“Blake, damn it,” Kara hissed as he started up the stairs, her long, dark hair falling like a mask over her face. She was all too aware of how he played control games and manhandling her was one of them. She was even more aware of how much he, and them, turned her on, and what dangerous territory she was in with this man.

“Curse me all you want,” he said, as if it was the exact reaction he wanted, his hand sliding to her backside, “but you’re going to tell me what I want to know.” His fingers splayed wide on one of her cheeks, stirring the memory of his threat less than an hour before. I'm not going to kill you. Turn you over my knee and spank your pretty little ass, most likely. That I’d enjoy.

“I know what you’re doing,” she accused, certain he was taunting her, trying to jumble her thoughts. “It won’t work.”

“We’ll see,” was all he said, reminding her that the threat of the spanking had been both erotic and frightening simply because he’d been furious when issuing it. Considering they were already at the top of the stairs, she needed a plan to make sure he didn’t get to act on it. Already, though, Blake was pacing forward, and the living area to her left told her he was headed straight to the bed again. The bed where she’d once dared to think she could seduce and control him. That had been a joke. Convincing herself otherwise as she almost did would be a mistake, one too easily repeated.

Desperate to get him talking, and keep her clothes on, she blurted, “I had to go help those girls. You have to know that.”

“This has nothing to do with them,” he half growled, “though you can bet we’re going to talk about you sneaking out and stealing my truck.” His fingers flexed on her backside and he gave it a hard smack.

Kara jerked in shock, heat racing from her backside through her body at what was a decidedly angry and erotic contact. “Damn you, Blake,” she ground out again, only to find herself planted in a sitting position on the mattress with Blake towering over her. “Stop trying to intimidate me. I told you. It won’t work. It’s just pissing me off.”

“No?” he challenged, staring down at her, looking every bit the renegade she’d found him to be, his eyes half-veiled, long strands of raven hair falling from the tie at his nape, framing his perfectly carved, handsome face. “Because I’m pretty sure I can find a way to be intimidating if I need to be. Maybe, considering the games you’ve been playing, you should be far more afraid than you appear to be.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Blake. And I’m not afraid of your spanking me or handcuffing me for that matter.”

“Maybe you like those things a little too much.”

“Maybe you just want me to like them.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice both a soft caress and a rasp of sandpaper, “I do.”

Kara’s ni**les tightened and the air crackled with sexual tension. Was she seducing him or was he seducing her? Wait. Was she trying to seduce him? No. She wasn’t. That was dangerous, and yet somehow her eyes went to his mouth, that seductive, punishing, pleasing mouth. Dangerous didn’t seem to matter anymore. All she could think about was how much she wanted that mouth on her body, how good it would feel. How good he would feel. She was pretty sure she’d thought these things were all bad ideas a few minutes ago but she couldn’t remember why.

“There’s a whole lot more than me to fear, Kara.”

Her gaze jerked to his and reality slammed back into her. If he only knew just how true those words were, and suddenly she was angry with him for his involvement in all of this and for making her actually want to believe he could be saved. “Maybe it’s you who should be afraid of me.”

His mouth curved in a sardonic smile before he grabbed her vanity chair from beside her changing panel, and sat it and then himself, directly in front of her. “Why don’t you tell me why that would be, Kara? Enlighten me.”

Her anger deflated instantly. Oh, crap. Something in his tone had her doing a double take. Did he know the truth about her? “Because,” Kara said, driving forward with her intended point, albeit missing the bite of anger she’d been embracing previously, “I see too much. I know there’s more to you than what you’re doing for Mendez. Or maybe there was and there isn’t any longer. How else can you work for a man like Mendez? He’s selling women to the highest bidder and you’re supporting that indirectly.”

“I’m no more a part of the cartel than you are, sweetheart.”

“Wrong answer,” she bit out angrily, using his own words. “No one takes the money of these kinds of people without justifying what they’re supporting.”

“Well, then,” he purred, with a kind of poisoned seductive quality to his voice, “let’s talk about how looks can be deceiving and how you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Ladies first, and I’ll spare you the talking in circles. You say you’re Kara Tatum, a secretary trying to make a living to help your poor, sick mom. I say you’re Kara Michaels, an FBI agent on a vigilante mission.”

His words blasted through her like a freight train, crushing her chest, and all but flattening her. It was all Kara could do not to flinch. There was no way he could know this unless he had someone inside the feds. “Ex,” she lied in a last-ditch effort to save herself. “I’m ex-FBI.”

He flattened his hands on the bed on either side of her, his big body crowding hers. “Stop lying to me, Kara. I know you think you have to, but it’s really f**king pissing me off. I can deal with you being FBI. I already suspected it. The lies are another story.”