Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(45)

Growling, Ben pressed deep, deep into her, and his cock pulsed with his climax, sending more sizzling pleasure through her.

She managed to fumble the remote to OFF and simply went limp.

Eventually, when her heart rate slowed to a less painful gait, she opened her eyes. Head bowed, Ben was immobile, his wide chest expanding and contracting with his breathing. His face was flushed, the cords on his neck still taut.

Magnificent.

She rubbed her hands over his back, appreciating the solid feel of his muscles.

Holding the headboard with one hand—good submissive—he carefully let her leg down.

Still buried deep, his cock was giving small twitches. She grinned inwardly. His tool would remember her tomorrow.

“Ma’am?” His voice sounded as if he’d swallowed half of her sandy beach. “Are you…”

So sweet. She ran her hand over his strong face. “I’m fine, Benjamin.” She paused. “But you broke my bed.”

He didn’t even look embarrassed. Instead, his eyes glinted as he smiled slowly. “Guess we’ll have to move to the floor for the next round.”





A couple of hours later, Anne came out of the shower to the sound of someone pounding on her back door.

While she’d finished washing her hair, Ben had taken Bronx for a walk. Now the dog lay in the corner…and Ben was repairing the damage to her bed. “Bed’s almost fixed.”

He nodded toward the door. “Problems?” His long hair was disheveled, his five-o’clock shadow visible. He looked like a tousled, annoyed male, and she wanted to push him onto the pile of bed linens and muss him up some more.

“Probably not,” she said. “But, unfortunately, since my car’s here, my family knows I’m home. Whoever it is won’t stop until I answer the door.”

“I got firearms in my ride.”

She grinned. “So do I, but shooting relatives is considered bad manners.”

“True.” He rose and ran his fingers over her face. “I can’t get over how beautiful you are, no matter what you wear, what time of day.”

Everything within her melted into a puddle. She gave him an exasperated look to cover that up, opened the window, and shouted, “I’ll be down in a couple of minutes. Bestow yourself with patience.”

She closed the window on Travis’s X-rated answer. “Men,” she said in a low voice and picked out clean underwear.

“Anne.” Ben had squatted back beside the bed.

She braced, expecting a complaint about how she was neglecting him. Joey had been a good enough slave to be silent, but he’d certainly have pouted.

“I’ll be done with this in a minute. Want me to stay up here or let myself out quietly?” he asked.

The tactfulness of the question staggered her. And reminded her not to judge this man by anyone else.

And…she realized she didn’t want him sneaking away. “No, come on down and I’ll fix you supper. My brother knows I have a personal life. He might tease me, but not you.”

His face darkened. “He’d better not give you any grief.”

Even though his protectiveness was oddly warming, her spine still stiffened. “Down, Benjamin. I can handle my own family.”

After a second, he gave a jerk of his head. “Yes, Ma’am, I guess you could, at that.”

The way he could be protective, yet trust her to look after herself, both warmed and delighted her—and she indulged herself in a long, decadent kiss.

On the way out, she stopped to pet Bronx. “You’re such a good dog.” His tail thumped the carpet.

Downstairs, she unlocked the back door that opened onto her high deck.

Travis sauntered in. “’Bout time. You’re getting slow, sis.” He tugged on her hair.

Jeans, ratty gray T-shirt, boots. His hair was the same rich brown as hers, although kept almost as short as in his military days. Dark blue eyes, classically handsome features, tall and muscular and tan. Like their mother, he was far more fun loving and sociable than she was.

If she’d had a favorite brother, he might have made the cut.

“I saw the extra vehicle outside.” He headed straight to the kitchen. “Got a new man?”

“You are such a snoopy-pants.” Despite the late afternoon time, she selected a caramel-flavored coffee pod and put it into the Keurig. “What are you doing over here?”

“No food in my fridge. Any chance you have lasagna left?” He gave her the appealing grin which worked so well on his women.

Sex appeal didn’t work on a sister, poor lad.

“Maybe. And maybe I’d feed you if you mow my lawn.” She took her cup from the machine and inserted a dark roast coffee pod for him, along with a clean mug.

“Deal. Can I get garlic bread too?”

“Fine.” She pulled out the remains of a loaf of French bread and started to cut slices. A few minutes later, Ben and Bronx came down the stairs.

Travis’s jaw dropped as he stared at Ben. “Jesus f*ck, where’d she find you?”

The guard dog’s shoulders stiffened.

Anne smacked the back of her brother’s head. “Were you raised in a barn?” How could she explain to Ben that Travis hadn’t meant his words as an insult?

“Ah, sorry, man. Didn’t mean it that way,” Travis said.