CSA Case Files: Campaign of Desire Part 8

"Everything." Lach raised his hand and used his thumb to brush the flesh under her eyes, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. "The fact of the matter is that you haven't been taking care of yourself mentally or physically. You're exhausted and anything we would do this evening would be half measures and wouldn't give you the relief that you're seeking. You're simply in no shape to properly submit to what I have to offer you. Let me take care of you. Trust me to take care of you. Tomorrow is another day and I promise you it will be filled with multiple satisfactions."

Phoebe felt her resolve weakening at his request. She tried to tell herself that she didn't need to have everything tonight, but it was hard to accept. She'd waited so long in actually living for herself that her impatience felt overwhelming. Was he right? Should they pace themselves?

"There are various ways that Doms and subs carry out their daily lives. Some live the lifestyle twenty-four seven. Some play in clubs, some play in the privacy of their own home. There is no right or wrong as long as both parties keep things safe, sane, and consensual."

"And roleplaying?" Phoebe wanted to understand where he was going with this. "Is that what this is? You want to roleplay and tuck me in?"

Lach's rich laughter surrounded her, but she knew that he wasn't making fun of her. The sound was tender. It still set her on edge in the sense that she didn't like to feel she was missing something. She obviously was and her irritation was quickly smothering any arousal she'd been experiencing.

"My wanting you to take care of yourself and my desire to take care of you has nothing to do with roleplaying. Trust me, if we ever roleplay, you'll certainly know it." Lach softly ran his hands down her arms until he was holding on to her hands. He lifted them up and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "I have an innate need to take care of women. Call it a flaw, but it's ingrained in me. Again, it's who I am. With that said, when you wake up tomorrow morning, I want you to eat breakfast. A real breakfast and not just coffee."

"And if I don't do what you want?" Phoebe liked the feel of his calluses as he ran his fingers on the inside of her palms. The rough texture sent shivers up through her arms and she found herself wondering how that roughness would feel on her nipples. "I'll freely admit the lifestyle intrigues me, but I'm not one for pain. And the notion of punishments is ludicrous."

"We could stand here going over BDSM 101, but that's not going to happen. You have some understanding of the lifestyle, yet you don't really fathom the depth of your precise comprehension. In time, we'll go over soft and hard limits...what you're willing to try and what you're not. I would never do anything without your consent, which is where the saying safe, sane, and consensual comes into play." Lach tightened his fingers on her hands. "The power of this exchange resides in the palms of your hands, which is why you'll find me caressing them from time to time. It fascinates me that although I'm the one giving out directives, you're the one who truly has complete control."

Phoebe was captivated by his explanation and wanted to hear more, but he kissed her hands one more time before releasing them. Lach had made up his mind and there was no changing it. His resolve stirred something inside of her, but her brain couldn't process the reason why.

"Go." Lach's order was stern, yet tender. "You have five minutes."

Phoebe wanted to ask what would happen if she wasn't in bed in that time frame, but found herself turning and going into her bedroom. The welcoming scent of lavender greeted her, and as if the aroma was a trigger fatigue set in. Her lethargy in no way diminished the yearning she still felt for Lach and what lay ahead of them. It felt odd to remove her clothes and crawl into her bed naked, knowing Lach was still out in the kitchen cleaning up. Both exhaustion and arousal hiked, warring with each other.

Although the sheets were eight hundred count Egyptian cotton, they grazed coa.r.s.ely over her hard nipples. Phoebe tucked the fabric underneath her arms trying to lessen the movement and wondering how she was supposed to fall asleep like this. Dampness was on her inner thighs and her skin felt every movement as if the bed was electrified. What had made her think she could sleep?

"Four minutes. I'm pleased."

Those two words affected her like nothing Lach had ever said before. Phoebe felt her body relax as he sat on the edge of the bed. As if he'd flipped a switch, her lashes started to close over her eyes and she struggled against it, not wanting to miss anything he said or did.

"Close your eyes."

Phoebe felt the touch of his fingers as they brushed the hair away from her forehead. It was as if he'd given her some magic potion that made sleep consume her. The last string of thought she'd had before darkness descended was that she wasn't alone. It was such an odd reflection that she jolted awake, finding Lach still sitting by her and stroking her face. For how long was a question she didn't want answered.

Chapter Sixteen.

It was going on ten o'clock in the morning, way past the time that Lach was usually out of the office and into the field. Now that the Dunaway case had been handed off to the Secret Service, the lack of a preprogrammed schedule was going to take some adjustment. New cases were rolling in but Crest had mentioned that there was a particular incoming a.s.signment that Lach would take on at the end of the week. The preliminaries had yet to come through, so here he was, helping go over reports regarding Ryland and a myriad of other office related minutiae. That meant caffeine, but it wasn't going to be the f.u.c.king poison that this crew drank.

"Taryn, I said that Ethan was going with you." Crest could be heard throughout the common area as he'd opened his office door. "There's nothing else to discuss."

"It's a private matter that I'd rather deal with on my own," Taryn said with her usual stubbornness.

"It became specific to this team when it involved Ryland. You and I both know that he's expecting you to leave the city in search of answers. That puts you at a disadvantage. You won't be able to concentrate on the investigation while looking over your shoulder expecting Ryland to be there at every turn."

Lach wasn't going near that conversation with a ten-foot pole, so he went about opening the bag of coffee grounds that he'd purchased from his favorite indie cafe on his way into the office. The aroma of the java wafted into the air reminding him that he'd have to take some to Phoebe's apartment. He'd wake her up tomorrow morning with a fresh cup.

"Crest is right, Taryn, and you know it." Ethan must have come out from his cubicle, but Lach didn't turn around to confirm that. It wasn't his place, and if he were Taryn he'd feel the same way she did. Personal s.h.i.t should stay personal. She was in between a rock and a hard place. "Besides, it's me. I promise not to bring popcorn."

"You're such an a.s.s," Taryn muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. Ethan had done what he'd intended and that was to lighten the mood. Lach finished preparing the machine and hit the brew b.u.t.ton. "Fine. Be ready to go by fifteen hundred."

"Jax, we'll be back on Sat.u.r.day for Derrick's birthday party," Ethan called out so that Jax could hear him over the cubicles. Lach had turned around while the water dripped through the gold mesh funnel of his new Krups coffee pot. There would be no wringing the taste of mud out of the team's old piece of s.h.i.t. He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms, waiting patiently. Good coffee took time and it was well worth the wait. "Tell Emily not to cut the cake until we arrive."

"The only one who needs to be there for the birthday song is Uncle Connor," Connor exclaimed, walking toward Lach and the coffee. "You snooze, you lose. Lach, are you messing with the joe?"

"I don't know what the h.e.l.l you thought you were drinking, but it definitely wasn't coffee-and that's what I'm making. The old pot is still right there if you want that horses.h.i.t Twin Cities mud."

"You find something that will lead us to Ryland, then we'll wait all d.a.m.n night to sing Happy Birthday." Jax came around the corner, throwing his yellow stress ball into the air. "Just take care of her."

"I'm right here and can hear every word you say." Taryn moved her gla.s.ses off of her nose so that they rested on top of her head. She shot a glare Jax's way. "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, jarhead."

"What? You thought I was talking about you?" Jax asked, raising a brow. "Ethan's borrowing my Jeep since another storm is supposed to hit. His clunker doesn't have four-wheel drive. If I were worried about either one of you, it sure as h.e.l.l wouldn't be you. Ethan's the one who always gets his a.s.s in trouble."

"The h.e.l.l I do. I'm the only sane one on this whole crew. The rest of you a.s.sholes got yourselves tied down to one woman. Who the h.e.l.l does that nowadays?"

"Speak for yourself," Kevin said, entering from the foyer. His cheeks were red from the cold and his lips looked a little blue. Lach figured he'd been out on the streets cultivating his snitches. They tended to need attention every once in a while. "Elle's the best d.a.m.n thing that ever happened to me. I think the rest of us are in agreement that it is you who is the ultimate and most certainly consummate a.s.shole. Who the h.e.l.l brings their own popcorn bowl to an engagement party?"

"Wait a second," Connor said, interrupting Kevin and his peeve regarding Ethan's behavior at the party Elle and Kevin threw to celebrate their impending nuptials. "Lach isn't in a serious relationship. Why'd you lump him in with us?"

Ethan took a seat at the conference table and propped his feet upon the surface while pretending to throw popcorn up in the air and catch it in his mouth. Lach shook his head in annoyance that Ethan would give him away to the crew. What did Connor always say? When there was blood in the water, the sharks came in schools.

"Crest, do you have a minute?" Lach asked, changing the subject.

He didn't want Crest to a.s.sume that he'd gone back on his word. The man had been standing in the doorway, listening to the conversation although his eyes had been glued to the front reception area. He gave a nod and then disappeared back into his office. Jessie had called in sick today, which was a rare occurrence. Lach looked over at the coffee machine which was still in mid cycle. The fact that he now had to have a meeting with Crest before having a cup of coffee was all Ethan's fault. What a complete d.i.c.k.

"Phoebe Dunaway?" Connor asked, pulling the half pot of coffee off of the burner and shoving a mug underneath the stream of steaming liquid. "You of all people should remember the old adage-when you aim high, you miss the target."

Lach cringed at the fact that Connor had just ruined a good vessel of caffeine. Didn't everyone know that the entire filter of grounds needed to be brewed to get maximum rich flavor? This was all Ethan's doing, but Lach didn't say a word as he walked away from the group and into Crest's office. He should have worked from home today. Ethan deserved some kind of special torture for today's bulls.h.i.t.

"Phoebe and I are resuming where we left off in Iraq," Lach stated after he'd closed the door. He positioned himself in the middle of the office, hoping this meeting wouldn't last long. "I kept my word and things remained professional throughout my detail."

"I never doubted that you wouldn't." Crest walked behind his desk and took his chair. "Although you do realize that the more prominent she becomes in the media, you do as well."

"You think that will affect my position here." Lach didn't bother to frame his sentence as a question. It was an obvious observation.

"Of course it will," Crest stated, leaning back in his chair. "We'll choose your cases wisely though. As for the media, I don't have to tell you what would happen should they discover your specific predilection. Just be careful."

"Jax and Connor run a tight ship." Lach didn't have to explain the regulations that the two men put into the club membership regarding confidentiality. Crest had sat in on the brainstorming and added his two cents, which were always worth more than that. No one could ever say the man didn't know what he was doing. Although Crest didn't play in public, his knowledge of the lifestyle went well beyond anyone's definition of normal familiarity. "I appreciate the caution though."

"Speaking of cases, I've set up a meeting on Friday with a client who wants us to look into a cold case relating to the disappearance of his daughter. It's scheduled for zero eight hundred."

Lach appreciated Crest's tendency to get right to the point. The meeting was adjourned and coffee could finally be had-or not. There was no one at the conference table, but it didn't matter. Unfortunately, Connor had to go and ruin the pot and by the time Lach got out into the common area, what was left had already been burned into the gla.s.s container. f.u.c.k it. He'd tried and look what he got for his endeavor...burnt gourmet coffee.

Lach went into his cubicle and s.n.a.t.c.hed up his leather jacket, shrugging his arms into the sleeves and smoothing the material over his holster. This gave him the perfect excuse to go and see Phoebe with two cups of bona fide java from his favorite shop. Leaving her last night had been hard, but essential to her well-being and preparation. He'd always been a man who was slightly obsessive compulsive, so when last night's conversation had unearthed her interest in the lifestyle he'd come to love, everything had clicked into place.

"Heading out?" Jax asked as Lach walked by the opening of the cubicle he shared with Connor.

"Yes." Lach didn't elaborate, not wanting to add more blood to the water. "Need anything?"

"Emily just wants to make sure you'll be there on Sat.u.r.day."

Lach had forgotten to RSVP with everything that had taken place, even with Jessie's reminder, but it wasn't like he would miss the little guy's birthday. It was not only a celebration of Derrick's birth, but also the survival of his mother. Emily's labor had almost taken her life, nearly leaving the world less one angel on earth.

"Can I bring someone?"

Jax flashed a huge smile and playfully threw his yellow ball into the air once more. d.a.m.n if Lach hadn't just bled into the waters. He shook his head at his own mistake and waited for the bite.

"I don't know. Can you?"

s.h.i.t. Jax was going to let the crew do its own nibbling when Lach brought Phoebe to the party. It wasn't like he had never been in the middle of the ocean with these hammerheads before and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. It was a d.a.m.n good thing that Phoebe could handle her own. It did bring up the question if she would want to be thrown into the waters with him. There was only one way to find out.

Phoebe picked away at the protein bar, studying the spreadsheet in front of her. Paul had used money for the television advertis.e.m.e.nts, but it didn't seem to be as much as last month's fees. Were they missing one of the broadcasting outlets? The thought of the media brought her mind around to this morning, when she ate an omelet while watching the news and latest results on the polls. Per Lach's request, she'd eaten a healthy breakfast. She wasn't so sure about what that said about her.

"Another protein bar?"

Phoebe startled at the sound of Lach's voice, just for a moment thinking she'd materialized him with her thoughts. Sure enough, he stood in front of her desk big as life. She couldn't hold back a grin at the censorship in his voice. She'd had dreams of them being in a club and Lach doing wicked things to her, even those punishments she'd said she didn't want to be a part of. She couldn't resist goading him a little to see how far she could push him.

"You never said anything about lunch," Phoebe said, still smiling. Her lips immediately formed an O when he turned and walked to her father's office. It was the first time her dad had been at campaign headquarters in weeks, besides yesterday's quick transfer of security. The Secret Service agent who was standing in front of the office door didn't move upon Lach's approach. Phoebe a.s.sumed it was because the agents had been in the meeting during the debriefing and they'd already met. Either way, she scrambled to her feet to find out what Lach was doing. "Lach? What are you doing?"

"Sir? Do you have a moment?"

Lach closed the door before Phoebe could enter. It sparked her anger that he thought he could keep her from their conversation. She could have sworn that the agent stationed at her father's door smirked, but she gave him the glare she'd perfected into getting people to fear her before taking the handle in hand and barging in behind Lach.

"What are you doing?"

"I was going to have a private conversation with your father."

"Why?" Phoebe looked up at him, hands on her hips. "This doesn't concern him."

"While all this is fascinating, may I ask what this is about?" Stan inquired, standing up and walking around his desk. He shook hands with Lach, who'd finally looked away from her, giving her time to breathe. The intensity in his face made her wary of what he was about to say and was grateful when her dad kept talking. "By the way, I appreciate that CSA honored my request not to say anything at the meeting yesterday in regards to Kimmie."

"That was a family matter as far as I was concerned." Lach motioned to Phoebe and that's when she knew mortification was about to set in. "I'd like permission to take your daughter out to lunch. I understand that the campaign is in full swing, but she's been working long hours and not taking care of herself properly. I'd like to change that."

Phoebe bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying something sarcastic. What century did Lach think they were living in? It was one thing to be a gentleman, but this was a little over the top. She was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. It didn't help her ire when her father's smile widened. She'd let this play out and then say her piece. Unlike Lach, she knew when to speak and when not to.

"I appreciate your honesty, Lach. It will save me the worry to know that someone like yourself is watching over my daughter."

Phoebe had heard enough and walked out of the office. She proceeded to her desk and put her coat on, grabbing her gloves and purse. If Lach wanted to have lunch, then by G.o.d, they'd have lunch. It didn't take long for him to come out of her father's office, all eyes on his progress as he made his way toward her.

"If you frown any harder, everyone is going to think that you don't like me."

"At the moment, I don't really care." Phoebe turned to go, ignoring Paul who was hiding a grin behind his hand. She turned back around. "As a matter of fact, I'm not sure I want to go to lunch."

"Really?" Lach smiled as he pulled out his sungla.s.ses and slipped them on his face. She wanted to tell him they weren't needed since the sky was clouded, but at that moment a ray of sunshine broke through the front windowpane and brightened the inside area. This just wasn't her day. "Then I guess what I had planned this evening will have to wait as well."

Lach brushed past her, heading for the exit as if he didn't have a care in the world. Phoebe stood there debating on what she should do, but curiosity overrode her frustration and she sauntered away from her desk with her head held high. When Lach opened the door for her and he took a step back for her to pa.s.s, she realized that he knew she would follow all along.

"We still have things to discuss, Mr. McKinnon." Phoebe wouldn't admit it, but she'd have loved to have her sungla.s.ses on as well. The sunlight was glaring off of the snow and the wet roads. She wasn't sure what she was trying to prove by not putting them on, but she'd go with her instinct. "Shall we head back to my apartment for some privacy?"

Chapter Seventeen.

Lach could appreciate the way the Secret Service agent scoured the area and gauged for any threats. He was thorough and kept in communication with the other members of his team. Her primary, Steve Johanson, kept his distance but Lach had no doubt that he was performing his duties. That wasn't to say he would ever go to the lengths to protect Phoebe as Lach would, but there was consolation this man had been trained properly. They entered the apartment building, Lach taking lead while the agent was no more than two steps behind Phoebe.

"I can't believe that you would have the audacity to go to my father," Phoebe muttered as they all stood in front of the elevator doors. "He's too busy to worry about when I take a lunch break. And don't get me started on the fact that it was an innuendo for more."

He didn't reply, knowing it would not do either one of them any good at the moment and not willing to discuss their private lives in front a stranger, regardless of why he was there. Lach waited patiently for the elevator doors to slide open, ignoring the glare that Phoebe was giving him.

Taking his cue, for which Lach was grateful, Phoebe didn't say another word until the agent had thoroughly checked her apartment and they were safely inside. He calmly shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on her coat rack. Leaving her standing there staring at him and waiting for him to say something in his defense, he went into the kitchen and started to pull out makings for a ham sandwich. At least she was smart enough to keep lunchmeat on hand.

"Lach, it was downright embarra.s.sing." Phoebe had gone around the wall and she was now standing in front of the island, her gloved hands resting on the back of the stool. "I'm over thirty years old and I don't need my father's permission to see someone."

"It's common courtesy where I come from." Lach didn't stop his ministrations and also went about pulling down the two plates they'd need. He located the bread and untwisted the tie. "I won't have your father finding out that we're sleeping together through his morning security debrief."

"I would have told him," Phoebe declared, finally taking her gloves off and laying them on the counter. She also shed her long dress coat, hanging it over the back of one of the stools. "It just felt...wrong."

"You baited me." Lach let those words sink in, not looking up from his task of making their lunch.

"I was kidding around." Phoebe pulled a stool out and took a seat, setting her hands on the granite. Lach finished making her sandwich and slid the plate over to her. The silence lengthened until she finally broke. "Fine. I goaded you to see how far you could be pushed. Are you happy now?"

Lach went about putting everything away in its proper place before he took up his position on the opposite side of her, finally looking at her. It was apparent that she was apprehensive regarding the relationship they were about to embark on so he used this downtime to ease her worries. What he had planned for after lunch would hopefully alleviate her physical ones as well.

"Honesty will always please me." Lach made sure he had her attention. "What we do in the bedroom stays in the bedroom. I won't mislead you and say that my need for control sometimes carries over outside of said activities, but I respect your independence. It makes you who you are. The carnal undertakings that we will be involved in mandates that you be at your physical peak. I'll show you why after we eat."

Phoebe lifted one side of her pink lips as if she were mulling over what he said. She picked up her sandwich and took a bite, never once looking away from him. Looking back over their time together, Lach was grateful that he'd been given the chance to observe her in her everyday environment. She had tells that would enable him to make sure she received the utmost pleasure during the creatively detailed scenes that he'd crafted in his mind.

The remainder of their lunch was eaten in silence, although Lach caught sight of the darkening in Phoebe's blue eyes. They both felt the intense chemistry between them and he took pleasure in the fact that it would only grow over time. He took her plate and set it with his in the sink before washing his hands. Taking the towel and drying the water from his fingers, he looked over at her and waited until he had her full attention.

"Are you ready to head back to campaign headquarters?" Lach placed the dishtowel alongside the sink, waiting to see how she'd react to his question. "I'm sure with your father traveling again this afternoon, you'll be needed. I overheard Paul saying he and a few other of the paid employees were on the move as well."

"I was rather hoping that we could take an extra hour," Phoebe said, her independent nature shining through as she maneuvered herself off of the stool and came around the island. He wouldn't change a thing about her but he would certainly use her eagerness to his benefit. "Do you have to be at the office any time soon?"

"An hour wouldn't give us enough time." Lach studied Phoebe as her smile started to fade and he knew he'd carry out his original plan. It would be her first introduction to his predilection. "Are you wearing panties?"

"What?" Phoebe's question was asked on her quick inhalation, but his inquiry certainly got her attention. "Of course I am."