The phone call interrupted that plan. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t ignore it.
“Go for it,” Alistair commented, sitting on the edge of the bed, his muscles tight from tension of what he was about to discover.
“We found him. Name is Jeffrey Alwazir. He’s a Cyber Exploitation Officer. And this guy is into some high-level shit, Al. I mean, talking about SCI and access to restricted data. I don’t think there’s much he doesn’t have access to.”
“Woah, wait. Laymen’s terms, Pete,” Alistair spoke, cutting him off.
“In a nutshell, he’s one of the handful of government officials with knowledge about the kind of stuff we won’t ever hear about in the news. Secret code words, PIN numbers, atomic-bomb code type stuff.”
His stomach dropped. “What?”
“Okay, atomic-bomb might be an exaggeration, but the rest isn’t. It’s no wonder she needed a new identity. If she used any of her old information, he’d find her in a matter of seconds. Even if she kept her same ATM PIN code, he could use the information to narrow down the possibilities of where she draws her money from. I hope whoever helped her with the documents knew enough to change, well, everything. Even her birthdate with a different year could be a trigger.”
“Fuck.”
“Yup.” Peter clicked his tongue, pausing as they both sat in silence. “But there is some good news. Tink’s got a shadow system on him. She’s traced his cell, and now we can pinpoint his location to within a one-block radius. And she was able to install a keystroke monitor on his personal email accounts; we’ll see what he buys online, if he books any trips, hell, we’ll even get to see the porn he’s into.”
Alistair laughed darkly at the joke. “Thanks, man. I owe ya. You’ll let me know if anything’s up?”
“Immediately.”
Alistair sighed, hanging up, falling back against the bed. He ran his hands through his hair. Top secret clearance. Restricted data. We’re in way over our heads here.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You’re supposed to come down naked,” Alistair reminded her as he flipped a pancake to check if it was done, then placed it on a plate with the others.
“I know,” she reported back, a smile in her voice.
He shook his head — she couldn’t go one day without disobeying him, and he loved it. Over the last two weeks they’d settled into a routine that felt comfortable, and right — or, at least as much as she would let it. As much as Alistair understood her need to keep her walls up, he hated it. He wanted nothing more than her in his room, in his bed, 24/7. She’d been staying at his place more often than not, but insisted on returning home every few days to, in her words, “Just to keep myself, me.”
But he was willing to do whatever she needed him to. And she was letting him in, a little at a time. His favorite part of the entire thing was just getting to know her better. Jayla had an innate ability to make him laugh. She’d told him how dumb she felt at times, as if the lack of a college degree somehow meant she wasn’t “smart enough”. In his mind, nothing could be further from the truth. Sure, she wasn’t a whiz at quantum physics, but her common sense, even her ability to read people, was off the charts.
They’d learned more about each other in the bedroom as well. They discovered she enjoyed being tied down — or up — and really liked his hands caging in her neck. She loved the flogger, wasn’t a big fan of the paddle, and hot wax — wax will be brought into the equation more often than not.
Even if he hadn’t trusted his own instincts about her, Rajah’s affections would have convinced him how amazing she was. He never tired of watching her as she petted him, softly singing to him. If she was on the couch, Rajah was on her lap or on her chest, always wanting to be near her. She’d immediately taken over his “duties” — feeding him right when she woke, changing the litter daily. As hesitant as he was to admit it, watching her play and dote on Rajah, had him thinking of a topic he’d never given one iota of thought to in the past — a family.
And Jayla would undoubtedly make a wonderful mother.
He’d swallowed hard at the idea, but maybe it was time to settle down. Jayla, more than any other woman he’d ever been with, seemed perfect for him.
He’d been up since before dawn, getting in a workout, running to the market, and making breakfast. As usual, Jayla slept until the smell of coffee — for him, hot chocolate for her — woke her. And, as usual, appeared shortly thereafter wearing nothing but his T-shirt.
Not just for the punishment it entailed, but because it was so inexcusably her. She allowed him to assert control, only after showing him she’d never be controlled again. He wasn’t even sure she understood the psychology behind it. And he loved her all the more for it.
Liked. Liked her more for it, he shook his head. What has gotten into me? Family, kids, love?
He’d wanted to ask if she’d had similar thoughts. Hell, he’d never had a woman stay over as much as she had in such a short time. Or have such deep conversations with. They even had a kitten. Granted, the kitten really came before the rest.
He spent so much of his time working to make sure he didn’t scare her off, he just began to realize the way he was feeling about her scared the shit out of him.
He placed the plate on the breakfast bar in front of her. The maple syrup and strawberries were already by her seat — exactly how she liked them. “I told you to come down as you were — which about five minutes ago was naked. And yet, there you are. Wearing my clothes.” He bent to place a light kiss on her lips.
“I can’t help it,” she smiled, before taking a forkful of food. “I vike be way you bell,” she mumbled, between bites.
He laughed. “Run that by me one more time?”
She swallowed, licking her lips and looking up. “I said, I can’t help it. I like the way you smell. It stays on your clothing, and I get to just breathe it in.”
“Is that so? Tell me, Princess, what do I smell like?”
She tilted her head, scrunching her face. “I dunno. You just, you smell like you. It’s hard to explain.”
“No, it’s not,” he started, ready to tease her. “You smell like vanilla.”
Her eyes widened, before she laughed. “I do not.”
He laughed too. “Yeah, you do.”
Walking around the bar, he moved to her side, taking his seat as he placed his own plate down. He leaned into her neck, inhaling deeply. “Coconut and vanilla. And strawberries. But only during breakfast.”
“Whatever,” she said, taking another bite.
Pulling back, he smirked. “Know what’s even better than the way you smell, Princess?” He didn’t wait for her to ask. “The way you taste. It’s fucking divine.”
She cocked a brow. “Oh, and how do I taste, then?”
He ran his fingers through her hair, the motion stopping on a knot from her I-just-woke-up-bedhead.
“You taste like you — mostly sweet, with a little saltiness thrown in.”
She pulled back, her mouth opening wide. “Oh. My. God. That’s gross.” She narrowed her eyes, “First, I’m not salty.” She straightened, lifting her chin. “I’m stubborn.”
He smiled. “Second?”
She turned to her plate, moving her fork to lift another bite into her mouth. “Nufin’,” she mumbled.
“Talking with your mouth full again?” Placing a finger under her chin, he turned her to face him. He wanted her answer.
Swallowing, she rolled her eyes. “Salty doesn’t exactly sound … delicious. Or divine. Whatever you called it. That’s a little embarrassing.”
Embarrassing? Oh, fuck no.
He moved his hands, placing them both against her face. “Jayla,” he started, waiting until her eyes met his. “I promise you, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She averted his gaze as she mumbled an “Okay.”
She doesn’t believe me.
He moved, placing himself in her line of sight, waiting until she looked at him
again.
“Ugh. What?” she asked, with annoyance.
“Why do I feel there’s more to this than how much I love your taste?”
Her mouth opened again, before shutting quickly. Ah-ha.
He changed his tone, dropping his voice in the way he knew she loved. “Jayla…” he warned.
“No, it’s even more embarrassing,” she squealed, turning her eyes but not her face. She couldn’t with his grasp on it.
Now he had to know. “Jayla, don’t make me take you upstairs and … persuade it out of you,” he smiled, letting her know he was both serious, and hoping she’d let him take her upstairs.
Instead she took a breath, eyes darting downwards as she whispered, “You were the first to do that.”
He heard her, but that couldn’t have been correct. Right?
“I’m sorry?” he asked, needing to be sure.
She looked up, eyes narrowed as her voice rose from before.
She spoke slowly. “I said, you were the first, okay?”
My little spitfire.
A satisfied smile crept across his face. His heart beat faster at the admission. “You’ve never had anyone go down on you before?” he asked, knowing the answer.
She pulled back, and he allowed it. Crossing her arms, she spoke. “No. I’ve only slept with two guys before you.”
Two? “Two?”
“Yeah, Alistair. Two, okay? Jeffrey took my virginity and I was with him for five years. He never … you know … tasted me, or anything. It was either me giving him head or us fucking. The other was a one-night stand about a year after I left. It wasn’t great. It wasn’t even good. So, I figured it was either me, or all guys, and before you I … I never really … I never needed to try again. Okay?”
Embarrassment rolled off her in waves, yet instead of pity, or whatever other emotion he was sure she thought he felt, he was only intrigued.
Her third partner. Her first time being eaten out. Suddenly, a worry crossed his mind.
He coughed, not used to lacking confidence. “Well, is it … you know … what you hoped it would be?”
He held his breath, waiting on her answer. She turned to him, brows furrowed, confusion on her face before her lip quirked. “Well, well, Mr. Cocky Dominant. Are you asking me if you’re good enough in the bedroom?”
He ran his hand through his hair. Shit. It’s exactly what I’m asking.
What if I’m not, what if it’s just better than her sorry excuse for an ex? Or one-night stand? Jealousy surged for a brief moment at the man who had her one night and didn’t fulfill her needs.
Of course I’m good at fucking her. She’s perfect. I’d be an idiot not to be.
What if I’m not?
As he sat, battling himself, she laughed, drawing his attention. As he looked up, she placed a chaste kiss on his lips, her hands rubbing up his thighs. When she reached his groin, his cock twitched.
“Yes, Alistair. You’re everything I hoped for,” she spoke against his lips. “Actually, sometimes I wonder if you’re even real. You’re like my own personal sex god,” she teased.
He moved his hand behind her head, pushing her into him as he kissed her roughly. “Tease,” he spoke, before biting her lip. “I’m gonna show you just how much of a sex god I am.” He stood, lifting her with him. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he moved to the couch, dropping her on her back.
“Princess, take off the shirt.” He tilted his head, dropping his voice once again, to indicate he meant business. “I think I’ll start with eating you until you’ve learned your lesson.”
“What lesson?” she asked, her breath thick with want.
“To never to question my judgement.”
Jayla sat on the chair behind the desk of the bookstore, waiting for the question she knew Gene would ask. It was the same question he’d already asked three times since she’d come up to the bookstore for her shift. Every time, the arrival of a new patron had kept her answer at bay.
As anticipated, after waiting until the most recent arrival has disappeared inside the club, he pulled up a chair in front of her.
She rolled her eyes as he made a spectacle of sitting down, dusting off the seat and tossing fake tails. When he finally sat, he rested his arms on the back of the chair and pressed his chin to his arms, looking up at her with his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes.
When she laughed, he spoke. “Come on, woman, give me the dirt. I wanna hear it all.”
“You know, you’re almost worse than Snow. Maybe we should start inviting you to coffee?”
He wiggled his brows. “Do whatever you gotta do, so long as I get all the dirty, nasty, juicy deets. Now. Spill. Has he taken you to The Cave yet?”
“Really? That’s what you want to know?”
He wiggled his brows in answer.
“No, he hasn’t,” she answered with a hint of annoyance. She’d asked Alistair about it, but he’d quickly changed the subject. It bothered her. It was almost like he didn’t want her involved in certain parts of his life.
“Sore subject?” Gene asked, picking up on her tone.
Jayla shrugged. “Why do you wanna hear about us so badly? Are you really that much of a gossip queen?”
He nodded, his face turning serious. Leaning back, his arms outstretched against the chair. He looked toward the window for a few seconds before turning back to her. “Let’s just say, relationships and I don’t work well together. Seeing a good relationship firsthand, well … it gives me back some hope.”
She watched him, watched the brief moment of pain flit across his features before he returned to his natural jovial facade. “I doubt that. From what Alistair says, you’re a good guy, who got suckered by a horrid woman,” she responded, softly. Wait, am I supposed to know that?
She’d asked Alistair one night during dinner about the guys, wanting to know them better. He hadn’t given too many details about Gene, stating it “wasn’t his story to tell”, but he had filled her in on a few basic facts. She hoped she didn’t get Alistair in trouble by admitting he told her.
Instead, Gene laughed. “Is that so? That’s actually the nicest I’ve ever heard him talk about her.”
“He didn’t like her? Before the divorce, I mean?”
Gene snickered. “Hated her. From the first day he met her. Told me he’d support whatever decision I made, but she, and I quote ‘was the absolute wrong fucking decision’.” He shrugged. “Shoulda listened.”
She laughed, fully imagining Alistair being candid with his friend. After all, he was great at reading people. Wonder what he would of thought of Jeffrey.
She sighed, realizing how much she and Gene had in common. “No. You needed to learn for yourself. I totally get that.”
He leaned forward again, chest against the chair as his arms stretched out across the desk between them. Not looking up at her, he spoke, “I’ll admit, I miss the feeling of the ring on this finger.” He rubbed the ring finger on his left hand. “Just not the person it tied me to.”
She swallowed, wondering how anyone else could have the same thoughts she did. “Me, too,” she offered, with a sad smile.
Looking at her own finger, she sighed. “Jeffrey never got me an engagement ring. He told me we were ‘meant to be’ and that we would elope when the time was right. After months of hinting — and a birthday and then Christmas passing — I realized he wasn’t getting me one, so I bought one for myself. Cubic zirconia. Fake. Just like our relationship, I guess.”
“It wasn’t fake for you, though. Or me, really.”
Looking up at him, she saw sincerity. “No, I guess it wasn’t. I was all in. Even when it was bad, I just … I stayed. Like an idiot.”
He reached forward, taking her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Me, too. Nice to have company in the ‘I-shouldn’t-have-with-them’ club.”
She snickered. “Look on the bright side, at least you’re getting a divorce. Not all of us are that lucky.”
He tensed, before cocking his h
ead to the side. “What do you mean?”
Blood rushed to her face, realizing her mistake. As far as everyone knew, Jeffrey was an ex-boyfriend. She just outed herself.
Shit!
“I mean … you know, some people can’t get a divorce so easily. State laws and all,” she backtracked, not a single ounce of confidence in her voice.
“Jayla … are you … are you married?” he asked, still holding onto her hand. Her chest thumped with the rhythm of her heart.
Shit, shit, shit!
He squeezed, lowering his voice. “Alistair is my best friend. So far, everything about you seems perfect for him. But if you’ve been lying. If you’re … if you’re married and having a fling, or something—”
She cut him off, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. “No! No, it’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” he asked, pulling his hand from hers, crossing his arms.
“I…” she pinched the bridge of her nose, cursing herself for slipping. This is why she didn’t drop her guard.
Taking a deep breath, she spoke, keeping the details as succinct as possible. “Jeffrey … let’s just say to calling him evil would be an understatement.”
“So, I’ve heard,” he broke through, voice lessening in intensity. “Continue.”
“I ran away from him, from my home, for my safety. We are not together. But we, um. I just … if I tried to file for divorce, like I’d wanted, he’d know where I was living. I can’t have that. It’s not safe for me to divorce him. I’ve been gone for over five years already. Seven years is the cutoff for declaring a marriage over when a person is ‘missing’. I just have two more years, and then I can be officially divorced. Without the danger.”
She looked up, not wanting to see his anger. Instead, his voice softened. “Does Al know?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2) Page 20
