Doms Of The FBI: Re-Paired Part 1

Re/Paired.

Doms of the FBI.

Michele Zurlo.

Praise for Re/Paired.

A Night Owl Reviews Top Pick: "This is a great read...The relationship was real and honest, and it was fun seeing Malcolm and Darcy! A highly recommended read!"

The Romance Reviews Top Pick: "RE/PAIRED is an awesome read which gave me some sleepless nights, because it was so hard to put down. I wanted to lose myself in the erotic play between Keith and Kat. The way he caressed her body with the flogger, the way he enveloped her in ropes, the endless o.r.g.a.s.ms she endured from his hands... The storyline is erotic, rich and entertaining. The dialogue is interesting and kept the force of the plot moving along, and I liked that I was able to see their relationship grow and mature into something beautiful."

"Wow. This book was so freaking hot!! [Re/Paired] has great balance....heavy on the romance with enough suspense to keep it interesting and that's how I like it."--Under the Covers Book Blog.

5 Stars/Purest Delight from Guilty Pleasures: "This was a great read with a damaged Dom who learns to cherish his sub, a lot of hot BDSM action, suspense, and complex relationships"

"...Great chemistry...emotional highs and lows...There were a couple of secondary characters that I would like to see have their own story."--Literary Nymphs.

"Lots of hot s.e.x, kink, and a bit of mystery too. The hero and heroine's journeys are epic, and the goals, motivations and conflicts are all tied up neatly at the end. Zurlo is a good writer, with a huge repertoire of ideas. Please keep them coming!" --Manic Readers.

5 Cups/Coffee Time Romance: a tautly written, s.e.xy, action-packed tale...[Zurlo] employs...the same devastating effect as a flogger in the hands of a skilled Dom. [Zurlo's] descriptions of subs.p.a.ce stand among some of the finest in the genre.".

Chapter One.

Shifting into fifth gear, Keith Rossetti lifted his foot from the clutch and punched the gas. He forced the speedometer to seventy before easing the pressure on the pedal. No law against getting to the top speed as quickly as possible. He was frustrated and p.i.s.sed off at his best friend, and he had no other outlet for his aggression.

s.e.x might work, but his last submissive had flung his ropes at him, accused him of having a granite heart, and left. And she hadn't been the first one to do it, though most of them had let him down gently, not that he had cared one way or the other. While his heart wasn't stone, it didn't have many soft spots. He didn't need that kind of complication.

Three months ago, he'd made a call that netted a huge bust-they were still mining the data from it and finding a steady trail of evidence and some leads on other cases-but it had put his best friend's girl in danger. While the circ.u.mstances were regrettable, the woman had been an a.s.set, and Malcolm wasn't supposed to fall in love. But he had, and only Keith's quick thinking had salvaged the operation. Darcy had been hurt in the melee, and Malcolm had blamed Keith. This was the first time since they'd met that Mal refused to speak to him. He didn't know how to fight to keep a relationship going. When a woman left him, he wished her well and walked her to the door. Now that he was inches from losing his closest friend, his lack of skill just added to his black mood.

He didn't relish the coming barbeque. In fifteen minutes, he'd try to mend the fences, and Malcolm would give him the cold shoulder. They'd likely exchange a few pointed words, keeping it outwardly civil because Malcolm's mother would take off her shoe and bash both of them upside their heads if they didn't.

That was another part of this whole mess he hated. Coming from a family of functioning alcoholics who exchanged nothing but bitter retorts on those rare occasions they saw one another, he'd allowed himself to be adopted by the Legatos. Eleven years ago, he and Malcolm had been home on leave. His parents and two sisters had celebrated by drinking until they pa.s.sed out, but they did that most nights, so he didn't see a distinction. Of course, he'd traveled that path as well.

Malcolm's parents had welcomed the boys home with a quiet dinner and honest conversation. Keith had liked not having to pretend he hadn't been affected by his experiences in Iraq. When he had come home for good, the Legatos had opened their hearts to him, and he'd become one of them.

Except now that Malcolm wasn't speaking to him, he didn't know where that left him with regard to the rest of the family. Snorting, he told himself to man up. He wasn't even there yet. Besides, Malcolm's mother had called the week before to extract a promise that he'd attend Layla's birthday party, so that had to mean she wasn't taking sides, right?

Not only that, but Kat would be there. He couldn't pa.s.s up an opportunity to see the woman whose face and body populated the landscape of his secret fantasies. It would never happen, of course, because he wouldn't allow their relationship to head down that slippery slope. He could handle breaking most hearts without feeling too much remorse. Hurting Kat would kill him.

He parked on the street a few houses down from Layla's. Malcolm's cousin always threw a huge bash in August to celebrate her birthday. He'd been coming to this annual shindig since before Layla had moved out of her parents' house and got her own place.

He lifted the box from the pa.s.senger side floor and tucked it under his arm. Two cars pa.s.sed by, and then he crossed the street. When he arrived at Layla's driveway, he paused. Noises drifted from the backyard. Conversation cadences rose and fell. Laughter punctuated sentences. Water smacked against concrete, and a high-pitched shriek answered. Keith guessed at water balloons. Cargo shorts and a cotton shirt had been a good fashion call. Layla maintained that a party in August necessitated a beach theme.

"You're tense. Either you haven't gotten laid in a long time, or you're afraid of something."

Keith's heart thumped a little harder, and he had to push it out of his throat before he could answer. Katrina, Malcolm's little sister, always affected him like this. Logic dictated that if Malcolm and his brother MJ were like brothers to Keith, then Katrina should be like a sister. She wasn't. Not by a long shot. Since the first time he set eyes on her eleven years ago, he'd struggled to keep his thoughts clean.

She threaded her arm through his and gave his bicep a hard squeeze. The side of her hot little breast pressed against him as she tightened her hold. "So, which is it? Are you s.e.xually frustrated or a fraidy cat?"

A little of both. Keith sighed. He and Mal had never before had a disagreement that ran this deep. When Malcolm held a grudge, he held it long and hard. The son of a b.i.t.c.h had a stubborn streak that had served both of them well overseas and on many undercover a.s.signments. Keith had one to match. He had no idea how things could ever be the same. He forced a short laugh. "Kitty Kat. Good to know all that lawyer training didn't teach you to mince words."

Her response should have been automatic. The opening he gave was supposed to initiate a scripted, harmless banter. Instead, she'd tensed up for a second, an indication of surprise. He realized he'd inadvertently used the term of endearment that he'd only used before in his fantasies. f.u.c.k. It was good to know that when he most needed to be in control, he failed.

Luckily she recovered first. "In case your brain has been fried from spending too much time rotting in tricked out creeper vans, I was valedictorian of my cla.s.s in law school. Give me a year, and I'll be sitting first chair on your next big bust."

He looked down at her, the first genuine smile of the day on his face. Her deep brown hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. Her dark chocolate eyes gazed at him somberly, belying the light tone in her voice. He could drown in her depths in so many ways. "You'll be a federal judge before we know it, and I'll be knocking on your door at two in the morning to get you to sign emergency warrants."

She tilted her head and looked him up and down. Now that the semi-flirtatious, scripted part of their conversation had ended, there was no telling what she'd say next. "Darcy said she'd make Malcolm play nice. She's on your side with this whole thing, you know."

"Good to know." He glanced up and down the street one more time. "I don't see your car. Did you come with your parents?"

Kat grinned, hugged his arm closer, and batted her eyelashes outrageously. "Say you'll be my hero and take me home later? I might kill my mom if I have to hear her gush over Malcolm and Darcy and the new-grandchild-to-be for another undiluted half hour."

Be her hero. He wished for nothing more than to see her staring up at him with stars in her eyes-preferably on her knees and wearing only his collar around her sculpted neck. It would never happen, but he could dream. "Of course. You do know I won't be staying long, don't you?"

"That's okay. We came early to help set up, so I've been here a long time. And you're an hour late." She tugged on his arm. "C'mon, Special Agent Rossetti. I'll be your bodyguard."

He snorted and shook his head, but he allowed her to lead him to the backyard. He'd taught her every defensive move she knew. "I'm the one who does the protecting."

"Ooooh, I hit a nerve. He used the Dom voice. I'm quivering in my flip-flops." She pressed a hand to her forehead and ruined the dramatic effect by laughing. The sound stirred in his chest pleasantly.

Kat often made fun of his dominant side, but she was the single female who regularly benefitted from his need to take care of a woman. Anything she wanted, day or night, whether or not she asked for it, he took care of it. He'd painted her apartment, fixed her plumbing, picked her up from a date that had gone sideways, and let her decorate most of his house. He'd remodeled his kitchen because she didn't like the way it was laid out, and he avoided yellow shirts and ties because she wasn't partial to the color.

Keith chose not to reply because he could only concentrate on the idea of her quivering. Plus, they'd made it to the backyard, which had been transformed into a beach paradise. Blow-up pools of all sizes and shapes were filled with ice. Some held drinks and food while others contained water and people. Colorful tropical flowers littered every surface, wound around table legs, and hung from the two canopies erected for shade.

Donna Legato, Kat's mother, flew at him with arms wide open. She was a beautiful woman, every boy's fantasy mom. Along with a strong sense of loyalty and a love of good food, she'd given her thick, dark hair and expressive eyes to each of her children. "I was afraid you wouldn't come."

He smiled at the woman who had been a surrogate mother to him for the past eleven years. "Mama L, I gave you my word. Plus, I promised Kat I would give her a ride home."

"It's good to see you." Mama L slung a couple of leis around his neck, slapped his cheek affectionately, and headed off to greet more people.

Kat looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. He knew she meant to mock him, but she came off as sultry. "Want me to hold your hand?"

In the worst way. Letting his better sense prevail, he shook his head and extracted the gift she'd been holding for him. "I'm fine. Malcolm can't start anything if he won't talk to me. Where is Layla keeping the presents?"

"What did you get her?"

Knowing full well his gift would be met with groans by everybody but Layla, he grinned. "The thing she asks for every year."

Kat narrowed her eyes, years of experience giving her reason to distrust his grin. "Naked men won't fit in that box."

"The other thing."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Water guns won't win you points with anyone here. We only just got all the water balloons away from her. You might want to reconsider."

Layla had a thing for water fights. She liked water balloons, hoses, and anything else that held water long enough for her to direct it at her target. Because she didn't mind getting wet, meaningful retaliation proved difficult. Every year, a group of relatives took it upon themselves to search her house and remove temptation. Keith liked to fan the flames. This wasn't the first time he had given her the latest in high-tech water guns, and it wouldn't be the last.

He wiggled his eyebrow at Kat. "I have two more in my trunk."

She shook her head in bemus.e.m.e.nt. Her eyes sparkled. "I think I'm glad you and Malcolm aren't speaking. It's never good for the rest of us when you two team up."

Katrina wanted to be mad at Keith, but she couldn't summon the ire. In the eleven years she'd known him, she'd never before been afraid that one day he'd vanish from their lives. His close friendship with her brother Malcolm had made him a member of the family. She hoped the rift between them wouldn't make Keith drift away.

She watched as he made his way across the yard, stopping every few feet to exchange words with family and friends. Mentally she traced the outline of his broad shoulders and strong back. She spent some time admiring the way his loose cargo shorts draped over his a.s.s so that sometimes she could make out the rounded muscles there, and sometimes she couldn't.

Naughtiness and sin dripped from every facet of his body and made up the bad boy inherent in his handsome face. And it wasn't fake. He looked like one of those men who dated a lot of women and left them hanging, and that was just how he behaved. Malcolm said Keith distrusted women in general and those who showed an interest in him specifically. While he didn't seem as cynical about her or her family members, Katrina hadn't tried to push for more. She dreamed about him, but she kept those wonderful fantasies to herself.

For the next half hour, she watched Keith and Malcolm dance around each other. Darcy, her brother's fiancee, commandeered the seat in the shade next to Katrina. Though they were both about the same height, Darcy had curves Katrina's slender frame would never possess.

She brushed her bangs away from her eyes and smiled at Katrina. "Trina, I'm at a loss as to how to get Malcolm to speak to Keith. I've asked nicely, and I've argued pa.s.sionately. The most I could get from him was a promise to not say anything nasty."

Katrina laughed. "That explains why Mal hasn't said a word to Keith."

"This isn't his fault, you know. He was doing his job. He made sure the bad guy got caught. I know Malcolm was worried because I was in the middle of it all, but I'm fine. Why can't he let it go?" She frowned at Katrina.

A brief glance at Darcy's stomach revealed a gentle swell. She only recently had begun to show an outward sign of her pregnancy. "It's that protective instinct. And you're carrying his child, which just makes his need to keep you safe more acute."

Darcy snorted. "It's in the past. I'm safe. This makes no sense."

That Darcy wasn't a fragile woman who lacked confidence and a backbone had attracted Katrina's older brother and made her instantly likeable to the rest of the family. "I don't think Malcolm's ever been that afraid before. Give it some time. I bet Keith will have him at least talking before the party's over."

"I hope you're right. Your brother is one stubborn man."

Katrina didn't delve into the reason behind Darcy's smile. She had no desire to know why her brother's stubborn nature appealed to his fiancee. They chatted about other things while Layla opened presents.

She knew the moment Layla opened Keith's gift. Her blonde curls bounced, and her pixie smile turned downright evil. She lifted the super-sized squirt gun from the box and aimed it at Malcolm. "I love that you fill these up before you wrap them."

Malcolm held up his hand and put on his most forbidding expression. "That's not from me, and you should never point a gun at someone you're not planning to shoot."

Layla stood up. "I know it's not from you, and who says I'm not planning to shoot you?" She pulled the trigger as she said "shoot" and let loose a long stream of water that hit Malcolm squarely in the chest.

All h.e.l.l broke loose. The hidden water balloons suddenly materialized, and more squirt guns appeared from nowhere. Well aware that hiding would prove useless, Katrina dived into the fight. Keith came through with a gun for her, so she was set offensively, but it also painted a big neon target on her body.

By the time things wound down a good hour later, Katrina's light blue shirt, now transparent in some places, clung to her skin, and the denim of her jean shorts chafed uncomfortably. How had she rationalized not bringing a change of clothes? Oh yeah, she'd thought Keith wouldn't want to p.i.s.s off Malcolm even more.

She found Keith behind the garage. The ma.s.sive water gun in his hand was raised next to his head, and he pressed his back to the siding as if he were on a raid. Katrina admired his profile for a moment before her discomfort took over. "Hey, half the people have left, and I'm soaked. Are you about ready to go?"

He turned his head at the sound of her voice. His gaze traveled over her body, a.s.sessing the damage in a way that made her feel deliciously naked. A flame flickered in the depths of his green eyes. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Malcolm charged around the corner and let loose with the full wrath of the garden hose.

Keith shoved her behind his body, which stemmed the worst of the flood, but Katrina was already soaked. His chivalry only mattered because she got to press her front against his back. His heat radiated through the wet fabric separating them, and her nipples pebbled in response.

"Take that, you arrogant son of a b.i.t.c.h!"

If Malcolm's declaration shocked or upset Keith, he didn't show it. "Takes one to know one." He emptied his gun in four long streams, and then he dived for the hose in Malcolm's hands.

They wrestled for control until the hose went slack, and then they just wrestled with each other. Darcy stood over them as they rolled on the ground in Layla's muddy garden. Her yellow sundress molded to her curves. At least it wasn't see-through. "Malcolm, do you want me to get your ropes from the car?"

Both men halted and appeared to consider the idea of ropes. Then Malcolm shook his head. "Those are for you, sweetheart. Keith's more of a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t."

Keith punched Malcolm in the thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. Katrina sighed at their immaturity, but since Malcolm only pounded on Keith, it meant they'd made progress. They'd exchanged words and made physical contact. They were firmly on the road to mending the rift.

She stuck out a hand and helped Keith to his feet. Luckily he didn't need to use much of the paltry leverage she provided. Cold muck squished between their hands. "Yuck. You're covered in mud."

He grinned. "Guess I'm driving home in my underwear."

The image of him clad only in underwear-dark blue boxer briefs, according to her fantasy-as he navigated the roads to her condo caused her knees to shake. Katrina seriously wanted to lose her shorts too, but she wasn't about to announce that fact. "I find it hard to believe that Agent Rossetti doesn't have a change of clothes in his trunk."

"Laundry day. I did think ahead, though. I brought a couple of towels."

The towels saved his leather seats from the worst of their wetness. Keith had rinsed most of the mud away before getting into the car, but he was still sopping wet, and dirt streaked his clothes. To Katrina, he looked like disheveled heaven. His short, blondish-brown hair was darker in some places, and stray droplets of water glinted in the afternoon light. His sodden shirt delineated every inch of his chiseled physique. In one of the spare bedrooms in his house, he had some hardcore body-conditioning machines.

She wondered if he used any of them for bondage. Though she knew he had a dungeon in his bas.e.m.e.nt, she'd never been inside that locked room, and she'd never broached the subject in a serious manner. Teasing and joking masked her curiosity. She hoped.

The ride from Layla's place to Katrina's condo took less than ten minutes. She shifted in her seat and regarded him with a long look. "It appears that Mal is talking to you again."

Keith's shoulder lifted and fell. "He's not giving me the silent treatment, but he's not going to ask me to come over tomorrow and watch some preseason Lions."

Her heart went out to him at the vulnerability he tried to hide. She reached over and squeezed his wrist. "You can come watch it with me, but I doubt it'll be the same."

"Can we eat junk, yell at the TV, talk about s.e.x, and scratch our b.a.l.l.s?" He glanced over briefly, throwing a deviant smile in with the question.

"I don't have b.a.l.l.s, but if it'll make you feel better, I could scratch my crotch." She tried to match his smile, but the tingly sensation traveling up and down her spine made her nipples hard and distracted her from doing a good job. Scratching wouldn't salve the itch she had for Keith. "I can even do you one better. I have NFL Network. I bet there's a game on right now."

He pulled into the visitor parking spot across from the carport where her car waited. "If you let me use your shower and loan me something masculine to wear while I throw my clothes in the washer, you got a deal. Oh, and I'm hungry."

She laughed so suddenly that she snorted. "You're so high maintenance."

He pulled the towels from the seats and followed her around to the door that led to her condo. "I said I'd wash my clothes. I didn't say you had to do it. And I'll order pizza. You won't have to make anything for me."

"And I get the first shower." She threw that caveat over her shoulder as she inserted the key to unlock her door. The bolt didn't make a noise to indicate it had disengaged, so she turned the k.n.o.b and pushed. It opened. "I swear I locked it. I always lock it."