by Lili Valente
Table of Contents
Title Page
All Rights Reserved
Dedication
ABOUT THE BOOK
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Acknowledgements
About the Author
CLAIMING HER HEART
UNDER HIS COMMAND BOOK THREE
By Lili Valente
All Rights Reserved
Copyright Claiming Her Heart© 2015 Lili Valente
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This erotic romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy hot, sexy, emotional novels featuring Dominant alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. This book was previously published as Skin Deep by Anna J. Evans in 2009. It has been extensively revised and reworked before being re-released in serial romance format. Cover design by Violet Duke. Editorial services provided by Leone Editorial.
Dedicated to Lauren Blakely, Monica Murphy/Karen Erickson, and
Sawyer Bennett. Honored to have the readership of such amazing, talented women!
ABOUT THE BOOK
Claiming Her Heart
Under His Command Book 3
*Warning: Dominant alpha hero Blake Roberts will own your nights and forever ruin you for lesser men*
Blake has what he thought he wanted—Erin’s submission, her trust, and the woman he loves back in his bed. But with her submission comes protection of her secrets. Erin is in trouble and an innocent life hangs in the balance. Blake knows he can help her break free of the past, but he doesn’t know if a man like himself belongs in her future.
How can he swear to protect her from danger when he has a dark side of his own?
CHAPTER ONE
Blake
Erin was nearly naked again, wearing nothing but tiny black panties.
Her jeans had been soaked through or he wouldn’t have taken them off. Blake needed her shirt off to get to the tattoo, but not her pants.
It certainly would be easier to concentrate if she were wearing more clothes and didn’t look so damned sexy spread out, face down, on the bed in his room. He still wanted her as much as he always had—probably always would—but the time for making love or fucking or whatever they’d been doing was over.
From this point on, he was all business.
Too bad this business had a lot in common with one of his favorite pleasures…
Bondage had always been a huge turn-on, even before he discovered the BDSM lifestyle. Either binding his lover or being bound himself, it didn’t much matter. Both made Blake hard enough to shatter rock.
It was no surprise that his cock swelled uncomfortably within the confines of his jeans as he cuffed Erin’s wrists to the mission-style headboard of the bed. He couldn’t help being aroused, but he should have kept his hands to himself.
But he couldn’t seem to resist tracing the column of her spine with his fingertips, past the small of her back and down both of her legs. He couldn’t keep from gripping her just above the knees, digging his fingers into the soft flesh with the perfect amount of pressure, the kind he knew made Erin’s pussy gush.
And then he pulled her thighs apart.
Wide.
Wider…spreading her open for him before he moved his fingers to her ankles.
A soft moan of excitement escaped Erin’s lips as he knelt between her legs, making Blake’s breath rush out softly in relief. Ever since he’d thrown her over his shoulder at the diner, he’d felt like a monster, a feeling that had only gotten worse as she continued to fight him all the way up to the cabin. With every passing second, he’d become increasingly convinced that he’d gone too far, crossed the line between consensual power exchange and being a goddamned bully.
But that sigh of arousal helped calm his fears.
No matter what she’d said in the diner or on the road up to the cabin, Erin hadn’t been faking her physical responses to his touch.
Her emotional response, however, was clearly another story. A story that made him so full of hurt and rage he saw red every time he thought about how easily he’d been played.
“See there, Erin. Aren’t you glad I caught you in time?” His voice was as rough as the rope he used to secure first one ankle and then the other to the baseboard near her feet.
He’d only brought the one pair of cuffs so rope would have to do. At this point, the idea of rope burns on Erin’s delicate skin didn’t bother him as much as it would have two hours ago. It was amazing how badly it hurt to realize she’d been lying to him from the moment they’d arrived at the cabin.
He’d been a fool to believe the woman he’d kidnapped could have real feelings for him again in less than a day. No matter how much he cared for her, no matter how right it had felt to pick up where they’d left off eight years ago, it had been pure stupidity to drop his guard. He should have stuck to his original plan from the beginning and spared himself the heartache.
And avoided abducting Erin from a public place. Again. You’ve really lost it, asshole, and chances are good you’ll be facing criminal charges.
His inner voice was channeling Rafe this evening.
It was a pain in his ass and, unfortunately, probably right on the money. Even if the people in the diner didn’t call the police to report what they’d seen, Erin now had several witnesses to corroborate her claims of being kidnapped.
A day ago, he would have said that it didn’t matter, that he wouldn’t have denied the charges anyway. After all the lies and deception he’d had to deal with growing up, he was more than a fan of the truth—he was a devotee. But now a part of him would be tempted to insist this weekend trip had been a consensual affair. He was that angry about being taken for a ride.
Or that devastated; take your pick.
He preferred angry. It hurt a hell of a lot less.
“Tell me, Erin,” he whispered, his voice thick with anger. “Now.”
He finished up at her ankles and moved over her prone form, bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders, hovering close enough that he could feel the heat of her body but not the silky softness of her skin. He moved his mouth just the barest bit closer, letting his lips brush softly against the back of her neck as he spoke again. “Tell me what you want.”
Erin shivered, but he could tell it wasn’t from the cold. She was
aroused, he would bet his hands on it. If he let his fingers slide into those tiny black panties, he’d find her wet and ready, no matter how much of a fight she’d put up as he carried her up the stairs and wrestled her onto her stomach on the bed.
“Fuck you,” she whispered, anger clear in her tone.
So she was pissed as well as turned on. Good. That made two of them.
“I don’t think so. No more distractions. We’re going to finish this,” he said, reaching over to where the tattoo machine sat beside the bed.
Blake flipped the switch on the motor then pulled on his latex gloves. He’d already prepped the gun with black ink and Erin’s shoulder with an alcohol swab, so they were ready to go. All he had to do was put the needle to her skin.
He’d planned how he would modify the tat if Erin refused to give him her input, so there was no reason to stall. In half an hour, he could be finished and they could both be getting ready to head back to L.A. He should get on with it.
But for some reason, he couldn’t force his hand to move any closer.
“Tell me what you want, Erin. This is your last chance,” he said, hoping she heard the resolve in his voice. If she didn’t talk now, she would lose the opportunity.
But she didn’t say a word, only pressed her face into the quilt beneath her, every muscle tensed, bracing for the feel of the needle piercing her skin. The position only emphasized how small she was. Her wrists were tinier than ever, and her shoulder blades and the knobs of her spine were clearly visible through her skin, once more inspiring the desire to get to work fattening her up.
Fuck.
He should forget this insanity and go down and reheat the pasta, bring it upstairs, and they could eat it together in bed. They could feed each other tortellini and sips of red wine, then have each other for dessert. After all, who needed cheesecake when you could have your tongue buried in something as sweet as Erin’s pussy?
The imagined scene made his cock twitch even as his throat grew uncomfortably tight. Nothing like that was ever going to happen again.
It had all been a lie, every touch, every word.
Blake’s anger sharpened to a knifepoint. Erin had let him think they had a future together and made him happier than he’d been in years, only to tear him down hours later. She’d cried in his arms, for God’s sake, wept because she was so overwhelmed by what she was feeling.
Except now he knew she hadn’t been feeling anything at all. It had been an act to trick the asshole still stupid enough to be in love with a woman who couldn’t give less of a shit about him.
A second later, Blake dropped the tattoo gun to her pale flesh, tracing the edge of the wing he intended to expand. He’d add enough feathers to cover the angel’s body, then go to work on the face, covering the ethereal features with wild strands of black hair. By the time he was finished, no one would recognize his tat and Erin’s as similar, let alone matching in every detail.
And when the resemblance was gone, he’d finally be free of this obsession that had haunted him his entire adult life.
“Stop,” she sobbed.
“Sorry, I can’t.” He clenched his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the guilt that whispered through his rage. Screw guilt. It wasn’t going to get this job done.
“Stop it. Stop!” The words started as a whisper but ended in a scream. Erin’s shout echoed off the walls of the bedroom, followed closely by the horrific sound of a woman crying.
No, she wasn’t simply crying. She was wailing like her heart was breaking, weeping so hard her shoulders shook as the sobs wracked her body, ensuring there was no way he could continue the tattoo. She was shaking too badly, but more importantly, she was obviously in serious emotional distress.
He might be angry with her, but he wasn’t a monster.
You’re not? So, you’ll strap a woman down, but not sit on her to force her to hold still.
What a fucking gentleman.
Shame swept through Blake’s body like a blast of cold air, shocking him to the core.
Jesus. What was he doing?
How could he have thought he’d really be able to go through with this against Erin’s will? It was madness. What’s more, it was cruel. No matter what Erin had done, no matter how she’d made him feel, he was supposed to be better than this. At least, that’s what he’d always told himself.
Now…he wasn’t so sure.
Right now, he was behaving more like every piece of shit foster father he’d ever had than he’d imagined possible. If he looked in the mirror right now, he knew he’d see darkness in his own eyes. Darkness he’d seen in the men who had beat him, the men who’d starved their own biological kids to pay for beer, the men who had hit their wives and terrorized their families. He’d once watched his first foster dad chain a seven-year-old girl in a doghouse for the night because she’d taken the change from the couch cushions to buy candy.
That night, as ten-year-old Blake had listened to his foster sister cry and beg for someone to come get her, he had vowed he would never hurt anyone the way he’d watched so many people be hurt. He’d sworn he would be the type of man who helped people, who made their lives better.
But now he was standing above a woman he’d forcibly bound to a bed, listening to her cry.
At that moment, something inside him snapped.
He had to stop this. Now.
Before he hurt Erin any more than he already had, and before he committed an act of violence that would haunt him forever.
CHAPTER TWO
Erin
“I’m sorry, Erin. Please, don’t cry.” Blake flipped off the tattoo machine and stripped his gloves off with two angry motions. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never should have started this fucking crazy shit.”
Erin felt him working to untie the ropes at her feet, but even knowing she was soon going to be free didn’t help stop the tears. If anything, it made them worse. She was crying so hard her entire body ached and her chest felt like it would implode at any second.
The sobs echoing through the room didn’t even sound like hers. She sounded like a wounded animal, a creature that had been caged for too long.
All the pain of the past three years, all the fear and anger and despair, hit like a physical blow. It was as if Blake’s tattoo needle had torn a hole in her heart and everything she’d held inside was spilling out all at once.
“Please, babe. Please, I’m sorry,” Blake whispered into her hair as he worked the key into the cuffs on her wrists. “I’m sorry.”
Erin wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, at least not all of it. His betrayal was the cherry on top of a shit sundae of hurt. She wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he’d stopped in time and she wasn’t as angry as she’d been before. She wanted to say it wasn’t the tattoo modification, but the lack of respect for her free will that had finally pushed her into a meltdown.
But she couldn’t stop crying long enough to say anything.
So she did the only other thing that felt right. As soon as her arms were free, she rolled onto her back and reached for him, holding both arms out like Abby did when she wanted to be picked up. She was still crying and could feel her nose beginning to leak, but for once she didn’t worry about what kind of face she was putting on for the man in her bed. She just needed Blake to know she cared about him, no matter how insane the past few hours had been. She just wanted him to hold her, to wrap her in his strong arms, and tell her everything was going to be okay, even if it was a lie.
“Erin.” All he said was her name, but she saw the shine in his eyes before he pulled her close, crushing her against his chest.
He loved her. He really did.
The thought made her sob harder, more tears pouring out to soak his sweater.
God, this was so fucked up. Blake was insanely fixated on their matching tattoos, thought she was a criminal, had kidnapped her—twice—and was clearly as in need of serious therapy as she was, but…he loved her. Blake loved her: maybe madly, but trul
y, deeply. She could feel it every time they touched, in the way being close to him made her chest ache, mourning the loveless years she’d wasted with a man who thought of her as just another decoration for his Bel Air mansion.
Erin snuggled closer to Blake’s chest, reveling in the foreign sensation of being home. The urge to cry slowly vanished in the wake of that warm, sheltered feeling, the feeling she always had when she was this close to Blake. He was the only man who had ever been able to turn her on and calm her down at the same time.
Even now, when he was the person she should be afraid of, his arms felt like the safest place in the world.
“I’m so sorry.” He kissed the top her head, the tension in his voice making it clear how grueling he’d found her crying jag. Poor Blake, he’d never been able to handle seeing a woman cry. “I’ve obviously lost my damned mind. I never wanted to hurt you, sweetness, I never—”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, not wanting to lift her face from his chest.
“No, it’s not okay,” he insisted. “But I’m going to make it okay. We’ll leave whenever you want. I’ll take you home or to the police or wherever you want me to take you. I’m just…so sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Erin said, hugging him closer. “This wasn’t all your fault, you know. That had been building up for a long time. I mean, I’ve done my share of crying the past three years, but nothing like that.”
Blake’s muscles relaxed a bit and one hand began to smooth idly up and down her bare back. “Your marriage was that bad, huh?”
He reached over to the side of the bed and plucked a Kleenex from the box. Erin took the tissue and did her best to mop up her face without moving too far from Blake. She needed to be close to him right now. It made her feel stronger for some reason.
“Yes, it was that bad.” She sighed, amazed that thinking of Scott no longer summoned the familiar rush of hurt and rage. It was as if she’d finally cried him out of her system.
