Page 32 of Scarlett Thief (Criminal Underground 2)

Scarlett was hung up on something—her control? Probably. Her power? Most certainly. But there was something else. I didn't know what, but the Dom in me wanted to break her open and find out. I didn't want to break her to hurt her—that wasn't what it was about. I wanted to break that outer shell of hers and find the submissive underneath, the one I guessed she'd had to hide for a long time.

"Maybe I don't." Hadrian sighed and leaned back. It was surprising that he was acting so serious. He seemed the type to keep to his sarcasm and sardonic tone, but when he considered her—Scarlett's needs as a submissive—he was utterly serious. Strange. Neither of us had known her before this job, but there was something about the pretty little thief that made me want to know more about her.

"She's dangerous," I warned him. "She's a criminal."

He snorted and eyed me. "That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?" Before I could reply, he kept going. "Besides, all women are dangerous."

"Too true," I said, leaning back and taking my elbows off the table. "Too fucking true."

I arched my back with a groan and blew out a breath as I stared up at the ceiling. Hadrian went back to typing, deciphering the code Archer had put on the flash drive. He always was cautious. It was a trait I appreciated in our line of work. Ian and his men—wife included—were solid. They wouldn't have given us false information.

As he worked, my thoughts turned back to Scarlett. She'd been so close to caving the night before. Her features flushed, lust clear in her eyes. Dangerous … She was dangerous in ways I hadn't expected. When she turned that sharp mouth on me, all it made me want to do was turn her over my knee and make her ass reflect her name.

"She needs it." I didn't realize I'd spoken until the words were out of my mouth and hovering in the air between us.

"All of us who stay in the lifestyle do," Hadrian replied.

He was right—that was true for me and if he was agreeing, then I only had to assume he meant that to be true for himself as well. "She's not in the lifestyle," I pointed out.

Not yet,I silently amended.

Hadrian lifted his head and narrowed his eyes on me. A curious smirk flitted across his lips, almost as if he already knew what I was thinking. He slid his laptop to the side and leaned back. He examined me, roving down from my face to my body and back again in what I assumed was an analyzing measure. Perhaps he was looking for tics, quirks, or anything that might give away my thoughts. I had them, I knew. Everyone did. Body language could tell a lot about a person—if they were closed off, afraid, curious etcetera.

"You want to bring her into it," he finally said.

I waited a beat and then, "I don't see what the harm could be if she's curious."

"You and I both know she's more than curious." Hadrian tilted his head, still assessing me. "Perhaps I was thinking of doing the same."

My eyes widened. I thought I'd been discussing her with a fellow Dom—one who knew the ins and outs of the lifestyle. His statement, however, had my back straightening and my jaw clenching.

"She came in under my fucking command," I gritted out.

"Once," he replied casually, seeming to take great enjoyment at watching my anger rising. "That doesn't make her yours. She signed a temporary contract to get into the club to follow us as we obtained information important to our mission—a mission she is very much a part of. That doesn't make her yours."

"It damn well doesn't make her yours!" I burst out.

He laughed. "No, you're right, but perhaps we can come to a compromise?"

His tone was even, calm, almost entertained—the asshole. I clenched my teeth as I gripped the edge of the table. The wood creaked under my strength.

"What kind of compromise?"

"A temporary one if need be—just to test the waters, see if it's possible." I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, I found myself contemplating introducing his pretty boy face to my fist.

As if sensing my mounting irritation, Hadrian lifted a palm to stall me. "Two Doms," he said. "One sub."

I scoffed. "This is not a porno," I said. "She's our partner—for now. She's not an ally. Tomorrow she could be our enemy. The only reason she's working with us is because she's forced to."

"You know what they say," Hadrian replied with a shrug as he lowered his arm. "Keep your allies close and your enemies even closer."

I thought about it for a moment. Training Scarlett was tempting. I couldn't deny that I wanted to see her in true submissive form—not just the barely restrained act as it had been last night. She'd been questioning me at every turn, angry when she realized that she was under my thumb and angrier I placed protocol on her. I wanted to see how she'd take training as a true submissive. I wanted to know if she would fall apart under my whip, cry out whatever pains she was keeping inside. Or would she take more? Would I have to put her in a spreader bar and go at that delicate pussy for a few hours, wringing orgasm after orgasm from her quivering body until it was too much for her to handle and she fell apart in my arms? That was always the sweetest part of training a sub.

Oftentimes, they were in control of their everyday lives. Powerful men and women—though I preferred female subs. They never gave an inch, but once under the flogger, whip, or cane of an experienced Dom, they sank into the roll they needed. A safe place. Subspace. I wanted to see Scarlett there more than I'd ever wanted almost anything, I realized. The desire to see Scarlett on her knees, my cock in her mouth, as she looked up at me with lust glazed eyes—sinking down to the root of my shaft as she suckled me—was almost overwhelming.

I lifted my head and eased my grip on the table, staring back at Hadrian's challenging gaze. "You want her too," I surmised.

His lips twitched. "I've never denied it."

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