Spy Games: Lethal Limits (23 page)

Strip something with someone as hot as Jake would not be easy on her libido. Strip something meant she’d end up in bed or against a counter, on the couch, anywhere, because the ache in her core would demand he satisfy her. She was tough, she reminded herself. She could handle anything he had to give, as long as he played somewhat fair.

Jake shuffled the cards and she frowned. Jake probably wouldn’t play fair, but he would have no clue that she’d barricaded the maze around her heart with some newfound bravery and steel resolve. She had one more day to suffer, and then she’d be safe.

Jake still shuffled, cocking his head at her, the sexual tension between them definitely raw, definitely thick, just the way he liked his prime rib. She watched those cards as he set the deck down before her and tapped the top one.

“Look at the top card. Don’t tell me what it is, but I want you to remember that for later.”

“Okay.” Let the mind games begin. Tia looked—queen of hearts. How lovely. She frowned. “Can I have a different one?”

“No.” Jake shuffled the deck with easy expertise, those long fingers of his quick, just as they’d been when giving her pleasure. He leaned back in his chair, ready to deal. “Twenty-one or poker?”

“I would have thought you’d want to play strip whatever.”

“The stripping part is a given.” He gave her a very naughty grin. “Choose.”

Though she could bluff with the best of them, a battle of cons and lies was not what she wanted to play with him. “Twenty-one.”

He dealt her cards, and she looked at the one down—a four—and compared it to the one up—another four. “Hit me.”

He tossed her another as he assessed her from his side of the table, about as easy to read as Chase at this point. “If you go over twenty-one, you owe me something good.”

She gave him a dirty look.
Nice try, cowboy.
“If I go over, I lose a piece of clothing. I’m not wearing much to begin with.”

“House rules.”

Such a jerk. “Your house did not make that rule. I know for a fact the house wouldn’t do that.”

“No?”

“The house is cruel, but not vindictive. Did you and Chase play twenty-one when he came home with you? What about you and your brothers?”

He narrowed his gaze and set his jaw in his stubborn way. “I’m not backing down.”

Definitely a jerk, but the hint of steel in his voice called to her lust. She loved that stern voice. “Fine. If you go over, you owe me something as well.”

“Fine.”

She peeked at her card—another four. She had a better chance of getting closer to twenty-one than she did of getting a ten. “Hit me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Shut up and give me a card.”

He shrugged and tossed her a card. She peeked again. A ten. Fuck.

“Well, well, look at this. I have…” He flipped the cards and gave her that smug, sexy smile of his. “Twenty-one.”

Of course, he did, because he was a smug bastard. “I hate you.”

“You went over, didn’t you? I warned you.” He shook his head and tsk-tsked. His gaze went from the cards on the table to her lips and then her breasts. Everything in that area flushed beet-red, her nipples puckering in invitation. “You have to kiss me and ditch the shirt.”

She kicked off her shoes in his direction, smirking as one collided with his leg. He ignored her, and she glared. “I’ll ditch what I want, and I’m not paying for going over. Chase didn’t have to.”

“Oh, he paid,” Jake drawled as he shuffled again.

“How?” She didn’t believe him, not one bit. So full of shit, this man was. He needed to muck his brain out.

“Shots. Of tequila.”

“I thought the house didn’t do liquor?”

He shuffled, making a fancy bridge with the cards. “The house isn’t cruel, as you think. If you can’t have sex, it will let you have booze. I had a whopping whiskey and cola last night.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the dig that he didn’t get what he considered his allotted serving of sex. He thought he had all the answers. “I thought Chase didn’t drink.”

“It wasn’t a long game. Trust me.” He dealt another hand, and this time, she stayed at nineteen. He got twenty.

“You’ve got to be cheating.” She grabbed the deck from him and inspected the cards, then glared. The smug bastard was suspiciously innocent-looking. She slapped the deck back on the table. “They don’t look marked.”

He shrugged, revealing nothing. “I’m good at this.”

“Smug bastard.” But she chucked her socks at him.

He grinned smugly and dealt her another hand, and she went over by two. He had eighteen. “Shirt?”

She smiled slowly and pulled her arms out of her shirt sleeves. One bra strap slid down, then the other, under her shirt. Then she unsnapped the front clasp and put her shirt sleeves back on her arms. She chucked her bra, and it hit him in the face. “How’s that?”

He fondled the silky material that had bound her breasts moments before, and said softly, “You went over, though.”

“So?”

“You owe me something.”

Ugh. She was running out of resistance, and the inner clock ticked away the time until she gave up and just did him. But the idea of owing something special gave her a naughty thrill, one that didn’t help her plan to stay celibate. “What, then?”

“Go in the other room and find my book for me?”

She blinked, baffled. “That’s it? You don’t want me to kiss you or strip or blow you? You want your book?”

“I want my book.” He nodded and shuffled the cards, looking very contrite. He wore the expression too well, like a second skin. “Please.”

“You’re insane.” But this was easy, and it meant she would last a bit longer before her mind just gave up and she fucked him. She got up and went to the living room, skirting the sofa. “It’s not here.”

“Look harder.”

She bent and shuffled the stack of books on the coffee table.

“Well, well. What do I have here? An international spy in my house?”

She froze as she picked up a book she’d dropped on the floor. Jake didn’t role-play spies. He’d once said it was too much like work. But hearing international spy, the code they’d once discussed, sent fear slicing through her veins, his tone deep, menacing. All business.

She swallowed that fear and looked up. He stood in the doorway, the floral sofa between them. Jake was every bit as sinister looking as he sounded. Shoulders squared, tense, feet set so he could spring—a golden mountain lion, waiting for prey. Her.

She rose, wary. Somehow, playing this in his home instead of the safety of the club felt like jumping from a plane without a parachute. She wet her bottom lip with her tongue, her thong immediately soaked because this would be sex she could handle. Not that wedding sex nonsense. Hardcore, kinky sex that would be easy. Emotionless. Pleasurable. Jake would make her come, which would make it even better. “I’m just looking for your book, like you asked.”

“Sure you are.”

He stalked closer, and she went around the sofa the opposite way. Oh, he was excited, his pupils large, his breathing just a touch ragged. But damn, he was one big guy. It was nice that he was tall when she was in heels. Muscles were great when you were caressing them. Now, she wasn’t so sure about either. Her division didn’t train as hard as Jake’s. He’d know a hell of a lot more than she did about fighting. Unless he made a huge mistake, she was his.

She shifted left. He followed, his eyes glittering. She swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. His answering grin was icy cold.

“I don’t have anything that you want.”

“Sure,” he said again. His smile was calculating as he tipped his head to one side in question. “Can you take me? I’m a lot bigger than you.”

He was bigger, but was he faster? “I took you down once.”

“I had no warning.”

“You don’t get a lot of warnings in life.” Two doors to freedom. She could dash to the spare room down the hall, but he was closer to that door. The other led into the kitchen and out the back door. If she made it to the yard, she’d be his. He was faster on the long stretch. She could hit the stairs in the kitchen and lock herself in the bathroom or bedroom. She swallowed again, her breathing ratcheting up a notch, because the danger he exuded called to her lust. Did she really want to run?

“Kate can take me down, you know.” Jake took a step closer. “You may think Kate is all ponies and rainbows, but she’s one tough cookie.”

“Bastard,” she said on a snarl, hating him as she sprinted left. He grabbed her at the end of the couch and she brought her knee up, hard, into his groin.

He sucked in a breath and doubled over, releasing her, giving her time to flee. She raced out the side door, up the stairs, taking them two at a time, stumbling at the top. She caught her balance, glanced behind her, and slammed full force into his hard chest.

“Bad move on your part,” he whispered in her ear. He grabbed both of her hands and wrenched them behind her back, not the least bit gentle. But the kiss on her neck was soft, spiking her lust. “Would you really have gone up the stairs if this were real? Or do you just want to be closer to the bed so I can fuck you until you give me what I want? Because honey, I’m going to fuck you hard.”

That voice, so dirty… She kicked at his shins, and he held her wrists firmer with one hand. From his back pocket he extracted a roll of black bondage tape, and in two wraps around her wrists, she was his. She struggled. He laughed as he picked her up by the legs and held her upside down, over his shoulder. She kicked her feet against his chest, and he smacked her hard on the ass and walked into the bedroom.

“Damn it. Let me go. I won’t tell you anything.”

“Sure you will.” He dumped her on the bed, stripped of bedding except the bottom sheet. “I’m much better at this than you are.” He stared at her for a long moment. “What card did I give you?”

That’s what this was about? The card? He thought he was better? Game on, buddy. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”

“Oh, you’re the right girl. Very right.” He grabbed the back of her head by her hair and held her still as he kissed her, his tongue sweeping once, twice inside her mouth. Her core throbbed in time with each stroke of his tongue, jealous he kissed her there instead of other places. He straddled her waist and lowered his weight, the hard length of his cock insistent through the material of his jeans, pushing into her stomach. “You can fight all you want. I outweigh you.”

“Do what you want. I won’t tell you.”

“Sure you will.” He took her wedding knife from his front pocket and sliced the tape. “See, your knife comes in handy.” His hands were a blur as he wrapped her wrists together with rope and then secured the other end to the bed. The whole movement was done in a blink of an eye, and she stared at him, amazed at his skill with a rope.

“How did you do that?” And then she realized she was breaking role. “Not that I give a shit. I’m not telling you a thing.”

“Impressed with your captor’s skills?” He gave a sharp laugh. “It’s part of my cowboy training. A love of knots and rope comes in handy, doesn’t it?” He swung around to straddle her the other way. She kicked her feet, and he pinned her harder, wrapping first one ankle to a spreader bar of sorts, then the other. He dismounted and stood at the end of the bed, surveying his handiwork. “See, I captured you and didn’t even have to knock you out. Much nicer for you. I had a headache all weekend.”

“Good.” But that made her feel a little bad. She hadn’t wanted him to hurt.

He arched a brow. “Card?”

“Do your worst.”

“I plan on doing my best.” He took the knife out again and slid it up under the hem of her shirt, the backside of the blade cold on her stomach. He made a slice in the material and then used his hands to rip it up the front. He bent down and sucked her nipple, then the other. She bit back a moan.

“Let’s see what you have on under here.” He lifted her skirt and shook his head at her thong. He removed the knife again and slit through the side strings. “Do it again, and I punish you.”

Oh, that voice. Her insides melted to molten lava that dripped into her core. She wanted his punishment badly.

“Bad spies deserve blindfolds.”

He pulled a blue bandana from his pocket and tied it around her head, sinking her into darkness. Her senses went on high alert. His training made him eerily silent, but she heard little sounds that clued her in. A match hissed, and she smelled sulfur, then hot wax. Lube made a distinct squirting noise as it shot from the tube onto God only knew what. He rustled in something. He undressed, the zipper loud on his jeans, the material rough as he slid them down. She’d never heard his shirt.

She smelled him first, a mix of clean, manly scents, then the bed groaned under his weight. The anticipation was heady. What would he do first? Hot wax, she hoped. Oh, she loved that. Or maybe he had a crop from the barn—

“So, how’s your weekend so far?”

Was he serious? He was going to talk her into submission? “Red!”

The bed shifted hard. “What?”

“You call yourself a Dom? I am not doing pansy, vanilla bondage. Jesus. Just shoot me now.” She actually wanted him to fuck her now, but she’d be damned if she’d tell him that.

“You’re my captive, so I’ll interrogate you the way I want. You bound me, but you didn’t bother to ask anything. It’s my turn.”

Fucking pansy. “This is
not
how we do things.”

“Answer the questions or give me the card.” She didn’t have to see him to know his jaw was set. She could hear it in the way his teeth clenched.

“I don’t have to give you anything.”

“Then fine. I’ll go downstairs and have a big ole whiskey and cola.” He climbed off the bed. “Maybe two.”

Tia struggled in her restraints. If Jake went downstairs and had a drink, that meant he couldn’t have sex. House rules. If he didn’t get sex… “You can’t leave me tied up and horny! That’s borderline abusive. And irresponsible. What if the house burns down?”

“I’m not going to the movies. I’m going downstairs. I’ll blow the candles out. Scream when you’re ready.”

She hated him. He made it two loud steps before she screamed, “Jake!”