Concealed Force

Chapter 12

She'd spent another day in the room, wishing she could be doing something marginally less mundane. Folding socks, for instance. When Reid got back from wherever he'd been she nearly hugged him.

"Got to put in an appearance at the bar tonight," he said. "After yesterday, it'd be smart to show you're back under my control."

"Okay." She winced at the phrasing, but didn't argue, putting on a skirt and top while he freshened up. He gave her a long look when he came out of the bathroom, and she shifted self-consciously. "We ready to go?"

He nodded, gesturing toward the door, and she took two steps before he stopped her, pressing her back against the wall.

"You look too composed," he said, lowering his mouth to hers.

The kiss was hard and utilitarian, no tongue, no purpose except to mark her. But she had to work hard to keep the moan from rising in her throat. He rubbed his stubble against her jaw, dragged fingers through her hair, sucked the skin over her collarbone, and then suddenly she was free.

She stumbled down the stairs after him, catching a glimpse of herself in one of the room's darkened windows, amazed at how well his quick handling had worked. Her lips were plump, her expression glassy, her hair mussed, she looked...used.

There were more people in the bar this evening, it was crowded and loud. The chairs and tables had been moved back against the wall, the poles were mostly ignored. No women danced alone, almost no one sat down; it was all drinking and shouting.

Reid and Laura stood by the bar, his hands boxing her in while he ordered.

"No cuffs tonight?" Someone asked as they passed.

"She's on parole," Reid joked, and leaned in to bite at her neck.

He had her drink a shot of whiskey, and then a second, making another joke about keeping her docile. People greeted him as they came up to get drinks and he continued to perform his possession of her while chatting. She began to feel woozy, and her muscles got stiff, as she couldn't move because of the way he had her pinned to the bar.

Reid briefly became her whole world; his firm jaw, his strong neck, his broad shoulders were all she could look at, that spicy, cinnamon scent, all she could smell. His deep voice vibrated against her and his breath whispered over her whenever he spoke; his heat seeped into her body.

It was frustrating to be so close to him physically and still to be missing him, to feel like he was far away, and that the uneasy friendship they'd been developing was being interrupted.

She could feel his heartbeat against her chest see his pulse ticking at his throat, not hidden by the tattoo that snaked up his right side, but she couldn't ask him what he was thinking, or how he was feeling.

He looked down at her every now and then, with a smug, greedy, smile and usually this was followed by another joking reference to her position, or an order to drink more alcohol. He played it well, a man who wasn't taking any chances with a rebellious possession, rather than someone who was worried his girl would be hurt if she left his sight.

After an hour or so they drifted over to the pool table, where Alyssa was this evening's lucky charm. Laura didn't know if she was allowed to greet her or not and did a kind of awkward wave that made the other woman smirk.

Reid joined in a game, but insisted he'd brought his own lucky charm. He smoothed his hand over Laura's skin-tight skirt when he kissed her, squeezing her ass hard. She must have been lucky, because he won the game and had to play again. When he lost the second round (she suspected he'd deliberately sunk the white ball twice), he pulled Laura further into the crowd.