Hot for His Hostage (12 page)

“Yeah.” He rendered his reply with soft understanding. “I do.”

“I want that tangle of souls. That awareness of every breath my Dom makes…and knowing
he’s aware of all mine.” She shook her head. “That sounds so stupid.”

“The fuck it does,” Shay snapped.

“Really?” When her inky lashes turned up and revealed the hope in her eyes, his chest
didn’t hurt anymore. For a long moment, he wasn’t sure he felt anything anymore. His
attention narrowed to nothing but her breaths.

“Yeah,” Shay murmured. “Really.” All too fast, ire bashed at his senses again. “I’m
going to regret asking this, but what
is
his favorite ‘naughty flavor’?”

She exhaled hard. “Not exactly sure, but it’s definitely someone who has a better
knowledge of blowjob techniques than me, as well as a deeper working knowledge of
using the
f
word in colorful sentences.”

Shay released a disgusted hiss through his teeth. Her talents in the verbal turn-on
department had been exceptional in
his
book, but that wasn’t the issue here. Bryce’s asshat-in-Dom’s-clothing act was. “So
he played the ‘flog her then fuck her’ card,” he muttered. “Should I even ask if he
bothered with aftercare?”

He almost regretted the outburst. Zoe squirmed a little before murmuring, “He took
me out afterward. It wasn’t bad. We snuggled a little before the game started.”

“The
game
?”

“Yeah. The Angels were playing the Yankees, and Trout was on a hot streak that week.
The bar had the game on, so—”

“Whoa.” He sat all the way up. “Let me get this straight…”

Her
‘
Dom’ took her to a dungeon, stripped her and used her, then took her to a bar afterward—so
they could catch the damn ball game?

He barely bit himself back from spewing it. Clearly, the woman had no idea that a
trip to “Wings ‘n’ Wins” was a shitty excuse for aftercare. “Never mind,” he said
instead, before pressing himself over her again.

Without pausing momentum, he sank all the way, taking her mouth under his once more.
She tasted so perfect, like spice and cream and sex, and it occurred to him in a daunting
rush that their time together was dwindling by the minute.

He only gave her a moment to catch her breath before taking another long, deep sample
of her lips. He only drew back when he’d coaxed out a moan that matched his own.

“I take it you’re not into the Angels and the Yankees?” she murmured.

Shay ran a thumb across her cheekbone. “I have an angel right here in my arms.”

Her face lit up with the smile he’d hoped to inspire. “Hallelujah,” she drawled.

Their laughs mingled before their mouths fused. Shay inhaled hard, breathed her in,
reveling in her willingness to part her legs when he skimmed his hand down, blatantly
seeking the heat at the center of her body.

“Ohhhh,” she cried as he found her pouting flesh, pressing his finger to her most
sensitive button. “Shane.
Yes
.”

He bit her upper lip with demanding pressure. “No. Use my other name, baby girl.”

“S-Sir.” Her compliance was immediate and raspy. “Ohhhhh…Sir…that’s—mmmm—really nice.”

“Yes.” He ran the edges of his teeth over her bottom lip, too. “Very nice.”

After a few seconds of letting him kiss her like that, she whispered, “Do—do you have
another condom?”

“Not a relevant question,” he countered.

“I don’t understand.”

“Didn’t ask you to. This moment is all about you. Your surrender. Your pleasure. Give
it to me, Zoe. I want it all…one more time.”

 She pulled in breath as if preparing to protest but when Shay shifted his hand, slipping
two fingers into her warm little cunt while keeping pressure on her clit with his
thumb, he won her over. After a stunning moan ripped up her throat, she lifted her
hips off the mattress. A wanton sigh tumbled off her lips. “
Sí
…
sí
…”

“Good girl,” he encouraged. “Arch up for me, beautiful. That’s it, Zoe. You’re so
perfect. So goddamn sexy.”

“
Ay Dios mio
! It’s so good…”

“Yeah,” he growled. “You’re right. Your cunt feels so good around my fingers. So sweet
for me. So ready to come for me. And that’s what you’re going to do, Zoe. You’re going
to let me fuck you with my fingers until you come for me again.”

Just a few minutes later, she climaxed with breathtaking passion, rocking her mound
against his touch in a shuddering mix of laughter and tears. Shay closed his eyes
for a long moment as her body constricted around his fingers, reliving how good it
felt when his dick was in the same position.

After her body went limp and she melted back to the mattress, she gazed up at him
with bottomless lagoon eyes. “That was…amazing.”

Shay kissed her forehead. “That, sweet lady, was proper aftercare.”

He began a sarcastic laugh, expecting hers to ensue, but should’ve known the woman
would take him by surprise without even trying. The press of her fingers on his jaw
tugged his stare down to her face, cast in angles of solemn softness. “I think I’ve
become a new fan of aftercare.”

“It’s not one of my favorite parts for nothing.”

That
did
inspire a giggle in her, filling the time it took Shay to pull the blankets over
both of them. He pulled her close, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder
and draping her arm over his chest.

“I do have one objection,” she murmured into their comfortable silence.

“Oh?”

“I think you’ve ruined me for sleep.”

“Sorry.” He brushed her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “But not really.”

She batted his chest. “Evil.” After a glance at the clock, she moaned. “
Mierda
. Five-thirty is going to hit like a hammer. But we all have to be on that flight.
The mayor is bringing a group of big-wigs to the show tomorrow night. If we’re not
on Sunset flight number four-oh-three, there
will
be hell to pay.”

Shay barely refrained from freezing his fingers on her skin. They sure as hell felt
like ice now—a horrific contrast with the fire clawing through his gut—and the words
of Wyst’s text, scorching back into his mind’s eye. The messages were still saved
on his phone, in his jacket, not more than a dozen feet away.

New hatch time. 8 AM tomorrow. Sunset Airlines #403 to Sin City. Papa Fox wants hens
as insurance now.

Fuck.

Zoe and her friends were going to end up being the “insurance” of Cameron’s new plan.

Unless Cameron could be stopped.

But if Shay did that, his cover would be severely compromised. He’d blow the sole
chance he had to rescue Mom. If Cameron didn’t kill him first, he’d be standing with
Dan Colton in an office somewhere, staring at files representing years’ worth of investigative
work by a dozen different agencies in twice as many countries—all blown to hell. And
Stock would likely be a ghost once more, disappeared to God knew where, as invisible
as a terrorist general in the caves of Afghanistan. And once again, just as dangerous.

Fuck
.

His rule about life was getting a giant shot of justification—fueled by the fact that
he’d just violated it in shit-righteous glory.

Caring was a luxury for those who wouldn’t jeopardize lives when they indulged it.

That included every speck of feeling he’d basked in for Zoe Margarita Madonna Chestain.

Which meant he had to get out of here. Now.

Zoe sat up, pulled the sheet against her chest, and peered at Shane. Make that
gawked
.

What the hell had just happened?

She rewound her brain, trying to click on the thing she’d said or done to flip the
man’s spigot from hot to cold in seconds.

“Shane?” She hastened to correct herself. “Uhhh, Sir?” Was she even supposed to call
him that anymore? He’d changed so fast, and now bolted from the bed so urgently, she
was seriously lost about decorum. “What’s wrong? What did I—”

“Everything’s fine.” But his tone, now forcing the cordiality, blared otherwise. “Everything’s
just fine.”

He tossed an equally feigned smile while yanking on his pants. His hair tumbled into
his eyes. He scraped it back with one hand, unwittingly taunting her with the perfect
flex of his bicep. Less than an hour ago, he’d been braced on those arms while meshing
his body with hers, gazing at her like he never wanted to leave. Now he couldn’t get
dressed fast enough.

She tucked the sheet closer while battling an idiotic wave of ire.
He doesn’t owe you anything. If anything, he
gave
you something. Two brain-bashing orgasms and one renewed hope of finding your submissive
side.

Either conclusion should’ve silenced her terse mutter, but didn’t. “I guess your idea
of ‘fine’ is much different than mine.”

The man had the grace to grimace. He paused with an arm jabbed in his shirt, leaning
down to kiss her on the mouth. “It’s late, baby girl. You said that yourself. You’re
dancing for the mayor tomorrow night. You need your sleep.”

At the risk of looking pathetic, she grabbed his collar and tugged. “And you’re the
Energizer Bunny, so you don’t?”

His eyes darkened in a mock glare. “Did you really just compare me to a rabbit?”

“Hmmm. A bunny, actually. A pink one that likes to beat on a big drum.”

“Well, I’m tempted to beat
something
.” He slipped a hand down to tug on one of her nipples. “Or some
one
.”

“Yes, please.”

Despite the seductive sigh she gave it, Shane slipped out of her reach. His posture
retightened as he turned and fastened his shirt. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

She had a feeling he didn’t say those words often. They ground out of him like his
last statement before heading to the gas chamber. Zoe leaned against the headboard
and studied him carefully. The man moved with such athletic grace, every action fluid
but practical. She’d bet the breast he just tweaked that he was a gifted dancer, too.

They weren’t the moves of a man who sat at a desk all day. Or even traveled the country
with his ass on planes, sipping martinis and making “business deals.”

What the hell was he really all about?

Nothing about his posture or his face, both newly stiff, gave her a clue. And Zoe
was
watching. More intently than she should. Watching Shay put his clothes back
on
had turned her stomach back into quicksand. He was like some CG creature from a fantasy
film, a half-god dipped in bronze then sent to Earth for the sole purpose of seducing
mortal women into his lair of sin…

Single ticket to the lair of sin, please. One-way? Perfect.

She yanked the sheet tighter around herself.
No.
Craving him again would only postpone the inevitable. She had to accept that the
dream-come-true of this night had come to an end.

“
Sí
,” she finally answered him, forcing strength to the tone and a matching tilt to her
jaw. “Perhaps it
is
best that you go.”

There. Done. That had to make it easier for him to shove out of here and get to the
fire he clearly had to put out.

So why the hell did his face contort as if she’d just jabbed his side with a lighted
torch?

“Zoe—”

“
Shane
.” She sliced her gaze up at him with as much severity as her tone. Like that did
her composure any good. The second her gaze hit his again, her lungs constricted all
over again from the torment in his eyes.

Torment? Seriously, chica?

She stood by the description. Either he really was leaving here to walk into a fire,
or the demons in his soul were nastier
cabróns
than she assumed. Since the latter was more likely, she reached for his hand again.

“It was wonderful, okay?” She curled the tips of their fingers together. “Every minute.
I mean it.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “It was. Thank you.”

She slipped her hand free. “I really am tired.”

“Yeah,” he repeated, lowering next to her again. He plumped the pillows and arranged
the blanket around her. “I understand.”

Zoe glanced away, swallowing against another influx of tears. When was the last time
someone had tucked
her
in? “
Gracias
,” she managed, forcing herself not to focus on his hands, so big and assured and
comforting.

And gone. Soon.

He continued for a few more seconds before raising a hand to her face, tracing the
arches of both her eyebrows. His own pushed into a tight
V
. “Why don’t you sleep in and just take a later flight? Planes leave for Vegas every
five minutes out of LAX.”

He was right about that. And there was genuine concern beneath his murmur, but she
heard something else, too. The verbal version of that damn agony from his eyes. It
made her long to yank him back down before somehow turning time back by an hour. It
was also why she had to squeeze her eyes shut and roll free from his tingle-inducing
fingers. “I’ll—I’ll be fine. I need to call Ry back, and he’ll likely keep me up the
rest of the night wanting a report card on you, anyway.”

That should’ve stressed him out enough to finally leave. If he insisted on getting
out of here—and for his own strange, haunted reasons, he did—then dragging this out
any longer wasn’t benefitting either of them.

There weren’t any ropes here—of any kind.

It was best to keep it that way.

But dammit, the man once more shocked the hell out of her. Instead of the tension
she anticipated from him, Burnett presented a picture of gorgeous confidence, beaming
a subtle smirk while leaning back and crossed his arms. “Report card? Is that so?
Well, then…where do I hit on the bell curve, Miss Chestain?” His tongue swept his
lower lip, slow and alluring. “I hope I brought enough apples for extra credit.”

Despite everything that screamed
uncomfortable
about this moment, Zoe giggled. “You blew the curve up before the apples made it
to the desk, Burnett, and you know it. Now kiss me and go to—wherever you need to
be going.” She pretended preoccupation with her cell as she finished that, but gasped
as he pulled the device from her hold. “What the hell? Shane? What’re you—”

She froze when she heard her name being yelled from the device—by Ryder.

“You did
not
,” she gasped. “Shane! Give me the—”

He easily held her back with one arm. “Good evening. Is this Ryder? Excellent. Name’s
Shane Burnett. How are you, man?” He glanced to her, sliding half a smile that threatened
to melt her so totally, his physical blockade wouldn’t be necessary. “No, no. She’s
fine. She’s right here. I’ll hand you over in a second. But she’s mentioned you two
having a little chit-chat, and that doing so might keep her up until dawn. As you
know, the woman has a high-profile performance tomorrow, and my concern is for her
health.” He paused, listened then nodded. “Glad you agree. I know you’ll do the right
thing and let her get some rest, so I don’t have to do anything like use the number
I’ve stored for her in my phone for a three a.m. emergency break-in on the call…or
even track down
your
number or anything. Thanks. Know I can count on you, man.”

Zoe’s jaw dropped. She managed to close it again as he handed the phone back over,
though her lips parted as he bent once more to settle a perfect, soft kiss on them.
When he pulled up, she shook her head, not even trying to hide her bewilderment.

“I don’t know whether to say thank you or fuck you.”

Shane gave her a little frown. Didn’t seem as if he had the answer, either. He only
kept his gaze on her, permeating and unwavering, fading the room—then the rest of
the world—behind its golden intensity. “If you did either, I’d probably be a lost
man again,” he whispered. “Or perhaps I’d be found…a scarier idea.”

Zoe swallowed. And longed to say so much. And couldn’t think of a damn thing to utter.
What the hell had he meant? Lost and found? Being afraid? Worst of all, why did he
snare the very center of her gut with every syllable, tying her more tightly to him,
when—

When he knew what he was going to do in the very next minute.

Without another word, he straightened, grabbed his jacket and left on steady, silent
steps.

In the ensuing silence, the air vent kicked on. Someone slammed a door up the hall.
A fire truck siren blared in the street below.

Zoe didn’t hear any of it.

Only the incessant thrum of her heartbeat made any sense.

The pounding grew louder in her brain and harder in her blood. It pulled her to her
feet like some primitive tribal guidance system, drawing her toward the door he’d
just closed with such quiet finality. She reached for the knob, a smile of hope brimming.
He was there, just on the other side. She could feel him…could almost hear his soft
grunt of deliberation as he wondered whether to knock again.

She’d handle the choice for him.

As a precaution, she looked through the peephole, just to be sure she didn’t catch
him leaning on the door and accidentally topple his balance.

The hall was empty.

Her heart sank to her stomach. She pushed a hand against the emptiness where it once
lay. Curled it into a shaking fist.

“Zo?
Zo
? You still there?”

She blinked. Ryder. How had he gotten here? She glanced down.
Mierda
, he was in the phone. The one still in her hand.

She lifted the receiver to her ear as Ry muttered something about refusing to listen
as she and Shane got their kink on again. “I’m here,” she snapped. “Don’t have a kitten,
dork. I’m here.”

And Shane’s not
.

There was a definitive silence from Ry’s end. At last, her friend gasped. “Oh. My.
God.”

“What?”

“He rocked your world, didn’t he?” One-person applause filled the line before a loud
clunk
. “Damn. Sorry. Got so excited, I dropped the phone. Maybe I’ll drop it again just
to prove the point. Hell, Zo. Tell me everything. Don’t stop until you get to the
part where he ordered me to make sure you sleep tonight. But do it fast before he
emergency jams our asses.”

Zoe sighed. Then again. Words collided, clamoring to get out, along with a part of
her that never had the chance to be a fifteen year-old, giggling over the phone to
a friend about an awesome date. She reached deep for that girl now, beseeching her
to come out and tell Ry everything about the most incredible night of her life—

With a man who didn’t want to play lost
or
found with her.

The tears came easily. She still fought to hold them back, which only turned them
into sobs.
Are you really going to do this, Zo? Because it’s weak and absurd and really pathetic
.

Ryder’s comforting tone worsened the ordeal. He only used it when he knew, through
the special sorcery of best friends, that she really needed it.

Shut up, Ry. Please, just shut up
.

“I have to go,” she finally blubbered. “I—I can’t do this.”

“Okay.” Damn him for not even hinting at a demand for explanation. “We’ll do ‘tinis
when you get back.” When she only filled the line with a slew of snot-filled snorts,
he pressed, “Hey, Zo?”

“What?” she finally snapped.

“It’s going to be okay, hot stuff.”

But after she managed a good-bye, she bowed her head and shook it, knowing otherwise.
“Okay” wasn’t the word someone used when fate had handed them fireworks so good the
explosions could likely be seen in space, only to let the show fizzle away without
a fight. “Okay” wasn’t what she’d be for a long while to come.

* * * * *

The conclusion clung to her like a damn fungus even as she boarded the plane for home
the next morning. Thank God her oversized sunglasses and fedora lent her privacy as
Brynn settled next to her.

Or not.

“Damn.” The woman giggled, even in the midst of her admitted hangover. “When did they
change ‘VIP’ to stand for ‘Very Incredible Pecs’?”

Zoe turned her head a little but didn’t take off the glasses. Her puffy eyes were
really scary. “What are you talking about?”

Brynn frowned. “Are those shades hiding your new blindness, missy? Please tell me
you didn’t miss the hunk buffet in the front seats.”

“I was busy making sure you didn’t trip down the aisle.”