Ignited Read online

"Me, too. It's nice to have an excuse to end my workout early."

  I started to stand, then sat back down again. "Listen, there's one other thing. I think I may have said something I wasn't supposed to."

  "Oh. What?"

  "I told Cole I knew about the Firehouse. And then afterward, I realized that you might not have wanted me to say. I mean, he'll have to figure I heard it from you, right?"

  "Probably, but don't worry about it. I doubt he's going to take out an ad in the Tribune announcing that he's a member there, but it's not a state secret."

  "Good. I was worried I'd broken a confidence."

  "Did he take you there?"

  I shook my head. "No. But--" I cut myself off.

  "What?"

  "Can I ask a personal question?" I began, then continued when she nodded. "Is it your thing? What goes on there, I mean."

  "Let's just say that Tyler opened the world to me in more ways than one. He pushes my boundaries, and I need that. Plus, I like it," she added with a very wicked smile.

  I thought about that, then gathered my courage. "I want Cole to take me, but I don't know if he ever will."

  "I don't know a lot about Cole, so I may be wrong. But Tyler never really spent time there. It was more of an aside for him, you know? Like one more thing in the toy box."

  "But with Cole?"

  "Whatever he gets there, he needs it. Maybe he's afraid you can't handle it."

  I knew that what she said was true. But I was hoping that maybe--just maybe--Cole was starting to learn that I could handle more than he believed.

  "I should get out of your hair," I said.

  "I won't beg you to stay if you have stuff to do, but I'm getting light-headed. Why don't we go down to the bar and have some appetizers? Maybe even some sort of fruity, sugary, bad-for-you cocktail to really celebrate your upcoming closing in style."

  "Can I ask you about the Firehouse?"

  "Can I ask you about growing up in the grift?"

  And since that seemed like a fair trade-off to both of us, we agreed. Sloane changed quickly into jeans, and we headed out.

  We were randomly chatting about all sorts of things when we arrived at the Coq d'Or. The wedding, my house, general plans to spend a day at the beach. But all talk stopped the moment we stepped through the door and saw all three of the knights sitting right there at the bar, just as pretty as you please, as if Cole and Evan hadn't caused me a shitload of grief--not to mention completely pissing me off.

  "I don't fucking believe it," I murmured, my voice low.

  I stalked across the room, then grabbed Cole's glass. He looked up at me, his expression at first confused and then conciliatory.

  "Kat," he began, but I didn't let him finish.

  Instead, I tossed the drink in his face, drenching his face and his shirt in the bar's finest whiskey.

  fifteen

  "And that's our cue to leave," Sloane said, taking Evan and Tyler each by the arm.

  "You guys stay," Cole growled as he mopped his face with a cocktail napkin and grabbed my arm with his free hand. "We're going."

  I jerked free as he steered me toward the exit, then came to a dead stop right outside the door. "Goddammit, Cole, what the hell? You promised you'd tell me the plan. And then you up and move my dad without even contacting me? Do you have any idea how livid I am?"

  Around us, the after-work crowd was moving into and out of the bar, all of them shooting us wary glances as they passed by.

  "Shit," he said, taking my arm again. And this time, when I tried to pull free, he held fast.

  The ladies' room was just down the hall, and he slammed the door open, then practically tossed me inside.

  "What the--" I began, then snapped my mouth shut when he followed me in.

  A twenty-something woman who looked like she was fresh out of college gaped at him, then edged carefully around us to escape.

  "In," he said, stalking toward me so that I had no choice but to either back the rest of the way into the ornate restroom or get run over by him.

  I entered.

  The restroom at The Drake is as elegant as they come, with a long marble counter with multiple seats to give the women plenty of space to take care of both primping and gossiping. But what really makes it exceptional is that every stall is fully decked out as a little room, complete with toilet, vanity, mirror, sink, and even a little upholstered stool to sit on. Moreover, the door is floor to ceiling, giving a woman complete privacy.

  Cole pushed open the door to the first vacant stall, then dragged me inside.

  "Are you crazy?" I whispered as he locked the door behind us.

  He didn't answer the question. Instead he grabbed me by the waist, picked me up, and sat me on the vanity. I gasped, for the first time truly realizing just how much he had on me in terms of weight, size, and strength.

  "Dammit, Cole," I said, but I'd deflated a little bit.

  He shoved my knees apart and stepped between them so that he was pressed up against the vanity and right in my personal space.

  "You threw a drink on me," he said, his voice so low and so firm that I knew he was fighting to control his temper.

  "You deserved it."

  "Why did you come to me about your dad?"

  "You know why," I snapped. "Because I thought you could help."

  "And just what the goddamn hell do you think it is that I'm doing?"

  "You can't just muscle in and--"

  "All or nothing, Catalina," he said.

  "Bullshit. He's my dad; you can't cut me out of the scenario, especially not when you said you'd keep me in the loop. You told me I'm a submissive, and maybe you're right. But that's in bed, Cole. Not out here. Not in the world."

  I watched his face, saw the hard lines and angles tighten and his eyes narrow as he focused on me. "I'm not interested in taking away your autonomy," he said. "But I don't do anything halfway, and I'm not going to spend time trying to second-guess what the rules of engagement are. I already know the rules."

  "Is that a fact? What are they?"

  "Mine," he said, and I could tell from the heat in his eyes that it wasn't just the rules about my dad that we were talking about.

  I licked my lips, trying to stay on track. "Dammit, Cole--"

  "Take off your clothes."

  I froze. A little shocked and--damn me--a lot turned on. "The hell I will."

  He took the hem of my T-shirt in his hands and pulled it up, revealing my bra. "Take it off, or I will."

  I felt my sex tighten and my skin go hot. "Do it, then," I said.

  He did, yanking the shirt up, forcing my arms to follow, then tossing it on the floor near the door. He reached down and cupped my sex through my jeans. I was breathing hard, so turned on I was surprised my jeans weren't soaked.

  "Will you take off the bra, or should I just rip it off?"

  I reached back and undid the clasp, then pulled it off and tossed it on top of the shirt. "What are you doing?"

  "Exactly what I want," he said as he unfastened the button on my jeans then eased the zipper down. "My rules." He slid his hand inside the jeans and under my panties, then eased one finger inside me, his smug grin widening when he found me not just wet, but drenched. "Mine. Say it, Kat."

  "Yours," I said, finding it hard to make a sound, much less form words.

  "And once you're naked, I'm going to fuck you. So hard it makes you scream, and everyone in here will know exactly what we're doing."

  "Cole, no." But the words were for propriety only, and he damn well knew it. I was too turned on by what he said, and no matter what protests I might form into words, my body told the truth. And the way my sex throbbed and tightened around his finger in anticipation of what he'd described was the most eloquent admission of all.

  He didn't bother to argue. He just bent down and tugged off my shoes, then eased my jeans over my hips until they were in a heap on the floor as well. He left my panties on, though, then pulled me off the counter and turned me around so that I
was standing up and facing the mirror.

  I saw myself there, my hands pressed flat on the vanity, my breasts full and heavy, my nipples dark with arousal. My face was flush, my eyes a little glassy. And Cole loomed behind me, still fully dressed, all power and control and pure masculine heat.

  I heard the musical sound of his zipper, then the press of his cock against my ass. "Spread your legs, baby," he said, but I already had. I wanted this--I might have started out angry, but Cole had turned it all around on me, and now the only thing I wanted was to feel him inside me. The only thing I needed was to do as he said--to let myself go and just feel.

  He made a low noise of satisfaction, then reached down and stroked me through my panties. "Oh, yes," he said. "You're ready."

  "Yes," I whispered, then gasped as he yanked the thin strip of satin to one side. "Bend over. That's right," he said, and I felt the insistent press of his cock against me, and then the sweet, hard push as he thrust inside.

  His hands were on my hips, and as he moved forward, he pulled me back. He filled me completely, and the look on his face--such passion, such intensity--made me almost come right there.

  He hadn't taken off his pants, and the material rubbed my rear as he pistoned against me. The knowledge that I was essentially naked and he was clothed--that he was taking me in this stall, that he could take me anywhere he damn well pleased--shot through me, enticing and terrifying and oh-so satisfying.

  He kept one hand on my hip, but the other snaked around to tease my sex. The sensations were almost more than I could bear. The tease of his fingers on my hard, sensitive clit. The rhythmic pounding of his pelvis against my ass. The almost painful way he filled me, going so deep inside me, and with such steady and relentless power.

  And then--oh my god--then he abandoned my clit to reach around and pinch my nipples, holding tight and twisting slightly, so that the frenzy of heated fizzles that shot from my breasts to my sex added yet another sensation to the erotic symphony that was building within me.

  "Does that hurt?" he asked, squeezing even tighter.

  "Yes," I whispered, hoping that the truth wouldn't make him stop.

  "Do you like it?"

  "God, yes."

  "Look in the mirror," he said, and I realized that I'd closed my eyes. I opened them and saw what had to have been the most erotic vision of my life. Cole's hands twisting my swollen nipples. My legs parted, my sex damp. My body rhythmically undulating as I took Cole deeper and deeper. And then, when he slid his hand down my belly to tease my clit again, my lips parting in passion and my entire body trembling with the insistent, building climax that threatened to sweep me away.

  "Tell me what you see," he said.

  "I'm yours," I said, my breath a gasp. "I'm at your mercy. I'm in thrall to you."

  "Any time I want, any way I want. Tell me you like knowing that's true."

  "I do--oh, god, I do."

  "Do you trust me, Kat?"

  "Completely."

  "Could I do this to you--fuck you in the bathroom of the goddamn Drake hotel if you didn't trust me?"

  "No."

  "Then trust me to know what I'm doing."

  I nodded. And then, because I couldn't stand it any longer, I whispered, "Please."

  "Please what?"

  I pressed my hand over his on my breast, then drew his other hand up from my clit until he held both my nipples again. "Harder."

  "Oh, sweet Jesus," he said, and as he squeezed tight--as I cried out from the sweet, delicious pain that shot through me--I felt him explode inside me, his release ripping through both of us.

  Ribbons of pain that felt like pleasure burst through me, growing and building until my own climax shuddered through me. In that moment, Cole released the vise-grip on my nipples, and the feeling rushed back so quickly it made me weak enough that he had no choice but to hold me tight or let me fall to the floor.

  "How do you do that?" I asked, when I could once again form words. "How can I be so pissed at you and then you turn it around, and use it to make me explode? And not just explode, but--oh my god, Cole. That was insane."

  The corner of his mouth lifted. "Still pissed?"

  "Yes," I admitted. "You broke your word."

  "I wanted to ensure he was safe sooner rather than later," Cole said. "And I didn't break my word."

  "Bullshit. You--"

  "Were intending to tell you the moment I saw you. I only promised to keep you apprised of the plan, Kat. I didn't say a goddamn word about whether I'd tell you before or after I acted."

  "That's a truly pitiful argument," I said. "You knew what I meant." But at the same time, I deflated. Because damned if his heart wasn't in the right place. He had moved in--and fast--to protect my dad. And angry or not, that really did mean the world to me.

  I lifted myself up on my toes and kissed him.

  "I don't know what tomorrow will bring, Kat. But right here, right now, you're mine. And I will always take care of what's mine. And that includes both you and your father. Do you understand?"

  I nodded, because I did.

  He dampened one of the provided hand towels and then cleaned me up, tending to me so very gently. I sighed, then lifted my arms for him as he put my shirt over my head.

  He was taking care of me, dressing me, cherishing me. There was control, yes, but there was also a sweet sensuality to the moment. I thought about that, about the dichotomy of this intense feeling of warmth and safety juxtaposed against the pain and pleasure of the spanking and the pinching.

  And as I thought, I realized something else--Cole was like me. Not that he needed to submit, but that he needed to dominate. He hadn't just wanted to spank and pinch me, he'd needed to. Just now. Last night. Because without that, he couldn't have reached orgasm any more than I could.

  Hadn't he told me as much when I'd come to his door, boldly demanding that he fuck me? I like it, he'd said, talking about inflicting pain. I need it.

  I didn't know what, but I was certain that he was able to empathize with me because something had happened to him, too. Something that kept him from coming unless he could pull himself over by grabbing onto the red threads of pain.

  I was tempted to ask him to tell me. I didn't, though. He'd tell me eventually, and right then, it was enough to simply understand him. And to know that somehow--through all the crazy shit that had made us who we were--we had ended up in each other's arms.

  sixteen

  I followed Cole out of the ladies' room, ignoring the curious stares from the two women who were entering as we were leaving.

  "Oh. My. God," I said, but Cole just grinned.

  "You ready to see your dad?"

  "Are you kidding? Of course."

  "Then let's go." He led the way down the hall, then to a service elevator.

  I frowned as he punched the call button. "We're going up to see Tyler and Sloane? I thought you were taking me to my dad."

  He stepped into the car. "I am."

  The elevator let us off on the sixth floor, and I followed Cole down the hall toward a corner room. "The Jahn Foundation keeps a suite here for out-of-town visitors. It's ironic, but the more money you spend on someone, the more often they will donate to a cause."

  The Jahn Foundation, where Angie now worked, had been endowed by Howard Jahn as a charitable foundation with a primary purpose of preservation, restoration, and education regarding all forms of art. All three of the knights sat on the board of directors, so it didn't surprise me that Cole had access to this suite.

  "What about security?" I asked as we paused in front of the door. "There are surely cameras in the elevators and halls."

  "The odds of Muratti checking those are slim. But," he added before I could voice my protest, "we took precautions anyway. Wig, mustache, lifts in his shoes. We aren't new to the game, Kat. Remember that."

  "I do," I said. "But it's my dad."

  He took my hand and squeezed it. "I know."

  "What about maids?" I asked as he tapped three times
on the door. "Room service?"

  "Taken care of," Cole said. "No one sees him." The door opened, revealing a perky girl in her early twenties who looked vaguely familiar.

  "Hey! Come on in," she said, stepping back so that we could enter.

  "Darcy, you remember Kat? She's Maury's daughter."

  "He's such a nice man," Darcy said, holding out her hand for me to shake. "And we've met at Destiny. I used to dance there."

  "Darcy's going back to school in the fall," Cole said. "She's taking a few college prep courses now, so we made a deal. She hangs out with your dad, answers the door and keeps him out of sight, and she can get paid for spending the rest of her time studying."

  "Not bad," I said.

  "It's a great gig," Darcy said, looking at Cole with something close to hero worship.

  "Um, can I see him?"

  "Huh? Oh! Right. Come on." Darcy led the way into the suite, a still elegant but much smaller version of the one Tyler and Sloane occupied. "He goes into one of the bedrooms when anyone comes--maids or room service or maintenance. Hang on." She bounced across the room, then disappeared down a short hall. I heard her tap on a door and call for him. A moment later, my father walked into the room, a wide grin spread across his face, and his arms held out wide for me.

  I hugged him tight, then stepped back to look at him. He looked calm and rested--the fear I'd seen on his face when he'd come to my apartment had all but been erased. I eased closer to Cole and took his hand in a silent thank-you, because he'd played a huge part in erasing that worry.

  We settled in the living room, me perched on the arm of the couch so I could be close to my dad, and Cole standing near the window, looking out at the city. Darcy played hostess, offering coffee or wine or something stronger.

  I went for the stronger.

  "You're doing okay, Daddy? Not getting restless?"

  "You know me, I'm always restless. But I'm content to stay put until your young man here tells me otherwise."

  "Good," I said. "He's gone to a lot of trouble, and he knows what he's doing. You listen to him."

  "I am. You've got a good man there, taking care of me. Taking care of you. I didn't want to put you at risk, kiddo, I really didn't. But I'm glad I came."

  I sighed. "I am, too, Daddy. I just want you to stay safe."

  I made him promise a dozen or so more times that he'd follow all the rules and not do anything stupid.

  "I did a bit more poking around," Cole said, leaving the window to join us. "The property is prime, and although Frederick Charles doesn't want to sell to Muratti, that's not because he's looking to develop the property himself or expects his niece to after she inherits."