Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (2 page)

“Am I supposed to trust what you say?”

“Yes, same as I trust that you didn’t cheat on me, doll. If
I’m wrong, I hope to God you got other men out of your system these last few
weeks.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I do
not
share. For months now, we’ve been dancing
and flirting with each other, taking one step forward, two steps back. Now that
you’ve come to me of your own volition, time’s up. You are mine. So fess up,
where you with someone else?”

“For the record, pretty boy, no one owns me. But there’s
been no one for a very long time,” she admitted, fearful he’d leave her hanging
yet intrigued by the possibility of being Taran’s woman.

“You misunderstand, doll. I don’t want to own you. I want to
love you.”

And that was why she should run far, far away. Were her
feelings for him only sexual, she could handle it, deny it or keep him at bay.
But over the course of several months, her crush had altered, revealing how
easily she could fall in love with Taran.

“You should devote your time to someone who wants you,” she
whispered.

“You want me,” he said, proving he’d heard her. “The only
thing stopping you from having me is the shower door, Samantha.”

“I didn’t come here for sex. I need your advice.”

“You’ve been MIA for three weeks. Even my brother, your
partner, was worried about you, and here you are coming to me. That’s a big
step. Take another. Open the door.”

“Please understand, I needed to find a way to deal with
having to take another’s life in the line of duty and decided to join a support
group that meets at Cassie and her mom’s safe haven. The group has been
invaluable to me, truly.”

Sam was proud that she’d helped Cassie Maddox find the new
location after environmental issues were discovered about the original
facility. The funding, a result of a telethon for victims of domestic abuse,
enabled several women and their children to reconnect with society, get good
jobs and an education.

“My sister-in-law Morgan used her psychic mojo to assure me
that you weren’t in any danger. That’s the only reason Ethan stayed so calm and
I didn’t ask Phalen to track you down and bring you home to me.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Taran. Having someone’s blood
on your hands is a terrible price to pay, but I’d pay it again to save Ethan’s
life.”

That was the honest-to-God truth. She’d come to view Ethan
as a brother, same as Phalen Maddox. Their wives, Cassie and Morgan, were her
friends. She’d been in their weddings, shared her innermost secrets and went
shopping with them.

As she thought of it, maybe they were more than friends.
Since the day she’d felled Phalen with a well-timed judo move, maybe the Maddox
clan had become family. Her own was small, simply herself and her mother
Gwendolyn.

“I’m glad you got the help you needed.”

“Then you understand that I needed some time to myself
lately?”

“Yes. I’d have liked to have been the one to help you, but
sometimes professional counseling is necessary. I respect you for that.”

“Yet you’re still upset with me.” Even though he looked
relaxed and comfortable with the conversation, she sensed he was irritated.

“There’s this marvelous invention. It’s called a phone.
Hell, you have several laptops and an iPad. You could have emailed or messaged
me and let me know you were safe.”

“You’re right. There was a lot going on, still is. That’s
why I’m here.”

“I’m curious. Did you tell your girlfriends what you were
doing?”

“No, I kept it to myself until I was ready to say something,”
she admitted.

“Very well, I appreciate the truth. Samantha, my family will
always be grateful for what you did to save Ethan. As much of a pain in the ass
as he can be, we love him.”

“Ethan’s the best partner I could ask for. He’d be there for
me if I ever needed it.”

“Better believe it,” Taran stated.

“Look, I called Ethan earlier and told him I needed to talk
to you privately. He gave me an extra set of keys to get in. I…um…sorry, you
must be getting cold. I’ll go,” she said, starting to back up only to realize
she had to let go of the shower door handle in order to leave.

“Don’t go. Talk to me, tell me what you need,” Taran
insisted. Unable to look away from his intense gray eyes, she couldn’t escape
the sexual innuendo in what he’d said.

“I need a lawyer,” she confessed nervously.

“You’ve got one.”

Cocking her head a little to the left, she eyed him
curiously. “Thank you. What are your fees? I need to know what to expect going
forward.”

“I don’t charge family, but we’re not talking about legalities
until you open the door. If you do, I’ll behave, cross my heart.”

Crossing his heart with his index finger, he touched the
tattooed letters of his mom’s name, Abigael, and his dad’s, Declan. He wasn’t
the kind of man to make promises lightly and the fact that he gestured to his
deceased parents touched the part of her heart she’d tried to keep buried.

“Samantha, there’s nowhere safer for you than with me.”
Taran’s voice, a deep baritone with a rich Boston accent that tended to turn Rs
into Hs, seemed to wrap around her, holding her in place. “Give the door a tug.
It’ll open and I’ll take on the bad guys for you.”

Wanting to prove that she wasn’t a nervous nelly, Sam pulled
on the handle and the door opened without a bit of trouble. Taran left the
shower, heading right at her, compelling her to tread backward to avoid being
crushed.

“I’m proud of you.” His praise caught her by surprise,
causing her to halt. She’d pleased him. Insanely enough, she wanted to do that
again. “Can you reach that towel for me, baby doll?”

Wow, he was tall! She was six foot in her stocking feet.
Taran dwarfed her by a good seven inches. He was broad, male, beautiful and so
young. His five o’clock shadow gave a devilish appearance to his angelic
features.

“Samantha.”

“Yes?”

“My towel, it’s behind you, on the hook,” he told her,
gesturing and drawing her attention to the word “justice” inked into his left
shoulder in intricate Celtic scroll. “One of us is at a distinct disadvantage,
don’t you think?”

Sam didn’t doubt which of them was at a disadvantage. She
was. He was absolutely comfortable naked and damp…and she was tempted to lick
the water droplets off his delectable-looking skin. Still dazed, she looked
where he’d pointed and saw a big bath towel, grabbing it.

“Here you go, pretty boy,” she said, though her voice wasn’t
nearly as steady as she wanted it to be.

Taran grinned as if she’d passed some kind of test. “Do you
think you could help dry me off before putting the towel around my waist?”

Battling both nervousness and arousal, Sam moved closer. She
didn’t have to do this. She wanted to help him.

“I thought alpha lawyers could handle drying themselves
off,” she said, toweling him dry as if she’d done it a thousand times.

“I’m more than an alpha, doll, that’s why you’ve been skirting
just out of my reach so long. Besides, it’s much more fun if you help me. Don’t
you agree?”

“Sure, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to touch
you like this? You are ripped, Maddox, no doubt about it. Your ink is
incredible.”

“Thanks. I have room for more ink, if you ever want to add
your name somewhere.”

“We’ll see.”

Caught up in the chance to touch him through the softened
terrycloth, she concentrated on her task. She didn’t dare try to stroke his
bare skin with her hand. If she did, she’d melt right to the floor.

Her tummy flip-flopped, her heartbeat slamming in her chest.
Fight or flight, stay or go. She stayed, relishing the frisson of awareness
dancing up and down her spine. Goose bumps formed on her skin, though she told
herself it was the chill of handling a damp towel.

Stepping back two paces, she tried to avoid looking directly
at his groin, yet she was very aware of his big cock. As far as she could tell,
he was circumcised. Unbidden, curiosity took hold of her, compelling her to
sneak a peek.

Just one look wouldn’t hurt.
Massive
, merciful
heavens, he was massive.

“Careful, you keep staring at my cock as you are I’m going
to give it to you.”

Telling herself she wasn’t drooling, she quickly secured the
towel around his waist He was way bigger than any man she’d known. She wasn’t
even sure she could physically accommodate him.

“You can,” he said, as if he knew the direction of her
thoughts. “We’re going to be really good together, Samantha.”

“You can’t know that. We’ve never even kissed. Almost, but
we didn’t.”

“I know because you’re meant to be mine.”

“Taran, you want things from me that I can’t give you.”

“What things?”

“You’re a Dom. You want me to submit to you.”

Curiously, once she’d come to understand the nuances with
help from Morgan and Cassie, and even Alex Grant and Ryan Hathaway, she’d come
to understand certain aspects of the lifestyle had an appeal, one she’d begun
exploring and researching over the last few weeks.

“Yes I am. And you will submit to me,” he stated with such
confidence she trembled.

“What makes you so certain of that, Taran Maddox?”

“The way your eyes widened when you realized you’d done
something that pleased me. The way you flush prettily when you’re trying to
figure out if you should look up at me or wait for permission. It’s okay to be
submissive, doll. But you’re more than that, I suspect.”

“Now that you’re all covered up, can we talk?” she asked
him, trying to change the subject.

“Only if you let me hold you for a little while,” he
countered, catching her belt loops and jerking her nearly off her feet.

The next thing she knew, she was drawn right into Taran’s
broad, muscled chest, his arms were around her and her head was tucked into the
cozy crook of his shoulder. It was so nice to be held, she didn’t fight it, she
gave in and held him right back.

“Please don’t run away again, Samantha. I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, Taran,” she confessed. “I’m sorry, I’ve
just been too afraid to take a chance on you. I’m still afraid.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. I’ve got you and
I’m not letting go.”

“Don’t be nice, I’m like an onion. You’d be better off if
you never come near me again.”

Taran’s arms were blessedly strong, yet he used no coercion
other than the warmth of a long-needed hug. Gently, he shifted, kissing the top
of her head.

“An onion?” he asked against her hair, brushing his lips
back and forth.

“Complicated, you know, you have to peel back the layers, as
in Shrek?”

“I’ve seen the movie.”

Sam sighed and snuggled deeper. His body heat was through the
roof. On a cold late-winter evening in New England, he’d certainly keep her
warm. Would he mind if she wore socks or warm PJs to bed?

“You won’t need to wear anything. I’ll keep you warm.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Uh-huh, it’s okay. I’m still stuck on the onion thing.”

“You hate onions!” she groused against his shoulder, drawing
in another deep breath and loving the woodsy scent of his skin and still-damp
dark hair.

“You know this how?”

“I’ve never seen you order onion rings at Cassie’s diner.”
Cassie’s diner in Salem was a combination of diner comfort foods and a used
bookstore. The food, the coffee, the customers were all great. “They are the
bomb! You remove any hint of onions from cheeseburgers and I heard you tell her
not to put them in pot roast.”

“It’s true. I’m a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”

“Don’t you see? Onions are layered, complicated and they
make people cry. I don’t want to make you cry, Taran.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a Maddox,” he said,
loosening his hold enough to run his hands up and down her back. “We don’t
abandon our women when they need us the most.”

Skillfully, his hands skimmed down to the upper swell of her
ass then up along her spine, under her thick leather jacket and tee shirt. His
fingertips and palms were calloused, the sensation of his caresses thrilling,
intoxicating.

“I’m not your woman, Taran.”

“You are. Do me a favor?” he requested, drawing back so she
could look up into his face. He withdrew his left hand from beneath her shirt
and touched her cheek.

“I’ll try.”

“If you’re going to compare yourself to food, choose my
favorite dessert. Like you, it’s layered, complicated and delicious.”

“Are you comparing me to chocolate cake?” She’d seen him
order it at Book Haven Diner many times. He nodded, smiling softly even as he
trailed his fingertips to the tip of her chin, bringing her closer.

“Double chocolate cake with fudge icing,” he answered,
lowering his head until his mouth hovered right over hers. His breath was
cinnamon fresh from toothpaste.

“Aren’t you worried it would give you a toothache?”

“Chocolate cake is my comfort food. Add in a big scoop of
French vanilla ice cream, I’m a happy man.”

“Somewhere in that description is a compliment.”

“It’s intended as one. You mentioned being complicated. Try
deciphering tort law if you want to talk about complicated or opening up my own
law office here at Maddox Ink once I realized my old firm was giving me the
bottom-of-the-barrel cases. I can handle anything you dish out.”

“If I told you I have a juvenile record as a hacker would it
make you give up on me?”

“No, that’s in your past. You’re a detective who refuses to
give up on finding missing persons, often children, and closing cold cases. I
respect your commitment to justice.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Good, then it’d be appreciated if you’d stop thinking I’m
going to ditch you for any reason.”