“I didn’t want to be a cop,” he says. “Christ, Jamie, do you know what you’re doing to me?”

“I have some idea,” I admit. “Go on.”

“But when my dad was killed in the line, that’s what everyone expected of me.”

I pause my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you—I was young.” He lays his hand on mine. “Don’t stop.”

I tilt my head back and meet his eyes, and for a moment I think I will get lost in them. Then he goes on, telling me about how his family rebounded—him, his sister, his mother. “But I still wasn’t interested in wearing the uniform, having the badge. I considered the military, but that wasn’t my thing. I trained—a lot. Martial arts, boxing, weapons. But I wasn’t the military type. I wasn’t the intelligence type, either. Too much chain of command, and I like being my own boss.”

“What did you do?” I continue to touch him, but lightly. I want to arouse him, not overwhelm him. I want to hear his story.

“I opened a private security firm. Very high-end. Very exclusive. Very international. My family connections helped there. The company did well, and I decided to take it public. Nothing like that had ever been done before, and I caught Damien’s eye. He got in contact, and to make a long story short, ended up buying me out. Since then, we’ve become friends, and I moved up in his company.”

I frown. “So the company you started is just gone?”

“No. It’s a Stark subsidiary now. I ran it for five years before taking this job. I was getting tired of globetrotting and wanted a more permanent home base. I’m thirty. I wanted to think about a life. A family.”

I lick my lips and try to swallow the ball of jealousy that has caught in my throat. “A family,” I repeat as I draw my hand away from his cock and lean back. “You wanted to stay in LA because of a woman?”

“No,” he says, then tenderly strokes my cheek. “Not then.”

I try not to react, not to read too much into those casual words. But I can’t help but wonder.

His smile turns mischievous. “Actually, there is a woman, and she very much influenced my move.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh?”

“My sister is at UCLA. I like being able to see her, help her out. Spoil her rotten.”

I think about my dress. About everything. “I imagine you do that very well.”

“Drives her crazy,” he admits cheerfully.

“What’s her name?”

“Moira,” he says. “Dad died when she was eight, so I’ve always felt a bit like a parent. She’s amazing,” he adds as I watch his face, studying this new side of the man who already has me falling.

He puts his hand over mine. “As much as I’m enjoying your touch,” he says, “I think it’s time to move on.”

“Oh?” His cock is hard beneath his jeans, and I’m hoping that he has plans to put that lovely erection to very good use.

“We have dinner reservations. You should change.”

“Right,” I say, standing up and hoping my disappointment doesn’t show.

I start to step away, but his voice stops me. “Wait,” he says. “First things first.”

I turn back, and there’s something in his tone that makes me wary.

“You left,” he said. “You ran, actually.”

I lick my lips. “I thought we were past that. Our new deal. Roulette. The ball on red.”

“And I’m very much enjoying our arrangement so far,” he says, which is a bit baffling as so far he hasn’t touched me. Not really. But that, I suppose, is all part of the tease.

But what he’s talking about now...I shake my head, uncertain. “What do you want?”

“It was a bad thing you did, Jamie. We both know it.”

“Maybe,” I say, still wary.

“Strip.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

He leans back, his arms stretched along the rear of the couch. He looks relaxed and powerful and most definitely in charge. “I said, strip.”

“Why?”

His mouth curves in a lazy, seductive smile. “Why do you think?”

My mouth has gone dry, and my knees are suddenly weak. Whatever he intends, I know that I want it—and yet still I am nervous. “I think you’re going to fuck me,” I say, and I can’t keep the note of hope out of my voice.

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m going to punish you.”

“Hunter—”

He smiles. “That’s it. I like that. You call me Hunter when you know what’s coming.”

“Ryan,” I say more firmly, making him laugh.

“It’s no use, kitten. Hush now. Hush and take off your clothes. I promise you, Jamie, you don’t want to cross me.”

I am tempted to do just that simply because I want to see how far he will take this. But I also want what I know he will give me. His hands, his cock, his body.

But there will be none of that until I strip. Until he punishes me.

I remember what he’d said that first night in Malibu—how he’d talked about spanking me. I remember, too, how wet the very idea had made me.

It makes me wet now.

“Are you going to spank me?”

“No talking,” he says again, “or I’ll be dining alone tonight. Go on,” he urges. “I want to watch you strip for me.”

I don’t speak, but I move back to stand in front of him. Slowly, I peel off my clothes, one garment at a time, until I am standing naked in front of him. I can see the desire in his eyes and know that he is looking forward to this.

And, yes, so am I.

I smile boldly, then slide my hand down over my sex just because I want to do a little bit of punishing myself. “I’m wet,” I say, then bring my own finger to my mouth.

“Jesus, Jamie,” he says, and while I have him, I decide to take the extra step and see just how crazy I can make him.

I move closer, then bend over his lap, putting my bare ass in front of him. “Spank me,” I say. “You know you want to.”

My pubis is pressed against his lap, and I can feel his erection grow. I close my eyes, relishing the feel of his hand rubbing a smooth circle on my rear. And then his hand is gone, replaced only moments later with a quick, sharp sting.

I cry out in both surprise and pain—and as his palm strokes quickly over the spot, I relax and breathe deep as the fingers of pain spread out, transforming to electric shocks that sizzle through me, focusing most intently on my sex, now even more hot. Even more needy.

“Do you like that?” he says, and I can tell by his growing erection that he does.

“Yes—it’s...” I search for the right word. “Liberating,” I finally say, and it’s true. The sting, the pain, sends me flying, freeing me for an even more intense passion.

“Again,” he says, then lands another smack followed in quick succession by another. He is spanking and stroking, giving pain and then pleasure. Sending me spiraling up and then reeling me back in.

I have never done this before. Never felt this before.

And I like it. Dear god, I like it.

“Hunter,” I whisper as my cunt throbs in a silent demand for his touch. “Can I be bad every day?”