Page 7 of His Captive Pet

She moved to the side and let him walk into the house. Thankfully, she was basically a neat person so there wasn’t a slew of mess strewn throughout the place, as he made his way to her kitchen.

“I have a dog.” She tried to warn him, but Samuel had already made his way to Blake’s side. No barking or growling. Samuel’s tail wagged and he danced around, waiting for Blake to pet him. “He isn’t usually this good with men,” she said more to herself than to him.

“Dogs can tell a good egg from a bad.” Blake put the cups on the counter. “You didn’t use any cream or sugar last night, so I got it black for you.”

She had dated a man once for six months, and they’d gone for coffee at least four times a week. Not once had he remembered she drank her coffee black.

She watched him for a minute while he bent down to pet Samuel. He looked so large compared to the thirty-pound dog, but was being playful and gentle. She shook her head. Better not get too attracted, he’d be leaving soon.

Her cell buzzed on the counter and she grabbed it, swiping it open.

New fight. Big one. Two hours. Can you be there?

Shit. She had the day off, but Blake didn’t look like he was going anywhere, and he’d already mentioned his dislike for the fights. Or rather her involvement in them.

“Sorry. Work,” she mumbled, feeling his stare on her.

How many dogs?she texted back.

Twenty-five easy. Some will need patch work to get through a second fight.

The anger rolled through her at the thought of those dogs having to get back in the fighting ring right after being put back together from the first brawl.

Just text me location when you have it.

Same place as yesterday.

“Everything okay?” Blake asked when she slid the phone back on the counter.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Her stomach churned. A big fight meant more dogs than she would be able to help. She wouldn’t be able to get more than one or two out without causing too much suspicion. How the hell would she be able to get a dog patched up only to send him into the death ring again?

“I asked what you were up to this afternoon? Thought maybe we could get some lunch.”

Had he been talking? She needed to get her head out of her ass if she was going to be able to pull it off.

“Oh. No. I mean. I’m sorry, that was work. One of the doctors is sick. They need me to come in right away.” She heard her voice falter, but hoped he hadn’t. Lying turned her stomach, but she couldn’t very well offer the truth. Not after what he’d said the night before.

But would he really take a strap to her? He couldn’t possibly know; it had to be an idle threat, even if he’d clarified it wasn’t. Either way, she didn’t really have the time to find out. It would take at least an hour by bus to get to the warehouse where they were having the fight, and she needed to shower off the stink of rum.

“Oh.” He glanced at her phone, but then pushed on with a smile. “Maybe dinner, then.”

Two rounds or more of a twenty-five-dog fight would take more than a few hours. The idea of sitting through it, hearing the dogs being hurt, or worse made her queasy, but she couldn’t stop what she started. She couldn’t stand by and let it go on; those dogs needed someone to at least try to save them.

“Late dinner?” If she rejected him, he may not offer again, and she very much wanted another offer.

He glanced at the phone again before nodding. “Sure. Here, give me your cell and I’ll put my number in for you.”

She smacked her hand on top of the phone before he could reach it. “Uh, sure.” She put on a smile, trying her damndest to keep the shaking from her insides not to transform into a nervous giggle. Swiping the phone, she quickly shut down the message app and opened her contacts before handing him the phone.

He eyed her warily. He couldn’t know, couldn’t suspect anything. People get called into work last minute all the time.

“I’ll drive you to work. It’ll be faster than the bus.” He handed the phone back to her.

Shit.

When she hesitated to agree, he closed the space between them and cupped her chin in his hand. The touch sent a shiver through her, and she hoped he couldn’t feel it. He lifted and turned her face. Her jaw was still tender, and she had noticed the light bruise forming. Not too bad, but she wished she’d been able to return the favor to the ass who had done it.

“Doesn’t look as bad as I thought.” He ran his thumb over her cheek. And then he did it. He brushed his lips across hers. A gentle touch. She slumped her shoulders. Another gentle touch. But then he tightened his grip on her chin and brought his lips down hard on hers. He crushed her. His tongue begged no entry, but merely possessed hers. There was no doubt who controlled the moment, and she placed her hands on his chest. Not to push him away, but to have more contact, more connection with him. He tasted like coffee, and smelled all man. His hands released her chin, only to slide behind her neck and hold her in place as he pressed his body to hers.

---