“I didn’t do it in front of his underlings.”
“No. But you also threatened to remove his undersized manhood with your fingernail clippers,” Dale added. “A direct quote.”
“Abby has a big mouth.”
Ros said it without real heat, however, since she knew Abby was genuinely worried about her. She’d said the same things to Ros that these two were saying now. She and Abigail Rose didn’t keep secrets from one another, which had strengthened not only their friendship, but the marketing firm they’d founded together, Thomas Rose Associates.
“Ros.” Matt touched her shoulder. “She and the rest of your team are smart enough to realize he might come after you. And not just at home. You have thirty employees. Dale’s man can upgrade your home and office security while being a personal driver and bodyguard, all for the price of one staff member.” His dark eyes twinkled. “Nice for your bottom line. Plus, a driver saves you time and is a nice convenience in NOLA traffic. Keeping you alive just happens to be an added perk.”
She sighed and poked at his large hand with her violet-painted fingernails. “Fine. I’m not agreeing yet, but tell me about him.”
“He served on the last team I led before I moved out of field work,” Dale said. “Exceptional operator. Been with the SEALs since his teens. He got an injury not too long ago. It’s not the kind that qualifies him for a handicap sticker, but it knocked him out of being an operator. He decided to take the discharge, but he’s been at loose ends since then. He needs a bridge to civilian life.”
She’d had plenty of relaxed late-night conversations with Dale over drinks, after sessions. Since SEALs interested her, she’d asked questions. As a result, she knew that a man who made it through BUD/S training in his teen years was pretty damn exceptional. Add to it Matt and Dale’s endorsement, and she didn’t need anything further to confirm the man was qualified for what they were recommending.
But then Matt looked at Dale as if there was more he wanted the retired SEAL to say. The warning flags went up.
“We could have discussed this at my office, with Abby and the rest of my team’s input. Why here?” She shot a sharp look at Dale. “Matt said professional and personal. What does that mean?”
His lips tightened into a line. “You’re going to notice something else about him. Something that you may want to explore.”
She blinked. “He’s a sub.”
“Maybe. Yes. No.” At her raised brow, Dale shook his head. “I picked up on it when we worked together. He hadn’t had any direct exposure to this world, so he had no context for it.”
“Plenty of people have Dom or sub traits and go through life without the drive to pursue it in this kind of setting. What’s made you certain he wants to go that way?”
When asked a complicated question, Dale usually took his time responding, weighing variables. His prompt response now told Ros the answer had already been through that internal grilling. “When I started to suspect it, I had him tag along with me to my regular club. He wore the non-player bracelet, but I saw the way he watched. And we know it when we see it.”
Yes, they did. An experienced Master or Mistress picked up on it like a matching heartbeat. That hunger, the leaning forward, the tension in the muscles. Sometimes a totally new-to-it sub would get so lost in watching what he craved, nothing could distract him. Except the attention or touch of the right Dominant, drawing him away from the window to bring him across the threshold.
She did like that kind of challenge, when it was real, when the sub truly wanted what she had to give. Matt and Dale understood that desire. Like her, their core identity was all about holding a submissive’s pulsing soul in the grip of their will, cherishing it, testing it, asking everything from it in order to give everything back. A closed circle of pure sexual and spiritual bliss, when done right.
Her gaze flickered back to her intent watcher. He’d shifted, giving her a hint of the broad shoulder, a tapered waist. He had a body that looked ready to be stretched to the limits of peak endurance.
With reluctance, she brought her attention back to Matt and Dale and frowned. “You’re concerned for my safety, but you want me to explore this man’s sub side with him. Mixing security with pleasure sounds like a bad idea, and you two don’t usually offer bad ideas.”
“He’ll put the mission first, because that’s how he’s trained.” Dale’s flat gaze told her he meant it. “Forgive the bluntness, but he could be balls deep in you, and if there was a threat, he’d be aware of it, on his feet and ready to meet it, faster than you could draw breath. SEALs are trained to notice everything, and evaluate and adapt accordingly.”
“How useful. He saves my life and I get to punish him afterward for withdrawing without permission. A win-win.”
That earned her a twinkle from Dale’s blue-green eyes and a tight smile from Matt, but the men remained somber. They were ready to double down on their determination to persuade her to do what they thought was best for her. Because it was motivated by mutual regard, she wouldn’t let it raise her hackles. However, with overprotective men, no matter how well-meaning, a woman had to make sure they understood which decisions were hers to make.
“You could have kept this out of the equation. Left it just business. You know I never lack for companionship when I want it. There’s a missing piece.”
“I care about the man,” Dale said simply. “I think there’s an emptiness to him, Ros. I’ve seen you take men who need what he needs and help them find it. You give yourself what you need at the same time. When you cut them loose, they continue the journey with a better, more balanced sense of themselves. Coming out of the SEALs is difficult. It’s going to be harder for him than most.”
Another warning flag there. “You think me teaching him to embrace his sub side would be a good distraction?”
“Not a distraction. A way to see himself as more than a SEAL.”
“What’s his backstory?”
Shadows crossed Dale’s eyes. “Complicated. But he’s straightforward in the ways that matter.”
A complicated man with simple tastes. Well, shit.
“Dale,” she said evenly, “is your man standing over near the coffee shop? Light blue shirt, jeans, drinking a Modela?”
Matt tapped his glass to Dale’s beer. “Told you.”
“I prefer to choose my own bedmates,” she said testily.
Dale shrugged. “Since you’ve been eyeballing each other for twenty minutes, it doesn’t sound like I’ve interfered with that.”
“Or you two put the carrot in an optimal position to lead me where you want me to go.”
Matt chuckled outright in his Texas-flavored deep timbre. “How long have we known one another? There’s no obligation here, Ros. You enjoy a challenge. When you see one here that suits you, you indulge. If you don’t wish it to go that way, then drop that element and focus only on the security angle.”
She tapped her nails on the table. Despite his inescapable appeal to the opposite sex, Matt wasn’t a charmer. He was honest and direct, whether at a board room table or sitting in a club, like now. His evaluation was accurate; she’d been intrigued by the man the moment she noticed him, well before knowing he was here at Matt and Dale’s invitation.