Tied Up in Knots (Marshals 3)

“You have to know I’d protect him with my life.”

Both sets of dear sweet eyes welled up with tears at the same time. I figured Janet would, she was hormonal after all, but Aruna was a tough cookie.

“I’ve got this, all right?”

The final round of nodding and he gave both hands a final squeeze before turning to me.

“I knew you loved me,” I sighed.

“You’re such an ass.”

Not what I was expecting. “But you just said you—”

“Shut up.”

I turned to my friends.

“How dare you not let me know about Hartley,” Aruna admonished.

“That’s terrible to make us worry,” Janet joined in.

“I—”

“Thank God Ian is here,” Aruna said, smiling at him.

“Yes, thank goodness,” Janet agreed, also lavishing him with a huge smile.

I threw up my hands in defeat.

IAN CALLED Kage after we finished lunch, having gorged on deep-dish pizza—spinach for me and Aruna, sausage for Ian and Janet—and asked if there were uniformed patrolman in front of our house in Lincoln Park. I was surprised when Kage answered that there were FBI agents there actually because Hartley had “gotten lost” on their watch and they were taking it as a personal affront. If Hartley didn’t make a move on me in a few weeks, priorities would be reevaluated. But at the moment, that’s who was guarding our Greystone.

I knew Ian’s glare was supposed to be scary, was supposed to shame me into being careful, not taking any chances, and staying inside, but all it managed to do was make me hot. All that bristling, simmering anger furrowing his brows, darkening his eyes, and making him growl and snap needed an outlet, and I was ready to provide.

Once we got home at the end of the day, I followed Ian upstairs and shoved him down on the bed.

“No, I’m pissed at you,” he snarled, rolling over fast but not quite making it before I came down on top of him. “Get off me.”

“Oh, come on,” I entreated, kissing him softly, chastely, before sucking his bottom lip into my mouth. “You don’t want me?”

I wiggled on top of him, pressing my ass to the rise in his dress pants before I rubbed my groin over the washboard abs I could feel the bumps of through his shirt.

“What if Hartley shows up? What if he takes you again?”

“He’d never come for me in a million years,” I stated, absolutely certain I was right. I loved the feel of his thickening cock under me and him tightening his hands on my ass. “But I’ll come for you.”

“It’s not funny.”

“No,” I agreed, moving back and forth, writhing, needing him before we were invaded by some of my favorite people on the planet. “Not funny.”

“Stand up.”

I did as ordered, and he turned over like he was boneless, found the lube in the riot of blankets since we hadn’t made the bed that morning, and then sat up and got his belt open and shoved his briefs and pants to his ankles. He snapped open the cap, dribbled lube on the flared head of his cock, and then ordered me to get naked.

“Shouldn’t I leave my shirt and tie on in case someone shows up at the door?” I asked playfully, baiting him.

“No. I wanna see you,” he said. His voice was flat and hard and left no room for argument. “Do what I say. Take off your clothes and get in my lap.”

Oh… God.

It was like a switch had been flipped and I had a different man on my hands, one who wanted to claim what was his.

“Did you hear me?”

I huffed out a breath as pure liquid need washed through me.

“Miro?”

“Yes,” I rasped because Ian all possessive and dominant was enough to bring my cock to full, drooling attention in moments. I liked to be the one to hold him down and give directions, but it was a big fat turn-on to hear him issuing demands.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Moving quickly, I toed off my dark-brown Prada wingtips and then tore everything else off as fast as I could. Once I was stripped bare, I stood there a moment, taking in the decadent sight of him just sitting there, stroking his own length.

“I will take care of you, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“In every way.”

I couldn’t speak. My words deserted me in the face of his obvious need to protect and reassure himself that I was there and whole.

“Come here.”

I lunged at him, but he stopped me, slowed me with a gentle hand on my hip, and carefully guided me down into his lap so I was straddling his hips.

“Take me in.”

The words, his words, swept everything else from my mind. Gone was worry or fear, gone was Hartley and the military, babies and any other plans. There was only me sinking down over him, the slide and the burn, feeling every inch as he filled and stretched me, riding the wave of arousal as it crested and receded, loving his hands sliding over my back, up my sides and down, touching, smoothing, before he took my face in them and pulled me close for a kiss.