“I had a bad time in college. My boyfriend. He hurt me with a flogger. I didn’t like it, and the whole thing became really complicated. I hated it.”
“Hmm.” He kissed her temple, needing the contact. It wasn’t the lips, though she gasped as though the contact were far more intimate. “I don’t want to hurt you. He reminds me of a lazy sadist. It’s not my kink. And you’re not a masochist. He shouldn’t have done those things with you without trying it out first.”
“What is your kink then?” Her voice went raspy; she wasn’t uninterested.
“I think we’d have to learn each other to figure out exactly what we both enjoy. We could start out very vanilla. I have no problem with anything you want. Fantasizing about you naked has gotten me through some pretty heavy-duty study sessions. Ah, and she turns red.”
“I blush. I can’t help it.” She shook her head.
He kissed her other temple. “I wouldn’t want you to.”
“Go on. You were saying.”
Rose didn’t steer away from subjects, even if they frightened her. Another reason to admire her.
“Handcuffs, silk ties. Rope. Maybe a collar when we’re alone. As I said, we’d figure it out. You’d have a safe word. The only thing I need from you is trust. We’ve only known each other two months. Once a week for two months.” He tilted her chin up. “How about we start with this?”
He finally gave into the gnawing urge to take her mouth. Her breath was sweet, and the little mewing sound she made when he parted her lips thrilled him. For once in his life, there was no rush. All of the things he had waiting for him could do just that—wait.
Eli deepened the kiss, loving how she let him. Rose might have some trepidation brought on by an asshole who recklessly wielded a flogger. Still, she knew how to submit, naturally, and he was going to love showing her how much she loved it.
He pulled back from her. “Enough for today.”
“Really? Why?” Her eyes were glazed. It would be easy to take her, to make her his to bind her to him. He knew she belonged to him.
He wouldn’t do it, not yet. Rose deserved to be wooed, and although he was a man of few words, he’d give her the ones he could.
“Tell me something.” He stepped back to adjust his pants. His cock had gotten hard startlingly fast. He wasn’t sixteen years old. Patience continued to be his strongest quality. Shit, tonight would be a challenge.
“Ah…okay.” Her eyes were looking less glazed.
“Do you have science fiction posters up in your bedroom? If I take you in there, am I going to see Hans Solo staring down at me?”
She twirled a piece of her hair. “Maybe.”
“Hans specifically?”
“Maybe.” Rose grinned, and he traced her lip with the pad of his thumb. He wanted to remember her as she was forever.
“Anyone else? I mean, I need to know who I need to compete with for your affection.”
“Have you ever seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”
He couldn’t remember if he’d watched it, ever. Not that he remembered. “Vampires? Really?”
Holding back from taking her was hard, but talking to her? Nothing had ever been so easy or so right.
Now
Whoever shot at The Boy and The Rose turned out to be a pretty bad sniper. Plat looked up at the building across the street toward where the victim—shot across the street from where Kent lived—had been gunned down. The roof gave easy access, good vision, plenty of places to hide.
And yet, whoever started such a private war with him missed the intended target. A clean shot wouldn’t have broken off and hit the building next to it. At least not a mistake he made, which meant whoever this fucker was terrifying his people and killing old women wasn’t up to snuff.
Plat took out his phone and dialed Copper. Steele’s timeline notwithstanding, he needed some help before he lost his way.
She picked up on the first ring. “Platinum?”
“If I’m arrested, I’m going to need you to spring me out of jail.”
Silence met his statement. After several seconds, she spoke away from the phone. “Merc, Platinum thinks he’s going to jail.” He couldn’t hear the rest of their exchange, until she spoke to him again. “Where are you, and how much shit are you in?”
“I’m going to break into my old apartment. The one I lived in during the time after Phoenix and before we went Metal. It’s in New York City.’
“Feeling nostalgic? Just can’t stay away? What does your old life have to do with your kid?”
“Copper, some asshole with a sniper rifle has him. And…someone else too.” She’d either figure out what he meant by his words, or she wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to explain it on the phone. Copper wanted to hear about his love life about as much as he wanted to hear about hers, which amounted to none at all. “I have an old M40A5 hidden in there. It’s old, but it’ll do.” The team owned the newer versions thanks to Warbucks, only beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He’d chosen to handle his shit alone and flown commercial. TSA tended to frown over firearms getting on the plane.
“You’re going after the guy?”
“After I retrieve my rifle.”
“And since you’re not a burglar, you’re worried you’re about to be arrested doing it.”
Time to fess up about what he really needed. “I think I can manage to extract my hidden property. If I can’t, Copper, I need you to rescue my kid. He’s with a woman, and I’m going to text you the address. If I land in jail, there’s no time to waste. He’s only eight years old.”
“If you can’t save him, we will.”
“Thanks.” He’d known she’d say what she did, because it’s what he would have told any of his team if they’d asked. They were his—albeit dysfunctional—family, and they were why he still did what he did day in and day out. The Marines, and eventually his team, had taken a fucked up, barely ever sober, angry-at-the-world, twenty-two-year-old Timothy O’Connell, and made him a man.
“Don’t get dead.”
“Right.”
He hung up. Someone would be dying, only it wouldn’t be him.
Kill one man…terrorize a thousand. No one would be fucking with what belonged to him again.
Reconnaissance was always as much his job as point, shoot, and kill. For the current mission, he didn’t have time for due diligence, not when he needed to retrieve the equipment. If he’d learned anything from his time in the field, it was a bad sniper could be more of a danger than a good sniper. Whoever shot the bullet missed. Badly.
He’d thank his lucky stars he—or he supposed it could be a she—hadn’t made the shot. The victim’s family wouldn’t agree. He had to focus on his own people and see what he could do for the others later. The fact they’d tried in broad daylight on the street in New York City, and not been sure they could actually do it? Those actions spoke of stupidity or desperation.
In either case, he needed to get to Rose and Kent fast. Bypassing the front door didn’t prove any problem. He possessed his old key, and the building managers hadn’t bothered to change it.
Unfortunately, his luck ran out after that. The locks on his actual apartment door had been changed. He knocked and waited longer than needed to see if they answered. Plat pulled his hoodie up, a move he wished he’d made earlier. Elijah the medical student hadn’t garnered a lot of attention in the building, which was fine. Still, he didn’t want to draw anyone’s notice.
Picking locks wasn’t a skill they’d taught him in the Corps. His early days getting into trouble after his mother’s death paid this particular talent forward. A credit card and a twist of a screwdriver helped him disengage the lock.
Unlike Rose’s apartment, he didn’t really care how the current renters decorated. Four walls and a roof were all he required. Rose made her living space home, and although he’d gotten close during his time in New York, Plat wasn’t certain he’d ever really had a home.
His residences were always a place
to sleep, shower, study, and hide his rifle. Fortunately for him, the current tenants hadn’t noticed their closet’s false back wall. If only his luck could hold out a little bit longer.
4
She lay on the floor in front of the fire with Kent—asleep once more—on her left. What must it be like to be able to close her eyes and forget everything the way he seemed to be able to do?
They’d eaten the can of beans she’d found in the back of a cabinet. She’d let him have the majority of it. Her stomach was in knots anyway. How could she sleep when there was somebody with a gun looking for Kent and her?
Was she being ridiculous? What was the likelihood she’d been followed all the way up to New Paltz? She should run to the car and take Kent to the police station. Rose drummed her fingers on the ground. Okay, that was exactly what she would do. In the morning when he woke, they’d seek help. And hopefully, they wouldn’t charge her with kidnapping. Someone was bound to understand. Weren’t they?
The Sniper grew tired of waiting. It wasn’t the same as when her husband lived. Sitting in silence and waiting seemed much more pleasurable when he’d been with her. Her darling had been The Sniper and she his spotter. Since the fool calling himself Platinum murdered him, she needed to be The Sniper to avenge his death.
Rose Smith wasn’t making things easier. Why wouldn’t she come out? She must be hungry, cold, and terrified. Since The Sniper would never again be able to use her police costume and have Kent believe it, she needed to wait Rose out.
By morning, if Rose and the child hadn’t come out, The Sniper would go to them. Smoke encouraged exits. Setting the cabin ablaze would mean they had no choice except to run right into her line of fire.
Rose hadn’t meant to sleep. She certainly didn’t intend to rest so deeply she dreamed, yet she did, as if her mind needed to drop so completely out of the real world for her to be able to function.
The funny thing was, she knew she wasn’t awake, because seeing Elijah only happened in her unconscious.
Lying on the floor of her cabin, she saw him exactly as he looked two years earlier. The first time they’d been together, when she’d thought they might have a chance, when she’d been certain she fallen smack into almost-perfect boyfriend territory.
Two years earlier
She leaned against the door of her apartment. They had a great date. Or at least, she thought it was fun. Rose could never be sure whether Eli enjoyed himself or not. He said so little.
How many other straight men liked Broadway shows? He’d spent more of the show watching her than what was going on during Guys and Dolls on the stage.
Still, he’d bought tickets. Coupled with the dinner he’d taken her to the week before, she felt more and more he wasn’t some poor medical student living on student loans. It was rude to ask about money, so she wouldn’t. Elijah never talked about his past. Could she ask him how he’d come to be a med student at thirty-five years old?
If it weren’t for the complete lack of information, he’d be perfect. So, she wouldn’t complain. Who wanted perfection anyway? How boring.
“What are you thinking about?” He leaned forward, invading her personal space. He exuded warmth, and she’d love to roll around in the gravity of his heat. Should she invite him inside?
They needed to talk about the things he’d brought up the last time they were together. The topics which kept her up and squirming, sometimes wet and desperate for relief her own fingers couldn’t provide. Not when she craved his cock inside of her.
Sheesh. He was making her a sex addict, and they hadn’t done anything yet.
“Do you read minds?” He smelled clean, like soap, and maybe a touch of some kind of aftershave. It didn’t overwhelm her as some cologne did. In fact, it made her feel lightheaded in the best possible way. She didn’t remember brands of scents. This one she would think of as Eli’s smell for the rest of her life.
He shook his head. “If I did, I wouldn’t need to ask, would I?”
“Did you enjoy the show?”
His mouth twisted in an upward, sideways grin before he spoke. “That’s what you’re contemplating? Whether or not I enjoyed the show? Okay, you’re avoiding the question. I’ll play along. I enjoyed watching you like the show.”
“Why did you take me if you don’t want to watch musicals? Or did you simply not think tonight’s was any good?”
“You said you liked them.”
She had? “When did I tell you?”
“Second time we met on the bench.”
“Oh.” She’d forgotten she’d babbled on about Broadway. “You really listened.”
“To every word you say.”
Rose melted. Nothing he could have said in the world would have made her fall harder for him than the words he’d spoken. Every word she said.
“I’m nervous, Eli. What if I really don’t want any of the stuff you suggested?”
He bent over to whisper in her ear, “I know you, sweetheart.” She loved the way his warm breath made her shiver. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you about it. You make me forget the things I’ve learned. I lose all my good sense. Tell you what? Invite me in for the night. If you don’t like things between us, you’ll tell me to stop. We’ll figure out a safe word for you. And I’ll be totally vanilla. I don’t care about any of it as much as I want you, Rose.”
She fumbled with her keys using shaky hands. “Come in.”
“Thanks.” He took the keys from her hand and opened the door for her.
“I guess I’m—”
Whatever she would have said was immediately cut off. His mouth came down on hers, and not in the light gentle joining of new lovers’ kind of a way. No, when Eli kissed her, she held no doubt of what the rough conquering of her lips meant, he laid claim to her.
And she loved it.
“Eli,” she gasped when he let her breathe, and he nuzzled her neck. Her knees buckled, and he caught her.
“I think I’m a little worked up.”
“Good.”
He scooped her into his arms, and they were in her bedroom in no time. She still wore her coat, her shoes, and her purse swung over her body. Rose didn’t care at all. Her whole body buzzed.
As if he only then realized how clothed she remained, he dropped her bag onto the ground. A grin crossed his face. “Guess I’m a little bit excited.”
“Me, too.” And nervous, except she didn’t want to vocalize her concerns. He’d given her no reason not to trust his word. If she said no, she believed he’d back off whatever she didn’t enjoy. They could be together in the ways she was more accustomed to.
“Coat.” He stood, allowing her to strip. He did the same, and when she’d removed her coat, he took it from her and placed it on top of her desk chair with his own.
Eli had a way about him, a steadiness, which made her feel like he could handle anything thrown at him. Testing her theory, she tossed her scarf. He caught it in one hand, and she admired his bicep as he flexed.
“Rose,” he said her name, and her insides melted, “put your hands up on the headboard and hold onto it.”
It seemed simple enough. She could handle those instructions.
“Good girl.” He winked at her, and her heart stuttered. “Here’s how tonight is going to work. You should think of our evening as the negotiation round. Usually, you wouldn’t be gripping the headboard, except I want to look at you all spread out for me. You can let go if you feel you’re not in a position of power to have such a conversation.”
She wasn’t strapped down or tied up. Worst case scenario, she’d let go and send him on his way. He liked looking at her this way? Okay, for now, she’d remain where he directed her.
“I’m good here, I think.”
Elijah rubbed at his chin. He held the look of a satisfied man. It must be the glint in his eyes and the cocky upturn of his mouth.
She raised her eyebrows. “You like that I want to stay this way.”
“I do.”
“
I can tell.”
He smiled. “Honey, if you could feel how hard I am, there’d be no questions. Hard as a rock.”
“You’ve never been so chatty before. Talking about your erection makes you open up?”
He shrugged and walked toward her. “Guess the thought of getting you naked brings out the need to speak. Shall I continue?”
“By all means.” Rose never particularly longed to be naked. She didn’t love her nude form. Ten pounds too many made her hips too round, her breasts saggy, and her waist rounder than she’d want. Okay, maybe it was fifteen pounds. Only the way Eli looked at her didn’t make her feel flawed in any way.
By contrast, he looked at her as if she was the most desirable thing he’d ever seen.
“You need a safe word. For tonight, however, I’m going to suggest we keep it simple. I want to understand what you enjoy, what you don’t, and what you think you might desire, even if you’re not sure.”
“Sounds easy. I’ll tell you to stop if I don’t want it.”
“Perhaps. Only maybe one of the things you crave is to say no. To feel as if you’re being forced. It’s a kink.”
When her ex flogged her back, hard, there had never been a discussion akin to the talk they were having. He’d suggested she would enjoy it, and when she hadn’t protested, he’d gone for it. Hard.
Her crying and begging him to stop hadn’t made it cease either.
“I don’t think I have a kink.”
“Maybe not. I personally happen to think everyone has them, even if they’re small. Some people want to be spanked during sex or having their hair pulled. It’s all kink, albeit smaller than my own.”
The words he used should make her uncomfortable, only they didn’t. Eli never lost her eye contact. With his eyes holding hers, she’d answer anything he wanted to ask.
“I never thought of those things as being exactly…kink.”
He nodded. “I don’t know if most people do.”
The Men of Elite Metal: Platinum, Zinc, & Francium Page 4
