About the book
A Tragic Love Story
Charlotte Dennis’s mission was clear: distract and misdirect CIA operative Ian Taggart by any means necessary. If she failed, she would never see her sister again. With her training, it should have been simple, but after one night in Ian’s arms, she knew that saving her sister would mean losing the man of her dreams.
Ian was tracking a terrorist when he met the beautiful American daughter of a Russian mobster. His instincts told him Charlotte was trouble, but his body craved her like a drug and his heart would not be denied. She took his ring and his collar. For once he was truly happy. But as he closed in on his target, her betrayal cost him his mission while her sacrifice saved his life. As she died in his arms, Ian vowed he would never love again.
A Dangerous Reunion
For six years, Charlotte has thought of nothing but returning to her husband, her Master. Working in the shadows, she has devoted herself to earning a chance to reclaim her place in Ian’s life. But forgiveness isn’t a part of Ian’s vocabulary.
Nothing is more important to Ian Taggart than his new mission. But the information he needs is firmly in the hands of the woman who betrayed him. To catch his most dangerous prey, Ian will have to let Charlotte back into his life. As the hunt takes them to some of the world’s most exotic locations, the danger grows and their passion reignites.
Will Ian forgive his wayward submissive…or lose her again?
Ian Taggart looked across the table at his previously dead wife and took in the changes the last five years had brought.
She was older. There were fine lines around her eyes that had been previously absent. Her hair was a reddish blonde, but it looked oddly good on her. It went with her stark blue eyes.
Death had been damn good to her. She was still the most stunning woman he’d ever seen. Her return from the dead had stirred more than his curiosity.
His cock was rock hard, but he wasn’t going to give in. Nope. Not this time.
“Tetraodontidae?” Ian asked after a very long, very tense few moments. He was curious about what she’d used to fake her death. Tetraodontidae was a good bet.
She’d shown up on his doorstep, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and calling him Master. She’d gotten past his incredibly rigorous security system. His brother liked to call him paranoid, but Ian knew the truth. The world really was out to get him. That was what happened to spies. They rarely made it to old age, even the ones who got out.
He’d watched many of his colleagues die, some painfully and under torture. This was the first time one had come back from the other side. Of course, when he’d married her, he hadn’t exactly realized she was a spy. He’d known something was wrong with her, but he’d thought she’d been in trouble. He’d been a fool.
He’d invited her in because it was only polite. And because he was going to figure out what the fuck she wanted from him.
And because he couldn’t help himself. Fuck, he couldn’t help himself at all. He didn’t like the feeling any more now than he had back then. From the moment he’d seen her, he’d known he would have her no matter what it took, and that feeling was taking root in his gut again.
“The puffer fish neurotoxin?” She shook her head. “No. I mean I think it might be based on that, but it was a pill. I had to take a pill, and then it was mostly like going to sleep.”
He nodded briefly. When he’d realized it was really Charlotte standing on his doorstep, he’d put it together. Too bad he’d been too stupid to back then. “I heard rumors that the Agency has been working on a zombie drug. I guess I got out before I really needed to use it. Lucky me.”
A zombie drug was used to fake an agent’s death. The puffer fish had a neurotoxin in its body that would render a human lifeless, seemingly breathless. The victim would appear dead. The victim would almost always end up dead, but apparently someone out there had perfected the mix.
She shuddered a little. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“What about the blood?” She’d been covered in it. He’d gotten covered in it. Sometimes he could still smell that coppery scent mingling with the lavender soap she used on her body. He’d loved the smell of lavender until that day.
“Oh, he really shot me. He gave me the drug and then he pulled the trigger.” She pushed one side of her blouse toward her shoulder, showing off the puckered scar below her left clavicle. “It was close enough that I suppose the blood made you think it was my heart.”
He wanted to shove that material off and take a look at every inch of her skin, looking for the new scars she would have, skimming his fingers across the ones she’d had when they’d gotten married.
Before she died. Before she came back.
The first time he made love to her he thought she had a bad Dom in her past. She had more scars than most of the men he knew, and they were all Special Forces.
For now, he would settle for having his questions answered. He wasn’t going to give in to the heart-pounding adrenaline of having her back. His first instinct had been to wrap himself around her and never let her go. His second had been to drag her to the dungeon and take out all of his anger. But no. He would do neither of those things during this little interview. He would view it as a post-op debrief. It was the kind of thing he would do with his employees. He would sit them down and go through a million questions in an attempt to figure out just how the little fuckers had screwed things up.
This time he was the one who had completely gone off the rails, and he was deeply curious just how far it went.
Charlotte frowned as though the whole meeting wasn’t going quite the way she’d planned. She’d no doubt expected him to give in to instinct number one. “What do you mean who?”
He liked the fact that she was off balance. She couldn’t seem to get a handle on his calmness. He couldn’t blame her. He’d always been a dipshit passionate idiot around her. She didn’t know the real Ian Taggart, the one he’d been before he’d married her, the one he’d found his way back to after long years of mourning. He was cold, calm, collected. He was a professional. “Who shot you, Charlotte?”
She stilled. “You’re not going to like it, Master.”
“Ian, please. I’m not your Master, sweetheart. I would prefer you use my given name. I keep the honorary title for the submissives I top.” He kept his voice at the same even keel, but the word “Master” did something to him when it came out of her mouth.
“You’re always my Master,” she said, her voice sweet and a little sad. “And I’m your submissive.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.” Or he could shove her over his knee, work those jeans off her hips, and slap her ass silly. Charlotte could take it. Charlotte craved it.
Who had been smacking her cheeks and tying her up and fucking her until she screamed? Because there was no way she went without.
“Master, I need you to listen to me.” Her blue eyes fairly pleaded with him. Those eyes were what had gotten him in the first place. Oh, he’d loved her breasts and her hips. She was solidly built, and that just did it for him. He wanted a woman he could fuck for hours and not worry about breaking, but her eyes were striking. Ocean blue, like the waters of the Caribbean reflecting a crystal sky. He’d been drawn into those eyes.
“I’m listening, Charlotte.” A thought occurred to him. “Is that the name you’re going by now or should I call you Kristen? I have no idea what your real name is.”
Her hands made frustrated fists. Ah, she hadn’t changed her little tells. Those fists always made an appearance when she thought he was being stubborn. Her hair might have changed, but he could still tell when he was getting to her.
“I’m Charlotte Dennis and you damn well know it. You checked me out the first time. I never lied about my background.”
He raised a single brow.
She bit into her bottom lip, her eyes sliding submissively away. “I apologize, Master. I shouldn’t have cursed.”
He shook it off. It was just a habit. Disciplining her had been a habit, the same way her sinking to her knees at his feet and rubbing her cheek to his leg had been a habit. The way he’d been able to relax and think as he’d petted her hair and enjoyed the contact before he would inevitably pull her into his lap and start to make love to her.
Yep. Just a habit. He could break habits. He hadn’t had her in five years and he’d survived perfectly well. “Curse all you like. I probably would if my boss had shot me and then dosed me up with puffer fish toxin. Do you think he expected you to live?”
He tamped down the panic that flared at the thought of someone shooting her and dosing her up and leaving her there on the floor of their flat like a sacrifice. The protectiveness was a habit, too. She wasn’t his to protect, and she never had been. She hadn’t really been his sub. She’d been his opponent, and the first round had gone to her.
But she wasn’t going to win this one.
“He wasn’t my boss, babe. He had something I needed, and I thought he was the only one who could do the job. After I met you, I realized just how stupid I was.” Her eyes were cloudy with tears, and she started to reach out for him. He moved his hands and leaned back out of her reach. “I should have talked to you but by then the man I was working for had Chelsea. After he killed my father, he took her as insurance that I would do the job. I couldn’t risk Chelsea.”
“Of course not.” He had no idea who Chelsea was. Probably her dog. “I would like a name, Charlotte.”
Her jaw tightened, and she looked down at her hands. “Chelsea is my sister’s name. I know I didn’t tell you about her, but she’s younger than me. She’s more…fragile. You remember how I told you about my father?”
Her Russian mobster dad. Yes, Vladimir Denisovitch. He had a rap sheet about twelve miles long in twenty-two different countries. If he’d followed the Russian mob practice of tattooing his crimes on his body, Ian was sure there hadn’t been an inch of skin left on Vlad’s flesh. But his crimes against Charlotte were even worse. However, Ian no longer cared. “I asked for a name. I don’t need to know about your sister.”
“You’re going to be difficult.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. If you don’t want to talk, you should feel free to leave. There’s nothing at all difficult about it.”
She took a long breath before speaking. “I’ll tell you, but I want you to stay calm.”
Everything fell neatly into place. There was only one name he could think of that would truly enrage him. Or would if he really gave a shit about her. “Then it’s Eli Nelson. That makes sense. I thought I would find him at the bottom of this particular shit pile.”
Nelson seemed to be at the bottom of all the nasty shit that happened to Ian these days.
At the time he’d met Charlotte, Ian had been working a complicated case involving the Irish G2 intelligence unit, MI6, and a purported Russian terrorist. Eli Nelson had been with the CIA, but the case was Ian’s operation. Unfortunately, Ian had been distracted by the lovely Charlotte Dennis—as Nelson had planned. Nelson had gotten away with a couple of million in bearer bonds and set himself up as an arms dealer.
Ian had gotten the fuck out of the CIA.
“I didn’t know you when I agreed to help him.” Charlotte did nothing to stop the tears running down her cheeks. “I didn’t love you.”
“Yes, well, I figured that out a few moments ago when you showed up on my doorstep.”
Her blonde and red hair shook. It actually suited her quite nicely. When he’d known her she’d had black hair. This warmed up her skin. “No, Master. I meant I didn’t love you when I began the operation. That changed so quickly. Please believe me. I never meant you harm. Master, I love you so much. I’ve been working for five years to get back to you.”
“A plane ticket would have done it. You should have tried the airport.” He wasn’t going to buy this line of bullshit. “I made it from London to Dallas quite nicely.”
Of course he’d done it on a private jet because MI6 had to cover up his wife’s death. At the time they believed her body disappeared in an attempt by the Russians to make Ian look guilty and throw the whole operation into chaos. Now he knew it had just been good old Eli Nelson, American-grown fuckwad and all-around criminal.
He was going to find Eli Nelson. He was going to rip Eli Nelson open and play with his entrails while the fucker was alive to watch it. He would go old school on his ass. No fancy schmancy waterboarding for Nelson. He wouldn’t send the bastard to Guantanamo. Simple. He would keep it simple. Just him and a ball gag and one of Sean’s filet knives. He would let his brother play, too. Sean would likely enjoy castrating Nelson, sautéing up his dick, and force-feeding it to him. It could be a family project. Maybe they could take a weekend.
“Why do you look so happy, Master?” Charlotte asked. “It actually frightens me.”
He forced the smile off his face. Lately, his revenge fantasies made him far happier than the sexual ones.
Because the sexual ones all revolved around her.
“I’d ask for a detailed accounting of everything you know about Nelson, but I wouldn’t be able to trust a word you have to say, would I? I can very likely toss that e-mail you sent in the trash bin.” Just moments before he’d opened the door, he’d gotten an e-mail with all sorts of intelligence on Eli Nelson. Now it was useless because it came from her. He was ready to end this little interview. There was a bottle of fifty-year Scotch calling his name. Where was his phone? He needed some music.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I sent you the e-mail because I want to help you find Nelson.” Charlotte stood, moving around the table and getting to her knees in front of him. “Master, I know I have so much to make up for, but I’m going to do it. I’m going to help you. I already did. I saved Alex. I did that for you.”
He felt his eyes narrow. “That’s right. You put yourself in front of a bullet for Alex.”
She’d been playing a longer game than he’d given her credit for.
She nodded her head. “Yes, and I would do it again because you love Alex and I love you. I watched over them. I guided them back together. Do you think I don’t remember how you talked about them? You wanted us to all live close together.”
They had lain in bed the night they were married and talked about moving back to the States. He’d wanted to move to Virginia to be close to Alex and Eve. It had been pillow talk, nothing more. He hadn’t meant a word he said. He hadn’t intended to give up his career for her so he could be some schmo living in the suburbs and having backyard barbecues and going to his kids’ soccer games.
“Well, I guess I got my wish, though we’re in Dallas and not Virginia.” A sudden thought occurred to him that had his hand practically twitching. “You brought my friends together all right, but that’s not all you did is it, you little brat?”
She gave him a weak smile. “I had to keep you away, Master. I changed parts of my appearance, but I would never have been able to fool you. You would have shut everything down. You can be a bit of a bully when you want to be.”
She’d pretended to be a reporter and offered to help Alex track down the man who had raped and terrorized Alex’s wife, Eve. She’d brought most of the team to her condo in St. Augustine, Florida, but Ian had found himself in a series of clusterfucks. “You put me on a no-fly list.”
Among other things. She’d wreaked havoc on his life.
“If I hadn’t, you would have found out it was me and the whole op would have been blown.”
“You tied up my banking accounts. You moved them to another name.” He’d been so fucking stupid. He’d believed it was Nelson screwing with him. God, would he ever have a brain in his head when it came to this woman?
“I should get points for calling you Hottie McHot Pants. I meant it as a compliment. You look so good, Master. And actually it was Chelsea who handled all the computer stuff. I’m mostly just muscle compared to her. I’m good at finding information, but nothing like her. She’s very smart, you see. If I had known better I would have changed it all over to Big Tag.” The sexiest smile curled her lips up. “I got to know your brother a little on the Florida op. He is an excellent cook, but he thinks far too much of his own looks. He’s attractive, but nothing compared to you.”
Now his dick was right back to fighting strength. She was kneeling at his feet, her eyes all soft and sweet, that husky voice of hers calling to him. She always looked at him like she could eat him up and come back for more. He could reach out and wind his hands in her hair and tug on it. She fucking loved to have her hair pulled. He could be rough with Charlie because it just got her hot.
That was precisely why he couldn’t touch her. She was his Achilles’ heel. Nelson had always known it. “So I owe my recent body cavity search to this Chelsea person.”
“Like I said, Chelsea is my sister, Master. I’d love to tell you all about her. Why don’t you let me make you a drink and we can talk more? If you’re hungry, I can fix you something.” She placed her hand on his thigh. “I’ve become a much better cook over the years. I know how much you enjoy Italian, so I worked on that. I might not be as good as Sean, but I look better cooking naked than he does.”
His cock twitched. His heart rate sped up. His whole central nervous system was attuned to her. Five years later and she had him on edge with a simple touch. No one ever got to him the way Charlie did. She was his sexual hot spot.
Or you just loved her, idiot. His inner voice was starting to sound an awful lot like Alex.
He carefully moved her hand off his leg. “I think I’ll pass. I have a job to do. You should let your boss know that I’m going to kill him really slowly.”
“He’s not my boss, Ian.” Her cheeks had flushed, her brows coming together in a frustrated V.
Finally he was getting to her. “I would totally believe you, sweetheart, if you weren’t such an excellent liar.”
“I’m not lying.” She seemed to take control of herself again. Her face grew placid, her submissive look. She’d used it on him more than once, and it always got to him. “I’ve spent the last five years trying to be a better person for you, Master. How do I prove it to you?”
She couldn’t. There was no possible way he could ever believe her again. He’d been a fool to believe her in the first place.
But her hand was right back on his leg, her breasts showcased in a scoop-necked shirt. He loved her breasts. They were just the right size and real. He loved how they looked outside of the punishing bras she wore. They would sag just slightly, but that proved how soft they were. Her nipples used to pucker up sweetly for him. Were they hard little pebbles now?
“Master…Ian, I know this is going to be difficult, but you should know that I’m not giving up. I love you. The only other people I’ve loved in my life are my sister and my mom, so I won’t give up on you.”
Or she had another agenda, and fucking him senseless had worked before. She wasn’t being terribly creative, but then he’d given her no reason to think she had to be. She’d flashed him her love-me, save-me, fuck-me eyes and Ian let his whole career and a major operation go into the toilet. He’d almost cost Liam his life.
Of course, turnabout was always fair play. Not that it mattered. He didn’t play fair.
“Did you miss me, Charlie?” He didn’t fight his cock this time. Maybe he and his cock could get what they wanted. There was always a compromise. Charlie hadn’t minded taking about a thousand orgasms from him without explaining her true intentions.
There was no way to miss the hitch in her voice. Her hand slid across his thigh. “You know I did. I missed you every minute of every day.”
He’d certainly missed fucking her. He ignored that little voice that sounded way too much like Alex, that was kind of screaming at him that this was a horrible idea. If Alex was the angel on his shoulder, his cock was the devil, and the devil thought this was one of his more brilliant plans. “Show me.”
He flexed his hips, demonstrating exactly what part of him needed her attention.
Charlotte’s hands went straight to his pants, and Ian let the devil take firm control.
* * * *
He was up to something. She wasn’t stupid. But she also wasn’t willing to let the chance go. Sex had bonded them together all those years ago. It could do the same thing now.
It had to work. She’d come too far to give up. She wanted him too much.
She struggled a little with the button on his slacks. He was still dressed in his tuxedo pants. She’d watched him walk into Sanctum, his club, earlier this evening. Alex and Eve’s wedding ceremony had been held there. She’d wanted so much to join him. Alex and Eve and Adam and Sean had become her friends during the time they spent in Florida. Sure, they hadn’t known her real name or anything, but she’d been honest about most things. She’d felt like she belonged in that little circle of friends—Ian’s circle.
She’d been brutally jealous that Jesse the jerk had gotten an invitation and she hadn’t. Jesse had been the one to shoot her. Oh, he’d thought he was aiming at Alex, but she’d taken that bullet, and Jesse had been all smiles and grins as he’d waltzed right into Sanctum like he owned the place. Shouldn’t they have brutally murdered the little fucker?
“Is there a problem?” Ian’s voice was positively arctic.
Sometimes she went the slightest bit ADD when she felt safe enough. She lived her life on the edge so often that when she had a chance to relax, she tended to take it. She could usually only relax in her well-secured apartment, high above the city, but just being in Ian’s presence had an effect on her. “I apologize, Master. My mind wandered.”
“Some things never change,” he grumbled.
No they didn’t. She sighed as Ian’s cock pulsed against his slacks. It was a monster in his pants. Yes, her Master was hungry, but then he always was. This might be the only chance she had to put him in a reasonable frame of mind. He could really be an unconscionable prick when he wanted to be.
She worked the button free and eased down the zipper. She hadn’t done this in years. Since that moment when she’d “died,” she’d remained perfectly pure because while Ian might have thought their marriage was over, Charlie knew damn well it wasn’t. Couldn’t ever be.
He wasn’t wearing underwear. He often didn’t when he was wearing slacks. She loved that, loved that he was one zipper away from taking her. Now that she was here in the same space with him, all she wanted to do was revel in everything about her husband—his scent, the way his skin felt against hers, and most of all she wanted to remind herself just how good he tasted.
“I saw you hired Jesse Murdoch.”
“Don’t talk,” Ian commanded between gritted teeth. “I don’t need a running commentary.”
“But I can do both.” She was good at multitasking, and there was really only one way to keep Ian on task or he would go off on one of his arctic, curse-filled rants that tended to make everyone around him dive for cover. “Jesse Murdoch shot me.”
Ian grunted a little, his hips bucking slightly. “I knew there was a reason I liked the kid.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nice.”
She took his cock in hand and was deeply satisfied with the sigh that filled him. He leaned back in his chair, forcing his hips up, putting his cock on display. “It wasn’t like I hired him. I don’t fucking hire any of them. They show up for work and then Grace gets pissed when I won’t pay them. PTSD Jesse followed Alex back from Florida like some lost puppy. I keep telling Alex not to feed strays. They never fucking go away. Not even after they die.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I was a little bit of a stray, wasn’t I?” She’d been lost and Ian had taken her in.
He growled a little. “I don’t want to listen to you talk, Charlie. I definitely don’t want to rehash our very pathetic past. Don’t romanticize this. I’ve had a shit day and I want to come. That’s all I’m willing to offer you. I want you to suck me off and then leave. If you won’t do it, I can call someone in who will.”
He’d always been honest about sex, but she was pretty sure she could convince him otherwise. Sex had always been incendiary between them. One kiss and she went up like a match. She planned to be riding her Master’s cock before the night was through. She would be back in his bed, his arms wrapped around her. She would make him listen.
She definitely wasn’t going to let his stubborn nature cause him to sleep with one of his little playmates. He was about to figure out that his time of playing with every sub who walked in the door was over.
“Well, if it’s going to be so one-sided, Master, I think your poor sub should at least be able to plead her case.” The head of his cock was already weeping, a drop of pearly goodness sitting on the tip. She couldn’t help herself. She swiped at it, gathering the pre-come on her tongue. So long. It had been so long.
Ian hissed, his body tensing. “I won’t listen, Charlie.”
But he already was. He was simply too stubborn to admit it. He’d gone from calling her Charlotte in that icy tone of his to rumbling Charlie from deep in his chest, a low, sexy growl. Charlie was his nickname for her. He was the only person in the whole world who called her that.
“Probably not,” she admitted, but her eyes were on his cock. He was bigger than any man she’d ever seen before, and he knew how to use it. “Do you know how much I’ve missed this, Master?”
Now his eyes opened and she could see a hint of the rage she’d expected. “I’m surprised you remember. I’m sure you’ve gone through a dozen Masters since me.”
She shook her head quickly, attempting not to show him just how much the possessive tone he was using pleased her. She needed to make it very clear. “No, Ian. There’s been absolutely no one, though you likely can’t say the same.”
She knew the truth. She’d kept track of him. He took many women, but he hadn’t been serious about any of them.
“I’ve had a hundred women since you, love. I barely remember you at all.”
Such a liar. He was like a freaking lion with a thorn in his paw. He always had been. She’d gotten close enough to take it out once. She just had to do it again. And sex was the only way to Ian Taggart’s cold heart. “Then I’ll have to remind you, Master.”
She gripped his cock by the stalk. He was so big and thick that she could barely get the whole of her palm around him. Her fingers couldn’t quite close. She ran her hand from just below the plum-shaped bulb at the top to right above his dense balls. She would suck them one by one into her mouth when she had time. He would let her play for hours with his cock, licking and sucking and worshiping him. Cock worship, cock love, she’d done it all and wanted it again. His cock had been the first and only to bring her pleasure, to show her lovemaking could be something special.
She pumped his cock in her hand again and again before hovering over the head, giving him a hint of the heat in her mouth.
“I love you, Ian.” She whispered the words over his flesh as though she could make them a part of his body. “I missed you every second of every day we were apart and every night I dreamed of you.”
He pulled away, his face perfectly blank. “I won’t listen to that shit, Charlie. I might be willing to ignore your ramblings about the past, but I won’t listen to that.”
Her heart ached a little, but she backed off. He wasn’t ready. She had to give him a little space. He was letting her in physically. The emotional part could take a while. She leaned over and lightly sucked at the head of his cock, satisfied when he relaxed again. There had to be some trust left between them. “Fine. Then let’s talk about something more pleasant. I like your city. It’s hot, but I like Dallas a lot.”
“Good for you because it never really gets cold. Not like in Russia.” He groaned. “Lick the underside.”
So bossy. She let her tongue find the underside of his cock and laved the deep V there with affection. The skin of his dick was soft like silk. “I bought a condo in Victory Park. I can see the whole city.”
His hands wound into her hair. “Those condos are fucking expensive, Charlie. What have you been up to, you little criminal?”
He might say he’d forgotten, but he still knew her pretty well. She let her tongue run down the long length of his cock, ignoring the pull to her hair. “I’ve made a little money in the information business.”
He tugged on her hair again, a sharp little pull. She nearly closed her eyes at the way it lit up her scalp. “You’re a broker?”
She shrugged a little. “It’s a living. I try not to get involved in anything too nasty. You shouldn’t judge me, Ian. My business found Michael Evans for Alex. I’m the one with a line on Eli Nelson. You haven’t been able to find him.”
He shook his head and let her go. “I don’t want to hear about him, Charlie. He was your boss. I can’t believe anything you say about him. For all I know he’s sent you here. Cup my balls.”
He was going to make her insane. “Don’t be so stubborn, Master. I’m trying to give you what you need.”
“Don’t you give me orders, sub. What I need is to feel your hands on my balls.”
Well, she’d wanted him thinking about sex. He got very bossy and unrelenting when his dick was hard. At least he wasn’t using that cold tone on her anymore. She reached down and rolled his balls in her palm.
This was where she’d needed to be every day for the last five years. She sank into the submissive role Ian had taught her to cherish. Everything had been a fight before that day in a Paris club when she’d found her lover, her Master, her husband.
They just had to get over that one little horrific betrayal and everything would be fine.
“Just suck me, Charlie. Just fucking suck me.” He wouldn’t ask her for what he needed. She knew that. It wasn’t in his nature. His needs and wants came out as demands, but long ago she’d figured out what he was really asking her for. He wanted to forget everything just for a few minutes. He found his peace in dominance and she sank into her submission.
Halves of a whole. Soul mates. Somewhere along the way, Ian had become the angel on her shoulder. Oh, he was a cranky angel, but it was his voice she heard when she was tempted to follow in her father’s footsteps and burn the world down around her.
She’d only known violence and anger before Ian Taggart.
And she owed him more than her life. She settled in and prayed he could forgive her.
Copyright Lexi Blake 2013