Lucy Monroe - Satisfaction Guaranteed

She was kneeling on the floor, perusing the titles on the bottom shelf of his bookcase.

It didn’t startle her to hear his voice so close. How could it? She’d developed some sort of sixth sense where he was concerned. She was supremely aware of his presence and knew when he came near without having to see, or even hear, him.

“I’m trying to be thorough.” The fact that they had not yet made it to the master bedroom might not be a coincidence, but she wasn’t about to admit that. “You’re the one who said this particular endeavor was so necessary.”

Strong, masculine fingers brushed her nape under the fall of her long hair. “Tell me what you’ve learned so far.”

“I already knew you were into extreme sports and I’ve seen more evidence of that. But I didn’t know you competed in the X-Games.” And he’d placed in two events. She’d shuddered thinking the risks he took to make that possible.

“Is that all?”

“No. You’re fascinated by history.” He had several books on the subject, but he also had some DVDs and subscribed to a magazine that frequently had articles on archeological digs. “You don’t watch a lot of television, but you do like to see movies in the theater.” She’d seen some stubs in the kitchen drawer. “You don’t make a habit of bringing women home to your apartment.” He had no extra toiletries on hand in the bathroom. “But I’m guessing various family members have come to stay more than once because the linens for the spare room smell fresh and you keep a full complement of them as well as the extra pillows necessary on hand.”

His apartment was bigger than hers, but storage space was always a premium and he had dedicated some of his to being ready for out of town guests.

“I’m impressed.” The whole time they’d been talking, his hand had been gently massaging her nape.

It felt good. Too good. She fought the urge to lean back into his touch. “We fly out early tomorrow afternoon for PDX.”

“I know. We’ll drive to the coast early the next morning, before the interview.”

“Maude told me you wanted us to stay in a hotel in Portland, but wouldn’t it make more sense for us to stay in a motel nearer Prescott’s home?”

“I don’t like the feel of that. He’s too in control in his own environment. We can’t be sure he doesn’t have flunkies at a local motel.”

“What difference does it make? We’re going in under cover.”

“I always stack the deck in my favor.” And he always won.

She wouldn’t argue with success like that. “You’re the boss.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Don’t let it go to your head. I was talking about the case.”

“So was I.” But the hand on her nape felt anything but businesslike. “It pleases me to know that you don’t question the chain of authority on this assignment.”

“You’re the agent in charge, not to mention the only agent with any experience, but I’m not an idiot.” She didn’t want him thinking she was going into this as some sort of brainless robot.

“I know that. I won’t treat you like one either.”

“No dictating without explaining yourself?”

“I’ll try not to.”

But he wasn’t making any promises. That didn’t surprise her. She’d have been more shocked if he had. The man was a natural leader and while he might respect her enough to explain himself and even sometimes seek her opinion, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would be that way in every instance. Which was fine with her…for the most part.

She was smart enough to know the difference between a situation when she needed to assert autonomy and one in which she should follow orders blindly. Though she wasn’t sure how good she was going to be at that particular endeavor. Blind obedience wasn’t something she had a lot of experience with, but she was willing to try. In a limited capacity.

“You ready to move onto my bedroom, baby?”

The air around them shimmered with tension that had nothing to do with the case. Or at least not directly. The master bedroom was the final room she needed to see. It was also the room where he slept. She found that thought unbearably evocative and she knew he did, too.

“Yes.”

He stood, his hand withdrawing from her neck. “All right then.”

Cupping her elbows, he lifted her to her feet and her backside brushed against his thighs and a titillating bulge on the way up. He did not move away when she was fully upright, but pulled her close, his harsh breathing further evidence that their closeness had not left him unaffected.

“This is damn hard, baby.”

“I can feel that it is.”

He laughed, the sound strained. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but it’ll do.”

“Yes, I think it will,” she mimicked his drawl.

He growled, one hand slipping from her elbow to rub across her tummy. She’d never considered her stomach an erogenous zone, but his touch was sending messages all over her body and they were very explicit. “Be careful, Sunshine. You’re playing with fire and I’ve a mind to burn you from the inside out.”

He was patently ready to do so-both physically and mentally-but she’d discovered something about halfway through her exploration of his home. She was enjoying stretching this game out. She’d never been so aroused, nor had she ever felt such a deep connection to her own feminine sensuality.

She stepped away from him with deliberate movements. “Show me your bedroom.”

“I’d rather show you my hard-on.”

“Later.”

His hand clamped onto her shoulder, his expression intense. “No more teasing. Do you mean that? You can only push a man so far, Beth.”

“But you’ve got more control than most, don’t you?”

His eyes darkened with anger-laced desire that turned her excitement up another notch. “I have a feeling we’re both going to find out just how far that control reaches.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Let’s get this over with,” he growled and nudged her toward the bedroom.

She laughed, the sound resonating through her and increasing her sense of female power. She liked this feeling. She liked it a lot. She wished she had her pink handcuffs with her, but she was willing to improvise.

His bed was huge. That was her first thought as she crossed the threshold, but her second was that this was where he had been last night during their hot phone call. On that bed. It had to be custom-made because she’d never seen one as big. A huge pair of horns graced the top of the thick headboard, a pair of black handcuffs hanging from the right horn and a black satin sleep mask hung from the left.

Everything inside her clenched at the sight and she had to remind herself to breathe.

Licking suddenly dry lips, she scanned the rest of the monster bed. A dark brown utrasuede duvet covered it and there was a massive pile of pillows ranging in color from dark chocolate to a golden tan stacked against the mahogany headboard.

A single, very solid-looking nightstand stood to the left of the bed and a saddle hung on the wall above it along with a rope. Other than that, there was no additional furniture or decoration in the room.

“What’s the saddle for?” she asked.

“I rode it when I won the statewide teen bucking bronc competition.”

“The rope?” she practically squeaked.

The man rode wild horses? Of course he did.

“Bullriding.”

“You won?”

“Yep. I’m an expert rider.”

“How good are you at being ridden?”

“You know the saying, save a horse…ride a cowboy.”

“But you aren’t a cowboy.”

“Once a cowboy, always a cowboy.”

“So, why did they nickname you Stud instead of Cowboy?”