“We can’t be positive yet, but it’s looking like that. Jim’s going to meet with the FBI, and he would like you to join him. But he understands that given current events, you may not be interested.”
I roll my eyes. “Fun times. I can do that. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I don’t need to hide from them.”
“He also asked me to pass along a specific message: We know you probably have floor safes and pockets stuffed with things that belong to clients that you don’t want the FBI to find. We’d be happy to black-bag whatever you need us to at our offices.”
“I’m not confirming you’re correct, but what does that mean?”
“We’d place the items in question in a black bag that you would seal and sign across the seal. We would not open any bag unless you asked us to. And we’d store them for you. We could also have Maureen work with Gage to move some things to our cloud and out of reach. You don’t enjoy attorney-client privilege in most cases, and Jim wants you to know we support you.”
That’s incredibly generous of him. If such an offer were discovered by the authorities, he and Clear would be under a microscope. “Did you ask Jim to do this for us?”
“Not at all. When I asked him to clean up after what those guys did today, I had to tell him he might find my DNA on the sheets. He was unequivocal that he’d fire me from Clear if I did anything to hurt you.”
My heart beats a little faster. Jim was there when the IRA went after me hard a few years ago. Once I’d finished law school and was trying to stand on my two feet, the IRA pushed me to get involved. Jim and his team helped to broker a deal that I be left alone for the time being. He reminded them that my father had been silent on where the guns came from and who they were sold to, and if anything happened to me, he could share what he knew. Jim saved me, and also kept it quiet. We’ve worked well together ever since.
I need to figure out the fallout from this—or if there is any fallout. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell Bash. “What about Hunter? Anything there?”
“He’s a good guy. No debt. He paid off his parents’ debt and mortgage with the money he was given after the company got angel and first-round funding from SHN.”
“They must have had a lot of debt.”
“They’re teachers and paid for all sorts of things for him so he could follow his dream.”
I nod. “Parents do that.”
Our server arrives and places the tray of a dozen oysters in front of us. Bash claps his hands together and rubs them fast. “Are you ready?”
The oysters are perfect. I always get nervous when they’re too big, and I’m not sure Bash is really that big of a fan. “Yes, I’m ready… Do you like oysters?”
He stops mid reach. “Of course. Why?”
“You seem to be psyching yourself up.”
Bash chuckles. “It’s not that. Watching you eat these oysters is going to be hard in so many ways.”
“Do they make you hard?” I whisper back.
“They just might.” He has a twinkle in his eyes.
I place a bit of cocktail sauce on top of my first oyster. Bash watches me carefully. I tip the oyster into my mouth and leave it on my tongue, showing it to him before I swallow it whole. One of the things I love most about Malpeque oysters is they’re more sweet than salty.
I moan. “These are so good.”
Bash looks pained and adjusts himself.
“Are you sure you want to walk around Union Square tonight?” I ask.
“Yes.” Bash’s voice cracks in the middle, and I’m feeling very sexy. “It’s holiday time and the Christmas tree is up in Union Square. The Hanukkah menorah is lit, the ice rink is open, and all the stores have festive windows. I want to show you that I like you for more than that oh-so-delicious honey pot between your legs.”
I have to laugh, and we spend the remainder of dinner getting to know each other. As the minutes tick by, I can feel my defenses drop. But I refuse to stop and think long enough to determine why I’m not itching to walk out the door.
After Bash pays for dinner and helps me with my leather overcoat, he reaches for my hand. “Ready for a walk? Macy’s lit their tree last week. I think it’s time we investigate.”
“You lead, and I’ll follow.”
Chapter 13
Bash
We walk a half block to view the three-story, reusable spruce, which is bright with thousands of LED lights.
Fiona stares at the giant tree as we walk hand in hand. “Wow. Every year it takes my breath away.”
Union Square sits in the middle of a busy shopping district. It’s actually a below-ground parking garage the size of a full city block, with the Westin and the high-end boutique stores in the lobby taking up three entire city blocks. Macy’s is a five-story, three-city-block store. It’s a behemoth, but you can certainly find what you want there, if you can get to the right section. I’ve bought several of my suits there because I like the tailor so much, but I usually do three circles before I find the men’s section.
Above the garage is a green space. The huge Christmas tree is in the middle, and an ice rink has sprouted seemingly from nowhere. Shoppers are strolling across the square to enjoy the scene, and all the stores surrounding the square have filled their windows with holiday decorations. Macy’s leads the way with their entire facade decked in lights.
When the sidewalk is uneven and Fiona stumbles, I love that she leans into me.
“Are you okay? Did you turn your ankle?”
“No, just too busy looking up and not paying attention to where I’m walking. Do you put a tree up?”
“Not usually. It’s just me, so I usually work so the people who have families and people they want to spend the holidays with can do that. What about you?”
“Christmas was my mother’s holiday. She went all out. I have all the ornaments she brought over from Ireland. They were some of the few things they brought with them. But I haven’t taken them out of the box since she died. I can’t bring myself to do it. Plus, I don’t have people over, and all the work isn’t worth it for just me. We do put a tree up at the office, though, and we celebrate with the team before everyone scatters for the holidays.”
“Do you plan on scattering?”
“I wouldn’t mind a beach, but I usually go in late January or early February once things slow a minute.”
We wander over to the Union Square ice rink and stop to watch the skaters. In the middle, a woman does fancy jumps and spirals.
“I could do that,” I whisper. “Not on purpose, of course. It would be how I fall.”
Fiona snuggles in closer and giggles. I adore that sound. I kiss the top of her head. She smells of peaches and cream, and it makes me want to lick every inch of her skin.
We continue walking and take in all the storefronts. The Apple Store, Williams Sonoma, and Sak’s all have festive windows and reminders of the season. Nieman-Marcus has another enormous tree in their window. It easily fills the two-story space and is adorned with ornaments bigger than my head.
Fiona cranes her neck. “I think that tree is real. How do you suppose they get that in the building?”
“Good question.” The tree’s theme seems to be whips and chains. “I guess BDSM has become more mainstream.”
Fiona lets out a breath. “With all their money, the new generation of successful technology entrepreneurs seem to be bored. So they join places like The Dungeon. The problem is, most of them don’t know what a healthy sexual relationship looks like, so they pull the kind of shit that asshole did on Thanksgiving night.”
“I’m sorry.”
She turns to me. “It’s not your fault. And I can tell you’re not that kind of man. You were fun Saturday night and made sure I more than enjoyed myself.”
“Well, it’s rather selfish if my partner doesn’t find it pleasurable. I’m not fifteen anymore.”
“You weren’t as generous at fifteen?” She gives me the side-eye.
“My only reference point was po
rn. Those girls are screaming before penetration. I had no idea what I was doing. But I knew to wrap it up. Was your first time much different?”
“No comment. I went to Catholic schools. I was on track to be a nun.”
I nuzzle her neck. “I’m really glad you didn’t become a nun.”
I can hear her teeth chatter. It may be above freezing, but for our thin California blood, it’s rather chilly. “Let’s go over to the Westin St. Francis. They have a gingerbread house competition with the Fairmont going, and we can see which we like better. I can also buy you some hot cocoa and get you warm before we head to my place.”
She agrees, and we walk into the bistro and order our drinks. There are people everywhere, and it’s crazy tight with wall-to-wall bodies. When my name is called, we get our drinks and join the hordes of people looking at the two ornate gingerbread castles. These make Cinderella’s castle look like a hovel.
“I could never do that,” Fiona says.
“I couldn’t make the gingerbread.”
She shakes her head. “That’s the easy part. When I was younger, before my dad got into trouble, we’d build a fancy gingerbread house every year. We made patterns on paper and cut the pieces. It was a lot of fun. It’s one of my favorite memories.”
“I can see why.”
Eventually we work our way back to Poisson and get my car. “Let’s stop by your place so you can pack for a few days. You can grab some clothes and whatever you need.”
She nods, but I can see her trying to figure out how she can get out of staying with me.
“You can’t stay at your place, Fiona. I know you want to, but it’s not a good idea with everything that happened today.”
“I know, but I also don’t want to impose.”
“If you don’t feel comfortable in my guest room, I can call Jim and we’ll find you a place you’d feel better staying.”
“Your place is fine. I may float between the guest room and your room. Is that okay? I’m not a particularly good sleeper.”
I reach for her hand. “Whatever you need to feel comfortable. And don’t feel like you need to spend any time with me.”
“I think you made a pretty compelling argument Saturday night for spending some time with you.”
My heart races. “Oh, babe, we’re just getting started.”
A short drive later, we pull up in front of Fiona’s place. I know Jim has it under surveillance, so I call the office to let them know we’ll be entering to collect a few things before she goes to a secure location.
“Afraid to tell the team we’re shacking up?” she teases.
“Not in the least. I only want to protect your reputation.”
Fiona shrugs as she opens her front door. “Everyone thinks I’m a dominatrix. Maybe you can be my submissive.”
I laugh. “If that gets their rocks off, let them think that. All that matters is what we do feels good and you’re enjoying yourself.”
“You’re so not Catholic and filled with all the guilt that comes with it.”
“Nope. I’m an if-it-feels-good-do-it kind of guy.” I survey her condo, and it looks just like it did when I came over for dinner Saturday night. The crew did a good job. “Do you know which of your cameras the cleaning crew picked up?”
“They got most of them,” she says as she disappears down the hallway.
“We’ll replace them,” I call after her.
“Thanks.”
After a moment, I don’t see her, but I hear her laughing.
“What is it?”
“Look at the sheets Jim had put on my bed.”
I walk down the hall to find pink Barbie sheets.
“What does he know that I don’t?” I’m feeling a little jealous about one of my best friends and Fiona, and I’m not exactly comfortable with that.
“We were working a case early on in our friendship, and the woman was tall, blond, and plastic. I couldn’t remember her name, so I kept calling her Barbie. Jim then started calling me Barbie, as if he couldn’t remember my name.”
“I know we don’t need to exchange our list of past partners, but were you and Jim ever an item?”
She smiles, and I can see her trying to decide if she’s going to torture me or not. “I want so much to tell you I’ve been with Jim, but he’s too good a friend and you’re too insanely jealous right now to play a practical joke.”
“So you’ve never had sex with him?” I confirm.
“No way. He helped me with an IRA issue after I graduated from law school, and he’s like a big brother to me. We look out for one another.”
She pulls out a dozen outfits, most of them leather. The pile on the bed is as tall as she is, and my palms begin to sweat.
“I swear I’m not moving in,” I hear her say from somewhere beyond the pile of clothes.
“Whatever.” I begin gathering them up. “But damn, these are heavy. Do you wear anything other than leather?”
“I sleep in silk… For your company party, what will people be wearing?”
“Clothes, I hope.”
She looks at me, waiting for a real answer.
“We’re a bunch of muscle guys. Most don’t like to dress up, so to get them out of shorts and T-shirts is a success.”
“Do you think I’ll be okay with a pair of pants and a red sweater?”
I nod.
She adds underwear—a collection of beautiful lace things and lots of leather. I need to understand why all the leather.
She darts into the bathroom and comes out with a small bag of toiletries. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”
It takes us three trips to get it all in the back of the Range Rover, and I have lost the use of my rearview mirror. We lock her place up tight, and I call the office so they know we’ve left. Then I drive her to my condo. I live in a loft not far from our offices in an old warehouse.
We walk in, and it’s three thousand square feet of virtually open space. My bed is positioned close to the window so I can see the water on a lazy Sunday morning.
“You have a Viking stove and fridge?” Fiona notes.
I shrug it off. I didn’t make any choices when I bought this. “It came with the place.”
She looks around. “There aren’t many walls.”
“It’s a loft.”
“I thought you said you had a guest room?”
“I do. Follow me.” I walk through the bathroom and out the other side, and there’s a beautiful bedroom that doubles as my home office. “You can walk through the bathroom, or you can go through that other door to get back to the main living area.”
I help her hang her clothes in the closet and show her where she can put her unmentionables.
“I notice you don’t have any shades on your windows.”
She’s kicked off her shoes and removed her jacket.
I shrug. “It obstructs the view.”
“You don’t mind putting on a show for someone across the way?” She points to the building next door.
I laugh. “I have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“No, you certainly don’t.” Her fingers trace down my arm, and I lick my lips. Fiona reaches for my shirt and kisses my chest as she unbuttons each button. “Can you put on a show for me?” She bites her lip, and my cock is awake and ready to play.
I slide the zipper down on the side of her leather skirt, and it drops to the floor. Fiona kicks it aside and stands in front of me in sheer, black silk panties with leather edges.
I lift her blouse off, and underneath she has a matching bra. Her nipples strain behind the sheer, black fabric. “You’re so beautiful,” I growl.
She pushes my shirt over my shoulders and leans in to bite at my nipples. I take a sharp breath through clenched teeth. I didn’t think I could get any harder, but I could hammer nails with my dick right now.
Fiona’s eyes grow wide as she looks at my cock. “I want to taste that.” A large bead of precum oozes out of the slit.
“You first.” In one q
uick move I’ve unhooked her bra, and her glorious tits fall into my hands. I rub and slightly twist as I pull. I lean down and nuzzle her neck.
“I’m going to come before you even touch me,” she warns.
I push her back onto the bed, taking one of her legs and pulling it up over my shoulder so she’s nice and wide. “Your pussy is beautiful. I dreamed of it all day yesterday and again today.” With my tongue flat, I roll over her clit, and Fiona moans. “Are you ready to meet heaven?” I growl.
“Ohh, fuck me. Please,” Fiona begs.
I swirl my tongue as my middle finger reaches deep inside her, looking for that magic spot. I suck her nub deep into my mouth and flick it with my tongue. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she grasps the sheets, and her back arches as I push my face deep into her. She tastes so good. I could do this forever. I love her writhing below me as I finger-fuck her and strum her clit with my mouth.
Fiona’s legs begin to quiver, and I know we’re fast approaching her pinnacle. “Yesssssss,” she moans. Her internal muscles hold my finger, pulsing as she catches her breath. Her orgasm is a combination of sweet and musk. I lick it all away. I’m learning how great it is to watch her orgasm build.
“I need you to fuck me now,” she demands. She reaches for the condom on the bedside table and with her mouth, she rips the package open. She rolls it on my cock and turns me on my back.
I position her above my cock and let her determine how fast she’s going to impale herself on me. Her lips part as she guides my cock. She puts her hands on my chest for balance as she wiggles her hips to take me in. “I swear you’re bigger than you were the other night.”
I look down and circle her clit with the pad of my thumb. Her hair covers most of her face, but the serene look it holds shows her lost in another orgasm.
“Fuck, you do this so well,” she breathes.
It takes some time for her to be completely seated, but eventually her core holds my cock in a vice.
“Fuck me,” I demand.
She begins to slide up and down and shudders.
I can feel her wetness leaking down to my balls. “Fuck, woman, is that your third?”
Unwrapped: Clear Security's Holiday (Clear Security Holiday Book 2) Page 9
