“Being in charge hasn’t ever been an overwhelming ambition for me—but I was honored to lead the men when it was my turn in the barrel.” And he’d done his damnedest to live up to the responsibility. “At the same time, I don’t mind taking orders, as long as my commanding officer is competent.”
In all reality, there was a certain ease to operating under a talented leader. And with Anne, he’d found much to admire. She was a truly gifted operator.
Her gaze held understanding. As a Marine, she knew how it worked. “So, rather than ‘submissive,’ we should have a nice short word for ‘You can give the orders as long as you don’t fuck it up, Sir. Knock yourself out.’ ”
“When you say it that way, sounds better.”
“Maybe not as sexy though.” Her hands curved along his jaw, and she kissed him, taking what she wanted. When he tried to put his arms around her, she made a sound that had him lowering his hands to the couch.
Submissive. The word sucked, but the feeling of restraining himself and letting her enjoy him was satisfying as hell. He could break her in half within a heartbeat, but the instincts at play said to give her whatever she pleased.
Just her will alone could keep him in place. The dominant animal in a pack wasn’t always the biggest one.
He murmured against her lips, “Since I’m the submissive—and this is my quarters—how about I cook you supper? And we’ll go to bed early?”
Her throaty laugh made him reconsider the order of events. “You’re insatiable.”
Only with her. That submissive word was starting to fit better than he’d thought possible. What about the next step? The slave word?
Didn’t sound like him. But what would he do to keep this woman in his life?
Who knew—maybe he’d roll that way given the chance. There was only one way to find out. “Insatiable for you pretty much describes it, yeah.”
Chapter Thirteen
On Thursday, Ben parked in one of the two spaces beside Anne’s driveway.
Bronx jumped out of the SUV behind him. Tail waving gently, the dog danced across the driveway, checked the air, and headed around the house. Bronx had quickly figured out that Anne usually enjoyed a cup of tea or coffee on her deck so she could watch the sunset. Hearing the saxophone, he stopped to listen. After a moment, he recognized the old tune. “Arthur’s Theme” was an unusual mixture of haunting and uplifting.
She was in a fair mood. Anne’s body language didn’t always reveal her spirits, but her music was a dead giveaway.
As Ben reached the back of the house, he heard his retriever charge across the deck.
“Bronx!” Anne laughed. “Aren’t you a pretty boy? Such a smart dog.”
Ben grinned. The woman was a sucker for children and animals. “Permission to come aboard?” he called from the foot of the stairs.
“Come on up, Ben.”
He climbed up. “You look damn comfortable.”
Sitting on a lounge chair, she’d put her sax aside to pet Bronx. Her khaki shorts showed off her long, golden-tan legs. Her sleeveless top was the exact color of her striking eyes—and unbuttoned. Sure, she wore a swimsuit beneath it, but his libido had a Pavlovian switch. A woman—especially this one—with an unbuttoned shirt sent his lust into overdrive.
Bronx was leaning against the chair, collecting as much loving as he could con out of her.
“You’re spoiling him, Anne.”
“He has beautiful manners. As long as that continues, I’ll continue rewarding him.”
Ben leaned over and collected a slow kiss. Damn, he loved the way she kissed, the way her fingers gripped his hair, with her other hand fisted in his shirt to pull him closer.
When he finished and straightened, she assessed the muddy scratches on his legs, arms, and hands. Concern edged her voice. “Are you all right?”
“Good enough. My Jeep got stuck in a swampy area. Had to work to get it extricated.”
“You look as if you fought your way through the Everglades.” She motioned toward the door behind her. “Go grab something to drink—and eat too. I made cookies for the shelter kids and saved a bunch for you.”
“Seriously?” Cookies? Yeah, he adored her. A shame the deck was so exposed or he’d have gone down on her right then. “If they have raisins, I’ll be your slave for the night.”
“Benjamin.” One perfectly groomed eyebrow went up. “You’ll be that whether or not there are raisins.”
Good point. Smiling, he gave her a mock salute and headed for the kitchen before he said something that’d get him in trouble. Or got his treats taken away.