Dared by a Dangerous Man

By Cleo Peitsche

DARED BY A DANGEROUS MAN (#6) is a sexy romantic suspense of 32,500 words. Contains BDSM elements. This is the first book in Season Two.

When assassin Corbin Lagos chose Audrey over his career, she believed nothing could come between them. But a stranger’s disturbing news, if true, will take Corbin away forever.

Her twin brother convinces her to invest everything in the family bounty hunting business even as she secretly accepts her first private investigation case.

This romance is for adults only!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cleo Peitsche
• Release date: Dec 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311861009

Cleo Peitsche

If Cleo isn't writing (or reading!) erotica, she's probably sitting on her balcony, watching the wind blow through the trees. She loves snowstorms, piña coladas, horses, and pasta primavera. If she won the lottery, she would hire an assistant to take care of the technical side of e-publishing so that she could write all day.Some random facts about Cleo:1. Thinks life's too short to forgo HEAs and HFNs.2. Sprained an ankle joining the mile-high club. (Never again!)3. Favorite writers include Cormac Mccarthy, Junot Diaz and Rachel Caine.4. Gets weak-kneed for bookish guys who know how to fix things with their hands. *swoons*

Book preview

Chapter 1

The kitchen was filled with crackling oil and the heavy aroma of frying onions. I hovered over the cast iron pan, a wooden spoon clutched awkwardly in my hand.

My dark hair was frizzed from chasing criminals and bail skips in the August heat, and I felt like a mess. But I’d promised to make dinner, and I was going to come through.

Even though I couldn’t cook.

Halfway across the room, the reason for my clumsiness had his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. I’d asked him to watch television, but he’d insisted on staying.

On staring.

His electric blue-green eyes flickered from the spoon to the pan. Stir—

Heaven help me, I will throw this at you. I meant it, too.

When Corbin took a step closer, I swung the spoon at him in warning. Greasy chopped onion flew in an arc.

He grabbed his open beer, took a swig, and leaned against a counter. He could act casual, but I saw the future in his eyes. In a few minutes, either he was going to take over dinner, or we were going to end up doing unsanitary things on the granite bar… And then he would take over dinner.

From the other room, Corbin’s cell phone rang, shattering our peaceful evening.

My back went stiff, and my breathing turned so shallow that by the time the noise stopped, I was lightheaded.

That was the first call today, and with any luck, also the last. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Corbin. If he wanted to answer, he would, and that would be the end of our happy little life together.

But he didn’t move, and I tried to relax.

On the bright side, at least I’ll get to test my fire extinguisher, he said. Despite the calm rumbling of his voice, I knew he was reaching the end of his patience.

I glared at him before scraping the spoon over the bottom of the pan. The onions were as brown as if they’d just come back from spring break in Daytona Beach.

See? Nothing burned, I said.

Cooking under the gaze of a former chef, one who’d had celebrities and royalty in his restaurant, wasn’t easy. Not hollering at a man who’d spent five years deep undercover as an assassin was much easier. Not because I thought he would hurt me. Though truth be told, he would absolutely hurt me. He’d grab my wrists together in one hand, pull down my pants and spank me. Then he’d shove himself deep inside. And I’d love it.

But if I lost my temper, he’d punish me by making me beg, then telling me no.

I can’t watch, he said as I dumped the bowl of mushrooms into the pan.

His phone rang again. It seemed louder, closer.

Frustrated, I banged the bowl onto the counter. What? This is how you always do it.

That’s not how I do it, Audrey. You’re supposed to drain the milk. He set down the bottle of beer and came behind me. "But that’s not such a big deal. We’ll just… You’ll just add less cream later."

The second his warmth and masculine scent wrapped around me, I was lost. The ringing phone seemed to fade away. All I wanted was to lean back against him and close my eyes.

We were in the penthouse condo Corbin had bought two months earlier. It had skylights, two fireplaces, and recessed lights that blended seamlessly with the ceilings. You could talk to the computer, tell it to close blinds, open windows, or water the shrubs on the wraparound balcony. I had never heard of such a thing, but then I wasn’t rich like Corbin.

He’d purchased the condo because he was tired of the homey but small apartment I’d rented at the end of winter.

Corbin’s place was… It was home. I spent all my time there. If someone had asked me the color of my bathroom tiles, I’d have had to think about it.

I’ll show you how I do it, he said, his voice so seductive that I was ready to forget about dinner altogether. He skimmed his large palms down my forearms until he gripped the pan’s silicone handle. He adjusted my hold on the spoon, too.

Like this, he said as he moved my left hand in a rhythmic, circular motion.

Exactly what I was doing.

He jerked his hand back and forth. Baby, this is what you were doing. Amusement thickened his already deep voice.

Having someone instruct me on stirring was a bit insulting, but it was hard to be mad at him when his brawny body was pressed firmly against mine. And at least he didn’t get all take-chargey about my job even though he surely had plenty of ideas.

I was a bounty hunter. Along with my brother and father, we ran Stroop Finders, which was by far the most respected bounty hunting company in the area.

A guy with a background like Corbin’s knew how to find people who’d rather be left alone. He now sometimes tracked big bounties, which took him all over the country. I was jealous because that had been my dream.

Luckily for me—and for him—he only offered advice when asked.

Except in the kitchen.

… And the bedroom.

Despite the steam coming up from the pan, I shivered.

Corbin reached over to turn down the heat, and I let him. When he picked up the flour, I slipped away, taking up his former place against the counter.

Watching him cook was a lot more fun than doing it myself. As he added spices and herbs, his concentration total, I studied his profile.

The man was physically perfect. The first time I’d seen him, I’d wanted him. Broad shoulders, thick muscles, a deep voice and rugged sideburns. I loved the intoxicating way he smelled, the way he felt under my fingers, against my chest, between my legs. His square jaw was perpetually darkened with just enough stubble to make him look like the bad boy he was.

He’d been wearing his hair longer than when I’d met him. I liked it, the dark ends curling in all different directions.

He glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow, and I wondered how the hell I’d gotten so lucky. Other than being a pain in the ass to cook for, he was perfect.

You need my help? I asked.

Always.

His phone rang again and I almost screamed, but Corbin continued acting like he hadn’t heard. Scooping up a bit of the fragrant mixture in the pan, he motioned me over. He held the spoon to my lips. Taste.

I opened my mouth slightly and looked up at him as the tip of the spoon slid over my lips.

Delicious, I said, trying to ignore the phone. Especially the onions.

Corbin smiled.

I retreated and helped myself to his beer. Are we going to talk about why they keep calling? They would be his former employer, a secret government agency that technically didn’t exist.

After first quitting, he’d done some consulting for them, but that hadn’t been enough. They wanted him to come back. Eventually, their overtures had tapered off, but two days ago, the calls had started up again like crazy, far worse than before.

Something was happening. Obviously.

If it were a matter of life or death, if someone looking for revenge was closing in on where Corbin lived, the agency would have gotten in touch with him in a more direct manner. Corbin hadn’t made himself easy to locate, but he wasn’t exactly hiding in a cave, either.

They were calling because they needed him—or someone with his unique skill set.

We both knew that, but we hadn’t talked about it.

The phone quieted, but I could still hear the ring echoing through my skull.

I finished his beer, opened another. It didn’t help.

Darkness was descending on me, souring my mood. Realistically, how long would I get to keep Corbin? Three more months? A year?

The phone rang again, and I watched him carefully, searching for even a hint that he regretted his decision, that he wanted to leave his new life already, return to the excitement of what he’d had.

For all my scrutiny, I didn’t see anything but a sinfully sexy man engrossed in his cooking.

But this was Corbin Lagos. Poker face was his default expression; he never revealed anything he didn’t want to.

If they call again, your phone is going over the balcony. I pulled out another beer, but my stomach felt queasy.

What I hadn’t done even once was ask him if he missed it. Not the killing—I knew he’d been glad to get away from that.

But the rest… the tracking, the finding, the catching. The mental challenge of besting someone at his level. Bounty hunting wasn’t doing it for him. After playing with pros, amateurs weren’t a challenge. Not that he’d ever said as much.

Corbin stood just a few feet away. I could ask him. He wouldn’t lie to me.

But that was the problem. He wouldn’t lie, and I wasn’t ready to hear the answer.

Chapter 2

Corbin ended up cooking everything. It was a good thing he didn’t make a huge meal every night or none of my clothes would have fit me.

I’ll clean up, I said, stacking our plates. Mine had been shamelessly licked clean.

He helped me clear the table. Movie?

Your turn to pick, I said, dreading what awful film he had in mind.

I brushed the crumbs from the table into my cupped palm and carefully carried them to the sink.

What do you think you’re doing? he asked.

Cleaning up. I started rinsing the dishes and filling the dishwasher.

Jamie can do that tomorrow, he said impatiently. Come on.

I pretended not to hear. He knew I was uncomfortable leaving a mess for someone else to fix. I slotted a plate into the bottom rack.

"Guess I’ll have to fire