Page 25 of The Vigilante's Lover

Huh. It worked. Jax sits next to me in the hay.

I’m not stupid. I dropped the shawl in my lap on purpose. I don’t think I’m up for another lap wiggle, not with all the rejection handed to me on a platter in the last hour. But he’s here.

His shirt is off. I haven’t seen this much of him before. I’ve been at a disadvantage since I met him. He’s been in those expensive suits, like he’s headed to an office party, every minute of our time together.

Meanwhile I’ve been in shredded nightgowns, ropes, or high heels I can’t walk in.

Except now, in the barely there lingerie given to me by the women he hired.

My heart hammers, just looking at him. His chest is smooth and muscled. His arm muscles bulge, but not in a bodybuilder way. Just strong.

His belly is rippled, flat, and looks like planking is something he does in his sleep.

I want to keep him. I want him close. I know how he looked at me at the hotel. I know he wanted me then. I just have to figure out how to get back to that.

So I’m sitting in a cold barn on a pile of hay in a sheer bra and a thong. Time to go for broke.

“Do you have to take me home?” I ask.

“Mia. You know I have to.”

At least he’s admitting it. But I can’t go back there. I have nothing. No one. And this life? Narrow escapes. Car chases. Danger. It fits me. I know it.

I tear my eyes from his bare chest to glance around the barn. I won’t have much time to convince him that I am up for the task of being his sidekick. I rack my brain for something that will impress him.

Rope. There has to be some rope around here. The red silk one is probably in the car still, but I can’t let him go fetch it. He might change his mind about listening to me.

This is a barn. Rope is standard issue.

I spot a coil of it hanging on a hook near the main door. “I need you to teach me something,” I tell him.

His eyes meet mine. There’s not a lot of light in here, just the parts coming through the cracks, but I can see him well enough. He’s wary. Maybe a little tired. “What do you need to know?”

I stand up and let the shawl and his shirt hit the ground. His gaze locks on my body. I realize he may have misunderstood, and a jolt of fear mixed with excitement zips through me. Before he can say or do anything, I walk over to the coil of rope.

I can feel him watching. The underwear leaves nothing to the imagination.

I have to work hard not to feel ridiculous. Imagine me, small-town Mia, prancing around in tiny red lingerie around someone like Jax.

He waits, silent, observant. I take the rope off the wall and sense his interest pick up, even though I can’t see his expression from here.

I’m glad I’m not in the heels now. Tripping over my own feet would not add to this moment. But I have the feeling that the Phase One training shoes might be just as sexy to someone like Jax. Doesn’t matter. It’s what I’ve got.

I walk back over to him. Sitting in the hay, his face hits the level of my thighs. I have a terrible urge to move in very close, but I don’t know anything about that, how to keep him interested without looking silly.

I hold out the rope. “I want to know how you escaped my constrictor knot in the car.”

He doesn’t bother to pretend to look at anything but me. His eyes travel up my knees, thighs, and pause on the slender strings of the thong. The straps come together with a bit of sheer fabric that matches the bra and hides nothing, not the wisps of hair or the dark line he now seems fixated on.

I feel a rush of heat and a sudden wetness.

But I’m used to it. I felt it from reading his letters.

I’m not afraid anymore, although I guess I should be.

I got on the shot in college, hoping for a love affair that never happened.

So I’m not afraid that I’ll end up pregnant.

But I might fear that I’ll like everything, love everything, need everything, and he’ll leave anyway.

“So you want me to teach you how to escape a knot?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“As if you’re being trained?” he adds.

“Just like a Vigilante would,” I say.

“Then get naked,” he says.

“Wh-what?” I stumble over the question. What does that have to do with escape training?

His voice is calm and impassive. “A Vigilante doesn’t question her training.”

I hesitate. “If I do well, will you let me stay?”

“Get naked,” he repeats.

It’s a test. I won’t fail it. I’m shy and a little embarrassed, but this is moving me in the direction I want to go. So I’ll do it.

I kick off the shoes. The barn floor is rough and littered with loose hay. I lean down and set the coil of rope on the floor.

I reach behind me for the hook of the bra. I fumble for a moment and realize my hands are shaking. I don’t know how far this is going to go, but I’m going to agree to anything Jax asks. This is my one shot at convincing him to keep me, and I’m not going to be afraid.

The straps slide down my arm, and I let the bra fall to the floor. I resist the urge to cover myself.

“Stand up straight,” he orders.

I realize I’m hunching over, as if my shoulders could come forward and hide me. I lift my chin and let my arms dangle loosely at my sides. My chest comes out, the taut nipples out in front.

Jax leans back on his elbow in the hay. “Panties.”

I stick my thumbs in the straps.

“Slowly,” he adds.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. I ease the thong down my thighs. My hair is almost dry now and tickles my skin as I bend a little to push the panties past my knees. When they fall free, I stand tall again.

“Come closer,” Jax says.

My heart hammers in my throat. I take a step toward him, close enough that he can reach up and touch me anywhere.

His hand wraps around my ankle and slides up my calf. I can’t breathe, the sensuous feel of his palm against my skin is so intense.

He reaches my knee and keeps going, up my thigh. I can feel my pulse between my legs, and the hot wetness there, waiting for him. I’ve never been touched there by anyone, and the need for it is so great that I want to bend down and meet him halfway.

But without warning, he smacks the bend at the back of my knee.

It drops me into the hay, right on the shawl I left a minute ago.

In a flash, both my wrists are encircled and over my head, pinned by his iron grip.

His naked chest brushes against my breasts and I’m so shocked by how quickly he got me down that I cry out.

“You want to learn to escape from this?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “That’s what I want.”

His face is inches from mine. His eyes linger on my lips, and I wonder if he is thinking of kissing me again. I want him to, need him to. It’s a fiery desperate longing I don’t think I can contain. My chest heaves from my labored breaths, creating a friction where our skin touches.

“You made one constrictor and four slipknots in the car,” he says. “That was your mistake.” He glances up. “Let’s lash you to something.”

He reaches beneath me in the hay and scoots my body, shawl and all, closer to a post.

The rope hisses as he slips it around the rough wood. I can’t see the knot he ties. I can’t concentrate on that. His chest is so near, hot and bare. I want to touch it but I’m bound. I arch a little to reestablish our contact.

Jax sits back to study his knots. I look up. My hands are pressed tightly together, bound to the post. I can barely move them at all. I don’t see any way to get out of this.

“The hardest part of escaping is staying focused,” he says and picks up the frayed end of the rope. “I have a feeling this might be one of your weaknesses.” He grabs my knees and jerks them apart.

I suck in my breath. I don’t know what he’s going to do next. The rope is in his hands and he lets it dangle until it brushes between my legs.

The contact is electrifying and I can’t help it, but I cry out. I tug against the bonds. I want my hands.

“Think about the knots, Mia. You know how they are tied. You know how they go.” He trails the end of the rope against my tender parts again.

I’m on fire. The withdrawal of the rope is painful and leaves me aching with desire. I want it harder. I want more. I want to ease this fiery need.

“Harder,” I find myself whispering, a little shocked.

Jax pauses for a second, surprised, but he complies. The rope slaps against me with just a touch of sting. The contact is titillating, a burst of pure pleasure.

“More,” I plead.

“Untie the knot,” Jax says.

I try to move my hands, but they are bound tight against the post. My body heaves as I thrust my hips toward Jax. “I can’t do it,” I say. “Please.”

“Distraction,” he says as he examines the end of the rope. “You’re failing.”

I stare up at my hands. I can follow the turns, but I can’t move at all to do anything about it.

The rope brushes my belly and I focus on Jax again.

“I should loosen these ends a bit more,” he says. “It’s a basic sisal three-strand. The beginnings of a nice flogger. Just what you’re aching for.”

I swallow hard as he unravels more of the strands. The hot pleasure is already retreating, and I want it back. He uses one loose piece to wrap the end so the rope won’t come undone.

“Think about that overhand turn,” he says. “And how you can reach it.”

I can’t concentrate on anything but my need of that powerful strike, and his eyes on me, full of lust and interest and surprise. He’s pleased with me, and that is as powerful as the pleasure of the contact.

But he sits back. He won’t do anything, give me any more, unless I impress him.

I jerk against the ropes. They are rough and chafe me quickly, unlike the smooth silk we used before. I keep pulling them apart, but then realize I have room to work if I instead clasp them together.

“Now you’re getting it,” Jax says. He’s finished this handmade flogger. I’m rewarded for my progress with a sharp smack between my legs with the frayed ends of the rope.

This one has more force, but he knows it, and lays his hand against my skin to calm it.

I lose concentration again, my body lifting up against his palm.