Body Shot

by Amy Jarecki

  “Oban...” Mike closed his eyes and inhaled—fresh air, the scent of the sea. He could already feel home. “What I wouldna do for home’s hearth.”

  Scraping her teeth across her bottom lip, Henri’s gaze trailed aside. “I kinda thought you’d say that.”

  “But you’re going with me, right?” He laced his fingers behind her neck and pulled her lips down to meet his. “Och, lass. I’ll need moral support.”

  “I’m not much of a cook.”

  He kissed her again. “Who said anything about cooking?”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Transferring the Chinese food to her left hand, Henri used Mike’s key to open the door to his house. Jeez, if she had a place this nice, she’d talk about it all the time, but Mike had never said much about his home or his past. Henri needed to rectify that now he was on the mend and growing more cantankerous by the day. Men rarely made good patients, especially the gun-wielding alpha types like Mike Rose.

  Henri to admired his place, though. The exterior it looked like a stately old, stone building—almost castle-like as if a land baron had built it, or at least someone very important.

  On the inside, the home was nothing short of gorgeous. Most of the big windows faced west with a stunning view of Oban Bay. She’d spent an afternoon beside the fireplace watching the Caledonia ferries going to and from the Isle of Mull and beyond. It was like something from a storybook.

  She would have expected Mike to have ultra-modern furniture, but his house was bright and cheery and full of antiques. However, his kitchen was renovated with the most contemporary equipment including marble countertops with a well-lit island in the center.

  The door closed behind her as she moved into the kitchen. Odd. Thumping noises were coming from the basement. When Henri left to pick up the food, Mike had been by the fire in an easy chair with a Tom Clancy novel and a blanket tucked around his lap.

  Hmm.

  Leaving nothing to chance, she pulled her Glock from its holster and tiptoed for the stairs. A bit of deep grunting came along with the thumping. Either Mike was working out, or he had a visitor. And she knew it wasn’t the latter.

  After she reached the bottom of the steps, she chuckled. The workout room was also state-of-the art with an all-around gym, free weights, treadmill, stepper and elliptical. She holstered her weapon and moved her fists to her hips. “What happened to a week’s rest, hotshot?”

  After looking up with the guilty expression of a kid caught stealing a dollop of cookie dough, Mike slapped the stop button on the treadmill and grabbed a towel. “Och, you werena supposed to be back yet.

  “I called ahead. The food was ready when I arrived.”

  He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Bloody foiled.”

  Sauntering toward him, she tried not to smile, but it was really hard. More and more Henri realized they were both hewn from the same cloth. Given the circumstances, she’d be the same, pushing herself to get back on her feet as fast as possible, no matter that they’d both negotiated three weeks off. And as far as Garth knew, Henri was going to help Mike get settled, then head to Utah for her R & R.

  She slowly drew the towel from his grasp, making a show of raking her gaze down his body. “All right, stud. If you’re well enough for a workout, then meet me upstairs in ten.”

  His eyes popped with his grin. “Oh?”

  She glanced to his injured leg, the dressing covered by his shorts. “That is if you can manage to climb the stairs on your own.”

  He snatched the towel. “I’ll beat you to the top.”

  “No you won’t.” She headed off. “And you’re not allowed up there for ten more minutes.”

  In the kitchen she grabbed the food, a bottle of wine and two glasses, then headed up to the top floor. Mike had turned the entire area into an enormous bedroom with a whirlpool bath in the bay window overlooking the water. The place was more romantic than a five-star hotel. After turning on the water, she lit candles in crystal orbs around the tub, then turned off the lights. She pulled over an end table from the bed, set out the food and chopsticks, then poured two glasses of chardonnay.

  She swirled the wine first, then tasted.

  Delicious.

  When the tub was about half-full, she disrobed, stepped in and turned on the bubbles.

  Heaven.

  The sun had set on the western horizon and the lights of Oban twinkled down below.

  She sensed him ascend the stairs, though she didn’t look. Whispers of clothing rustled behind her.

  “Ah...may I join you, m’lady?” he asked in a deep, lilting brogue, one no woman would ever tire of hearing.

  Henri took a sip of wine before she faced him. Good Lord, he was an Adonis standing totally naked, his white skin lightly freckled and sculpted by years of toning his muscles into a precise fighting machine. Licking her lips, her gaze meandered to his cock—long, thick, aroused.

  Licking her lips, she gestured to the table. “As you can see, the party’s set for two.”

  “Perfect.” He stepped into the tub and cringed a bit when his injured thigh dipped below the water line, but he didn’t utter a word of complaint. “Now I reckon this is the kind of relaxation the doctor was talking about.”

  “That might be a stretch, but I’ll go with it.” She picked up a pair of chopsticks. “Sustenance first.” Plucking a bite of chow mein, she held it to his mouth. He let her feed him, watching her with smoldering eyes as he chewed.

  “Who knew a Scottish spy could make eating look so sexy?”

  He reached for a pair of chopsticks and fed her as well. “No’ half as sexy as you, Eagle Eyes.”

  Henri smiled inside as they ate. The first time he’d used the moniker, she hadn’t been enthused, but it had grown on her. More due to the fact that Mike used it with respect in his voice. Respect and fondness. No one had ever shown her the love she’d felt from Mike. Though he hadn’t spoken the words, he cared. He showed it in the way he protected her when they were held at the ruins, the way anger flashed through his eyes when Fadli had struck her. The love in his swollen eyes when he came to consciousness in their cell, and the way he tried to take point when they were sure to meet with enemy fire.

  He even listened to her from time to time.

  Picking up his glass, he slowly brought it to his lips and took a long drink. “What are you thinking about?”

  “You.” She smiled. “Know what? Aside from being a badass spy and former SAS officer, I don’t know much about you.”

  “No’ so much to tell.” He turned on the Jacuzzi bubbles and reclined with the chow mein.

  She licked her lips, considering how to approach the question that had been needling at her. Mike had a lot of artwork on the walls, but no pictures of himself or his family. It was as if he didn’t care to be surrounded by memories of the past. After all, Mike was thirty-five.

  May as well have out with it. “Have you ever been married?”

  He looked up and stopped mid-chew. “Huh?”

  “Marriage? Have you ever been married before?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed with his gulp. “Me? Not a chance. Too busy chasing—”

  “Bad guys,” she finished, reaching for an egg roll and taking a bite. She should have known he’d deflect with a “too busy” remark. “Soooo...what about girlfriends? Anyone stick?” Henri wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.

  But Mike shook his head. “None who could take the hours.”

  “Yeah, it was like that in the Army as well. Guys would deploy for three to six months, then come home and find no one there—so to speak.”

  “I ken how that is all too well.”

  “So, you’ve been burned before?”

  He took Henri’s half-eaten eggroll and shoved it in his mouth. “Last girlfriend dumped me for a Spanish hotel mogul—a gazillionaire.”

  “A gold digger?”

  “Aye, but that woman never would have considered picking up a shovel and working a gold mine. She w
as the type who wore stilettos and diamonds and wouldn’t be caught dead in anything less than a five-star restaurant.”

  “Ah.” Henri nodded. “A princess.”

  “I’d classify her no higher than a parasite.”

  “Ooo, she stung you bad, huh?”

  He shrugged. “Better she showed her hand early on, afore I did something stupid.”

  “You don’t seem like the type who’d tolerate a diva.” Tapping her finger to her chin, she gave him a long look. “She must have been stunning.”

  A bit of color spread across Mike’s cheeks. “Thought she was at the time. But she’s nowhere near as bonny as you, Eagle Eyes.” He cracked open a fortune cookie and pulled out the slip of paper. “Enjoy each moment, for it is the last time you’ll see it.”

  “I have to say I agree with that.”

  “Me as well.” He handed her a cookie. “Your turn.”

  She bit it in two then read her slip. “Your present plans will succeed.”

  Running his tongue along his top lip, he regarded her with a cockeyed grin. “How’s it going so far?”

  Picking up the bottle, she topped up their glasses. “Right on schedule. Cheers.”

  “Slàinte.” He took a sip then brushed his lips across hers.

  “Slàinte?”

  “It’s Gaelic for cheers.”

  “You speak Gaelic?”

  “A few words.”

  “See? There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

  He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her beside him so they both looked out over the view. “I’m no’ all that complicated, lass.”

  “I think you’re very complicated.”

  When his fingers brushed over her wound, she hissed.

  “It’s still a wee bit tender, aye?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Jeez, your gunshot wound was so much more serious than mine, I’d sound like a baby if I complained.”

  “This wee bullet hole?” He slapped his hand through the air. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Like what?”

  “Shrapnel in the arse. Have you not noticed the jagged white scar on my right buttock—it forms a zed?” He raised the offending body part out of the water and pointed. “Couldn’t sit for a fortnight.”

  She chuckled. “That little thing? I thought you were tougher than that.” Henri pointed her toe and lifted her leg. “A Soviet rimless bottlenecked bullet. Four-inch graze. Afghanistan.”

  He waggled his brows. “I read about that one in your file. But I can top it.” He held up the inside of his left arm. “Knife. Fighting Hamas. Gaza.”

  She thrust out her thumb. It was a small scar, but it had hurt like a bitch. “Icepick. Bootcamp piss up—had to pull the weapon out myself.”

  He blew a raspberry. “That’s nothin’.” He turned up his left palm and pointed to a scar that looked like a J. “Fish hook. Age nine. Oban Bay. Just a wee laddie and I yanked the damned thing out, barbs and all.”

  “Nine?”

  “Aye.” He shook his finger. “And I didn’t cry, mind you.”

  She raised her glass. “Not one tear?”

  “Not me.”

  “Then I salute you, soldier.”

  “Cheers.” Winking with a satisfied grin, he took a drink.

  “Not Slàinte?”

  “All right. Let’s go with Slàinte.”

  She poured more wine. “Know why I like you?”

  He snorted. “Because of my fiery red locks?”

  “No...In fact I was prejudiced against redheaded men until I met you.”

  “Prejudiced?”

  “I thought they all lacked the toughness gene.”

  “But I changed your mind?” That damned grin turned cocky.

  “Yeah—but I think you’re the exception.”

  He gave her a kiss and stared at her, his eyes filled with mischief. “So then, if it’s not my hair, what is it you like about me?”

  “You’re a sheepdog.”

  A furrow formed between his eyebrows. “A dog?”

  “Come on, you’ve heard the term before—sheepdogs run into battle when everyone else is running away.” She raked her gaze down his torso, admiring the copper curls on his chest. The smoothness of his alabaster skin, and the sculpted muscle beneath. “Sheepdog,” she said, emphasizing the dog as if it were the coolest thing on the planet.

  “Do you ken what I like about you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Everything.” Again, he slid his arm across her shoulders and inclining his lips to her ear, he whispered, “This is a moment I never want to end.”

  “Then let’s enjoy the hell out of it.”

  Soothed by warm jets of water, staring across the bay, sipping their wine. It was comfortable being with Mike, eating delicious food, drinking good wine, soaking, relaxing. They were so similar deep down, yet born worlds apart. Henri enjoyed being with him, even being quiet with him like she was with Grandfather. A certain, unexplainable ease thrummed through her as they sat together, just being.

  She sighed. Contentment. That’s what she felt. It had been far too many years since she’d been content. If she ever really had been.

  When their glasses were empty, Mike set them on the table. He cocked his head to the side and cupped her cheek with his palm. “What are you thinking now, lass?”

  She couldn’t look him in the eye. Heck, even her cheeks burned. “I, ah...I was thinking...” she bit her bottom lip. God, she didn’t want to ruin the moment.

  Mike lifted the chin with the crook of his finger. “What?”

  “It’s silly.”

  “Nothing you say is ever silly.” He kissed her lips softly. “Tell me.”

  She let out a breath, then looked him in the eye. “I was thinking how perfect it is—right now.”

  His grin could have lit up the Oban skyline. “Know what?”

  Henri shook her head.

  “I was thinking that very same thing.”

  He grinned and pulled her toward his lap but Henri held up her palm. “What about your leg?”

  “Och, I’m feeling no pain.” Reaching around, he rubbed warm water up and down her back, then pulled her closer. “Especially when you’re in my arms.”

  “Well then...” She slid her hands over his shoulders and slowly lowered her head. As their lips neared, delicious anticipation and the slow burn of desire curled through her. With a rush of euphoric effervescence, they connected in a kiss. A kiss charged with so much electricity, they were joined by surreal and hypnotic forces while primitive instincts thrummed through their blood.

  The arousal between them had simmered on a low boil since she’d invited him upstairs. But in two seconds, their passion went from smoldering to scorching hot. Barely able to breathe, she slid her hands over his solid muscles, down his rippling six-pack while she rocked back and forth along his cock.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “The bed isn’t far.”

  He chuckled, a seductively low rumble that made goosebumps rise across her skin. “I like the way you think.”

  Standing, he gave her another eyeful of his magnificence. Warm water slid down his chest, making it glisten. He reached for her hand and pulled her up as if he intended to carry her to the bed. She stepped out of the bath and swirled a finger around his coppery chest hair. “One thing at a time, Scottie-boy.” Her eyelashes fluttered as she gestured to his thigh. “You’re not lifting me until that gunshot wound heals.”

  He gave her the evil eye as she grasped his fingers and pulled him to the bed. When the back of her knees hit the soft mattress, he nudged her down. “Aye? So are you the boss of me now?”

  “I am.”

  “I like that,” he chuckled. “But I will still rearrange your priorities, lass. You’d best slide back because I aim to taste you.”

  She licked her top lip and obeyed, while the heat between her legs turned into a raging fire.

  Sliding onto his hands and knees, Mike followed her wit
h a wicked grin. “Open.”

  Henri managed to nod as he pressed between her thighs. Warm breath caressed her before his tongue swept over her clitoris. She sucked in a sharp inhale. Her hips arched. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t help but move her ass in concert with his magical mouth kissing and sucking her clit. “Oh God.” Her thighs started to shudder as Mike slid a finger inside. In and out he worked in a steady rhythm while his tongue relentlessly made love to her.

  On the brink of losing it, Henri closed her eyes, spreading her legs wider. The image of his naked body consumed her mind. Her every muscle tensed as if she were about to explode. Her breathing sped. She bucked harder. Then it happened, and she cried out and grabbed his hair. Sweet release racked her body and sent her into a maelstrom of pulsing shudders.

  Letting her revel in the afterglow, Mike threaded his fingers through her pubic hair, still kissing her gently. When she came back to Earth, he slid up and nuzzled into her neck while rubbing his cock along her wetness. “It turns me on to see you shatter,” he growled.

  She let out a sultry chuckle. “Know what’s better?”

  “What?”

  “When we shatter together.”

  “Perfect...”

  “But not yet.” This time Henri wanted control. Careful to roll away from his injured leg, she used a karate move to shift to the top.

  Mike raised his head. “What—?”

  “Lie still,” she said, kissing his lips then trailing kisses to his neck. Lower she went, swirling her tongue around each nipple, taking her time. Careful to draw out the torture, she kissed him all the way down to his abs. But she wasn’t going in for the kill yet. It was difficult to avoid his cock as she continued lower, licking between his thighs, teasing his balls all the while ushering him to the brink of madness. When her fingers finally took possession of his erection, a deep, feral groan erupted from his throat. Slowly, Henri slid her mouth over him and swirled her tongue up and down his length. She stroked and suckled his spiciness—pure male, infused with a hint of salt. She teased him with strokes of her hand combined with quick licks of her tongue.

  Until he reached down and pulled her over his body. “I want you so badly I’ll explode if you keep doing that.”