“You don’t get to make me come. That’s my fiancé’s role.”

“I’d read that you were engaged to Brad Thompson. I figured you’d fall in love with someone who had at least a shred of honor.”

“Since he didn’t lie to me to steal my innocence, then dump me flat the next day, I’d say he’s a huge step up from you.”

Logan tensed, fists clenching, muscles bunching, veins bulging. “When you’re with me, the man is irrelevant. His name does not cross your lips. That ring comes off your finger. Are we clear?”

It bothered him to see her wearing a symbol of Brad’s possession. She smiled and slowly peeled it off before placing it in her skirt pocket. “As long as you understand that you’re not to touch me sexually. I choose to give him my orgasms.”

And she would . . . if Brad could arouse her enough to have one.

His smug smile made her heart stutter. “You agreed to be trained. That means I’ll push you far beyond your comfort level so that you’ll become accustomed to acts that, right now, may be uncomfortable. We’ll see what your body says when I’ve got your legs spread and my tongue all over your clit. Again.”

Tara bit her lip to keep from sucking in an inflamed breath. His words flared heat between her legs as memories bombarded her. More moisture coated her panties. Damn it, why did her body react to him with anything other than disgust?

“No commentary?” he asked with an arched brow. “Good. Now where was I? Oh, for your disrespect in calling me a control freak, I’ll add another three smacks. How many is that so far?”

God, she wanted to spit in his face. “Fifteen.”

Logan smiled. “You’re going to have the most gorgeous rosy ass when I’m through with you, Cherry.”

Tara wished she had the luxury of telling him there was no way she was letting him touch her ass, but she needed to rid herself of Logan and get another Dom. Until then, she’d stick it out, no matter how difficult or distasteful.

“Your temper is brewing again. We’ll work on that. But first, I told you to present yourself, not merely pose.”

She froze as his meaning sank in. “You want me naked?”

“Yes. And watch your tone, or I’ll add more punishment.”

“Axel allowed me to train in my bra and panties so I’d be relaxed and comfortable for our lessons.”

Logan snorted. “In BUDs training for SEALs, the instructors deprive the trainees of all relaxation and comfort for hours on end to more closely simulate the stress and difficulty of real combat and covert situations. I subscribe to their theory that immersion training is most effective. What’s this called?” He pointed to the wooden X with dangling manacles. A something-or-other cross. Her terrible curiosity about what it would feel like to be bare as he secured her to one scared the hell out of her.

She willed herself to find the term, but with apprehension and unwanted lust clouding her brain, it didn’t happen in the long, silent minute.

“A St. Andrew’s Cross,” he said into her silence. “What kind of ring is this?” He pointed to the thick metal implement from which the manacles at the top and bottom of the cross dangled.

Tara went blank. “A metal ring?”

“It’s an O ring,” he supplied. “And you ‘learned’ this while in your bra and panties?”

Crap.

“We agreed to train in bathing suits or lingerie. Besides my being engaged, Robert—Agent York—is a coworker. We’ll have to work together after this is over, and we both wanted to avoid as much of the awkwardness as possible.”

“You and York are now undergoing separate training, so problem solved. And I’ve already seen it all, Cherry.”

“Thorpe is watching.”

“He’s likely not the only man who will see you naked before this mission is over. You’re going to last longer if you focus only on pleasing the Dom in front of you. When you’re ready to work, remove everything, fold it neatly at my feet, then resume your position. Hesitating will cost you another ten swats.”

Fury broiled her composure. God, what had she ever seen in him besides those shiver-worthy blue eyes?

Once upon a time, he’d seemed really, really genuine with her. In high school, they’d studied British literature classics, and she’d learned a lot about his heart. He’d debated Shakespeare’s star-crossed teen lovers, worried about Tiny Tim. He’d even wrung his hands waiting for Elizabeth Bennett to have her happily ever after with Mr. Darcy. And she’d delighted at his capacity to feel.

That boy was long gone, if he’d ever really existed.

Now, the bastard was doing everything possible to make her job hell. Tara pressed her lips together and wiped the mulish expression off her face. Think proving yourself on this mission, think Darcy.

“Now,” he barked. “That position you’re in is not only for you to show your obedience, but your willingness to accept your Dom in whatever way he wishes to have you. It’s also to tempt him by showing off your body. I can’t see what you’ve covered, Cherry. Strip.”

Her breath caught. Being naked again for Logan . . . The cold ball of dread settling in her gut warred with the hot ache brewing between her legs. Baring herself to him would make her frighteningly vulnerable, but submitting to his demand so they could get on with this farce was necessary. She swallowed down her nerves.

After a few swats of his hand on her ass, Tara vowed that Logan would be out of her life again—this time for good.

She stood and stepped out of her heels, sliding them aside, then removed her bracelet, earrings, and chunky silver necklace. She shrugged out of her suit coat and unbuttoned her rumpled eggshell blouse, closing her eyes to block out his presence.

“Look at me.”

His voice compelled her. Almost against her will, Tara complied. Logan stood mere inches away, watching intently as she stripped the blouse from her pale shoulders, revealing her nude lace bra. His eyes heated. His nostrils flared. Her heart pounded. The sheer fabric did nothing to hide her peaked nipples as she folded the silky shirt. A shuddering inhalation later, she unhooked her bra and let it drop to the floor. His fists tightened at his side.

He wanted her. A quick glance down the front of his leather pants proved that she was turning him on. Tara didn’t want to care that she got to him, but dangerous feminine thrill zipped through her.

Still, this was the first weakness he’d displayed. Maybe she could use it to her advantage.

Tara retrieved her bra, folded it, then set it on top of her blouse and coat. When she stood again, she infused her stare with a bit of challenge and come-hither. His whole body went taut.

“The rest,” he growled.

Heart racing, she shimmied out of her knee-length gray skirt, putting a bit of extra sway in her hips. She used it as camouflage, folding it very slowly to avoid losing her engagement ring—and to tease him by delaying the moment he’d see her tiny lace thong. Tara held her breath as she made the final fold, then set it on top of her bra.

She looked up at Logan. His heated gaze devoured her flushing face, swelling breasts, dampening sex. His severely short hair emphasized his high cheekbones, his hard jaw. He looked ready to eat her alive. A fresh jolt of desire pounded through her, as subtle as a sledgehammer.

When had Brad ever looked at her like that?

Shoving the thought aside, she hooked her thumbs on the sides of her ruffled panties. All she had to do was inflame Logan and let him spank her a little—after she revealed her body and let him touch her one last time.

She pulled the thong down.

HOLY shit.

As Cherry peeled those little panties down her feminine thighs, Logan nearly swallowed his tongue. She’d definitely grown from a girl to a woman. She’d put on twenty pounds since sixteen, all in her hips, ass, and breasts. Tara’s tiny waist and dainty shoulders offset all that lush, rounded perfection. And the best part? Fiery red hair dusted her puffy pink mound. She was so damn pretty everywhere. And he wanted his mouth on her so badly, he’d fucking beg.

Setting his jaw into a grim line, Logan tried to wrangle in this feeling. She hated him—and had every right to. Besides, she was all but married. The thought that an ass like Brad Thompson had her heart damn near brought him to his knees. Logan had known for a long time that he hadn’t gotten over Tara sexually, but had hoped the fixation stopped at his dick.

Now he knew he hadn’t been that lucky.

All the emotion he’d been trying to manufacture with Callie and countless other subs just so he could jack off? A pale comparison. Tara had barely gotten naked, and already he felt like sinking his cock into her and staying until, oh . . . next month. But he also wanted the right to cover her plump bow of a mouth with his own, put his arms around her, and tuck her beside him and . . . just be.

Impossible. Tara was on a dangerous mission. If he didn’t train her well, she was going to give herself away and die—unless he could talk her out of this suicide operation. Maybe, if she got a firsthand taste of how men capable of spending millions of dollars on “disposable pussy” would treat her, she’d bail. The Cherry he’d known had been fanciful, hadn’t possessed a violent thought, and had no capacity for subterfuge. Though she’d clearly improved her poker face since high school, he didn’t want her on this mission. She wasn’t stupid or incapable at all, but she couldn’t possibly have the frame of reference to understand the kind of scum she was up against.

The last thing Logan wanted to do was hurt her again, but he had to give her a clue.

As he stepped toward her, she looked braced for battle. Challenge sparkled in her pretty dark eyes. He stared. She was up to something. Whatever it was, he couldn’t let her win. He’d been a prick to her once to save her life. History was destined to fucking repeat itself.

His gaze brushed over her rosy, hard nipples as she folded her tiny little thong and set it on top of her clothes. Obediently, she dropped into position, on her knees, head down, palms up.

God damn, what he wouldn’t give for her submission to be real.

“Better, Cherry.”

He glanced across the room at the mat Callie had occupied earlier. The thought of putting Tara in that same spot curdled his gut. Ditto for the spanking bench. Logan didn’t want to do the usual with her. His eyes lit on the bed he’d never used. Xander had insisted on something cozier, and Logan hadn’t cared enough to refuse.

Perfect.

“On your feet.”

Tara hesitated, a moment’s surprise flashing across her delicate face, before she stood gracefully, eyes still downcast. She’d been doing her homework, and he applauded that. It also meant that it might take more than he’d planned to rattle her.

“Walk to the bed. Stand beside it and wait for me.”

Shoulders set with determination, she made her way across the room. Logan watched the sway of her hips, the roll of her prime ass. When she reached the foot of the bed, she turned to face him, her skin was flushed, her expression sultry. She was enjoying the knowledge that he wanted her. The thought of keeping her naked and aroused, her sweet cunt ready for him . . .

No, he had to prepare her for a mission or goad her into quitting.

Logan prowled toward her, then sat on the silk sheet. “Come closer.”

“Don’t I get a safe word first?”

Cherry was more interested in a safe word than beginning her training? She was definitely up to something. “How about . . . Romeo. If that word clears your lips, we’re done.”

She shot him a startled glance, then cleared her features. “Romeo. Okay.”

“Good. Lay yourself across my lap and present your ass for punishment. No coming.”

“What the—” Tara stopped herself and bit back her irritation.

“And no talking. If I was capable of selling you to a Colombian drug lord willing to pay five million dollars for the privilege of raping you, do you think I’d be letting you speak? Follow directions or suffer more punishment.”

Her body tensed as she lowered herself awkwardly over his thighs. Immediately, he knew Cherry had never done this. She wasn’t sure how to balance her weight, where to perch. That fact pleased him more than it should.

With a guiding hand on soft skin that only made him want to fuck her more, he helped her settle. “Count for me, Cherry. Lose track, and we start over.”

He needed to get on with scaring her half to death, but the sight of that pale, curvy ass spread across his thighs had Logan swallowing down a fireball of lust. Nothing was going to help his cock. It poked Tara, desperately seeking her heat. She kept trying to shift away, and instead rubbed herself all over it.

Logan stopped her with a hand at the small of her back. She’d stilled, but he could hear her heavy breathing as he caressed down until he palmed her sweet ass. He nearly groaned. God, he could sink his fingers, his teeth, his cock into that flesh and be one happy bastard.