
the place that had become my home.  I didn’t want to leave my friends.

All of my friends have turned out to be controlling assholes.

How had I not seen it before?

Reed’s grin turned to a frown.  “Sorry if I hit a nerve.  Are you thinking of transferring?”

I pursed my lips together.  This wasn’t any of his business.

“I hope it’s not because of this assignment.  If the guys are bothering you about
it, I can talk to them.”

Reed seemed to have suddenly grown larger, his eyes a bit darker.

Protective.

“Can you cut the macho crap?”  I snapped to cover the strange sense of appreciation
that budded within me.  “I can handle Clayton and Smith on my own.”

Reed sighed heavily, then shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  If you change your mind, the
offer’s always on the table.”

My gaze turned sharp.  “So you think they’ll listen to you because you’re a Dom and
they’ll ignore me because I’m a
natural submissive?
”

His frown twisted further.  “That has nothing to do with it.  I want to have your
back, and that includes supporting your decisions.  I’m supposed to be your partner. 
Let me do my job.”

In that moment, a hint of vulnerability trickled through his iron eyes.

I’m not the only one who wants to earn the men’s respect,
I realized in a flash.  I had wanted to prevent Miller from stealing my op, but I
hadn’t meant to burn him with the unit.  This was his first mission, and he needed
to prove himself every bit as much as I did.

I blew out a long breath.  “Okay, Reed.  I’m sorry.  This assignment has just got
me so twisted around in my own head.  I promise I’m not usually this much of a prickly
bitch.”

That drew a laugh from him.  “I guessed as much.  I’m sure you’re sweet when you aren’t
biting everyone’s heads off.”

“Why?”  I asked challengingly.  “Because I’m a submissive, I’m a sweet girl?”

“No.  Because I can tell you’re a good person.  And I suspect that you’re a nice one,
too.  You’re only acting like a
prickly bitch
because you care so much about your relationships with the guys.  You want them to
be proud of you.”

I held up a hand, shaking my head sharply.  “Please.  Stop.  Just stop it.”  I was
more than a touch desperate.  “If I wanted to be psychoanalyzed, I would go see the
unit shrink.”

“I hit a nerve again,” Reed said apologetically.  “Sorry.”

Damn right you hit a nerve.

“You want them to be proud of you.”

I shuddered slightly.  God, were my daddy issues that obvious?  I thought I had gotten
over that in college.

Apparently not.  Apparently spending a lifetime seeking my dad’s approval, his pride,
his love, had warped me more than I had realized.  When the only person left in the
world that you love becomes incapable of loving you back, that shit leaves scars.

“It’s okay.”  My frustration with myself caused the words to come out through clenched
teeth.

“No, it obviously isn’t.”

Why couldn’t the man just leave me the hell alone?

“What are you?  A fucking mind reader?”  I snapped before I could stop myself.

I gasped almost as soon as the last word was out.  Sure, I had been waspish toward
Reed, but I never flung open insults around like that.  “Oh, god.  Sorry, Reed.  I
didn’t mean-”

“It’s all right, Sharon.”  His expression was shockingly gentle.  I had expected anger,
not calm understanding.  “You’re wound up tight.  I get that.  More than you know. 
I’m not trying to annoy you or add to your stress.  But I won’t stop being anything
but bluntly honest with you.  If you’re confused about what’s going on with you, honest
self-reflection is the best way to work through it.  No matter how hard that might
be.”

The breath I drew in was shaky, hitching on the threat of a soft sob.  I resolutely
held it in.  I felt raw, exposed, utterly defeated.

I didn’t want to face my anger, my confusion.  Because I had a nasty suspicion of
the conclusions that would come out on the other end.

Derek’s magnetism and the appeal of what he offered me were more alluring than anything
I had ever known.  And the fact that I was so intensely drawn to a Dominant said things
about me that I didn’t want to believe.  No matter how calmly and rationally Reed
presented them to me.  If anything, that made it worse.

“I just…  I can’t,” I forced out.  “Not now.  Not tonight.”

Not ever.

Chapter 5

“Why do you want to be a Dominatrix?  Yesterday, you told me you want power.  Why?”

Those golden eyes were regarding me seriously.  Derek’s playful side was nowhere to
be found; the serious Dom was talking to me, and he was all business.

The sinking sensation in my stomach told me I didn’t like it when he turned that stern
stare on me.  I felt as though I was sitting in judgment, and I didn’t want to be
found wanting.  My damn penchant for perfection made me eager to provide an answer
that would win his approval.

People pleasing.

I shook off the thought.  Dwelling on the confusing revelations about myself that
had arisen during my conversation with Reed the night before was too much to bear. 
If I allowed myself to focus on that, I would fall apart.  I would fail.

I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Well, I have a high-stress job in a male-dominated profession.  I feel like I have
to fight every day to be seen as an equal.”  My admission was an honest one, even
if I was lying about being interested in becoming a Domme.  “That’s why I want power
sexually.”

Derek raised his chin, his eyes slanting down at me where I stood beside him at the
bar.  He considered me for a long moment, and I feared my answer hadn’t satisfied
him.

“Do you want power, or do you want release?”  He finally asked.

My brow furrowed.  “What do you mean?  Wouldn’t stress release come from having power?”

His lips thinned, and I fought the urge to take a step back.  He wasn’t angry, exactly. 
Just… disappointed.

“Maybe,” he equivocated.  “We’ll see.”

What the hell does that mean?

“Did I say something wrong?”  The self-conscious question popped out before I could
stop it.

His lids narrowed infinitesimally before his lips quirked up at the corners.  He had
obviously read something in my demeanor that pleased him.

“We’re good.”  The serious mask that had so intimidated me melted away with his grin. 
“Does this mean you want to train with me?”

His eyes flared gold at the mention of
training. 
It sparked an answering flare of heat deep within me.

“Okay.”  My response was soft, almost timid.

“
Okay?
” Derek repeated, his expression turning reproving.  “I’m going to need a more firm
answer than that.  If we start this, you have to be committed.  Of course, you can
stop at any time if you’re truly uncomfortable, but know that I won’t give up easily. 
I know you feel like you’re making yourself vulnerable by putting yourself in my hands,
and to an extent, that’s true.”

He touched his fingertips to my shoulder.  When I didn’t pull away, he trailed them
inward, tracing the line of my delicate collarbone.  My breath hitched in my throat,
and his smile twisted into something knowing and far too sexy for my own good.

“But I’ll be making myself vulnerable, too, in a way.”  His lecturing tone turned
rougher, colored by lust.  I wasn’t the only one affected by our physical contact. 
“This won’t be a D/s relationship, but it will be more than a simple Top/bottom scene
in the club.  It can be difficult to separate the physical from the emotional when
engaging in that kind of power exchange.”  His smile turned lopsided.  “Since I’m
not sure if you even like me as a person, I think we’re safe enough.”

“I…  Um…”  My brain was a fuzzy mess.  All I could focus on was the intensity of his
remarkable eyes, the masculine perfection of the strong lines of his face, and the
scorching heat of his fingertips at the hollow of my throat.  “I like you.”

It wasn’t a complete lie; my body liked Derek Carter very much.  That much was obvious,
as much as I would like to deny it.

“Probably not as much as I like you,” he said with a wry smile.  “You still think
I’m an ass.”

“Yes,” I admitted easily.  “But you think I’m a bit of an ass, too.  So we’re pretty
much even.”

“Pretty much,” he allowed, not even pretending to deny it.  “But like you said: you
just need to release some stress.  I’m sure you’re actually a lovely person.”  He
eyed me up and down, the flagrant appreciation in his gaze making me flush with pleasure. 
“And if you’re half as lovely on the inside as you are on the outside, you’re a goddamn
sweetheart.”

I couldn’t help dropping my eyes in the wake of such an astounding compliment.  No
one had ever said anything so sweet to me before.  Or so sexy.  Not even Steven, and
I had considered marrying him.

The thought of Steven grounded me, dulling the spell Derek had cast over me.  I took
a small step back and managed to lift my chin.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”  The coquettish tone I managed to adopt sounded
odd coming from my mouth.  It wasn’t like me to flirt, but I would try to use my feminine
wiles if I had to.  “I’ll train with you.  But only in private.”

I knew Reed would disapprove of that stipulation.  My partner would want to watch
my back.  But I wasn’t about to act like a submissive in front of an audience, especially
not in front of one of my coworkers.  I was coming to like Reed, but I couldn’t stomach
the thought of him seeing me in a submissive position.

Derek didn’t miss my slight cringe at the thought, and he frowned.

“Does the thought of being alone with me bother you?  Because you can’t have it both
ways.  Either you trust me enough to train in private, or we do this in the club. 
Do you trust me, Sharon?”

“I do.”  I wasn’t sure if the swiftness of my response was the result of honesty or
fear of screwing up my op.  I decided not to contemplate it.  “But I’d like to stay
in the club, just not in front of people.  Could we use a private room?”

There.  That should appease Reed.  Hopefully.

Derek nodded slowly.  “Yes, if that’s how you would be most comfortable.  I’ll reserve
one of the rooms for us.”

Us.
  That one simple word tied my stomach in knots and sent heat rushing through my system.

Careful, Silverman. 
It was rapidly becoming my new mantra.  Derek managed to thrill my body, despite my
mind’s insistence that his lifestyle was inherently wrong.  I shouldn’t be aroused
at the idea of being alone with him, at his mercy.

It’s all about getting close to him for the op.  If I react to him physically, that
just helps my cover.  I can do this.

“Come.”  It was a single, deeply-spoken word.  It hummed through me, the order eliciting
the heat of my anger and a different, more disconcerting, heat lower in my belly.

Derek’s fingers closed around my wrist, and he abruptly tugged me forward.  He turned
his back to me and began striding towards the corridor that led to the private rooms.

“Hey!”  I protested, hating the way the high heels made me totter along in his wake.

The look he shot me over his shoulder was pitiless.

“I told you.  You should go barefoot if you can’t walk in heels.  That’s lesson one:
listen to your Dom.”

I full-on stumbled.  “Damn it, Derek!”  I cursed him as I started to go down.

He pivoted to me instantly.  One second, I was sure my ass was about to hit the floor,
and the next I was being hoisted up.  A puff of air left my lungs when his arm closed
around my upper back, his other hooking beneath my knees.

He was
carrying
me.

“I can walk!”  I protested hotly, my cheeks flaming.  We were still in the main area
of the club, and I could feel dozens of curious gazes burning into me.

He glanced down at me, a cool brow raised.

“No, you can’t.” 
He didn’t have to say the words aloud; his expression spoke volumes.  And damn it
if it wasn’t true.  I couldn’t walk in these fucking heels.

I crossed my arms over my chest, a decidedly sullen pose.  Especially taking into
account that I was cradled in Derek’s arms like a child.

“Put. Me. Down.”  I forced out each word through gritted teeth.

He didn’t even deign to look at me.  “No.  I’m in charge of you for now, and I’m not
going to let anyone see me neglecting my sub.  Allowing you to embarrass yourself
by stumbling around my club isn’t acceptable.”

“You’re embarrassing me right now!”  I fumed.  “We agreed to do this in private.”

He blinked hard, and this time he did look down at me.  His gaze was still hard, but
the lines of his face were somewhat apologetic.  He nodded once, allowing that I was
right.  But he still didn’t put me down.  He kept right on walking, his long strides
carrying us into the long hallway where the private rooms were located.

As soon as he stepped into one and kicked the door closed behind us, he set me down
carefully on my feet.

My anger had been boiling just beneath the surface, and now that we were alone I couldn’t
stop myself from unleashing it.  My hand shot out, my palm already tingling in anticipation
of the satisfying impact with the smooth plane of his cheek.

Somehow, he was faster.  He caught my wrist almost lazily, as though without a thought. 
All his focus was honed on my face rather than the hand that had been meant to slap
him.

To my astonishment, he didn’t look angry.  Instead, his slight frown seemed almost
pitying.  No.  That wasn’t right. 
Empathetic.

“You really are wound up tight, aren’t you?  You do need to release some tension,
but there’s no need for violence.”

“You’re planning on hitting me, if I let you,” I retorted.

His grip tightened around my wrist incrementally, not to the point of pain, but a
firm reminder of his superior strength.  Of his dominance.

I dropped my eyes.

“Yes, I would like to hit you, Sharon.  But that won’t be an act of violence.  The
pain I want to give you is carefully measured and controlled to suit your needs. 
It’s about our mutual pleasure, not about hurting you.”

Our mutual pleasure. 
I suppressed a shiver.

His brows drew together.  “If you still think that’s what being a Dominant is about,
then I don’t know if we’ll be able to work together.  I won’t have someone in my club
who wants to cause others real harm.”

“Of course I don’t want that!”  I gasped immediately.  The very idea that he might
think I was some sort of sadistic bitch horrified me.  “I just…  I’m having a hard
time wrapping my head around this.  From a submissive’s viewpoint.”

His expression instantly softened, and he eased his grip on my wrist.  His thumb swiped
across my pulse, making it jump in the most peculiar way.  A hint of his roguish smile
returned.

“I think you’ll get it soon enough,” he said with a confidence I didn’t share.  His
eyes turned sincere.  “And I am sorry that I carried you in front of the other patrons. 
We did agree to do this in private.  I didn’t realize just how restricted that was. 
From now on, we’ll keep things strictly in the back rooms.  Okay?”

It was my turn to raise a brow at him.  “Are you actually asking for my permission?”

The ghost of his smile solidified.  “No.  I’m asking for your agreement.  Communication
and trust are at the heart of a healthy D/s relationship.  It’s important that both
partners agree on the parameters of that relationship.”

I turned that over in my mind.  It sounded surprisingly close to equality.

“Because you’re inexperienced,” Derek continued, “I figure we’ll take things as we
go.  I’m not going to stop and ask for your permission to do things, but you will
use your safe words freely so we can pause and talk about things.”

My confusion must have been plain on my face at the mention of
safe words,
because Derek sighed heavily.

“Thank god you agreed to learning from me,” he muttered.  “Safe words are essential
in BDSM play.  They allow the submissive to feel safe and facilitate trust.”  He reached
out and plucked up one of my curls.  Almost absently, he twined it around his forefinger. 
“You will use your safe words if you truly feel uncomfortable with something we’re
doing.”

“Okay,” I agreed easily.  My voice was low and breathy, and his thumb brushed over
the inside of my wrist again.  The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end,
and my nerve endings began to crackle, craving… something.

His cocky, twisted smile was back.  It did something funny to my insides.  Something
funny and not at all unpleasant.

“If you just want to pause and talk about something, say ‘yellow.’  If you become
so distressed that you want to stop completely, say ‘red.’”  He regarded me with a
look that was inquisitive but no less amused.  “You with me, Sharon?”

I blinked.  Between his hold on my wrist and his tender touch on my hair, I had been
staring up at him almost dreamily.  My eyelids felt heavy, and my lips were slightly
parted.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Only, it didn’t feel wrong.  It felt so, so right.

“Um, yeah.  Yellow, red.  Got it.”  God, I didn’t even manage full sentences.