He grinned because there was no fucking way. “Wanna bet?”
Charlie shook her head and ducked in again. “No. I would lose.”
Simon brought his hand to Chelsea’s chin, forcing her to look up at his face, but there was a stubborn set to her eyes.
“No, Chels, come on. Soften up,” Charlie was saying.
“Nah, she’s about to commit assault and brattery on him. We should call Derek back,” Ian said.
Charlie made a vomiting sound. “That’s awful.”
It was. He was full of bad puns, but they almost never came out.
If he were sitting here with Grace or Eve, they would have already pointed out how rude it was to intrude on Simon and Chelsea’s conversation by listening in. Avery would already have begged him to intervene because her tender heart couldn’t stand conflict. Serena would be taking notes. Only Charlie was in the moment with him. Only she understood that the dramas playing out around them might not be meant for their entertainment, but damn they were fun to watch. Other subs would just sit quietly and would likely have laughed at his terrible joke, never calling him on his bad sense of humor. Not Charlie.
Why did the one woman he was comfortable with have to turn out to be the enemy?
“Maybe I have a few demands of my own,” Simon said.
Chelsea’s shoulders squared. “Fine. I’m willing to listen.”
“I’ll use the deerskin flogger. I have a very nice one I’ve been wanting to break in. Thud not sting, though I think you might like a little sting if you tried it. You will be naked and tied down.”
“She won’t do it,” Charlie whispered. “She was tied down when she had her legs broken. She can’t stand it.”
“All the more reason for her to face it with someone she trusts,” Ian replied. “I don’t think that’s going to be Simon.”
Chelsea’s jaw clenched, and she took a moment to reply. “Loose bindings, I keep my clothes.”
He looked down, and Charlie’s eyes had gone wide. Looked like Chelsea had a thing for Simon.
The Brit ran his fingertips from her neck to the collar of the tank top Chelsea was wearing. “I’ll give on the bindings, but no clothes.”
Ah, the Brit wanted to see some skin.
“Why? Do you want to see the cripple naked?” Chelsea asked, her voice hard.
“Ouch.” Charlie flinched.
“Yeah, that will get her in serious trouble,” Ian allowed. Self-mockery was brutally unappealing. He would rather be around a plain woman who thought she was beautiful than a beautiful one who complained she was plain.
“No. I want to see you naked, and if you keep talking like that it’s not a flogging you’ll get, it’s a spanking, and I promise you it will sting.” Every word out of his mouth was clipped and angry.
A long moment passed where they seemed connected. Maybe he’d been wrong about Simon not being ready. The big Dom was looking down at the computer-geek cutie like he could eat her alive.
Chelsea, for her part, seemed determined to prove she didn’t need to breathe.
Finally, she took a step back and turned to Jesse. “How about you?”
Simon stepped into her line of sight. “No.”
“What do you mean no? He can’t speak for himself?”
“Not if he wants to live he won’t.”
Jesse wisely kept his mouth shut.
“So if I don’t do what you want, I don’t get a Dom?” Chelsea’s hands went to her hips.
Simon shook his head. “You don’t get him no matter what you do, love. He’s in training. If you want to get what you need, you’ll negotiate. I’m willing to give up one of my usual demands.”
“And I was willing to allow you to tie me down,” she shot back. “You have no idea how hard that would be for me.”
“Then I’ll make it easy on you. All you have to do is take off what little clothes you’re wearing and I’ll take care of you. No bindings. Everything else your way.”
Chelsea simply turned and started to walk away. Simon watched as she left.
“Damn it.” Charlie leaned back into him again. “Now she’ll be in pain. She has a couple of scars. Who around here doesn’t? I don’t get what problem she has with being naked.”
“Because you’re a dreadful exhibitionist.” Charlie didn’t mind walking around in her own gorgeous skin. It was one of the things that attracted him. “She’s more normal, you know.”
He looked behind him and Alex was taking Eve off the cross, his hands moving gently across her body, their deep connection a palpable thing. Because they loved and trusted each other. Because they were in this life together until the end.
He could stroke Charlie’s hair all he liked. He could sit here and play with her, but he would always be waiting for her to walk away again. He didn’t like the hollow feeling it left in his gut, but there was a part of Ian that had begun pushing him to take everything from this time they had. Once the shit with Nelson shook down, he would have to let her go. But for now he could take her. He could revel in her.
“I’ll ask Ryan to take care of Chelsea. He’s married. He won’t have any interest in seeing her naked.” Ian wasn’t sure why he was doing this. Typically, he would allow the sub to flounder until she properly asked for what she wanted. It was part of the process. But Charlie would be worried about her sister, and he needed her calm and collected for what he was about to do. Brighton would be watching. Despite the fact that Derek thought they were a new couple, he also had to know damn well that Ian wouldn’t scene publically with someone he didn’t trust.
Well, until tonight.
Derek walked up and sat back down, his face a mask of frustration. “I just got a call from one of my men. They found a dead body at the hotel across from your office. Seventh floor.”
That happened faster than he would have liked. “That’s terrible. You can’t even trust five-star hotels anymore.”
“Cut the shit, Ian. I know I’m not telling you anything new. The seventh floor sounds just about perfect for taking a shot at you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m keeping quiet for now. Give me something.”
He hated sharing. Sharing was for idiots, but right now sharing information would keep the woman on his lap from a likely waterboarding. Though she did look good wet…
Charlie wiggled in his lap, reminding him which part of his anatomy was actually in charge.
“We think the guy is Russian,” Ian offered. Sometimes offering up a little unimportant information could satisfy the authorities. “A man named Zhukov. He’s a known assassin. He’s professional, so you shouldn’t expect an unnecessary body count. The man in the hotel was unfortunate. He needed that specific room. I’ll try to stay off the street so he doesn’t do it again. I can send you a dossier on the fucker, if you like.”
“Why is he after you?” Brighton asked.
At least there was an easy answer for that. The key was not to outright lie. “I assume he’s being paid.”
Charlie let her head rest against his shoulder, but he could feel how tense she was. She understood the stakes, and he had no doubt that she would keep her mouth shut in this instance. She had a knack for self-preservation.
“By the man from the Fort Worth operation?” Brighton asked. “The rogue agent you’ve been pursuing?”
It was always better to let a person make their own assumptions. They tended to believe themselves, to feel smart for their deductions. “His name is Eli Nelson. He’s pissed at me for more than one reason. I cost him a very lucrative business deal a few months back. He knows damn well I won’t stop until I’ve crushed him.”
Not a lie in there. Just not the entire truth.
Brighton sat back, running a hand through his closely cropped hair. “I hate the spy shit. Give me a good clean murder any day of the week.”