Belong to Me

Tara didn’t hesitate, pulsing with an impatient thrill. Within an instant, he held the stalk of his cock in his free hand and lined it up to her weeping entrance.



“Cherry, baby . . .” His hands clinched around her waist, then shoved her down on his cock, one hot, uncompromising inch at a time.



He sank into her, stretching her with the perfect tingle of pleasure and just the right bite of pain. He shuddered as he filled her. Tara focused entirely on him, flowered around his cock. She cried out, digging her nails into his back as fire seared its way through her blood.



“Fuck, yes, Cherry.” The low groan sounded as if it had been ripped from his chest.



Except for his panting and pounding heart, he remained totally still, as if he could absorb her into his body. But Tara needed him now. With a whimper, she wriggled on him, pleading for more.



“Give me a second, baby. I’m trying to find some restraint so I don’t fuck you raw.”



His words, the uncontrolled passion in his growl, made her sheath flutter around him in hunger, her blood sear with scalding desire. “Don’t hold back for me.”



His entire body taut, Logan fisted his hand in her hair and forced her gaze to his. His expression was a silent warning that she shouldn’t have given him such free license. But that didn’t stop him from gripping her hips, lifting her up, then slamming her body down helplessly on his steely length.



The friction of his cock plowed through her sensitive sex. Her body flared with white-hot life. But he didn’t go slowly, linger. Logan shoved her up again, then savagely pushed her down as he arched into her cunt, working even deeper than before.



“There’s nothing like being inside you, Cherry.”



And no one fueled her need like Logan when he filled every empty space inside her.



“I fantasize about fucking you all the time, about waking you up to the feel of my cock deep in your sweet little pussy. I get hard all over thinking about laying you across my table and taking my dessert between your legs. I come wishing I could take you back to my bed and shackle you to it, then spend all night, every night, inside you, pounding away until you want me half as much as I crave you.”



“I do,” Tara groaned.



His words burned through her until she swore she was on the edge of combusting. Her every sense felt attuned to him, the hard rhythm of his hot breaths as he lifted her and thrust deep, the chugging of his heart. The smell of earth, manly sweat, and musky spice filled her head, mingling with the bite of his fingers on her hips, controlling her every move.



“Ah, your pussy clamped down on me, Cherry. You like that? You like the thought that I want to possess you constantly, in every way possible? Because I do. I’m fucking obsessed with it.” He pulled on her hair, arching her neck for him. Raking his teeth across the sensitive skin, he kissed his way up to her ear. “I want to suck your nipples hard every chance I get. I fantasize about that, and about binding you so that I can open up that pretty lush ass for me—and me alone.”



More heat clawed through her body. Every one of his words drove up higher. Her body tightened desperately on his cock, and he had to work twice as hard to maintain those rhythmic strokes that were unraveling her one at a time. But Logan wasn’t faltering. He just kept filling her one deep thrust after another as her sheath clung and rippled.



Sweat beaded at his temples, ran down his neck. “You ready to come, baby? I need you.”



Nothing could have set her off faster than hearing the raspy demand in his voice. Suddenly, the ache between her legs gathered, heated, then boiled over until it became a fire that consumed her whole body. She tossed back her head and screamed, feeling Logan’s straining shoulders beneath her fingertips.



His pace quickened, a brutal shuttling of his hard stalk inside her clenching pussy. He grunted every time he plunged deep, nudging her cervix, rolling a new orgasm over her before the last one had even finished.



Fingers digging into her ass, he stilled inside her, cock pulsing as he released deep inside her, shouting, “Cherry!”



Tara clung to Logan tighter. God, she couldn’t catch her breath, and tears stung her eyes. In every word and deed this week, he’d told her that he still had feelings for her—strong ones. Real ones. She was supposed to be helping him get over their past while he taught her everything she needed for this mission. But nothing between them felt that way. She was losing herself in him. The connection between them kept growing, like vines curling through her chest until they nearly wrapped around her heart.



God, she couldn’t afford to fall in love with Logan again, not now. Probably not ever.



Gingerly, he lifted her off his still-hard penis and set her on her feet. Semen dripped down her thighs, triggering a realization. She froze.



“Did I hurt you, baby?” he sounded half panicked by the prospect as he took her face in his hands, gaze delving deep.



“We didn’t use a condom.” A wave of memory swept through her. “We haven’t used one at all.”



Logan closed his eyes, winced. “I should say I’m sorry, but I . . . haven’t been able to bring myself to put barriers between us. I’m clean and—”



“I’ve been on the pill for a while, but with everything that’s been happening I’ve forgotten to take it the last two days.”



His face softened and he actually looked thrilled. “I’m ready for whatever happens.”



Tara blinked in shock. They might be playing Russian roulette with her womb, and he was okay with that? The steadiness of his deep, direct gaze told her that he was completely serious.



“I’d love our baby every bit as much as I love you.”



When he said things like that, she melted all over. It was hard to remember that his affection was most likely past emotions lingering before a soft death, rather than the resurgence of secret devotion roaring to life again.



Unless she was totally underestimating his feelings for her.



Before she could reply, a whoosh and a click from the other side of the door had Logan scrambling to tuck himself back in his pants and zip them up so he could stand protectively in front of her naked body.



Thorpe and the black-haired stranger made their way through the door, stopping short at the sight of them, perspiring and disheveled.



The club owner gave them the once-over, then handed Tara’s little silk robe to Logan. “Dress your . . . trainee and come to my office. We have problems.”



When Thorpe would have turned away, Logan gripped the man’s arm, staying him. “Tara did a damn fine job tonight. A few hesitations, yes, but—”



“The problem is way beyond whatever is going on with the two of you, Edgington.”



Thorpe’s gray stare wasn’t angry, but ice cold. That, along with the presence of the stranger beside her, told Tara that something was very wrong.



Terror gripped her throat until she nearly couldn’t speak. “Is this about Darcy, Sir?”



He hesitated, glanced at the stranger, then nodded.



Terrible images pelted her, one after the other, as Logan draped her in the robe, then wrapped his arms around her, providing shelter, comfort. He sent Thorpe a grave gaze. “Give us a minute, and we’ll be there.”



Chapter Eleven



LOGAN didn’t have a good feeling about this. After cleaning Cherry with a warm, wet washcloth, he pushed aside her trembling fingers and helped her dress quickly. Once done, they left the room, and she settled into a grim silence.



He took her hand, wrapping her cold fingers in his. “You don’t know that Darcy is dead.”



“No,” she admitted, her face taut and pale. “But something is very wrong.”



Unable to refute that, Logan guided her toward Thorpe’s office. Xander entered the secure area, glanced their way, and frowned. “What’s wrong, dude? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because one look at Tara and I know that’s a lie.”



His friend meant well, but now wasn’t the time. “We don’t know. Might have something to do with Cherry’s case.”



Xander nodded. “If I can do anything to help, let me know.”



“Thanks, man.”



Guiding her down the hall, he and Tara entered Thorpe’s office and shut the door behind them. Thorpe sat, resting his chin on his steepled fingers, his mouth a thin white line. A snowy envelope lay on the desk in front of him. The dark stranger in the suit paced the side of the room like a caged animal.



Both gazes rested on Tara, and Logan instinctively wrapped his arm around her.



“Relax, Edgington,” Thorpe snapped. “We’re not going to tear into her.”



“Has he behaved this way since he began training her?” the stranger asked.



“If you have something to say,” Logan growled, “you say it to me.”



“Sit,” Thorpe demanded of both of them.



Cherry did so quickly—a submissive’s internal urge to respond to a Dominant’s command. Logan had no such urge, but the look on the club owner’s face warned that arguing now would only be counterproductive to solving the problems at hand.



Glaring at the stranger in the corner, Logan sat beside Cherry, gripping her hand again.



“Good,” Thorpe said, tapping his toe against the concrete floor.



He was edgy, wired-up. Since Thorpe was usually one of the fucking calmest customers Logan had ever met, that worried the shit out of him.



“You want to tell us what’s going on?” he asked.



Thorpe shook his head. “I’m trying to decide where to start. The night has turned into one giant clusterfuck.”



The stranger stepped toward Tara, his dark eyes dissecting her. “I think introductions are in order first.”



When he stuck out his hand toward her, Logan tensed.



“I’m Jon Bocelli.”



Her new boss. Cherry rose to her feet and shook his hand, chin raised confidently. But Logan knew she had to be cringing at the thought that her boss had both seen her in an act of public submission and in the aftermath of passion. Yes, she’d been training for a dangerous assignment, but responses like hers couldn’t be feigned. Logan vowed to pull Bocelli aside if necessary and explain that the sex against the wall, which her boss would likely see as misconduct, had been his own fault.



“It’s nice to finally meet you, Agent Jacobs.”



“You, too, sir.”



“Edgington,” Bocelli greeted, hand outstretched.



Logan shook it as Tara said, “I didn’t expect you in from D.C. Do you have news about Darcy?”



“Yes. We’ll come back to that. I flew into Dallas to check your progress and ask you a few questions.”



Tara swallowed, and Logan could sense her nerves. He longed to grab her hand again and squeeze it, just to let her know that he was here for her. But it could be construed as a lack of faith on his part or seem unprofessional in front of her boss, and the last thing he wanted to do now was undermine her when she must feel as if she already had a strike against her.



“Fire away, sir.”



Bocelli gestured at her to sit, and she complied once more, her gaze pinging around her room. The tension was thick, and Tara was too smart to miss the fact that they were tight-lipped about something.



“Have you seen Agent York today?”



She hesitated, cocked her head. “No.”



“He hasn’t contacted you at all?”



“No.” She turned to Thorpe. “Isn’t he training with Axel?”



“He hasn’t seen Agent York since last night.”



Bocelli cut in. “A quick search of his apartment revealed a very orderly place, but some of his clothes are gone. His suitcase and toiletries are missing. His dog is nowhere to be found. Nothing looks disturbed. The door was locked right and tight.”



“He left voluntarily?” Tara frowned.



“That’s how it appears.”



“Robert took the death of the first victim, Laken Fox, pretty hard. I’m not suggesting he cracked. Maybe he needed a day or two . . .” She trailed off with a shrug.



“I hear that Agents York and Miles were romantically involved. Any reason you didn’t share that with me when I assigned him to this case?”



“You didn’t ask. Darcy asked me to keep it on the down low, but I didn’t think it would take you long to figure it out. Besides, no one, other than me, would fight harder to get Darcy back.”



“But now York has disappeared.” Bocelli raised a dark brow, pinning her with a stare that stopped just short of accusing. “Anything else you’re holding back?”



“No. But I don’t think for one second that he’s given up on finding Darcy alive.”



“Is it possible he knows something we don’t?”



She shrugged. “We’re not close. But he knows I’d do anything to help him save Darcy, so I believe he’d tell me about any new developments.”



“I hope he’d tell us all, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s missing, probably of his own accord.” Bocelli’s dark gaze shifted from Tara to Logan. “Agent Jacobs did well in public, far better, I gather, than she would have before you took her under your wing. Is she ready?”