Belong to Me

But when she was in his arms, like now, when he couldn’t seem to get close enough, she felt adored. Like the only woman in his world.



Logan cupped her, lifting her closer as he nipped her lobe and whispered to her. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I dreamed of you. Wanted you. Fantasized. For me, it’s always been you.”



And with every word, he forged deeper inside her slick, swelling pussy, scraping against her sensitized flesh. When he was like this, it was so easy to crave him, care about him, impossible to remember any reason she shouldn’t.



“That’s it, Cherry. Get all tight on me.” He slowed his strokes, lingering over the one spot designed to send her soaring.



“Please, Logan!” she dug her nails into his shoulders, feeling her world tilt out of control.



“It’s right here, baby. Let me give you what you need.” He grabbed her tighter, ground into her, against the spot that ached most.



That was all she had to hear. With his voice mingling with her racing heartbeat, and their bodies moving as one, pleasure rushed her. Overwhelmed by the sensation overtaking her body and Logan shouting her name, she reveled when he followed her into the rush, coming inside her in a hot, liquid release.



Long moments and hard breaths later, Logan set her on her feet, then braced one hand on the wall above her shoulder for support. He nuzzled her neck as he panted, “I can’t stop fucking you. You’re killing me.”



Her legs felt boneless, too. Still, she teased, “You’re complaining?”



He lifted his head, even with water plastering his hair to his forehead, he was the most heart-stopping man she’d ever seen. The thick, black fringe of his lashes framed blue, blue eyes that sparkled with sudden mischief. “Hell, no. If I die from having too much sex with you, that’s the best possible way to go.”



Tara rolled her eyes, but couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. Until she began washing up. No missing his semen leaking from her sex. And she wondered again why she’d held her birth-control pill in her hand last night . . . then elected not to take it. She wasn’t sure she trusted him entirely, but she wanted him so badly, wanted to tie him to her always. Swept by the rightness of the image of her holding his son or daughter.



He watched her intently, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. Given their intense connection, it was possible he did.



“Cherry, did you take your pill last night?”



It would be so easy to lie and say she forgot, but she wasn’t a coward. “No.”



His smile dazzled her. “You’re making me hard all over again. I want you committed to me. Tell me you haven’t thought about the future and kids. I have. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, about little girls with red hair.”



A big part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and admit that she’d thought about it, too. But she hadn’t come to Fantasy Key to hash out her personal life. She’d be here a few days at most. They could sort all this out afterward.



“Logan, I can’t think about the future now. My mission here is to find Darcy and arrest her tormenters. After that . . . we’ll talk. It’s not as simple as me getting over the past. Adam is my only family, the one who’d walk me down the aisle. And he hates you. We can’t pretend that being together would be easy.”



It wouldn’t. And not preventing herself from getting pregnant didn’t sound smart, but she’d looked at the little tablet and the glass of water—and just couldn’t bring herself to swallow them. What did that mean?



“Being with me would force hard choices on you. I understand that and I wish I could change it. I can only say that, if you choose me, I’d do everything possible to not make your regret your decision.”



Whereas Adam would try his damndest to come between them. He might not be worried anymore that Logan was only after one thing, but he’d never forgiven Logan for breaking her heart. “But that isn’t our only obstacle. You’re still a SEAL, barely ever home and—”



“I can say the word tomorrow and have a position as a BUD/S instructor in Coronado, California.”



An instructor? He’d be in one place, no more missions? “Would you be happy being sidelined?”



“I like the teams. Hell, I’ve loved them. But I love you more.”



Tara blinked. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, this wasn’t it. She stared—and couldn’t deny that his words touched her. Tears stung her eyes. “I couldn’t make you give up something you love for me.”



“You’re not making me. I’m volunteering, totally willingly.” Before she could open her mouth, he laid a finger over her lips. “Think about it. I know we have a different agenda right now, but when this is over, okay?”



Didn’t she owe them both that much? Whatever they had between them had long since stopped feeling like merely bringing closure to their shared past. This now felt more like a possible future. As much as her heart embraced that, she couldn’t deny that Logan still scared the hell out of her.



Silently, she nodded as he cut off the shower.



He kissed the tip of her nose, then stepped out onto the cool tile and handed her a towel. As she dried off, he wrapped his own around his waist, and checked his cell phone. “Damn, only thirty minutes before dinner. When the hell are they going to bring our luggage?”



Other than his carry-on with the sat phone and laptop, he had nothing. Tara had only a few toiletries.



No sooner than he spoke the words, then a knock resounded through the room.



“Porter,” the man from the other side called.



Logan secured the towel around his waist, then shut the bathroom door to shield her before he answered the door. Tara peeked through the crack as he wrenched the door open and found their luggage sitting by the portal.



With a frown, he carted the suitcases inside. Tara knew what he was thinking. If the resort’s management only intended to x-ray luggage to ensure no one brought weapons into the resort, as they said, why was their luggage so delayed: There hadn’t been a ton of guests at the orientation—maybe twenty—and the resort wasn’t that big. She bit her lip. Something definitely wasn’t right.



Something like Fantasy Key already knowing that she and Logan had come to take them down.



Maybe it would be wiser to abort this mission, but she refused to leave Darcy to certain death, not while she could still save her friend. The suspicious look on Logan’s face said his thoughts were chugging down the same track.



“Open the suitcase I packed for you.” Make sure everything is untouched. “Get dressed in the beige silk. No bra. No panties. Quickly. We’re pressed for time.”



He lifted her bag onto the bed, then did the same with his duffel. Tara unzipped hers, and frowned. Most of the scanty, unfamiliar garments Logan had chosen for her were still folded and neatly stacked. Even the little bit of jewelry she’d brought with her was still in place. But everything looked a bit displaced, out of order, more than the normal settling that occurred on an airplane.



Beside her, Logan unzipped his gear. Almost instantly, he stiffened. His luggage had been tampered with, too.



But he forced a smile, then turned to her, kissing her cheek. “Be quick. We’ll talk on the way to dinner.”



In the hall, where electronic ears probably weren’t monitoring them. Was there any chance that the resort listened in on all their guests as a habit? Or did he worry, like her, that someone at Fantasy Key already knew they had the FBI in their midst?



Fantasy Key—Sunday night



As they walked from the dining room to the dungeon, Logan glanced again at Cherry—and damn near lost his mind. Hell, he’d been distracted the moment she’d donned the dress.



He’d known when he’d picked it out for her a few days ago that she’d look spectacular in it, but he hadn’t expected being so hot for her that he couldn’t eat, couldn’t do anything but stare at the way the soft, sheer fabric clung to her breasts. Scooping low in the front, elastic cupped the sweet mounds beneath, while the garment showcased her gloriously stiff nipples, still encased in the nipple huggers. Every time she moved, they brushed the material. Her little gasps and groans told Logan those pretty little buds were all fucking kinds of sensitive—and the knowledge had him so damn hard.



Even though he’d fucked her barely an hour ago, the need to work his aching cock deep into that narrow, clasping pussy of hers right now obliterated nearly every other thought.



The dress hung in a straight line from just beneath her breasts, but the main hallways of Fantasy Key were well lit. The glow from nearby sconces slanted through the sheer fabric, perfectly revealing the smooth mound of her cunt and the lush globes of her ass.



The shitty part? He wasn’t the only one looking. They’d barely taken two steps into the dining room before Jordan had fallen into step beside her and reminded him that their safety demonstration scene must be held before they’d be allowed to use the dungeons freely.



“I can’t believe the little asshole reserved us a time at the spanking bench without even consulting me. He’s trying to usurp me to get to you,” Logan growled. “I want to wring his fucking neck.”



“You can’t. You’re not supposed to care, remember?”



He scoffed. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again. Period.”



“As long as we stay in the more public areas, I should be fine. If he invites me back to the VIP area, we’ll put a plan together. I got his attention, and that’s a good first step.”



As Tara had all through dinner, she fingered a dainty pendant that hung from her slender neck. The little gold filigreed heart was nestled right in the hollow of her throat, suspended by a thin gold chain, so short it could almost pass for a choker—or a very pretty collar. It looked familiar.



He leaned in, frowned. “Where have I seen you wear that before?”



“The day we . . . split up. I don’t wear it that much anymore, but I did tonight because while I was kneeling in the orientation room earlier while you chatted up Allison, another Dom approached me and mentioned that I looked available because I don’t have a collar. I thought this might work in a pinch.”



Good thinking on her part. “It doesn’t look like a collar, per se, but it’s close enough that others will wonder if it’s intended for that purpose and steer clear. Our situation here is complicated enough without having other creeps chase after you. So, you ready for this demonstration?”



She shrugged. “The basics didn’t sound hard.”



“No, but it’s their public way of weeding out the total amateurs who could cause problems. This way, they keep as many people as possible safe.”



“Yeah, while trying to decide which subs to kidnap and sell off to oil barons and Internet billionaires in obscure countries.”



“Exactly.”



In the dungeon, the lighting was much lower, but the fabric of Tara’s dress was so sheer he could still see the outline of her labia and the crack of her ass, not to mention the hard nubs of her nipples poking the front until he could barely look at anything else.



It was almost a relief to reach the spanking bench—except that Jordan awaited them, devouring her with his gaze.



“Welcome to your safety scene.” He gestured to Tara to make her way onto the padded bench. “What is your safe word?”



Tara knelt on the red leather and sent Logan a sly grin—and made his heart tumble in his chest. Their private joke and the deeper meaning behind her safe word roused every primal part of him until he wanted to scream, Mine!



“It’s Romeo,” she said finally.



“That’s acceptable.” Jordan turned to him. “Her hard limits?”



Crap, they’d never had the opportunity to actually discuss these. He’d been too busy fucking her to ask. Shit, he hated to miss details, but now he had to wing it. “Cutting, branding, piercing—anything permanent. No bodily functions, blood, or breathplay. And no sex with multiple partners or strangers.”



With that, it should be very clear to Jordan that he wasn’t getting a piece of Cherry.



“Is this a full and complete list, sub?”



Tara looked at him, as if seeking direction, then she nodded. “What he said, Sir.”



Hearing her call another Dom “Sir” bugged the shit out of Logan. It bugged him more that he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.



Jordan nodded. “Her soft limits?”



“Hot wax and anal.” Logan stroked his chin, trying to think of limitations that would inhibit the dungeon creep’s ability to steal her away. “She doesn’t like being blindfolded or gagged.”



“Duly noted. Anything else you’d like to add, sub?”



She shook her head.



“Very well. Let’s see how you use the equipment.” He gestured to the spanking bench.



Logan attached cuffs to her wrists, then clipped them into the restraints on each side of the apparatus. She sent him a nervous glance. He wanted so badly to reassure her that he wouldn’t leave her side and would act as a buffer between her and Jordan, but he couldn’t give her more than an encouraging glance. He finished with ankle cuffs and a spreader bar.