by KyAnn Waters
Yet, when she looked beneath the dangerous veneer, Jaron looked tired. Dark circles marred the flesh under his cunning eyes. Hollow cheeks were shadowed with a day’s worth of whiskers. His mouth didn’t smile, and he didn’t look pleased. He narrowed his gaze and extended his hand. “Miss Tory.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whitt.”
Rick laughed. “Not likely, but he’ll be civil.”
“Because there’s a lady present,” Jaron said, “I won’t tell you to fuck off.”
Jaron grabbed her bag and placed his hand on her elbow. The warmth from his palm seeped into her skin, yet his strong fingers brooked no doubts to his displeasure. Tory didn’t flinch, but stepped closer to Jaron, easing the pressure of his grip.
Jaron propelled her toward the grand staircase leading to the second floor. The over-abundance of wealth was evident in the thick, decorative rug covering the mosaic tile. She placed her hand on the carved hardwood banister. They climbed the stairs and turned to the left.
Jaron didn’t speak as he led her down the wide corridor. Her steps were whisper quiet on the plush carpeting. They passed several large mahogany doors, which, she assumed, led to guest rooms. A security camera mounted to the wall monitored the doors and hall. Like a gallery, original, large, framed oil paintings hung on the walls between the doors. Fresh flower arrangements sat on narrow marble-topped tables.
“This hall almost looks like a hotel. Does Mr. Evenson have many visitors?”
“The house is always active. Staff, guests.” He was quiet a moment as they passed another door. “And others.” He met her stare. “Even when you think you’re alone…you aren’t.”
She’d deceived herself into thinking his presence wouldn’t influence her performance. Just as he had eighteen months ago when she’d met him, and during the six months they were lovers, she heated with the thought of him and with a touch, flames streaked across her flesh. Sex between them had been incredible, but it wasn’t the end of their affair that stung. It was how he had left—stealing away in the early morning hours, taking an assignment, and never offering an explanation.
“Mr. Evenson has asked me to entertain his guests. I don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that you might be one of those guests.” She raised an eyebrow and trailed her fingers up his corded forearm, nails combing through the dusting of dark, silken hairs. The muscle twitched and his fist clenched. If the closeness of their proximity was affecting him, good. Because she felt like kissing him senseless, then using her Aikido skills to kick his ass for making her worry…for forcing her to acknowledge she cared.
“Perhaps not his favorite guest, but I’m certain you could entertain me.” Realizing the roll she played, he slipped his hand to her hip.
Tory’s heart jumped at the familiar feel of his palm on her body. An answering warmth simmered in her pussy and traveled into her nipples. She didn’t want this molten heat consuming her. They were playing a game of sorts—a deadly game. She had to be flirtatious.
The problem was her body responded to a craving she’d had for Jaron since she’d first met him. A fierce sexual connection and the thrilling excitement of a man who lived on the edge had made it so easy to fall in love with him. And that made him dangerous.
Tory slammed the door closed on her memories. She wasn’t desperate enough to expose her heart to hurt again—even if it meant having an incredible orgasm…or two.
They stopped at the second to the last door in the hall. “Could you show me around my room?”
Jaron opened the door. Waves of tension rolled off him, giving her a strange sense of power. The tight line of his mouth, the stiffness of his broad shoulders, and his brusque movements revealed just how tightly coiled his grasp on the situation was.
Tory entered the room, and Jaron followed. The door shut with a soft thud and then the lock clicked. She moved around the room, running her fingers over the white duvet on the large king-sized bed. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the barred window.
Because she suspected the room was under surveillance, she couldn’t scrutinize the walls or the ceiling, searching for potential complications. However, she could guess where the sound and video cameras were hidden. Assessing the setup or doing anything about it would have to wait until nightfall.
She strode across the room. Jaron smiled before she reached him. What in the hell did he have to smile about? She’d say he was up to his eyeballs in shit, but she couldn’t. Until they were in a secure room, they’d discuss nothing of the operation. Tory just wanted to get the facts, execute Jaron’s plans for planting the undetectable computer spyware in Maxwell Evenson’s network and get the hell out. She intended to spend as little time as possible with Jaron Quinn.
“So is there a way we could pass the time while waiting for dinner? Perhaps you could give me a tour of the property. We could find a quiet spot—a place where we could be alone and get to know each other better.”
* * * *
Christ, if ES questioned whether he could complete his mission, why in the hell had Amine sent Victoria, the one woman who could distract him and blow the whole fucking assignment? He’d been behind schedule before, missed extraction deadlines, and still managed to finish the mission.
He stared hard into her eyes…
Unless she wasn’t here to help him.
He took a step closer. Tory retreated until her back pressed against the wall. He put an arm on each side of her head. Not even her smoky violet eyes, long blonde hair, or sinful body would distract him from his target. This wasn’t a game. He leaned in close.
“Are you here for me?” he whispered, knowing Maxwell’s security team would be listening through the devices placed throughout the room. The house was wired, but there were a few safe locations. The most sophisticated equipment wasn’t failsafe. ES’s intel had been detailed and extensive but hadn’t sufficiently profiled what Jaron would encounter.
“Not you, specifically.” The breathy words whispered near his ear. The seductive scent of her perfume lingered close to her skin. He breathed deeply. “But I’m sure I could be of service to you.”
“Maybe I’m not interested.” A slow surging of blood to his dick made a liar of him.
Inhaling, she brushed her breasts against his chest. Then she released a shuddering exhale. The angle of her hips rubbed her against the hard bulge of his cock swelling against the zipper of his jeans. “I assure you.” She rocked against him, playing her role perfectly. “I can assist you with your not-so-small problem.”
He growled, gripped her hips, and let her feel the full measure of his arousal. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for? I like to play rough, dirty.”
“Then you think it’s dangerous for me to play with you?”
“Damn straight. A smart, beautiful woman should know when she’s in over her head.”
“Hmm. Maybe I like to play with fire.” She nipped his chin. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after I speak with Mr. Evenson. I believe he has plans for me this evening.”
Rage, white and hot, flashed through him. Six months ago, his future was too uncertain to continue his involvement with Victoria. But if she thought for a minute he’d be able to stand by and watch her flirt or anything else with a brutal man like Maxwell Evenson, she was out of her beautiful mind.
Jaron didn’t give a damn why Amine thought he needed to send her in. He could handle Evenson. No way was he letting Tory involve herself.
He leaned in, pinning her to the wall. “You should know we’re under surveillance.”
“I like an audience.” She cocked her head coyly to the side. “Do you want to watch?”
He released a breath. “What do you think?” She knew he did. The last time they were together, Victoria draped across the bed, her thighs open while she fingered her clit. Small gentle circles at first built pressure until she bit hard on her lower lip and cream trickled from her center. He’d delved between her thighs, lapped her honey until they’d both
been drunk with lust.
Jaron convinced himself what he’d felt for her couldn’t be love, because he’d had to protect her—by leaving her. Staying together put her at too much risk. Frank had shown him that. Shown him that a man who lived on the edge and risked his life for the cause couldn’t love a woman like Victoria. Yes, she was part of ES, but she would never infiltrate cave camps in Afghanistan, or become part of a Central American drug cartel to stop the flow of cocaine over the border. Amine had pointed out the hard truths. Jaron might not come home one day. They both loved Victoria enough not to put her through the loss of another person she loved.
Jaron brought their faces close together. “If you push me, princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”
“Princess? Perhaps you should be on your knees.”
He chuckled. Breath mingled. “A tempting offer.” One he remembered sampling often. He recalled her swollen pink lips, parting her silken inner folds with his thumbs, and tonguing the pearl of her pussy, making her cream against his mouth. Swallowing hard, he salivated with want for a taste.
“I was given the impression that my services were needed.” Her pulse fluttered in the long column of her neck. She trembled at his nearness.
“You have no idea.” His hand molded to her hip. “But not here. Not now.” He spoke close to her lips. All he had to do was close the space between them. Their lips would touch, but that would compromise an already-delicate situation.
Eventually, any new connection between them would complicate their precarious situation. Whatever they once had, and as bitter as the notion was, this was a connection they shouldn’t have again. He wasn’t good for her, and she was too good for him.
Tell that to his cock.
Memories of her throaty laugh when she reached orgasm came rushing through his mind with the force of a tidal wave. He’d thought incessantly of her since the night he’d left her bed…her life. Yet here she was and he felt the same carnal desires jack hammering through his body.
He hesitated less than a minute. “Fuck.” He had to kiss her. “I can’t believe you’re here. God, but I wish you weren’t.” His mouth descended, hot, demanding, thoroughly kissing her. He pinned her to the wall, crushing her soft curves to his hard lines.
“Liar.” She moaned, melted against him as her arms circled his shoulders, gripping him. He wasn’t sure if she pushed him to get away, or clawed at him to move closer. He only knew he couldn’t stop the onslaught of need and desire. Applying pressure, he urged her mouth open, slipped his tongue past her teeth and exerted mild suction. Fuck. She tasted better than he remembered. Warm and soft lips pressed more firmly against his. Not light, tentative, or cautious. Deepening the heated kiss, he coaxed her tongue to dance with his.
He wanted more. He wanted her. But they were being watched. He already risked revealing their familiarity in their whispered words. Therefore, he wrenched his mouth from hers. His chest heaved as he regained his control. Yeah, right. With Victoria, he never felt in control.
While touching her lips with her fingertips, she slipped out from between him and the wall. Jaron made a fist then spun toward the door. “I will be seeing you later.”
A lot more if she was determined to play out her role. And if Jaron knew anything about the tenacious Victoria Rosso, it was that she always finished a job.
Chapter Two
Tory dressed to tease and tempt the senses. An enticing amount of thigh peeked from the slit in the simple black dress. The neckline plunged, the back was bare, and the waist tapered to accent the curve of her hips. The light, airy fabric swished around her thighs. Ample cleavage revealed an abundance of milky smooth flesh. She’d powdered, spritzed, and then slipped on killer high heels. Her final touch was a teardrop diamond necklace and matching earrings.
After Jaron had left, she’d wanted to explore the mansion, but when she’d opened the door, there had been an armed guard in the hall. Hopefully tonight she’d be able to slip away without being missed. Until she knew how many guests were attending the dinner, and until she had a read on Jaron’s agenda, she would have to bide her time. Admittedly, she’d have more confidence in the mission if she had Jaron’s support.
A rap on the door made her jump. After checking her reflection a final time in the full mirror, she crossed the room and opened the door.
Speak of the devil. He looked like sin personified. Surely she’d burn for the flash of desire blazing through her. Jaron looked like an ad in GQ magazine. He wore a black tuxedo, was clean-shaven, and smelled of cloves and spice. Her breath caught, and her pussy clenched. Damn him. After six months, he had no business turning her on. He had a job to do and so did she. Once they’d successfully completed the assignment, she could ask him what in the hell happened between them that would make him run off in the night like a snake. Not that she needed to know. Not that she cared. Their affair was over.
So why did her heart hurt?
“You look amazing. You’ll be a distraction to everyone around you.”
“Will I distract you?” She titled her head, glancing at the small smile on his lips. “Maybe I could slip away, and we can meet. We could get to know each other better.”
“We know each other well enough.” He stepped into the room and closed the door. “Mr. Evenson has arrangements for his special guests tonight. You’ll want to stay at the party and enjoy the festivities.”
“But I don’t like crowds. I prefer one-on-one.”
“I’ll come for you later.”
“Mmm. That sounds like an offer. But will I be coming for you?”
“That all depends on if you do what you’re told. Wait for me.”
“We’ll have to see.” She turned away from him and walked to the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection. “I might not be around later.”
His smile tightened, and he developed a tick in his jaw. “I insist you stay at the party.”
She fluffed her hair and strode toward the door. “Well, since I’m a guest of Mr. Evenson and make my own decisions, I’ll do whatever I please.”
He stretched out his arm stopping her progress. “Tory,” he whispered. “I—”
“I’ll make you a deal.” Not that she wanted to make a deal with the devil, but she could foresee complications. One of them had to bend and compromise and that had never been one of Jaron’s strengths. “Tell me where I can find you.”
“Stay away from Maxwell. He plays rough.”
“Jaron.” She nearly barked the word, and then she softened her tone. “So do you.” She knew she pushed him and didn’t care.
“I’m flattered.”
“You’re failing to realize that I’m here for you.”
“Damn it.” A vision of strength, with the quick movements of a panther, Jaron pushed her against the wall and tasted the skin of her neck. He lifted her dress and cupped her mound. Now he’d know how wet he made her. Yanking down the slip of silk thong, he curled his middle finger into her drenched folds.
“Jaron,” she said on a moan.
“That’s it, baby, moan for me.” Whispering against her ear, he spoke fast. “Someone will always be watching.”
Listening to him relate the assignment was difficult with him pumping his fingers into her quivering channel. “There were problems with the initial programming.”
Oh god, he was going to make her come. Lifting her leg, she wrapped her foot around his calf and arched her pelvis into his hand.
“I’ve made adjustments.” With his touch, she was liquid for him Cream trickled onto her thigh. “But I need to access the primary server.”
Tension built higher and hotter, reaching for release. Without warning, her body jerked and she cried out as she rushed into a scorching, red-hot orgasm.
Spasms rocked her core. Waves of sensations convulsed around his fingers.
“I’ve created a backdoor into his Intranet.”
What was he saying? Jaron Quinn had single-minded determination. Her mind was slowly
becoming mush. Bending his knees, he finger fucked her harder. A second finger slid into her slick heat. Breath ripped from her lungs with the erotic ecstasy of having his hands on her and inside her. Beats of her heart hammered in her chest. He had her trembling, coming in his hands, and he still managed to focus on the mission. “But I haven’t had the opportunity to execute the files until tonight.”
She sucked in deep breaths and willed her racing pulse to slow. Part of her hated that he had such command over her and the other side of her found him a powerful aphrodisiac. He excited her like no one else.
“So now you know what I want from you,” he said loud enough for anyone listening. Then he licked her cream from his hand.
Struggling to catch her breath, she couldn’t tear her gaze away as his tongue traced the length of his long, thick finger. Then he opened his mouth, sucked one finger, then the other.
Finally, she found her voice. “I’ve got you covered.”
In other words, she’d need to keep track of everyone in the room. Maxwell Evenson, security, guests, and the escorts would all be her responsibility. She’d be the eyes and ears at the party while Jaron penetrated the inner workings of Evenson Enterprises.
“Then you’re ready?”
As ready as she could be on shaky legs. “Yes.” She adjusted her panties and dress. After she grabbed her small clutch purse from the bed, she took his arm. Jaron opened the door and escorted her down the hall.
Laughing chatter drifted from the foyer. Tory held Jaron’s elbow as they descended the grand staircase. Above them, the crystal chandelier sparkled, and from the great room to the left, the hum of voices mellowed with the accompaniment of a small chamber orchestra.
“Are you ready?” Jaron asked, pausing at the threshold and surveying the room. Catering tables stretched along the left wall and white linen covered several round tables with seating for twelve. Uniformed servers circled the room with crystal flutes of champagne.
Elegantly dressed women—escorts—engaged distinguished gentlemen in conversations. During her briefing, she’d learned she wouldn’t be the only escort arriving for the special dinner. Seems Mr. Evenson regularly provided high priced entertainment for his elite parties.
