On a Knife's Edge (31 page)

“Who’s trying to become a licensed cannabis grower in
Nevada,” Dell grumbled.

Lynch shrugged. “If you can’t beat the system, game it.” He
slung his arm over Shasta’s shoulders with a toothy grin. “‘Sides, your sister
doesn’t think I’m so bad.”

Shasta elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ow, Shaly.”

“What did I say about being nice?” She met her brother’s
angry glower. “We’re, um, going to pick up Wyatt and Aiden and take them to
Tahoe for the afternoon. Wanna come? You could take a vacation day.”

Dell sat straighter. “Can’t. Emma and I still have some
reports to write.”

Shasta did a double take at Dell’s use of the agent’s first
name then bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She hadn’t noticed
how…close he sat to Emma. She cleared her throat. “See you later then.”

Dell scooted in tighter to Emma, reading the file she’d laid
out. “Yeah…later.”

Outside the conference room, Shasta turned to Lynch. “Why do
you have to antagonize Dell like that? You know he’s having a hard time with
us.”

Lynch grabbed his cut off her desk and headed toward the
entrance with her beside him. “If he’s having trouble with what happened in
there, how the hell is he gonna deal with us getting married?”

Shasta’s brain stuttered then stopped completely. As did her
feet.

After a few steps, he pivoted. “Something wrong?”

“You think we’re gonna get married?”

His forehead creased. “Well…yeah.”

“You never mentioned it.”

He crossed his arms, his expression suddenly guarded. “I’m
mentioning it now.”

Her insides tingled. “You seriously want to marry me?”

“Yes. Why so surprised?”

“I don’t know. Guess I never thought it’d ever happen.”

He dropped his arms. “But you want it to happen, right?”

His uncertainty warmed her heart. She placed her hands on
his chest and smiled. “More than anything. But you know we have to wait a
while.”

 He nodded. “Already figured on a spring wedding. May 17th.”

“May 17th?”

He cocked his head. “Don’t you remember? That’s the day we
met.”

Her smile grew. “I remember.”

“And my life hasn’t been the same since.”

She looped her hands around his neck. “Mine neither.”

He glanced behind her. “Your brother’s staring at us, and he
doesn’t look happy.”

She brushed her mouth to his. “Tough.”

“Thought you didn’t want to antagonize him.”

“Thought he had to get used to us.”

A grin played at Lynch’s lips. He drew her closer and kissed
her, hard. She speared her fingers through his hair as his sexy, musky scent
filled her senses. He angled his head, driving his tongue deep into her mouth.

A loud crash echoed.

“Shas-Ta!” Dell bellowed.

Giggling, she broke from Lynch, grabbed his hand then raced
out the door.

And toward their future.

A note from Lynda

Thank you for
purchasing
On a Knife’s Edge
. I hope you enjoyed reading about Shasta
and Lynch as much as I enjoyed writing about them. Please remember the three
Rs: Rate, Review, Recommend. I’d be grateful if you helped spread the word.

You can drop me
at line at
[email protected]
. Or
check out my website
www.lyndabailey.net
.

Happy Reading!

L.

About Lynda

I have no doubt I
was born a storyteller.

I remember
telling my first “story” in kindergarten. I informed my teacher, Mrs. Downing, that
my mom had just had a baby boy. She hadn’t, of course, and 0while I got
thoroughly admonished for my “storytelling,” I wasn’t deterred from what would
become a lifelong passion.

From making up
tales as a kid that centered around my favorite TV shows to today, I love
telling stories! Stories with handsome guys and spunky gals, that always…
always
end with a happily-ever-after.

My romances are
full of passion, with heat levels that range from hot to sizzling! I've been a
finalist in numerous writing contests, including RWA’s® prestigious Golden
Heart® in 2010. Please join me for laughter, love and that all important HEA.

Now please enjoy
the following excerpt from my BDSM romance,
Shattered Trust
available
here… https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MJPJRX0

Start of Chapter Five

ON
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
, Liam pulled the final load of lunchtime dishes from
the dishwasher when the creak of the door announced someone had entered the
kitchen.

“I need you to tap a new keg of Bud Light,” Kate said from
behind.

“No problem,” he replied over his shoulder—to no one as the
door swung closed. He sighed.

That’s how it had been between since Sunday. Kate would give
him an order then leave before he could respond. He didn’t fault her for acting
this way. She’d owned up to a ton of shit, a reality that had to be eating her
alive.

He dried his hands and headed out the swinging kitchen
doors. A part of him was grateful for the distance Kate put between them, but
another part zinged with hurt at her coldness, considering what they’d shared.
Well, what she’d shared.

Shit, St. James…
g
et it together. You don’t want
any of her drama
.

He needed to keep his head down, his mouth shut and do his
job, until he got his truck fixed. Once that happened, he’d be gone from
Trustworthy.

In the keg room, he disconnected the used line for the Bud
Light and placed the drained barrel off to the side then attached a new line to
the fresh cask. Finished, he grabbed the old keg and turned.

Kate stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. As usual.

The sight of her slender body jolted him, and he nearly
dropped the keg on his foot. “Hey…you surprised me.”

She didn’t look at him, but rather her gaze wandered the
space. “You never put things back.”

He shifted. “No, I was gonna wait until after we got the
next delivery.”

She stepped into the tiny room, and the room got even
tinier. “This setup is more logical, isn’t it? Having the domestic beers in
front does make it easier because they’re more popular, huh?”

He shrugged. “But the other way worked for a long time. I’ll
put it back if you want.”

“No. Keep it this way. It’s better.” A small smile whispered
over her lips. “In case you hadn’t noticed, change can be a hard thing for me.”

He tried to ignore how her modest smile snagged his
breathing. Another shrug. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Her gaze held his for a long heartbeat.

He looked away first. “I need to start the dinner prep.”

She blocked his exit. “I took your advice. I called a
counselor. Several in fact.”

He wanted to jockey around her, but with the keg in his
hands he couldn’t. Not without knocking her over. “That’s good.”

“I’ve got a problem, though. I don’t have insurance and they
all charge over a hundred dollars an hour. I can’t afford that.” She looked
down and scuffed her shoe along a floorboard. “So I was kinda hoping I
could…pay you.”

“Pay me to do what?”

She lifted her head, her lips pressed together.

Realization punched him in the solar plexus. “You mean pay
me instead of a counselor?”

Her shoulders boosted up a fraction. “Yes.”

The keg thudded to the floor. “But I’m
not
a
counselor.”

“But you know…things, right?”

Oh, he knew a great many things, none of which she was
prepared to learn. He perched a hip on the cask and rubbed the tightening
muscles in his neck. “You’re not serious.”

She upped her chin. “I
am
serious. And this was your
idea.”

Liam’s inner sadist perked up at her blatant defiance. He
shoved it down. Now was not the time to unleash his sinister side because she
didn’t mean
that
. She couldn’t. “My idea was for you to get professional
help. Not ask me to play therapist so you can lie on the couch and talk about
your problems.”

“Why not?”

Why not?

He stared at her. Was she honestly suggesting they talk? No
way did he want to
talk
to her. Spank and whip her—make her shout his
name…yes. On a couch, a bed. In the keg room right now…fuck yes. But talk? No
way in hell.

She was his boss for crissakes, and he wasn’t some
psychoanalyzing analyst. If anything went awry, the least that would happen is
he’d get fired—again. The worst, she’d end up more fucked up than she already
was. A possibility that had a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

The word “no” perched on his tongue, but refused to come
out.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to Kate. With
her shoulder-length hair so perfect for yanking and her pert ass so perfect for
spanking and her lips so perfect for sucking his cock, she possessed all the
physical attributes he enjoyed in a bottom.

But more than her desirability, she prodded the softer side
of his dominant personality. The part that wanted to ease the hurt he
inflicted. Yes, it was his nature to dominate in the bedroom, to taunt and
torture, but he also took immense pleasure in the aftercare. The assurance that
everything was all right—for everyone.

With startling clarity, Liam realized that’s what he wanted
to do with—and for—Kate. Comfort her. Show her a different kind of a Top-bottom
relationship. Demonstrate how wonderful and healthy such a bond could be.

He’d wanted that ever since her tormented utterance of her
safe word.

What the fuck?
Was he insane?

Kate’s pain and mistrust ran deep. Too deep to be remedied
by someone like him. She needed an honest-to-God therapist and not him. Because
he sure as shit didn’t want to “talk” with her.

So if he couldn’t say yes and he couldn’t say no, that left
getting her to change her mind about him…helping her. And the best way to do
that would be to explain to her exactly what his
help
would involve.

He abruptly stood. She flinched. He prowled toward her. She
backed away.

“You should know,” he said in the silky voice he used when
playing out a scene, “that I do most of my talking with my hands.”

A gasp puffed from her mouth. “What does that mean?”

“It means our…conversations will be physical. Not verbal.”

He pinned her to the wall, crowding her space, but not
touching her. Her warm scent filled his senses, and his dick with blood. “You
will submit to me.” He employed his best Dom voice, low and husky, with a hard
edge that tolerated no denial.

She angled her face away from his. “N…no. That’s not what
I’m paying you for.”

“You will pay me with your submission.” He tucked his index
finger under her chin and brought her gaze back to his. “Whenever, wherever and
however it pleases me.”

She closed her eyes and two twin teardrops leaked out. Her
jaw trembled so hard, her teeth clicked. His Dom fairly danced with glee as his
cock continued to swell.

She licked her lips, leaving a shiny path he longed to
follow. “What if I can’t…submit?”

He dropped his hand and took a big step back. “Then nothing.
We go back to the way things are right now.”

She huddled tight to the wall, her body shaking and her
breathing ragged. He worried she might hyperventilate again.

After a slow, silent count to twenty, and she still hadn’t
moved, Liam hoisted the empty keg and turned to leave.

“I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Her hushed words stumbled his feet to a halt.
Fuck.

“Can you fix me?”

He slammed his eyes shut. God
damn
it! He didn’t want
to look at her. He wanted to keep walking, out of the room and out of the
Bluebird. Permanently. But that wasn’t going to happen. He glanced over his
shoulder.

She still hugged the wall with her arms wound so tightly
around her middle it was a wonder she could draw a breath. Her wide-eyed gaze
snared him. Kept him rooted to the spot. She looked helpless, so fucking
helpless, yet determination etched her mouth. She might be scared, terrified
even, but she had grit. By God, she was beautiful.

He fortified his resolve. He wouldn’t allow himself to be
wooed by her enticing vulnerability or her quiet courage. This dangerous plan
needed to die—for both their sakes. He graced her with a sinful grin. “When I’m
done with you, you’ll be either fixed or broken completely.”

Her eyes ballooned as her mouth formed a perfect “o.”

Liam again pivoted toward the door. He had to get out of
there before succumbing to her magnetism and agreeing to anything she wanted.

“All right.”

Goddamn it…no!

He kept his gaze on the doorjamb, not daring to look at her.
“All right…what?”

She moved into his peripheral vision. “All right, I accept
your conditions.”

He briefly closed his eyes then gave her a hard stare. “You
need to be sure about this, Kate. Very sure.”

“I am.”

He shook his head. “You’re too emotional right now to be
sure of anything.” He shifted the keg in his hands. “We’ll talk later, once
you’ve thought long and hard about what you’re proposing. Then you can give me
your answer.”

Not waiting for a response, he walked out.