by Kym Roberts
He’d said one thing, “You have nothing to fear from me.” Then his face turned green, his throat constricted, and he bounced off the wall as he made it to the toilet where he proceeded to get sick throughout the night. Two hours into his retching, unable to stand the noises he made as he suffered through an illness that went beyond alcohol and illegal substances, she’d helped him.
She’d attributed his help later that morning as payback for the wet washcloth she’d used to soothe his heated face and neck, the medicine she retrieved from his toiletries to staunch the fever and nausea, and the pillow she laid his head on when he finally crawled into the tub and fell asleep. She’d only done what her mother would’ve done for her, and now this agent standing in front of her, who’d undone every good deed that man had done, was telling her that her escape had cost him everything.
Did she owe either one of them anything? Hadn’t this Ty Beckinsale let her escape because of his own sense of payback for the care she’d given him? Or had it really been a sense of justice when he’d handed her the piece of paper with the Sisters of Mercy’s address on it? Had he wanted her that night, or had he saved her not once, but twice?
She rubbed her forehead trying to think. Trying to make sense out of circumstances that were too screwed up to see clearly. There was one thing she had known since that day. The tally between her and Ty Beckingsale was two to one, and she was the one in the hole. In more ways than one. Yet she suspected Agent Artino didn’t know the score between her and Ty, and since she’d met him less than a year ago, she’d wanted one thing: desired something she never dreamed she would yearn for again—contact with another human being. To touch and be touched. To embrace, to feel, to caress, to lick, to taste. God help her, but she wanted that. Yearned to one day enjoy a real relationship with a man, and perhaps get married and have children.
If she was honest with herself, since meeting Agent Artino, hope had grown within her. It was only upon his return that she’d felt an all-consuming need to be with him. She wanted him like no other. She didn’t trust him, didn’t like his methods, but there was something about this man that made her burn like never before. She sensed a code of honor in him, however, that would never let him cross the boundary she was about to suggest, unless he faced no alternative and was forced into action.
So be it. Ty Beckinsale may not owe her a thing, but Agent Daniel Khaos Artino did.
“Quid pro quo.”
He eyed her warily. “Excuse me?”
“Quid pro quo, Agent. Do I need to explain the term to you?”
“I know what it means. What do you want in return?”
She felt the quiver in her knees, but forced her voice to stay strong. “You know the life I’ve led.”
He nodded.
“From the age of seventeen, I haven’t experienced a hug from anyone without being forced to do so. What happened in this room tonight on that bed scared the ever-living shit out of me.” She waited to see if he understood. There was only one man she’d touched voluntarily, before him, but that had always been with a terry washcloth, not her own skin. Never her own fingers.
When he made no move to argue the point but merely waited, she continued. “I’d never experienced a kiss from a boy before I was taken, or a man since, that was not forced.”
Part of her wondered how many touches, kisses, caresses this man had experienced before this moment. Hundreds? Thousands? More? How much did a normal human being experience? She should remember her parent’s relationship, yet she didn’t. Their loving relationship seemed as if it had never been real. Normalcy had changed after their deaths. She’d gone from being completely sheltered to broken. What she remembered seemed doubtful. Like her life before was just a fantasy her mind had created as an escape from reality. She honestly couldn’t remember what it should be like between a man and a woman.
Since her escape, she’d witnessed numerous couples holding hands, hugging, caressing, even passionately kissing, but she’d never been able to watch. The scenes had always brought memories and pain. Television was too hard to experience. Books, even more painful than the visual reality, because the intimacy always turned into violent acts in her head. Even if the author wrote it as sensual, or erotic, nothing could make her believe a woman would do any of those acts without the threat of a fist, a blade, a gun. No, it’d been best to ignore the intimacies around her and to keep people at a distance. Until he’d come into her life, she hadn’t been able to tolerate any kind of touch. He’d given her so much in that brief encounter, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what would happen if he’d touched her…more.
Until he’d entered her world, she’d never wanted more.
“Are you telling me you’ll return to D.C. for the price of a kiss?”
She laughed at his naiveté. “If it were that simple, Agent Artino, I would’ve kissed the dishwasher at the food bank.”
“The man is twice your age!”
She felt the sad smile cross her face as he realized how ridiculous a statement that was, to a woman who’d been sold as a sex slave.
“I didn’t mean—”
She shook her head. “It was nice for a moment to be thought of in that manner, even if it was just a few seconds in time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. What I’m asking you to do will test everything you say you’ve believed yourself to be. In order for me to testify, you must make love to me as a woman. Not as someone who was bought and paid for.”
He had to have misunderstood what she’d said. There was no way Téa just asked him to have sex with her—as payment for her testimony. The thought made him want to hurl. “If you want payment, I can’t do that. It would taint the truth.”
She lifted her chin in defiance. “I’m not asking for money.”
Khaos turned away and began pacing the room. “You’re asking for sex. You know I’m not a professional therapist. I have no magic cure to erase the past that’s left you—”
“Damaged.” She filled in for him. “Damaged goods.”
He spun around and looked at her, shock making his brain go blank for a moment too long. “No! That’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t know what’s the right approach to help you over your aversion to touch.”
“I do. This is it.”
“This can’t be it.” He ran his hand through his hair. He felt as confused and at a loss for words as a teenager trying to pop his cherry. He couldn’t have sex with a witness. It was wrong. Unthinkably wrong. Yet if he was honest, he'd thought about it. A lot. “I’ll introduce you to some nice men and you can see if anything comes of your interaction with them.”
“No.” Her voice was soft but firm. She was not going to allow him to pawn her request off on some other guy.
“Ms. Bello—”
“Téa.”
He breathed out a sigh. “Téa. What you’re asking me to do goes against all the rules of common decency.”
“What you’re asking me to do goes against all my rules for survival. Quid pro quo, Agent. It’s the only way you’ll get me to testify.”
He wanted to punch the wall, but that would only serve to scare her and make her run for the hills. He’d be at ground zero again. “You should be seeing a counselor.”
“I am.”
“And would your counselor approve of this blackmail?” His voice was rough with anger, frustration, and something more he didn’t want to label.
“I’ve been trying her methods for years. I need to take a route I know will work.”
“It’s criminal.”
“My life has been molded by crime. This doesn’t come close to criminal. You’ll be helping me past an obstacle I don’t think I can hurdle alone.”
He wanted to argue, but it was clear Téa had thought this through. She wasn’t budging. “Why me? Why not some…” he waved his arms around the room looking for the answer. “Some college guy?”
She laughed. It
would’ve been pretty and musical if it’d been real. Instead it lacked real joy and sincerity; making it hollow and sad. “College boys have no idea how to handle me. If I opened up to one-tenth of my past, they’d trip over their dicks trying to get away from me.”
He knew her crass language was meant as a taste of how different she was from the average sorority girl. She was right about that. Most guys her age wouldn’t know how to handle a woman who’d seen so much. Done even more.
She touched his arm and he nearly jumped in response. How had the mere brush of her fingers set him on edge?
She looked up into his eyes with so much emotion, he wasn’t sure she was the same woman who’d run from him two hours ago. “There is something between us. I felt it when you came last year and again on the bed.”
She’d felt his traitorous dick respond to the curves of her sweet ass. That alone made him feel beyond dirty.
“You made me feel—” she could no longer hold his gaze and her voice lowered to barely above a whisper. “Wet.”
Holy hell. That was the last thing he needed to know. His cock was rising to the sound of that announcement as if it was Mount Vesuvius ready to blow. He cleared his throat and tried to tamper down his errant libido. “Are you expecting me to take you to bed now?” He felt like a randy teenager eager to strip off his clothes and get naked.
“I think I would run if you tried that, just as I started a fight the last time you got too close.”
He nodded in agreement. As much as his body craved her, his mind was beating him to a pulp. Intimacy on the job was an absolute no. Intimacy off the job was a fuck, no. Sex sure, but what Téa wanted wasn’t something he could give. She wanted to feel a connection he wasn’t capable of feeling. He liked to keep the number of people who tugged at his heart down to a bare minimum. Currently, he had his sister…and he supposed her dumbass fiancé was also beginning to worm his way into his heart on a brotherly level. Fuck. When had that started?
Other than those two, the closest he’d felt for anyone was Megan. She was a friend. Besides her, his feelings didn’t extend beyond professional bonds he had with his agents, the Vice President and the President. He would be racked with guilt if something happened to any of them, and would take down any bastard who tried to harm them. Once that was done, common decency dictated he’d assist their loved ones through the tragedy. But a piece of his heart wouldn’t be damaged.
He’d learned too young, not to let that happen again.
Yet with Téa, he was afraid he’d be tempted to care, and that was something he had to avoid. But what she was suggesting wouldn’t allow him to take the easy way out. She wanted more than just sex. She wanted to chip away at the walls he’d erected, in order to knock down her own walls. Fuck.
“So you want me to take it slowly,” he clarified.
She nodded and bit her bottom lip.
“How slowly?”
“I need to be able to handle your touch first.”
Khaos let his fingers skim up the bare flesh of her arm and she jerked as if he’d stuck her with a needle.
“I won’t hurt you.”
She nodded in agreement but her body was so tightly wound, he thought she might break under his touch. Her fists were clenched and her eyes were firmly closed, the strain of her tension creased the smooth skin across her forehead.
“You need to relax.”
“I can’t. That’s the problem.”
“What do you do when you’re alone?”
She bit her lip as if she might spill a state secret by confiding in him.
Khaos continued his caress. “Téa, if this is going to work, you have to talk to me.” He decided to give her something no one else but his sister had permission to use. “My family calls me by my middle name, Khaos.”
She peaked out behind one eyelid and slammed it closed when she saw him watching her. Her chest rose and then fell as she expelled a large breath of air. “I…I play sounds of the ocean over my earbuds.”
“And that works?”
“Yes.”
“Where are your earbuds now?”
Téa opened her eyes and began to step away, but he blocked her path. She jumped back.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She rubbed her arms as if she couldn’t get the feeling to return to them. “No. It’s fine.”
He nodded. “Tell me where they are, and I’ll get them while you make yourself comfortable.”
Her eyes darted to the hotel bed and he immediately recognized his mistake. “Not there.” He pointed to the chair near the window. “Nothing’s going to happen tonight. The only thing we’re going to concentrate on is you being able to tolerate my touch.”
She immediately became defensive. “I can tolerate more than you could possibly know.”
He had no doubt she could. “Tolerate is the wrong word. I want you to become comfortable with my touch. Trust it. Know that it’s only there for your pleasure, and not fight it.”
She scoffed at that. She didn’t believe any man would want to see to her pleasure. What had she gone through? Part of her was as untouched as the seventeen year old girl who’d been kidnapped and abused. Yet her innocence was shrouded by a bruised and battered woman who’d toughened the very tenderness she wanted back.
He wasn’t sure he could help her gain what she’d lost, but someone had to try, and he hated to admit he was damned glad she’d entrusted him with the job.
“Where are your earbuds?” He asked again.
“In my sweater pocket.”
“Sit while I get them.” He turned his back on her and retrieved her earbuds without looking in her direction to see if she’d done as he asked. Giving her orders came naturally to him, accepting them came just as naturally to her. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Not having to fight her all the way at every turn, however, would make things much simpler. He took his time getting the earbuds, then turned to the minibar for something to drink.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll take a shot of your Macallan.”
Khaos didn’t let his surprise show. He suspected she’d been drugged on several occasions to make her compliant for the johns and he didn’t want to compound an addiction problem if she’d gotten herself clean. Ice clinked in the glasses before the splash of the best Highland malt scotch whiskey he’d ever had covered it. The 1947 scotch was good; he knew that from the night before. It was rich, smooth and aged to perfection.
“Have you had Macallan before?”
“Once.”
He waited for her to explain. She didn’t. Unlike most Americans, Téa wasn’t about to share more information than what she was asked and he wasn’t going to pry into a past, which could ruin everything he had planned for the future. He grabbed the two drinks and walked back to where Téa had seated herself in the chair by the window.
“Thank you,” she said. Again, she didn’t add any superfluous words to the conversation.
Khaos sat down on the floor in front of her and she stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to massage your feet.”
“What? I don’t want a massage.”
“Have you ever had a massage?”
“No.”
“Then try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”
She was searching his face trying to read something that just wasn’t there. Khaos had no hidden agenda. She knew everything. The reason he came, the reason he needed her, and the risks involved. This wasn’t going to be a vacation for her, and her road to recovery was going to involve many things that made her uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure he knew enough about PTSD to deal with her struggles, but somehow she believed he was the man for the job. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, deep down he knew he was the only man who could break through her icy exterior and expose the heated desire Téa radiated every time they were together.
God, he sounded like a damned escort for hire.
“Is your ankle okay?”
“It’s fine. It just wasn’t used to stilettos.”
He sipped at his drink as she got comfortable, then set his glass off to the side and handed over her earbuds. “Turn on your music and close your eyes.”
“I can’t.”
He lowered his voice, ordering her to do exactly as he said. “You can. Do as I tell you, Téa.”
Again she followed his instructions even though she obviously didn’t want to. He watched as she fumbled with the playlist on her phone and then put the earbuds in her ears.
“Close your eyes.” He didn’t think she could hear him, in fact her eyes had traveled to his mouth as he spoke as if she was reading his lips. He couldn’t help it. Dry, parched lips needed to be licked. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and watched her eyes flare wide before she slammed her lids closed so fast, he couldn’t help but smile.
Téa emptied her glass just as he lifted her right foot onto his lap. He’d known everything about her was small, but up until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how small she was. Her feet looked like they belonged to a child, except there was nothing childlike about the curve of her arch, or his reaction to touching her. His fingers glided across the silky smooth skin of her ankle and as he pushed against the tips of her toes; stretching them toward her calf. He couldn’t help but react to the pastel pink toenail polish and the toe ring on her middle toe. The combination did something to him he hadn’t expected.
He didn’t have a foot fetish. Hell, he was an ass man. Give him a round plump ass to grab hold of and he’d feast on that thing all night long. Yet with Téa, he found himself fantasizing about running his lips across her delicate instep. Nibbling on her graceful ankles and sucking on those toes that were somehow the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long time. He felt his body stir and come to life.
“Down, boy,” he muttered. The last thing he needed her to see was a hard cock that got turned on at the sight of her bare feet. She’d think he was no better than the men she’d been forced to serve. That thought was enough to calm his passion for a lifetime.
