Prowl (The Game #12) Read Online Cara Dee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Game Series by Cara Dee
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
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Don’t change for anyone else, Ty.

I’ll be 100% open and vulnerable and honest here, because that’s what you deserve. When Marina brought me home to meet her dad, I was nervous. Corey had told me how cool you were (and hot). But nothing could’ve prepared me. It wasn’t just your looks, although that did give me the first shock. I almost panicked because I didn’t know where to look, how to act, what to do with my fucking hands. And then it got worse when you started speaking. All casual-like, normal chitchat, which soon shifted to what you were doing; I think you were feeding Tank or something. And I was swept away into a whole new world.

I’ve never felt that way with anyone else, and it was more than just attraction. It was a level of understanding I hadn’t known existed. It may sound weird, but I felt connected to you somehow. Like, whatever you said, I grasped fully. I got every word, tone, feeling behind the word, whatever. It’s hard to explain. But anyway. Call me biased, but you’re perfect already. So don’t change for anyone else. If there are kinks you wanna explore, by all means. I only ask that you don’t give up an ounce of yourself if that’s not what you want. Because that short glimpse of Sunday cleaning you gave me was a million times better than anything I’ve ever heard. I wouldn’t give that up for any amount of D/s protocol.

I guess this is more than 100 words, but I wanted to say it. I’m not sure you need mentoring or whatever in this area. Your approach to aftercare is perfect too. A blind person would’ve seen how much effort you put into this.

I’ll see you tomorrow at 15:00 sharp.

Unable to sit still another minute, I stepped out of my office and onto the narrow pathway that led to the other offices up here, and I leaned over the railing and rested my forearms there.

Come on, get here.

It’d felt inadequate to respond to that kind of message with a text, especially when my only task had been to give him our orders for coffee and what we’d settled on—donuts. So I’d let him know we’d unpack everything he’d said once he arrived, and that I had no words for how much I appreciated his honesty.

Across the hangar, Colt emerged from one of our downstairs conference rooms with another applicant, and they shook hands before the beefed-up guy headed for the exit.

I raised a brow in silent question when Colt looked up at me, and he just shook his head subtly.

Another no, then.

We’d had a lot of those, partly because we didn’t necessarily put that much weight on past experience. Applicants certainly needed a history in the security field, but so much came down to chemistry and whether they’d respond well to in-house training. Their expectations mattered as well. Working as private security detail didn’t live up to the Hollywood hype, all while they had to be equipped for shit going down on a daily basis.

Private security was much like a nation’s defense. It was expensive and required a fuck-ton of work and investing, but hopefully nothing would happen. Therefore, we couldn’t have trigger-happy guards with too much muscle, not enough brain, and a lot to prove.

Next time the door opened, an unfamiliar man walked in, but there was nothing unfamiliar about the guy walking toward the hangar in the background.

“Colt.” I jerked my chin at him when he glanced up again. “Remind me what plan survives first impact with the enemy.”

“No plan,” he responded automatically.

Exactly. I nodded toward the door. “Watch my enemy enter in three seconds.”

His confusion didn’t last long. Lane walked through the door, and Colt let out a laugh and said, “You just need a better plan, buddy. Back to the drawin’ board.” With that, he strode forward. “Excellent timing.” He prioritized greeting Lane and grabbing a coffee and donut before tending to the job applicant.

“Lane,” I said. He looked up and smiled cautiously. I wasn’t surprised I was getting a more timid version of him today. “You can bring my order up here. Leave the rest on the desk over there.”

“Yes, Sir. Change and receipt are in the bag, just so you know.”

“Thanks.” I raked my teeth along my bottom lip and watched him pick out my coffee from the cupholders, and then he snatched a smaller bag with him before he headed for the stairs.

My plan today had been to continue our discussion from yesterday—and to demonstrate what I would like from a steady relationship. As in, finding ways to see each other occasionally during work, whether he brought me coffee or we snuck out for lunch. I’d wanted us to sit in on an interview too, so I could possibly steer the conversation to interrogation kink afterward…and then his text had caused me to lose my footing.



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