Command Performance

by Sara Jane Stone

  “I’ll try,” she said reluctantly. “As long as you don’t pull another stunt like that.”

  “That’s fair.” Hunter nodded. “But next time, I expect you to stand up for yourself.”

  “I will.” She hadn’t wanted Carter’s hands on her. But she was a big girl and could handle herself. She didn’t need to be rescued. Of course, saving the day was Hunter’s default. He was a hero—she just didn’t need him to be hers.

  He traced circles on the palm of her hand with his thumb. It felt as if he was brushing away her anger with his touch.

  “I do trust you,” she said. “To a point, but—”

  “Enough for tomorrow night?” he asked.

  Her throat went dry, but she managed an affirmative nod. Her mind went to the pair of heels in her closet. She’d known when she bought them that she wanted to follow him wherever he led her—when it came to sex. But she wasn’t ready to let go of the rest of her life. She knew letting go in bed was only a temporary fix, like Saturday night. But she wasn’t ready for more. She might never be.

  14

  MAGGIE WOKE UP before her alarm, and this time it wasn’t the smell of coffee that had her marching down the stairs before six. She needed to write. Last night, Carter had suggested that a bestselling book would make her a shoo-in for tenure. Excitement coursed through her as she typed up her notes, crafting paragraph after paragraph about Hunter’s mission on horseback. She stopped every so often to scribble follow-up questions.

  Three hours into her work, Hunter appeared in the door with a mug. Maggie accepted the coffee with a smile, but remained focused on her computer screen. “Were the aid workers injured when you rescued them?”

  “Good morning to you, too,” he said.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him perch on the edge of her desk and fold his arms across his chest. Her mind might be focused on work, but her body? Every inch of her was aware of Hunter as a man, not a Ranger and the subject of her book. She sneaked a peek and her breath caught. A man without a shirt. Damn him. Desire pulsed through her.

  “Well?” she asked, trying to keep her mind from following her body’s let’s-get-naked-with-him cues. “Were they? Injured?”

  He hesitated, unfolding his arms and then crossing them again. “They’d taken a hit or two, but were still mobile.”

  “Did their limited mobility slow you down?” she asked, keeping her gaze locked on her computer.

  “Is there a reason you won’t look at me?”

  “You’re not wearing a shirt,” she replied, her fingers moving over the keyboard.

  “You’ve seen me without a shirt before,” he said playfully.

  “I’m working right now,” she said. “We had a deal. We keep work and the other stuff separate.”

  Hunter chuckled. “The other stuff?”

  Maggie felt a faint blush creep up her cheeks, but refused to turn away from her computer. It was too dangerous. If she looked again, she’d want to touch. And if she touched him...other stuff would happen. Here. On her desk. She crossed her legs, pressing her thighs together.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” she said.

  “I do.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stand and move around behind her desk chair, disappearing from view. She felt his breath on her neck and then his lips brushed her skin. “But you have no idea what you’re in for tonight, do you, Maggie? Only that you’ll be completely under my control. And, honey, tonight we’re playing out my fantasies.”

  Her hands froze on the keys.

  “I’m going to town for a few supplies. Dinner will be at seven. Don’t be late, and Maggie...?”

  “Hmm?” she murmured, her body humming from the way his breath danced across the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.

  “Be sure to wear your heels.”

  Maggie closed her eyes. There wasn’t a flying chance in Hades she’d get her work done now. Still, she spent the rest of the afternoon pretending. Her mind kept drifting to the box of Jimmy Choos sitting on her bed. At five, she gave up and went upstairs to shower. She searched her closet for the simple black dress she’d bought for a cocktail party at the college. Not quite as sexy as the shoes, but better than her baggy suits and everyday sweats.

  Two hours later, she followed the amazing smells down the stairs and found Hunter waiting for her with two champagne flutes at the bottom. He’d changed into a clean pair of jeans and a red polo, leaving her feeling overdressed.

  His gaze ran down her body and settled on her feet. He looked back up at her, his eyes filled with sensual promise. “Love the shoes.”

  “Thanks,” she said, pleased he liked her purchase. She took the glass from his hand. “You made dinner?”

  He shook his head. “Reheated. Olive Garden.”

  Maggie sipped her champagne. She didn’t have much practice with surprises, and not knowing what he had planned unnerved her. “I’m a little overdressed for the OG.”

  “You’re perfect.” He took her free hand. “Come with me.”

  Wobbling in her new shoes, Maggie followed him through to the kitchen, where he traded his champagne glass for a picnic hamper she hadn’t used since she was a child. “Where did you find that?”

  “In one of the storage closets beneath the stairs. I enlisted your housekeeper’s help. And your gardener.”

  He’d asked her gardener? When he said fantasy, she thought he’d been talking about sex, not flowers. “You asked Fred for help? With what?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  He pushed through the side door and drew her out onto the stone path that ran around the house. Where the pavers stopped, a slate path began. It led through the clearing and disappeared into the wooded area.

  “Fred said the slate had been in the garage for years,” Hunter said. He gave her hand a tug, leading her onto the new path.

  She nodded. “My dad bought them for a project he never started. I can’t believe you did all this while I was working.”

  He shrugged, looking over his shoulder at her as he led her closer to the tree line. “Do you like it?”

  She saw the apprehension in his eyes. This big, strong man who’d ridden a horse through a war zone wanted her approval. “I do. But I’m not sure I should follow you into the woods. Especially in these shoes.”

  “I’ll catch you if you fall.” His excitement was contagious, and she followed him into the dense wooded area, keeping her weight on her toes to prevent her heels from sinking. Behind them, the house disappeared from view. Maybe fifty yards in, they reached a clearing Maggie vaguely remembered from when she’d run around these woods as a very young child. A small round table that had been in her backyard, and the two matching chairs, sat beside what appeared to be a fire pit and a bale of hay. She turned to Hunter and raised an eyebrow. “This is your fantasy?”

  “Patience, Miss Maggie. We’ll get to that.” He pointed to the hay bale. Beside it lay two sticks, a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and a pile of chocolate bars. “First, dinner and dessert.”

  “S’mores?”

  “I figured, since you never really got to be a kid, you might have missed out on some of the best parts. There’s nothing better than a perfectly toasted marshmallow with chocolate and graham crackers.”

  “Says the man who goes to car shows for the fake cheese.”

  “I’m serious, Maggie.” He led her over to a chair and held it for her while she sat. “You need more fun in your life. You’ve been caring for yourself and others since what? Grade school?”

  “I had my fun. On Saturday.” The reminder of their first night together sparked between them.

  “You don’t just need to lose control in bed, honey.” He smiled devilishly. “You need a s’more more than anyone I’ve ever met. But first, dinner.”

  Hunter unpacked the picnic hamper, pulling out bottles of sparkling water, piping hot breadsticks, a salad and two take-out containers. She peeked under the lid of one while he set up the plate
s and silverware. “Linguine Alfredo?”

  “You said it was your favorite.”

  “I’m going to be too full after this meal for anything else.” She felt her face flush at the thought of what he might have in store for her after dinner. Her imagination had been running wild ever since he’d sent her off to buy shoes. No matter what he had planned, she knew it would end with orgasms, and that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

  “We have all night,” he said. “There’s no rush.”

  Maggie relaxed in her chair and reached for a breadstick. The night air was warm, but not humid, and the sky was clear. In a few hours, the sun would sink behind the trees, leaving a sky full of stars. It was the perfect night for a picnic and campfire. The perfect night to set work aside and simply enjoy. They talked comfortably through the meal, moving to the hay bale for s’mores after Hunter built a fire in what Maggie assumed was record time.

  “Have you done this before?” Hunter asked, handing her a stick.

  She nodded. “Once with my grandfather, but not outside. We built a fire in the living room fireplace.”

  “It’s been a long time. Maybe I should make your first one.” He took her stick and put a marshmallow on it.

  “You’re experienced.” She watched him turn the stick, careful to roast all sides. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

  “No, Maggie. Not a Boy Scout.” He used his free hand to snap a graham cracker in half and arrange a piece of chocolate on one side. Pulling his stick from the flame, he gently slid the marshmallow into the middle of his graham-cracker sandwich.

  “Open your mouth.”

  She obeyed and he held the treat to her parted lips.

  “Now bite.”

  She heard the snap of the cracker and tasted the warm milk chocolate mixed with gooey marshmallow. “It’s perfect. Did you learn how to make these in the army?”

  He smiled and offered her the rest. “I had a crush on this girl, and seeing as we weren’t old enough to go out for dinner, I invited her over and we made s’mores. She didn’t like the marshmallows, but she loved the chocolate.”

  “Would this be the same girl who broke your heart and sent you running from commitment?” she asked.

  Hunter shook his head. “No one broke my heart.”

  “Then why do you run away from long term?”

  He slid another marshmallow on his stick. “My job mostly. The lifestyle doesn’t make relationships easy. My longest since I joined the Rangers clocks in at about four weeks, and I spent two of those weeks deployed without email or phone contact, so by the time I got around to sending my usual I-have-a-crazy-job-this-won’t-work email from halfway around the world, she’d moved on. And I didn’t have a great track record before that.”

  Maggie nodded. She’d known from the minute he’d said the word Ranger at the car show that his job was a personal relationship minefield. And right now, that sounded like a major plus. One more s’more and she might start to feel things for him she shouldn’t.

  “You really love it. Being a Ranger.”

  “Yeah. I like being where the action is. And I like being the best.” He looked up from his marshmallow and smiled at her. “No matter what anyone tells you about those other Special Forces units, we’re the most kick ass.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you have to give up on the rest of your life. Some soldiers make it work,” she said. “The relationship thing.”

  Hunter nodded. “They do. But I’ve got other commitments on my plate. Other people who need me.”

  Sierra popped into her mind, but she pushed away the questions. Not tonight. Not after he’d gone to all this trouble for her.

  “Not everyone is as driven as you, Maggie.” He turned the stick above the flame. “You never wanted to run away from your father’s drinking and all that responsibility?”

  “I did and I thought about it,” she said. “But more than leaving, I wanted to stay and make things better.”

  “You certainly take on a lot.” Hunter transferred the marshmallow to a chocolate-covered graham cracker and offered it to her. “You’re a professor and you’re writing your second book—”

  “The first doesn’t really count,” Maggie interrupted. “It received great reviews, but no one outside of the military studies field bought it.”

  “Still counts. So you’re writing your second book at what?”

  “Twenty-eight.” She took a bite of the s’more.

  “And soon you’ll be a tenured professor. That’s a lot.”

  She looked at him in the soft campfire light. “Living with my dad was like riding a rickety roller coaster every day. You never knew when it was going to fall apart. I want a stable future. And that comes with responsibility.”

  Hunter leaned toward her, his hand resting on the hay bale beside her hip. His mouth touched hers and she felt his tongue lick the sticky sweet traces of chocolate and marshmallow from her lips. He kissed his way to her ear, sending delicious shivers down her body. “Not with me. With me, you set all that aside.”

  She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, waiting for another kiss. She was ready to strip off her clothes and follow his orders right here on the hay bale. She waited, but heard only the sound of a chocolate bar wrapper.

  Maggie opened her eyes and watched as he made a s’more for himself. He was teasing her. He knew his words would have her body burning with need and that there was nothing she could do about it. He was in control. It drove her crazy when he tried to take charge in her work life, but right now, under the stars? It thrilled her. She shifted, rubbing her inner thighs together, and watched him.

  “What happened with the girl? The one who loved chocolate?”

  “It didn’t last. I was thirteen. She was fourteen. We were too young,” he said. “But I scored a kiss.”

  “You went to all this trouble for a kiss?” she asked, licking her lips.

  He leaned close again. “I want more than a kiss, Maggie, but not because I cooked for you. Because you want it, too.”

  Closing the gap, he licked her lips, and this time she tasted the chocolate on his tongue. She opened her mouth. Reaching her hands up, she drew him into a slow, sweet kiss. She heard him drop the stick and felt his hands on the sides of her face, working their way into her hair, holding her still so his mouth and tongue could ravage her. When he pulled back, she felt a sharp pang of need for more.

  “Are we there yet?” she murmured.

  He raised an eyebrow, his hands still holding her. “Where?”

  “The part I’ve been waiting for all night.”

  Hunter let out a tense laugh. “Hell, yes.” His hands fell and he pushed himself up from the hay bale. “But not here.”

  He quickly extinguished the fire and reached for her. She took his hand and followed him back to the house as fast as her ridiculous heels would carry her. Her body hummed with excitement and nerves. After his romantic dinner in the woods, she didn’t know what to expect from him. What kind of fantasies did a man who agreed to give a stranger amazing orgasms one day and make her s’mores the next have? And why the shoes?

  Inside, he took her hand and led her down the hall to her guest room, currently his bedroom. She paused at the doorway. It was one thing to let a one-night lover take control in a hotel room, or to take off her clothes after too many margaritas, but sober in her guest room? It felt different. More intimate and risky even though she knew she was safe with him. Physically. The more she learned about him, the more time she spent with him, the more she worried that the sexual attraction between them might lead to something else. Something dangerous.

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Maggie, look at me.”

  She obeyed.

  “Do you trust me not to hurt you?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t have to think about it. Over the past few days this man, who in so many ways resembled the parent who’d nearly broken her faith in others, had earned her trust.

&n
bsp; He drew her into the room, leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I’m going to make this good for you. Just relax and let me take control.”

  “I thought tonight was about what you want,” she whispered.

  “Honey, we’re already halfway there. You. In those shoes. That’s part of it.” He took her hand and led her past the bed to the blue armchair by the window.

  “And the other part?”

  He sat down and looked up at her. “Take off your dress, but keep the shoes.”

  Maggie stared at him. The orange glow from the setting sun poured in the open window, and in the distance she heard the soft sound of crickets. Could she do this? Strip while he sat and watched?

  “You don’t have to think about it, Maggie. Not in here. Not with me.”

  She reached her arms behind her and found the zipper. She wanted to do this, she realized. He’d given her what she wanted that first night. If this was his fantasy, she’d do everything she could to make it good for him.

  Slowly, she drew the zipper down her back. Reaching up to her shoulders, she started to peel off the dress, revealing the new black lace bra Olivia had insisted she purchase to match her shoes. She shimmied the fabric over her hips and let it fall to the floor. Stepping aside, she waited for his next order.

  “Take off your bra and panties.”

  Maggie stripped away her underwear until she stood in front of him in only her heels. This might be his fantasy, but she was more turned on than she’d ever been. Her skin ached for his touch, his mouth.

  “Come here,” he commanded. She obeyed, his words sending a shiver of desire racing through her and settling in her core.

  He took her hand and pulled her forward until she stood between his splayed thighs. “Kneel down, Maggie.”

  She sank to the floor, her knees pressing into the plush carpet. He guided her hand to his zipper and she understood what he wanted. Slowly, she freed him from his pants and boxers. She glanced up at him and he nodded, his expression tight, as if he needed this too much to say another word. Closing her eyes, she bent her head and took him in her mouth.

  * * *