Winter's Fire (Club Aegis Book 5)

by Christie Adams

  “First, the boss and I, we both owe you for volunteering for this job. It takes guts to do something like that, but don’t feel pressured to go through with it. It’s okay if you change your mind.”

  There had to be options. The old man knew about the lifestyle, so Aegis wouldn’t be a surprise to him. The membership comprised men and women at the sharp end of national security. There had to be a female member they could read into the mission in Lucy’s place.

  “No, it’s okay—I can do this.”

  “Remember—you’re not on your own. We’re doing this together, as a team. And what you said about making a difference? If Diana’s in trouble, you could make all the difference when it comes to getting her out of trouble.”

  “You think we can make this work?”

  “We can if we’re honest with each other. Are you going to tell me the real reason you rang last night?”

  Tension charged through her body and arced over into his. Would she deny it, or tell an outright lie about it? Her indecision was almost palpable.

  “I want to tell you.” Uncertainty turned her voice into a whisper. “May I have a little more time, please?”

  All credit to her for asking for what she needed, but Logan was disturbed by the fact that she didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk to him about it now. “Am I that much of an ogre?”

  The breath she’d been holding shuddered out of her lungs. “No. It’s me. You asked me about a boyfriend—I did have one. We finished a while ago, but it didn’t end well. Knocked me for six in the confidence department.”

  “I see.” He thought he did, anyway. Whatever was on her mind, it had a strong connection with her sense of self-worth—something he could identify with only too well. He wouldn’t push her. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  More than once, Logan had considered selling the vintage Jensen Interceptor—in London, two wheels tended to be more practical than four. However, the hours, the blood, sweat and tears he’d invested in restoring the vehicle made him reluctant to part with it. Today, though, as he held Lucy’s hand while she lowered herself into the passenger seat, he was glad he’d held onto it. Her grace made the classic car even more stylish.

  For once he got lucky, and was able to park close to their destination. As he switched off the engine, out of the corner of his eye he saw Lucy’s hand closing around the door handle.

  “Wait. Lesson number two—you always wait for me to open the door and help you out of the car.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m perfectly able—”

  “No one said you weren’t. You still wait.”

  “Why?”

  In a moment of crystal-clear prescience, Logan saw his immediate future flash before his eyes. That stubborn chin of hers was going to throw out challenges left, right and centre, and strangely, he wasn’t disappointed. If anything, he relished the prospect.

  “When we arrive at Nenufar, we need to blend in. That means assuming certain expected standards of behaviour. It also means I’ll treat you with old-fashioned courtesy, and you’ll get used to it.”

  “Old-fashioned? You can say that again!”

  “What was that?” He’d heard the mutter, and the sarcastic tone that accompanied it. Christ, he was itching to give her the spanking any other sub would get for such a blatant lack of respect.

  “Nothing. Sorry.”

  Yeah, right, and if he believed that, he’d be lining up to buy the next available bridge. “Apology accepted.” He could make nice too. “Now wait.”

  Logan exited the car and went around to open the passenger door. Lucy hesitated only a moment before slipping her hand into his. Funny how it was taking so little for him to get used to the brat’s touch.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “We’re going for a walk in the park.”

  For a moment her expression spoke volumes about her opinion on his sanity. It changed as realisation dawned. “This is about getting used to being around each other, isn’t it?”

  “That’s the idea. One step at a time.”

  And the first of those steps was to enclose her hand in his, just like the couple a few yards further down the path. Her tension almost vibrated through him, but as they continued through the park, her stiff stride relaxed into a stroll.

  “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

  ~~*~~

  Bad was most definitely not the first word that sprang to Lucy’s mind.

  In fact, she quite liked the roughness and strength in Logan’s grip, so different from her last boyfriend. His hands had been soft, perfectly manicured, and sweaty in a way that reminded her of a dead fish that was about to spoil. His handshake, when they’d first met, had been just as limp.

  Whatever had she seen in him?

  “Everything okay?”

  Logan’s voice shattered the moment. Why was he asking? Did he suspect she had something on her mind? Did he know? “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Apart from the fact you haven’t said much, you just squeezed the blood out of my fingers.”

  She hadn’t, not at all. It was barely even a nervous spasm. Was the man really that tuned into her? She might have scoffed when he’d made that remark about treating her with old-fashioned courtesy, but the truth was, she liked it. What would it be like if she ever found the guts to spit out her thoughts on them not faking it, and he agreed? To have a Dom who opened doors for her, and held her hand while she was getting into and out of the car?

  And one who did all those things to you that you read about so avidly? Scary. That’s what it would be like. Bloody scary.

  And what if that Dom was Logan?

  She only realised the man uppermost in her mind had stopped walking when her arm extended backwards and she had no choice but to come to a halt.

  “Lucy, we’re not moving one more step until you talk to me. And I want the truth.”

  “Or what? You’ll spank me?”

  “Don’t tempt me, darlin’. Have you forgotten our mission?”

  For a moment she had, and had the grace to look shamefaced about it. “Maybe—for a moment. I was thinking about how different you are from Greg.”

  Logan’s eyes narrowed—the frown gave him a stern look that made Lucy feel like a schoolgirl standing in front of her headmaster. “Greg?”

  She straightened her spine and looked him in the eye. “The ex I mentioned.”

  “But you’re thinking about him now?”

  “Only in terms of how disappointing that relationship was. He wouldn’t do this.” She lifted their clasped hands. “I tried once—to be honest, I was glad when he made it clear he wasn’t into touchy-feely.”

  “Why?”

  The question surprised her, as did the certainty that she wouldn’t be allowed to dodge it. “Because his hands… they always reminded me of something you’d see on a slab at the fishmonger’s.”

  “And this?” He squeezed her fingers, just enough pressure to tell her what he wanted to know.

  Her smile turned into a sheepish chuckle. “Not a dead fish.”

  To her surprise, he laughed. “Good. Now come here.”

  Logan drew her towards him. Mesmerised by the low, powerful vibes of earthy masculinity emanating from him, she barely noticed when he released her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist. Just one arm, leaving her with a clear exit if she needed it. Needed… what? With barely a finger’s breadth between her and that impossibly hard chest, her ability to reason appeared to have absconded, possibly never to be seen again.

  With Logan holding her like this, Lucy couldn't help herself. Magnetic attraction tugged her gaze to his. His gaze, dark with intent, laid her bare. There was no hiding from a man like him. Suddenly, all those romances with the sexy-as-hell Doms in them seemed a lot more like textbooks than works of fiction. Nervous anticipation had her stomach turning cartwheels, and she barely had enough saliva left to lick her lips.r />
  “Do you know what it does to a man when a woman does that right in front of him?”

  In the middle of her back, his hand was hot enough to melt steel. A frenzied whiplash of fiery energy arced between her nipples and her clit. Lucy sucked in her lower lip—this couldn’t be happening. They were in the park—there were dogs barking, the sounds of children playing, the distant growl of traffic. People didn’t get aroused in places like this, or get that wet, needy sensation between their thighs. And they sure as hell didn’t get urges that were usually satisfied in the bedroom.

  “What—” Lucy cleared her throat of the strangled squawk and tried again. “What does it do?”

  Good one, Luce. Her mouth had bypassed her brain and common sense, and grabbed the dragon by its tail.

  His head lowered, and his lips captured hers as surely as his arm had captured her body. Without a thought for possible consequences, or what anyone passing by might think, Lucy stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around Logan.

  An incandescent glow of satisfaction burst into life when he stiffened in her arms, but her victory was short-lived. Logan’s answer to the gauntlet she’d thrown down was to wrap her ponytail around his fist and pull her head back. Exposed, vulnerable, she could do nothing to resist the searing brand of his mouth on her throat.

  Her whole body throbbed and ached for his touch. Her sex life was tinder-dry, and this male, hard all over, was igniting a blaze of want and need that had her ready to climb all over him. Her thighs pressed together—whether to stop her arousal or encourage it, she couldn’t say.

  Truth be told, she couldn’t say much about anything. “Lo… gan.” His name came out on a broken sigh.

  Teeth nipped at her earlobe. “Tell me what you want.”

  His low voice reverberated through every cell in her body, stoking the blaze his body had started. There could be only one answer to his demand, and that was one of her own.

  Everything.

  Images collided and crashed through her mind, memories of her research on the resort, where this man would take her just a few days from now. Take her. Oh, how that phrase was open to interpretation…

  “Kiss me again… please.”

  God, she could devour him, as if he’d never been the annoying thorn in her flesh at work. She wanted him with a ferocity that defied all logic.

  Even though they were in public, only the exaggerated, disapproving tutting of an elderly lady, passing by with her husband, succeeded in tearing her mouth from his.

  “Oh, leave them be, Bren. We were like that once.”

  Lucy bit her lip in an effort not to chuckle at the gentle reproof.

  As for Logan, his mouth was clamped firmly shut, but the look of humour in his eyes revealed his true reaction. It lent him a youth that took him a million miles away from the aggressive pain in the arse who’d greeted her a short time ago. Lucy let her forehead fall against his chest, using the movement as cover while she took a minute to regain at least a little control.

  “Come on—let’s walk.” He offered her his hand. “There are things we need to discuss.”

  Chapter 6

  If he’d thought last night was bad, it had nothing on the way Lucy was affecting him now.

  A lack of sleep had given rise to the foul mood with which he’d greeted her that morning. He’d blamed her for his restlessness, even though she’d been miles away across the city. Tonight, she was just feet away, and try as he might, Logan couldn’t escape the memory of how sweet she’d tasted when he kissed her, and the thought of how many more of those kisses it would take to satisfy the hunger that had taken hold of him ever since.

  He might kiss her forever and never be satisfied.

  A glance at his watch confirmed how long he’d been awake, and the dents in the pillow told their own story of frustrated punches. Inner turmoil was tying him in knots.

  He wasn’t supposed to be fixated on the damned woman like this. Hell, she was his worst nightmare, yet here he was, within a fucking hair’s breadth of all-out obsession.

  Damn it, he should have arranged for another Dom to train her, someone like Alex Lombard. Until he’d fallen into the tiger pit of wedded bliss with his stunning sub, the man had had a rep for being one of the best—if not the best—trainers in the club.

  Hindsight was a fucking wonderful thing. That horse had already bolted, so Logan was stuck with the teaching gig. Thank Christ it wasn’t a long-term undercover op. If he’d had to fake a real, ongoing relationship with her…

  To which his dick responded by being a dick and pointing out to him how good it would be to get intimate with her. She was under his skin, all right. His treacherous flesh was consumed by her supple curves, the sway of her hips when she walked, the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed… hell, it was even infatuated with the colour of her hair, and the way the sunlight picked out glints of gold in that mass of spun silk.

  Who the hell was he kidding? His worst nightmare was also his unachievable dream.

  With renewed determination, Logan switched off the bedside lamp and turned onto his side. His balls nudged his thigh, as if reminding him that their best buddy—his cock—occasionally needed to come inside a condom rather than in his hand.

  His balls were sarcastic bastards.

  His cock was ganging up on him, too. The concept of fucking Miss Winter made his cock very, very happy, and gave him an erection that wouldn’t quit. All it took was a squeeze, a few strokes, and a vibrant, mental image of Lucy on her knees, with that pretty mouth wrapped around his dick. Eyes closed, he could almost feel that wet heat, the swirl of her tongue over the crown, her hand around his shaft, stroking up and down, driving his arousal higher and higher until he came. Hot, creamy-white jets of sperm splattered over his belly.

  A rush of shame wiped out the fleeting pleasure of jerking off. He was a bastard for using her like that, even if it had only been in his mind. Logan grabbed a handful of wet wipes and set about cleaning up. He reminded himself that this was only the first night—he had five more to get through, and then the trouble really started. If he didn’t get his shit together before then, he’d be the one to send the op into a death spiral.

  In spite of the lateness of the hour, had Lucy not been under his roof, Logan would have worked off the tension sizzling through his nervous system by going for a run. He was wound tighter than a cheap watch, and if he didn’t do something involving strenuous physical activity, he was likely to lose it big style. He had no problem with patience when he was driving a sub to the pinnacle of pleasure, but in this situation, patience was a commodity in short supply.

  Sometimes, a man had no choice but to admit defeat. He was never going to settle like this. His guest was probably asleep already, and the sooner he went, the better his chances of getting back before she woke up. He dressed quickly and stuffed his feet into the well-worn running shoes. As stealthily as if he were stalking a dangerous enemy, Logan made his way to the front door, only to be stopped in his tracks by a quiet, concerned voice.

  “Logan? Is everything okay?”

  His gut clenched. He didn’t want to see her. She’d be all soft and ruffled and sleepy, and too much damn temptation. And if he did turn around, he’d risk her seeing the very visible evidence of his arousal at the mere sound of her voice speaking his name. “Go back to bed.”

  Logan closed his eyes and cursed his own stupidity. The last thing he needed right now was the image that last word branded upon his consciousness. The night had just gone from bad, bypassed worse, and was heading straight for clusterfuck. She needed to move, and now. “I’m going for a run. I’ll be back soon. Don’t wait up.”

  “I can’t sleep, either. I’ll come with you.”

  His stomach dropped five thousand feet in a life-threatening crash dive. “I’m a big boy, I don’t need a babysitter.” He had to make her stay behind.

  “I never thought for one moment you did. I do think you need company, though, and as I said, I can’t sleep
.”

  “You won’t be able to keep up with me.”

  “Care to bet on it? Give me a minute to get changed.”

  In defiance of his brain, his mouth agreed—the bloody thing was clearly in league with his dick. His imagination muscled in on the act as well, clothing her in a revealing, spray-painted running outfit that clung to her body like a second skin.

  Christ, he was in a shitty mood tonight.

  While she was gone, Logan took the opportunity to marshal his resolve. He could do this. Lucy might have legs that went on for miles, but he was the one with the training. If she thought he’d moderate his pace to suit her, she’d get a rude awakening—the sooner she gave up the better, because then he could carry on alone and hunt down the tranquillity he craved.

  When she returned, that tranquillity seemed further away than ever. In spite of his imagination’s best efforts, he was ill prepared for skin-tight leggings and a t-shirt bonded to her curves. She was carrying a lightweight casual jacket. Certainly looked the part from the professional-looking running shoes up, he admitted grudgingly. Didn’t mean she’d be any good, his inner bastard countered. “Come on, then.”

  “How far are you planning to go?”

  “Five miles, maybe more.” Definitely more, because she’d have thrown in the towel long before he reached five pitiful little miles.

  “A stroll in the park, then.”

  What the hell…? Logan’s eyes narrowed. She was winding him up, deliberately goading him. Had to be.

  “Well, are we going, or are you backing out because you think I’ll beat you?”

  Brat. He’d show her.

  The route was one Logan had taken many times since moving to the apartment, and he knew the landmarks at each mile by heart. When he reached the third he stopped, expecting to see Lucy a long way behind, winded, and barely able to remain upright.