by N. A. Alcorn
Slade’s eyebrow rises in curiosity. “Your column?”
“I run a small column for The Washington Times. Health and wellness kind of thing. I really enjoy it, but honestly, it’s starting to become a pain in my ass. I’m finding it harder to keep up with everything these days.” Her fingers fidget with the leftover limes from their previous round of shots.
Slade takes a sip from his bottleneck before commenting, “Damn, woman. You’ve got too much shit on your plate.”
She smiles at his colorful choice of words, but she wholeheartedly agrees. He’s more right than he probably even realizes. She does have too much on her plate. If they even understood the kind of life she leads, they would be downright shocked. No doubt they’d have a hard time believing her. Most people would have a hard time comprehending that a woman would go through medical school, give up her true identity, and live a façade of a life as a surgeon in order to obtain a goddamn cover for her real career as a CIA agent.
“So, Felicia, you’re only going to be in San Diego for another week?” Nix inquires with a slight edge to his eyes, something that leaves her feeling unsure of his motives.
“Yeah. Just another week and then I’m heading back to Guadalajara.”
“Guadalajara?” His jaw drops. “Wow. That’s not exactly the safest place to travel.”
Safe? Really? Sloan doesn’t need safe. If he knew the kind of hazardous missions she’s been a part of over the past ten years, then maybe he’d understand that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.
“No, not really, but the places I’m needed are generally the ones most would deem dangerous.” Her voice is full of irritation.
Nix’s eyes bore into hers. “I hope they ensure you’re properly protected when you’re traveling overseas. A lot of bad shit can happen when you’re an American and you’re not on American soil.”
Annoyed, Sloan squints her eyes at his emphasis on the need for protection. The insinuation that she would need other people to protect her is beyond absurd. She observes his smug smile as it slowly reaches both sides of his mouth, practically turning into a full megawatt grin.
Is he trying to get me worked up?
This reminds her of the Nix she used to know. He would tease her relentlessly just to get a glimpse of her red-hot, lively temper. Whenever her feistiness shines through, her fluent Spanish usually follows suit, and Sloan remembers the effect that had on him—a very delicious effect if her memory serves her right. Her Spanish accent used to hold quite the power over him. In a matter of seconds, she could make him ache for her with an unstoppable, nearly primal intensity.
Does it still cause the same reaction?
It’s a very dangerous game she’s playing, but she can’t stop herself…
“Soy lo suficientemente fuerte para protegerme,” she answers slowly—pronouncing every single word—and manages to hide the excitement from her voice. She wants Nix to hear, I’m strong enough to protect myself, even if she’s saying it in Spanish.
His face hardens and his jaw clenches. The blue in his eyes seems to darken several shades and glare with something resembling lust.
Sloan fights the devilish smile her lips want to reveal, mentally patting herself on the back for the small victory.
“Fuck, that’s kind of hot, doll,” Julian mutters into his beer. He takes a leisurely long drink from his bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the movement.
Slade raises his hand in the air, looking highly amused. “I’m in agreeance here. That Spanish accent…” He pauses for a moment and lets out a low wolf whistle. “Yeah, that really works. But what in the hell did you just say?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” She grins and winks at Slade.
Nix is eerily quiet. His features are edgy and irrefutably intense.
“Are you fluent in Spanish?” Julian asks curiously.
She nods her head. “My mother was originally from Spain. There was no way in hell she was going to let me grow up without being fluent in both English and Spanish. Her Spanish culture was very important to her.”
“That explains the exotic look you’ve got going on,” Slade compliments with ease. “So your mother is from Spain, but you’re American?” he questions.
“My father was American. He met my mother when he was stationed overseas…” She abruptly stops mid-sentence, completely unnerved and harshly aware that she is revealing information on her real-life identity.
“Overseas? Was he in the military?” Julian jumps in, asking more probing questions.
She just nods her head and takes an endless drink from her beer, finding a distraction from their interrogation.
All three men continue to look at her intently—even Nix.
The need for self-preservation becomes too strong to ignore.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room real quick.” She slides off her barstool, heading in the direction of the public restroom.
She can feel Nix’s eyes on her the entire way.
Sloan passes through the thick crowd of twenty-somethings enjoying a night out with friends. Everyone around her is being themselves. They are doing the one thing she can’t—living.
Yeah, she lives a life, but it’s not her life. It’s always someone else’s life. Her persona as Dr. Felicia Santora might have some Sloan-like qualities, but it’s not really her. And when she’s Agent L-55, her main priority is to blend in, to never put herself in a situation where her cover would be blown.
She takes her time in the bathroom, consciously trying to get her wild emotions in check. While she washes her hands, she stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her facial features are still highlighted by the makeup she applied before the dinner. To an outsider, she looks beautiful, but Sloan can see the sadness filling her eyes.
This evening has made her feel as if she’s in mourning—grieving the life she lost when she signed on with the CIA. Ten years of living this façade has started to wear on her. Yes, she loves the adrenaline rush, the feeling of pride and confidence she gets when she’s in agent mode. And, of course, she loves the training and experience she’s received, but she’s given up so much. She’s given up her chance for a normal life and the possibility of a real future.
She strives to remind herself that her career has allowed her to travel the world and experience things most people would never have the opportunity to see. Some people would kill for her life. The irony in that sentiment is not lost on her.
Normality doesn’t seem all that precious until it’s not an option.
And it hasn’t been an option for Sloan for a very long time.
She’d give anything to just have one day to live her life—not Felicia Santora’s or Agent L-55’s, but Sloan Walker’s life. She would run with music blasting in her ears or go on a date or meet friends for dinner and drinks. She would go out without feeling the need to strap a gun to her body. For once, she wouldn’t have to worry about getting the call.
She dries her hands with a brown paper towel. After one last look in the mirror, she throws the crumpled towel in the trash and exits the restroom. As she walks back to the table, she gives herself a mental pep talk—there won’t be any more slip-ups about her past and she’ll end this night after finishing her beer. With her newfound resolve, she makes her way back to the table with her head held high and confidence apparent in her movements.
She finds Nix, Julian, and Slade surrounded by four female companions—scantily clad women—who are flirtatiously chatting it up with the handsome men. A surge of jealously hits Sloan like a freight train as she sits down, watching a bubbly blonde place her hand on Nix’s shoulder. The woman is giggling and batting her eyelashes seductively.
“So how long have you been in the Navy?” the she-devil asks as her nails inch down, brushing across the military insignia of his dress blues.
Get your slutty hands off of him! Sloan wants to scream at the top of her lungs.
“A long fuck
ing time,” Nix responds, not even glancing in the blonde’s direction.
And that damn blonde’s hand stays possessively on his broad chest as she throws out all of her flirtatious tricks to get his full attention. Batting eyelashes, girlish giggle, sexy smile—every little gesture making Sloan more and more irate. Hell, she can’t even process the conversation that’s occurring around her. Her eyes are locked on the woman’s hand, her heart racing furiously from watching another woman touch him.
Slade chuckles at something Julian said, but Sloan didn’t hear it. She’s too busy staring at Nix. She watches in rapt attention as he starts to lift his glass towards his mouth. Her hand reaches out, taking his beer into her hand and immediately drawing his gaze to her.
He watches as she slowly lifts his glass of Guinness to her lips.
Her brown eyes stay locked with his as she takes a long sip. Her tongue sneaks out and licks across her bottom lip after she pulls the glass away, setting it back down in front of him.
Fire burns behinds his eyes as his blue irises hone in on her mouth.
“Thanks, sailor,” she offers jokingly as a mischievous smile kisses her full lips. Her hand motions a small salute in his direction.
Nix laughs lightly, brushing the blonde’s hand off of his chest, and his gaze never leaving Sloan. Their eyes stay glued to one another, everyone else around them disappearing.
She is completely wrapped up in his possessive stare. Sloan doesn’t even notice that Julian and Slade—along with the blonde and her female friends—have left the table. She doesn’t notice anything but Nix.
Her attention is finally released from his consuming hold when another round of drinks is placed in front of them. She glances around and finally realizes that they are now the only two at the table.
Her lashes blink through the fog. “Where did everyone go?” she finally questions.
He points towards the pool tables across the bar and her eyes follow. There stands Julian and Slade with the group of young, very attractive women—including the touchy-feely blonde—who seem more than appreciative of their male presence.
Sloan starts to wonder if Nix would rather be over there. Any sane person would rather be over there with them than here with me. She’s not exactly the most exciting company. She’s secretive and hesitant to share any information about herself. That doesn’t bode well for small talk.
Sloan decides that she needs to leave. Her conflicted mind is begging for reprieve. She finishes off her beer in three long gulps. “I think I’m going to head out,” she announces as her arm reaches for the black clutch that sits in the center of the table.
His fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her. “Why so soon?”
Her skin tingles underneath his touch, and she quickly pulls her arm away from his embrace. “I’m tired and it’s getting late. I know I’m not the most exciting company tonight. I’m sure you’d have a lot more fun over there with your buddies.”
“I disagree. I’m right where I want to be.” He stares at her for a few seconds before standing up from his barstool. “Come on, beautiful.” He holds his hand out to Sloan. “Dance with me.” He gazes intently at her, patiently waiting for a response.
The alcohol has now taken effect and her normally controlled, always on-top-of-everything brain is filled with mucky thoughts—urging her to go with him, to give in to this moment. Her traitorous heart cries out for one last opportunity to be wrapped in his embrace.
Her fingers link with his in silent acceptance.
Nix smiles down at her. It’s a smile reserved for Sloan—reminding her of the beautiful past and all of the memories they shared—and it nearly makes her heart slip out of her chest and land in the palm of his hand.
Right here, right now…he owns her.
Every single inch of her.
She’s not sure what’s controlling her actions at this point. Maybe it’s the buzz from the alcohol? Or maybe she’s finally letting her heart make some decisions? Or is it just him? Sloan can’t deny that she’s waited for this moment for a very long time.
He leads her out onto the dance floor, his hand gently pressing against her lower back, as Maroon 5’s Secret starts to blast from the speakers.
The song is uncannily perfect.
The rest of the bar—the entire world—fades away as he grabs her hips and pulls her body closer to his. The warmth of his body is a smooth caress across her skin. His large hands span her waist and grip her tightly. His blue gaze watches her with a look that spurs goose bumps across her skin. A look that says, “You’re mine.”
It’s the truth. Right now, she is his and he is hers.
Her slightly drunken brain concedes with her heart and chooses to savor this. She will enjoy this time with Nix as if it’s her last, because a deep, painful feeling inside her soul is telling her that it probably is. With their eyes locked—brown and blue—they start to move in time with the music.
Nix takes the lead, seductively swaying his hips and moving Sloan’s body with ease. He can dance. Like, really dance. Every movement is timed perfectly with the beat and has an irrefutable sultry, sexy edge to it.
Her body hums with excitement. Every single nerve ending feels like a live wire that’s ready to detonate at any moment. Her mind starts to wander towards less-than-appropriate territories. Watching Nix move, feeling him seductively stroke her body with his, has her thoughts heading in the direction of going home with him tonight.
God, I want Nix. She can picture his mouth placing long, slow, deep, drugging kisses on her lips. She can imagine his hands all over her body—touching her, loving her, giving her everything with his hard and oh-so-ready body.
These feelings—these intense needs—are very unlike the Sloan she’s become.
But this is definitely the girl Nix once knew. The young girl who was crazy in love and passionate about everything. The girl who would lose herself in his kisses and always find a way to be near him, close to him. The girl who loved him with every ounce of her being.
But Sloan isn’t that person anymore.
Or is she?
Only for Nix, her heart shouts from inside her chest.
She’s lost in this moment with him. Her hands trail up his biceps, her fingertips tracing every muscular contour. She feels reckless and free and undeniably wild. The control she normally dons with an impressive suit of armor is no longer here.
Right now, it’s just Sloan and Nix—them and no one else. The world has melted away and her senses are only aware of his hands on her skin, the movement of his body, and the penetrating beat of the music.
He leans back and stares into her eyes. His look has an edge that takes her breath away. Those ocean-blue orbs are filled with lust, with want, with absolute seduction. He wants her and his body seems hell-bent on having her.
Sloan’s stomach tightens into a million tiny, aching knots as Nix’s hands slide around to her lower back, pulling her tight against him. His pelvis rocks into hers. His breath is hot on her neck as he whispers the lyrics of the song into her ear. “I want you so bad. Everyone has a secret. But can they keep it…”
Irony seems to be a recurrent theme of the evening. The lyrics mean so much more than she wishes they did. Shivers roll up her spine in rhythmic waves, and she can’t hide the quiet shudder that racks through her body.
Nix’s lips press against her neck and a small growl escapes his throat. His obvious arousal presses into her belly, and she nearly whimpers from the tingles that threaten to burst from her core. The slow, hot, seductive bass from the music continues to envelop them in a euphoric trance as they continue to sway together—their bodies entwined in an erotic tug-of-war.
“I want you so bad…” he whispers into her ear again, which is her undoing.
She’s lost. She’s his. She’s so done for.
Sloan’s hands move up to the back of his neck and tightly grasp his hair. Their eyes are locked in a passionate hold as so many unsaid words pass between them, their bodies
continuing to do the talking.
Nix’s hands slide up her arms; the feel of his fingers on her bare skin is intoxicating. As his fingers drift back to her hips, he turns her around with ease, placing her back flush against his chest. His large, strong hands span her waist and press her securely into him. She feels him growing harder against her ass. It’s a heady feeling. Her brain spins and twirls, lost in enraptured sensations.
He wants her. And Sloan can’t stop thinking, I want him so bad, too…
She loses herself in the music, in his possessive hold. Her head rests against his chest.
He groans low and rough in her ear and rocks his body against hers. His heart pounds against her back and her eyes close from the intensity of their close proximity.
Nix’s fingers make a slow descent down her collarbone. Their path is a hot trail that continues between her breasts and down her stomach until they grasp the material of her dress that rests at her hip. He turns her body back towards his, their chests pressing against each other. His hand glides underneath her chin, forcing her gaze. His eyes are penetrating, practically smoldering her with a passionate inferno as her body continues to hum in desperation.
She feels greedy, wanting to soak up every single inch of him, to savor every touch, every caress…to relish everything that is Nix. Sloan’s mouth parts as her breath hitches, her lips begging for his. Her brain screams for his kiss.
His thumb slides across her soft, full, pink mouth. His other hand goes to the small of her back as he continues to move them both to the music.
“Everyone has a secret, but can they keep it?” The lyrics of the song resonate inside her mind.
Can she keep it?
Can she continue to hide behind the façade?
Where Nix is concerned, she can’t. He reaches her on a level that defies normal, rational logic, and this scares the fucking shit out of her. Her mind waves the red flag and she abruptly puts some distance between them.
His face contorts in confusion as his hand falls away from her face.
