Hot for His Hostage (5 page)

Stop. This is crazy.
The temptation they flirted with…all the ways she longed to define “advantage” and
“eternity”…they were ridiculous, dangerous fantasies. He was a stranger. A man possessing
only a name and some vague occupation.

And a stare that dissolved the hinges on some of the deepest doors in her soul.

She turned to the most dependable go-to in her wardrobe of emotional defenses. Dark
humor. “With one of my friends snoring in the front seat and the other drooling in
my lap?”

He considered that for half a moment before setting her hand free—in order to raise
his touch to her face. Alluring officially gained a new ambassador as he grazed his
knuckles along her arm during the trip. “I only require the use of these.” He caressed
the corner of her right eye. “And this.” He drifted his touch over her mouth.

Before she could think about containing it, a long sigh escaped.
Dios
. The man didn’t look beneath her neck let alone drift his touch there. So why were
her panties already drenched, taunting her with the liquid he’d just coaxed from her
most secret tunnel? Why did her heart thunder and her pulse careen?

“Miss Chestain?”

His prompt was murmur yet command, ordering her answer whether she was capable or
not. “Huh?”

“Look at me.” He curved his thumb beneath her chin and gently tugged up. Her gaze
was again filled with his face—only now, every shred of its boyish charm was gone.
The garish neon of the club lights, joined with the glow from the stoplight ahead,
turned him into the granite-hard Dominant she’d previously only guessed at. “And now,
I want you to answer me.”

She swallowed again. Flames and icicles fought for control of her limbs. She stiffened,
adjuring herself to resist him, but the power of his fingers on her face…it was the
beginning of her end. “Yes, Sir.”

What the hell
?

She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, fighting to lock him out. Battling to
forget the awful but beautiful tilt of his lips, as if her totally instinctual utterance
had partly “answered” him already.

No, no, no
! She could almost predict what he’d say next. What he’d command next. And how every
cell in her body wouldn’t give her rest until she answered him.

“How long have you known about your submissiveness, Zoe?”

Nail on the head
.

The catch in Zoe Chestain’s breathing, along with the gorgeous flair of her dark blue
eyes, blared the victory cry through Shay’s senses.

He’d taken a calculated risk on the question. While it was ridiculous to think of
his life being stable enough to keep a steady subbie, he’d become damn adept at picking
one out in a crowd, even in an airport bar. Zoe had given herself away from the start.
The way her gaze followed certain movements he made—then translated them into gorgeous
licks at her lips and eager quickenings of her breath—wrote the truth across her fascinating
face. Then that moment when she’d ducked her head with such sweet deference, all but
daring him to stride across the room and stroke her hair in praise…

Fuck yeah, that moment.

The clincher? Hearing those two perfect words, tumbling so naturally from her lips.
Yes, Sir.

Two words. Two seconds that awakened his spirit and consumed his cock.

He longed to hear her say more. Yearned to know more about her, especially the steps
she’d taken in the D/s lifestyle. Had they been huge strides or just curious explorations?
Had she even experienced Power Exchange before? If so, what had happened to make her
so shy about this side of herself? Had someone messed with her in the wrong way? Not
honored the gift of her trust? He couldn’t imagine a Dom with this woman at his feet
not wanting to drop to his knees beside her and thank God for the treasure of her.

He practically held his breath, waiting for her answer.

The cab jerked to a stop at the Hilton’s lobby doors.

Dammit.

He couldn’t help noticing Zoe’s big whoosh of breath. As he paid the driver, she actually
thanked the man and wished him a good night. Somebody was a little too happy to be
off the hook.

Enjoy the freedom now, tiny dancer. I’m not done with you yet.

He didn’t want to give his ego full credit for the promise, though his brain blared
a reminder.
Careful, assface. She’s already wise to the Army boy vibe. Your call-sign may be Ironman
but she’s peeling back the armor, getting to the flesh beneath. You really want this
to go that much further? To risk exposing who you really are
?

He turned the voice off to care for the more urgent pair of matters at hand. Brynn
needed to be roused, and Ellie somehow muscled from the car. As Shane handled things
with El, Zoe opened the front passenger door and went to work on waking her friend.

Her
chica
woke with a cute little start, releasing the same drunken tigress she’d been back
at the airport—only at a louder volume. “I got the eye of a tiger, a fighter, dancing
through the fii-ire—c’mon, Zo, sing with me, baby!—I am a champ-eee-on, and you’re
gonna hear me rooooar!”

Zoe gave her friend an indulgent smile as Brynn slumped against her. “You don’t want
me to go there, girlfriend; we both know it. Besides, you’ve got this handled.”

She threw a sardonic glance to Shay as the doorman let them in, and Brynn treated
everyone in the lobby bar to a miniature Katy Perry tribute while Zoe picked up the
room keys. Though Shay kept his attention fixed on Brynn’s antics, he continued his
unfaltering study of Zoe, including how she recommitted herself to the all-business
air while turning from the desk. Shit, did that mien say things—like her obvious consideration
of the options for now giving him a tactful good-bye. The challenge was Ellie. Brynn
was still in no position to help, and hauling one’s friend to the room on a bell cart
was only excusable during New Year’s Eve and Mardi Gras.

The woman’s dilemma intensified as men waved money at Brynn, shouting requests for
other tunes. As the damn fool girl grinned, ready to indulge them, Shay drilled a
steely glare at the bastards. Before they finished backing down, Zoe’s ambivalence
cracked. She grabbed her friend, nodded at Shay then led the way to the elevators.

Once they entered Brynn and Ellie’s room, Zoe pulled back the sheets on one bed so
Shay could slip El in fully clothed. On the other side of the room, Brynn attempted
to strip. The woman shucked her T-shirt without effort but the painted-on jeans weren’t
as cooperative. Still humming the Katy Perry anthem, she hopped around until stumbling
onto the bed and falling back asleep.

Zoe gaped at her friend, stunned into silence.

Shay snickered. Hell. He couldn’t help himself. She’d been so I-am-Woman-Hear-Me Roar
all night, making her awkward moment an enticing surprise.

He couldn’t help another laugh. Shrugged as if to apologize but let out another. Though
Zoe shot him a glare at first, one glance at her friend had her giggling, too. They
both laughed harder as Brynn rolled over, her jeans still locked around her knees,
her lips mumbling through the final bars of her song.

“I have ibuprofen in my purse,” she murmured. “Maybe I should get it?”

He mellowed his laugh to a smile. She seemed to always think three steps ahead of
everyone, and those thoughts were always full of kindness. “Good idea, mama bear.
Grab some water to go with it, and we’ll set it on the nightstand for them.” He nodded
toward Brynn. “I’ll handle the rest of this.”

He had to admit, he’d peeled more cooperative wrappers off taffy before. When Zoe
came back from the bathroom, he was still battling the denim around one of Brynn’s
ankles. When she was finally free, he gently tucked her under the covers before following
Zoe from the room.

Once they got to the hall, they both leaned against the wall, releasing relieved breaths.
He let a long moment pass, though it was total torture. All he wanted to do was pivot
around, press her between his body and the wall, and lean in for the kiss he’d been
craving since he met her. Now it was
his
turn at the clumsy shuffle.

“Wow.” He tried to laugh once more.

“What?” She glanced up, caught him staring, and returned to tracing the pattern on
the carpet with her ankle-booted toe.

“I haven’t felt this dorky since I was sixteen. For the record, that’s a long damn
time.”

She looked back at him for a pulse-grabbing second, flashing a sweet, captivating
grin. “Mr. Burnett, I’m pretty sure you and ‘dorky’ have never crossed paths.”

Though she tossed the statement out with plenty of sass, the essence of her submissiveness
flowed over him once more, this time with her voice as an added pleasure. The silk
of her softly-accented tone was an offering to him, a test run of her trust that danced
around the answer she never gave in the cab. He could see the progress wasn’t easy
for her, and was moved by her bravery. It stabbed to the core of everything he loved
about being a Dom. The first tendrils of her surrender…believing in his ability to
take her courage and transform it into more…

Holy fuck, did he want to try. They had a lot of hours until dawn.

Or maybe not.

She stopped the process at the gift of her words. Her stance remained rigid, her arms
tightly folded. Despite this wild, wonderful energy flowing between them, she scooted
away by a nervous step.

Shay didn’t let her get far. He leaned toward her with renewed resolve. Damn it, fate
didn’t simply plop a connection like this into any Dom’s lap, during any random airport
closure. There weren’t a lot of magical things in his life anymore, which probably
explained his obsession with
this
gift. He was determined to fight for it, at least a little.

He reached, gently cupping her elbow in his hand. When she didn’t resist, he slid
his fingers up the back of her arm. “Tell you what. I’ll confess about the dorky skeletons
in my closet if you spill about the submissive ones in yours.”

She squirmed before turning her head back up again—to gaze right back down the hall,
toward the elevators. “I…really should go back over to the terminal. Someone else
may decide to take a snooze on the bar, and—”

“And you’re not their mother.”

At least that compelled her scrutiny back up to him. The surprise in her eyes wasn’t
a shock, but he couldn’t stand the idea of her bolting from him either.
Not yet
. There were deeper layers to this woman…depths he was strangely, intensely curious
to explore.

Summoning his biggest
cojones
, he lifted both hands to bracket her shoulders.

“Mr. Burnett—”

“That’s not easy for you to hear, is it?”

“Easy or not, it’s just not accurate. I’m the dance lead on our show, which means
technically, I
am
their mother.”

He lowered his head, levelling the trajectory of their gazes as much as he could.
Dammit, he wanted to be sitting next to her right now, not looming over her. “Agreed,
though I suspect you’re a willing natural for the role, as well.” 

Her brows jumped. He’d either stunned her or insulted her. Perhaps both. “Willing?
Natural? Well, it certainly wasn’t what I expected when I accepted the job.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been taking care of people, in some way, shape, or form, since I was
eleven.”

“Then you must be good at it by now.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“And tired of it.”

“Haven’t been told
that
.”

“Really?” He was genuinely bewildered and didn’t hide it. That yanked her gaze back
to his, shadowed with curiosity of her own. Shay took advantage of the chance to scoop
a hand beneath her chin, maintaining the silent, potent lock of their eyes.

Fighting for their magic.

“Let the kids take care of themselves tonight, Mom.”

Conflict took over her face as if he’d asked her to blow up the hotel instead of trusting
her friends to behave like adults. It didn’t surprise him. They’d met a little less
than an hour ago but he already saw “letting go” was a back burner issue for the woman.
She’d been taking care of others for so long, it was how she took care of
herself
—to the point where she’d lost herself.

It made him a little furious. A hell of a lot more sad. She had no idea how stunning
she was, how she mesmerized him even as she stood there working her lips against each
other, turning them the color of crushed berries. For the twentieth time, Shay battled
the urge to ram her against the wall and show her exactly what it felt like to be
“taken care of.”

Focus on something innocuous
.

Not happening, either. Even her goddamn earlobes were delectable, begging him to dip
his head and taste them…

“Fine,” she quipped at last, cocking her head in defiance. “For argument’s sake, let’s
say I leave the kids alone and let them stumble back on their own. You going to stand
there and tell me there’s nothing in it for you, Burnett? That you don’t simply want
the chance to poke around for my ‘skeletons’ a little more,
señor
?”

Her intelligence, showcased with that mix of adorable and incisive, poured even more
juice into the elixir of his attraction to her. “Guilty.” He raised both hands. “You
got me. But your skeletons
are
damn appealing,
señorita
.”

“To a guy like you.”

He lowered his hands, letting a weighted moment go by. “Yeah. To a guy like me.” Their
gazes met once more, conveying a mutual understanding. From the way they’d both emphasized
“guy,” it was clear they meant
Dom
. “Who, if I’m not mistaken, might be very interesting to a woman like you.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken.” She pushed from the wall, letting him see the sadness
that sliced across her face. “I’m not a woman like that.” A little snort followed.
“Look, I’ve been…curious…in the past, okay? There was a time when I really craved
the Dominant/submissive thing. I had a boyfriend who even helped me try it all out,
and—”

“And what?” He hated the deep furrow that returned between her brows.

She shook her head before answering him in a whisper. “I suck at submissiveness, okay?”

It was all Shay could do not to laugh. “Zoe.” Fuck, how he had to fight at dulling
the chastisement in it to a gentle roar. “Beautiful, breathtaking Zoe. I find that
statement harder to believe than a cheap carny psychic.”

 “Sure. Because you know me so well.”

“Because I know
me
so well. And I know the parts of me that have definitely awakened to corresponding
things about you.”

Her snort turned scornful. “Keep them all in your pants, honey.”

He allowed her to break free from him, only thinking she needed some breathing space—until
she stunned him with a parade-perfect pivot and started stomping back down the hall.
“You really want that, baby girl?”

He didn’t raise his voice on the growl. As he’d hoped, it didn’t take long to take
effect, halting her cold in those little boots. Her sassy posture accentuated every
gorgeous curve of her legs and ass. It all looked even nicer when her spine stiffened.
His cock enthusiastically followed suit.

Damn. Their “relationship” wasn’t even at triple digits on its minute count but watching
his voice have that effect on her, then getting her gorgeous impudence in return,
only strengthened his impression about this connection they already shared.