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“I believe you,” she finally whispered, pushing a new level of trust into each word. “I do.”
“I know, ku’uipo.” His other hand rose, setting a comforting rhythm up and down the length of her spine. “But that’s not the important issue here.”
She stilled. Noticed he did the same. “You mean the one about figuring how we can just stop time right now?” If the technology existed, she would’ve seriously considered it. Here, surrounded by the heat of his body and the calm of his touch, she could float in surrender, be centered in herself.
He laughed quietly, a nearly imperceptible sound to the outside but a calming vibration in her ear. “No.” he lifted the end of the word in gentle reprimand. “The issue of you believing in yourself.”
Tracy huffed. “You’re kidding, right?”
His hands realigned, palming both her shoulders. “Kidding is for the playground.”
“Oh, gawd. And now you’re forbidden from any more unsupervised calls with Sol.”
He gripped her tighter. “And you’re forbidden from skirting the issue, kitten.”
She snapped her head up. Franz was ready, capturing her chin under an equally fast-moving hand. “Kitten?” she echoed in an incredulous bite.
The man only smoothly dipped his head and calmly arched a brow. Dammit. “You heard me,” he answered—with a voice growling to lower octaves. The gritty cadence to which he defaulted when they began leaving reality behind…for the world of their Dominant and submissive alter-egos.
There was just one problem with connecting Point A to Point B this time.
“I did hear you, John.” She wasn’t leaving any meaning to chance. “But this isn’t about just getting me to try a new ice cream or making me take swats for biting my nails.” Though for the record, she’d loved the pint of maple hickory, even topped with crumbled bacon, and was all but broken of the nail biting thing. “This is—”
“I know damn well what this is about.”
So much for him fielding her ire like a dragon with a kitten scratch. The dragon had stayed, all right—but the big lizard had been poked now, and wasn’t effing happy about it. Not one damn bit.
Tracy scooted back a little on the desk, taking the blotter with her but not daring to correct the mishap. Not daring to look away from him, period. When she first met Franzen, he was in stealth protector mode. During the flight from Vegas, he became a lethally focused warrior—then here, in their urban hideout, he’d peeled back the layers on the man beneath both…then the Dominant lover beneath that. She’d never lie; every phase made her fear him in strange new ways. But every time, she’d somehow known she only feared the fear, not the man.
Now she knew the truth.
None of that came close to fear.
None of that compared to the frantic pound of her heart as she watched the fire flare through his eyes—and knew she had to get off that desk.
Scrambling backwards on her butt wasn’t going to do it. She swiftly rolled, gaining a little more purchase on her stomach—
Until his hand came down on the small of her back, pinning her like a bear paw.
“John—”
His other hand came down on her ass, making her yelp despite the barrier of her new yoga pants. She was the same size as Rayna Hayes, which had made it possible for the woman to get out and purchase some fresh clothes for her.
“Try again, popoki.”
“Sir.”
No damn way was she admitting how easily it spilled out. The story right now, and she was sure as hell sticking to it, was that he was being an overbearing ass and she was going along with the game—but only until she maneuvered to a perfect angle for jamming her foot into his crotch. No way was she letting the jerk wad in on how his caveman act did something wholly hot and new to her blood…or how the knowledge that he had her trapped here, at least for now, already made her senses spin toward the blissful mist to which he always led…
“Sir.” She repeated it with gritted sweetness. “If you’ll let me up, we can talk about this like rational—ahh!”
Two more swats on her bottom, hard ones, were followed by the gentle but sure pressure of his fingers, stroking in wide arcs, redistributing the stings into brilliant heat. A gasp escaped, high and uncontrollable, as waves of warmth suffused her thighs and lower belly…and yes, all the way into her awakening, throbbing core…
“I’m rational, madame.” He kept rubbing as he shifted, kicking out her knees so he could step between them. “And we will discuss this issue, here and now. Keep your hands there. That’s perfect.”
“Shit.” Tracy fumed. She had to go and entertain the notion of gripping the lip of the desk, both hands over her head, thinking to push off into a new resistance at his iron hold. Or so she told herself. Kind of. Part of her, a huge part, still didn’t believe he was initiating this, here and now. It wasn’t the desk—the man’s stare alone wielded a magical force, capable of turning any piece of furniture into a possible support set for their sexual magic—but his approach was an entirely different issue. He meant business. Real business. Their torrid chemistry had a distinctive new ingredient. Her real life. Nothing should have murdered her arousal faster—but as he spread his hand against her hip with the force of arrogant ownership, her body answered at once with a gush of new arousal. Then another, as he did the same to the other hip.
It was just the preface to what happened when he shoved her pants down.
