“Guide?”

Jordan smiled smugly in the rearview mirror. “Me. We were short a driver today, so I volunteered, but I’m your dungeon master.”

Just fucking perfect.

Logan looked out the passenger window again, restraining the urge to pound Jordan’s face. Beside him, he felt Tara slip her hand in his. He didn’t dare look at her now; his expression would reflect possessiveness and need. But he squeezed back before releasing her.

The minutes slipped by until they reached a small marina with a speedboat tethered to the sun-washed dock. Jordan handed Tara a life jacket and helped her put it on, his hands lingering when they shouldn’t, before directing Tara to a shaded overhang with a smile. “To protect your fair skin, sweet sub.”

Tara did the perfect job of looking flustered and slightly flattered by his attention. On the inside, Logan seethed and almost choked, trying to restrain himself from beating the shit out of Jordan. Instead, he had to wander to the front of the boat and pretend interest in the big blue ocean. When really, water wasn’t that beautiful to a SEAL; it was just a place to get the job done.

Long minutes stretched, and he resisted the urge to look back at Cherry. He heard their guide’s low-voiced murmur to her. Her reply sounded breathy and small. The good news was, if Jordan had any say in which female guests were singled out for auction, Tara stood a good chance of being picked. For that reason alone, he pretended not to pay them a lick of attention again until they docked on the private island.

Logan tossed a few bags Jordan’s way, keeping his own carry-on close. Besides having a satellite phone and his laptop inside, he also had Cherry’s change of clothing. Idly, he wondered how she was going to feel about his selections, but nearly any reaction would be worth this view.

The fact that Jordan would see, too—and likely wet himself—set Logan’s teeth on edge. But he couldn’t let jealousy derail him. Instead, he herded Tara to the private cabana, not terribly surprised to find it more like a spa without the attendants. With Tara’s help, he scanned the room for any listening or recording devices and, thankfully, found it clean.

Leading her to a padded table in the middle of the room, he laid Tara down, then pulled up a chair, settling close to her face. Her doesoft eyes reflected a mixture of apprehension and determination. She’d see this through, no matter what.

“Now it gets tougher, Cherry. We have to play like this is for real.”

“I thought we were.”

Logan paused. “If you were truly any Dom’s submissive, he would have already made modifications to your dress. And to your body.”

She rolled her eyes. “I figured you’d put me in some get-up, but I can’t reduce the size of my ass. I’ve tried. It’s just big.”

“It’s luscious,” he corrected. “I adore it. That’s not the issue. Before we leave this room, you need to be comfortable with two changes.”

Reaching into the bag at his feet, he pulled free a bundle wrapped in tissue paper, set it on the counter behind him, and removed the tags. His hands shook. Tara was going to look gorgeous, and he wished to fuck that he didn’t have to share the view with anyone.

“Logan?” she called from behind him.

“You’ll be dressed submissively, Cherry.” Of course, he didn’t tell her that if he had his way, if he could persuade her to the altar, she’d always be dressed submissively in the privacy of their bedroom. “Which is to say, barely dressed at all.”

“Yeah . . .” She sounded breathy.

“Good. One last change.” Logan sat in the chair by her side again, landing a hand on her thigh, then gliding his fingers up, up, up until he covered her mound. “I’ve got to shave you.”

She gulped in a deep breath, then sent him a shaky nod. “I suspected that.”

Pride swelled in Logan. She’d taken it well. In truth, he preferred her fiery red pussy, but it would be exciting to see her completely bare.

“I can do it myself.” Tara eased up on her elbows, looking around for a razor.

Logan shook his head. “It’s my privilege and my right. Lie back.”

She stared, clearly stunned. Logan gazed back, unblinking. He knew the second it dawned on her that he meant those words. In the next instant, she licked her lips and lowered herself to the table again.

Pride speared him as he turned to the counter behind him and found the necessary tools. In moments, he brought over a warm washcloth. “Spread your legs wide.”

She hesitated. “That’s your Dom voice.”

“And you’ll be hearing it a lot for the next few days. This is probably one of the few personal acts we’ll have between us while we’re here. I want this.”

Within seconds, she opened to him, parting creamy pale thighs, slowly revealing that silky red hair that hid all her sweet pink secrets. Just looking at her made him want her with something bordering obsession.

Swallowing down his lust, he set the washcloth over her cunt, softening the skin and hair. In the cabinet beside him, he found a can of shaving cream and a fresh disposable razor. He lifted the washcloth from her flesh, gratified to see it soft and rosy, then he slathered the foamy white cream on top. With extreme concentration, he drew the razor across her mound, down her vaginal lips, then ordered her to flip over and get on all fours. Before she had time to question him, he’d swiped more shaving cream between her cheeks. She tensed and tried to clench against him, but he held her open to shave away the wisps of hair, then wiped her clean. He finished off by rubbing her top to bottom with soothing lotion.

“God, that’s embarrassing,” she groaned.

“Really? I’m turned on and can’t wait to do it again tomorrow. Get on your back.”

She complied slowly. “Logan, this is happening so fast. I’m used to having the opportunity to talk things through with you.”

And her tone indicated that she felt uncertain about this total imbalance of power. “You could have used the extra training, but with the changes in the situation, we didn’t get to progress further. You’re going to have to trust for me. When we can’t openly communicate, that’s all we’ll have. Now spread your legs again.”

Slowly, with trust in her eyes, she opened to him, her pussy completely bare. It nearly brought him to his fucking knees.

Unable to help himself, he swiped a thumb through her slit. She was soaking.

He settled the digit over her clit. “You like it when I go all Dom on you.”

“It’s a little annoying and frustrating sometimes.” She raised her chin in challenge.

“Probably, but it still makes your sweet little pussy wet.” And Logan loved that fact. He cocked his head and stared as a thought occurred to him. “Did you ever realize before being with me that you’re submissive?”

She closed her eyes, looking away, almost like she was ashamed. “No.”

Fuck shame. “Look at me.”

Tara did, then sighed. “No. Bocelli told me my profile indicated that, and I . . . thought he had a screw loose.”

Whoever had compiled her psychological profile had been deadon. The Feds weren’t the only perceptive folks out there. Other men had crossed paths with Tara and certainly figured her out, too. And Tara’s sweet nature had probably turned them on, damn it.

Too bad. She was his right now, and if he played his cards right, always.

He reached for the tissue-paper bundle, untying the silken red bow around it with a single pull. He fished inside for the thong and handed it to her.

Cherry stared at the little scrap of transparent flesh-colored fabric like he’d lost his mind. Then she shifted her weight and heaved out a breath. “Wow, nothing says ‘see my wide ass’ quite like this little garment.”

He’d had enough denigration against her luscious backside. Wrapping a hand around her neck, he yanked her closer, bringing her crashing against his chest. “Not another negative word about yourself or you’ll answer to me.”

“You’re serious?” She blinked.

“Damn straight. And I could tell you all day long how fucking sexy I think you are, but you won’t hear me. I’m hoping this will help you figure it out and keep your cover. Put it on.”

She fingered the garment, then nodded. “Okay. If anyone laughs, I’m punching you.”

Logan couldn’t help it; he grinned. She snuck under his Dom persona and warmed his heart. He couldn’t resist planting a sweet, slow kiss on her lips. “You can try.”

“Bully.” She stuck out her tongue playfully.

Then she donned the thong and looked down. “Oh, come on. Seriously?”

Logan nearly swallowed his tongue. “Yes.”

“There’s a big bow down there, which would be fine if it covered something. But instead, I just look like some X-rated present.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I wish we had time to—”

“But we don’t, perv. As it is, Jordan is probably wondering what’s taking so long.”

“Fuck Jordan,” he said automatically.

Tara wrinkled her nose. “Pass. Something about him seems . . . off.”

“Good instinct, Cherry. I’d bet my last dime that guy is seriously bent.”

Logan turned his attention back to the tissue paper bundle in his hand. And now for the next adornment. He got even harder just thinking about it.

Without preamble, he bent and cupped one of her breasts, sucking her nipple into his mouth, nipping it with his teeth. Tara gasped, arched to him. God, he could do this all day. And someday, he would.

When the nipple turned hard and began to swell, he eased back and pulled the first of two metallic ornaments from his hand. “These are nipple huggers. Watch.”

He parted the delicate object at the tiny hinge, then settled it around her nipple, tightening the thin wire beneath until it encompassed the little taut bud securely. Stepping back, he surveyed his handiwork. And damn near came in his pants.

The fragile silver, shaped like petals, unfurled around her rosybrown nipple, which now looked like the flower’s lush center.

“Perfect,” he murmured as he bent to repeat the process with her other breast.

As soon as he finished, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “They’re tight.”

“They’re supposed to be, but you’ll be able to wear them all day without issue.”

She nearly choked. “All day?”

“Yes. Walk across the room and back for me.”

Since the little bathroom of this spa wasn’t terribly big, three steps took her toward the slate tiled wall. When she pivoted back, her eyes had gone wide and stunned.

“Oh my gosh . . .” Tara turned her shocked stare on him. “I suspected it turned me on . . . but I’m so wet.”

He smiled indulgently. “Exactly.

“And you knew that. You really are a perv.”

“Amen. Here’s the last bit of your outfit.”

Cherry took the little top he extended her way with a reluctant stare. “It’s totally sheer.”

“Yeah. Isn’t it awesome?”

She socked him in the arm with a half-hearted punch. “I’ll freeze to death.”

“Baby, it’s summer in the Keys. You won’t get cold.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You’re going to do great. And remember, just because I’m not looking at you doesn’t mean I’m not dying to.”

“You don’t have to keep reassuring me.”

Yeah, he did. Logan had a bad suspicion this could get painful for both of them.

Carrying her old clothes, he led her out the door and stiffened when Jordan locked his gaze on her.

Somehow repressing his violent instinct, Logan backed away and let the creep help Tara into the car. Within minutes, they were pulling up to the resort, a huge white building designed with a cottage motif that spanned the length of a private beach. The ocean lapped gently at its edges. All around, private cottages soaked in the afternoon sun. The whole thing reeked of money and exclusion.

Jordan climbed from the car and opened the door for Tara, holding out his hand. He’d said the pretty boy could talk to Tara, not touch her. And damn it, Logan knew he had to pretend not to care. The next three days were going to be pure fucking torture.

Fantasy Key—Sunday afternoon

Their seemingly eight-handed driver escorted them to a side door, which he unlocked. The door gave way to an air-conditioned meeting room just inside the resort. Jordan palmed Tara’s hip as he helped her inside, and Tara repressed a shiver. Hopefully, her contact with him would be brief over the next few days. Logan had done a good job hiding his irritation, but she’d felt his livid fury under the surface. She smiled to herself.

When Jordan excused himself for a moment, Tara scanned the room. She hadn’t expected the lobby since they’d entered from the side. What she saw instead was tuxedoed waiters circulating with platters of fruit and cheese, ornate quiches, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and champagne. Tara desperately wanted a glass to calm her nerves, but Logan declined on her behalf when a young waiter passed.