by Radclyffe
“Want me to keep going?” Cam said.
“Oh yes.”
“Then you have to follow me into the bedroom.”
“At the moment, I’d follow you just about anywhere.”
Cam laughed and held out her hand. Blair took it and Cam led her down the hall to the master bedroom at the far end. She motioned for Blair to sit on the edge of the bed, and once Blair was settled, watching her again, she slowly undressed, removing each article of clothing and draping it over the clothes stand in the corner.
“Now you.” Cam pulled Blair to her feet and swept down the covers. Blair wrapped both arms around her neck, her sweater pleasantly rough against her bare nipples.
“You undress me,” Blair murmured.
Cam slid her hand under the waistband of Blair’s pants, slowly caressing the firm curve of her ass. Blair moaned softly and kissed her throat. Cam eased the cashmere up Blair’s abdomen, over her breasts, and, backing away a step, slipped the sweater over her head. She draped it at the foot of the bed and released the clasp on Blair’s bra, drawing the straps down her arms and off. She kissed Blair again, then made her way down her throat, kissing her way to the hollow between her collarbones. She cupped her breasts, massaging both nipples with her thumbs.
Blair arched her back and groaned. “God, I love your hands.”
“I love the way you feel.” Cam lifted her breasts and kissed each one before kneeling and pressing her face to Blair’s abdomen. She wrapped her arms around Blair’s hips and tugged her close, kissing the curve of her abdomen and the tight line of her hipbone where it disappeared beneath her pants. She kept kissing her as she worked the zipper down and, with her thumbs hooked over the waistband, pulled her pants and underwear down her thighs.
Blair stepped free, kicking the clothes away and parting her thighs. Cam murmured her approval and stroked the valley at the junction of her abdomen and inner thigh. Blair gasped and her hips tightened. Cam held her steady with both hands on her ass, guiding her closer to her mouth each time she kissed her. When she stroked along her cleft, Blair gasped again.
“I won’t last,” Blair warned.
“I don’t want you to.”
Cam teased her, feeling the tension build in her tight thighs, speeding up as the muscles beneath her hands clenched and released, clenched and released.
“I’m almost there.”
Cam tugged her in and Blair came hard in her mouth, gripping her head, fingers buried in her hair, rocking and shouting. Cam closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to Blair’s lower belly as Blair quivered. Her heart pounded as if she’d just run a hard mile.
“Bed,” Blair gasped, light-headed and weak-kneed. And hungry, so, so hungry.
Cam stood and guided her down, climbed in after her, and yanked the sheets up with one hand as she stretched out above her. “More?”
“In a minute.” Blair sighed, stroked Cam’s back, and ran her fingers along the divide between the tight muscles of her ass. She pushed her thigh between Cam’s, felt the wet, and the heat. “I love how hot you get when you make me come.”
“Every time.” Cam buried her face in Blair’s neck and thrust against her thigh. “I love making you come.”
“You can get as close you want,” Blair whispered in Cam’s ear, “but I want to fuck you when you’re ready to come.”
Cam groaned. “Anytime. Now is good.”
Laughing, Blair pushed until Cam rolled onto her back. She followed her over and cupped between her thighs. Cam pushed into her palm and she filled her. Tight. Wet. Hot. Her breath stopped. Her heart stuttered. So beautiful. Slowly she stroked.
“Fuck,” Cam gasped.
Blair laughed and pushed deeper. Cam tightened around her, her belly went hard, and her back arched. Keeping steady, Blair stroked her through the orgasm and kept stroking her until she came again.
“Done.” Cam groaned again.
Blair curled up beside her, hand still between her thighs, cupping her as she settled. “I think you’ve got me going again.”
“Handy,” Cam murmured, turning on her side and drawing Blair’s leg over her hip. Blair pressed against her thigh and moaned. Cam cupped her from behind and stroked the undersurface of her clit. The want returned full force, energizing her. Blair was hers and she could never get enough.
“God,” Blair gasped, sliding up and down, “I’m going to come again.”
“Yes,” Cam whispered close to her ear as Blair shook in her arms.
Cam held her close as she drifted toward sleep. Tomorrow she would have to share her. Tomorrow and the days that followed, she’d have to depend on others to protect her, but for tonight, nothing and no one could touch her.
*
Hooker answered on the first ring. “Yeah?”
“I’ll be at Danny’s Diner outside Emmett for the next hour. I’ve got fifty thousand dollars with me.”
“What about the rest of it?”
Jane laughed. “I’m not walking around with it.”
“Is it safe?”
“Yes, and there’s nothing you could do to me to make me tell you where it is.”
“Whoa. Whoa. No need to go there.”
“Let’s not pretend we both don’t know who we’re dealing with.” The minute hand on the chrome clock behind the counter, its face dimmed with years of grease, jumped forward another notch. “Fifty-eight minutes now.”
“How do I know you’re not a cop?”
“You’ll recognize me, if you look carefully.”
“What?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“You know,” Jane said, sipping the surprisingly good black coffee, “I thought your voice sounded familiar. Now it all makes sense, why my…Graves dealt with you. You’ve got an important boss.”
She was guessing, but she knew in her heart she was right. The kind of men her father had been forced to associate with for the sake of the mission never did their own dirty work. They used men like the one she was talking to—cowards and traitors at the core.
“I don’t know—”
“I guess it’s a little too cold for ice cream this time around. You can buy me a burger instead.”
The line was silent for twenty seconds. “You’re a long way from home. Angela, isn’t it?”
“That doesn’t matter now.”
“Are you sure you’re not being watched?”
“I’d know. And if I was, they wouldn’t be watching. They don’t have that kind of patience.”
“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
“I’ll order the burgers.”
Hooker laughed flatly. “Fine. Make mine with cheese and fries.”
Jane hung up and signaled to the waitress. “I’ll have a refill on the coffee. I’m waiting for a friend.” She ordered cheeseburgers for both of them and fries for Hooker. “Give it half an hour.”
“Sure, honey,” the waitress said without giving her more than a glance and hurried off to slap the ticket down on the counter in front of the short-order cook.
The burgers came, and five minutes after that Hooker walked in. His hair was a little longer than when she’d seen him in Georgia and his body bulkier in a dark brown canvas coat, work pants, and boots. A day’s worth of stubble blunted his heavy features. But his was a face she couldn’t forget. She’d last seen him when she’d handed him a vial of live virus, but she’d imagined killing him a hundred times since then.
She thought about reaching for the semiautomatic nestled in the waistband of her pants at the base of her spine and shooting him as he walked toward her. He was the reason Jennifer was in prison. He’d handed off the delivery to a go-between who’d botched everything. If he’d made the exchange himself, keeping the number of people involved to a minimum, no one would’ve known. The president would be dead or severely compromised, and Jennifer would be free. Her father would be alive. And they’d be another step closer to victory.
He deserved to be punished, another lesson she’d learned in childhood.
Simple justice, an eye for an eye. But right now, he was her only connection to the people who could get her the kinds of things she needed to finish the mission. He looked around, studying the few patrons in the diner. At close to nine, most everyone was off the roads and inside where it was warm. A few truckers sat at the counter, hunched over coffees and plates of food, and two teenagers occupied one side of a booth at the very end of the long railroad-car-styled room, necking. He studied her with no expression, walked down the scuffed red-and-black-tiled aisle, and slid into the booth across from her. He glanced down at the burger, then back at her. “You cut your hair.”
“I need a contact between here and Colorado Springs to provide me a product.”
Hooker took a bite of the hamburger. “Not a bad burger.” He wiped his mouth and picked up a fry. “Guns?”
Jane shook her head. “Explosives.”
Hooker took a bite of a fry, then popped the rest into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “That’s not an easy choice of weapon—you need to get close to somebody—and you’re likely to get blown up yourself.”
“That’s not something you need to worry about.”
“I’ve got two hundred and fifty thousand reasons to worry.”
Jane reached down beside her, picked up the wrinkled supermarket bag, and placed it on the table next to her plate. She put her hand on it. “You give me the information I need, and you’ll have fifty thousand less reasons to worry.”
“It’ll take some time.”
“Six tomorrow morning. I’ll be gone after that, and I’ll find another way to get what I need. When I meet the contact and receive the product, I’ll wire you the money.”
He shook his head. “Cash now. Information in the morning.”
“Ten now, the rest upon delivery.” Jane slid the bag into her lap and extracted the ten grand she’d secured with a rubber band. She tossed it under the table onto the seat beside him. She’d figured he’d want an incentive. She doubted his boss would ever see that money. “I’ll call you at six. Thanks for dinner.”
Chapter Nine
Dusty glanced at her phone. Almost 2200. “I guess we ought to get going.”
“I know,” Viv said. “Three thirty’s going to come awfully early.”
Dusty made no move to get up and neither did Viv. She didn’t really want to go, but Atlas was waiting for her. He’d be fine in his kennel at the training center, but he was used to going home earlier and having her around almost all the time. They were rarely separated because she rarely did anything other than go to work and spend the evenings reading or walking Atlas through the streets for hours on end. He loved the walks and she loved watching—the people on the sidewalks, the monuments glinting like bejeweled palaces, the night sky turning from hazy orange and red to deep purple and midnight black. The splashes of colors were like the paintings in the museums she visited over and over again on her days off. Those were about the only times Atlas didn’t come with her. There’d been a time, briefly, when she’d been young, that she’d thought she might want to be a painter. Her parents hadn’t exactly discouraged her in so many words, but her father had gently pointed out that being an artist was no way to make a living and besides, there was no money for the kinds of materials she would need, to even see if she was any good at it. She’d contented herself with absorbing the natural canvases that sprang up around her every morning and night through the ever-changing seasons in the countryside.
“What were you thinking of just then?” Viv said quietly.
A flush crept up Dusty’s cheeks, heating them. “Sorry.”
“Why? You don’t have to tell me, by the way, but you don’t need to apologize either.”
“No, I…” Dusty pushed a hand through her hair, knowing she’d probably blown the evening. “I was just thinking about paintings.”
Viv’s eyebrow lifted. “Paintings? Why?”
“I was thinking that I didn’t want to leave, and Atlas would wonder where I am.”
“Oh,” Viv said quickly. “I’m sorry. I almost forgot about him. I’ve been selfish keeping you out here so late.”
Dusty shook her head. “No, it’s not that. He’ll be fine. But I was thinking that I don’t usually leave him except when I go to the museums.”
“Oh. The paintings.” Viv smiled softly. “I remember now. That remark about the Modigliani.”
“I wasn’t sure you heard that. I shouldn’t have said that out loud.” Dusty grimaced. She was making things worse. Why was it so hard to say what she meant instead of bits and pieces that came out all wrong?
“Why not? I’m flattered.”
“You are? Because you’re very beautiful, and I said—”
Viv reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Dusty, being compared to a magnificent work of art is not an insult.”
“I know, but you know, the Modiglianis are not exactly lifelike.”
“Not realistic as in a photograph, no, but they are memorable.”
“And striking,” Dusty said softly. “Mesmerizing.”
Viv’s eyes, so beautifully shaped and deep, deepened further. A faint blush tinted her cheeks. “There, you see. How could any woman be insulted?”
“I’m glad you’re not.”
“What else do you do? I mean, besides the walks and museums.”
“Not very much.” Dusty shrugged. She patted the pocket of her jacket and pulled out an eReader. “I like to read.”
“I imagine if a routine day is anything for you like it is for us, you spend a lot of time sitting and waiting.”
“Standing and waiting, usually.”
“Oh, right. Okay, let me guess.” Viv’s brow furrowed. “Something tells me you’re not reading thrillers or suspense. Not a work-related topic. You probably just can’t suspend disbelief long enough. History—maybe. But—I really think it’s…romance novels.”
Dusty straightened. “How would you know that?”
“Because of the paintings. You’re a sensualist.”
Dusty laughed. “Me? No.”
“Yes, I think you are.” Viv tilted her head, her eyes alight. “But all right. You tell me why you read them.”
“I like the connections people make in the books,” Dusty said quietly. Probably because she didn’t make very many in her own life. Her parents had been loving, but not very communicative, and she’d always been a little different. Too different to make close friends.
“You see?” Viv said quietly. “What could be more sensual than that?”
Dusty didn’t know how to answer. Her heart was beating too fast for her to think. Why did it seem as if Viv was looking right inside her and seeing everything she’d always felt but never figured out how to say to anyone?
“We’ll have to go to the museum sometime,” Viv said after a minute of silence. “You can show me your favorites.”
“You’d like that?” Dusty asked.
Viv stroked the top of Dusty’s hand as naturally as if they’d been touching for a long time. “I would. Very much.”
“What about you?” Dusty didn’t want to move her hand in case Viv realized what she was doing and stopped. “What would you like to do? We can do a museum one day, and then next time…” She hesitated, but the intent look in Viv’s eyes spurred her on. “What would you like to do the next time?”
“Oh, that’s easy. A Nationals game.”
“Really?” Dusty laughed. “I guess we don’t run to type.”
“Is that right?” Viv feigned indignance. “Are you trying to say a lady can’t enjoy baseball?”
“Sorry. It’s just that you’re so elegant and refined and—” Dusty broke off. “I think I’m making a mess of this.”
“Not yet, you’re not,” Viv said softly. How could any woman object to the things Dusty said about her? “But you know, I’m not really a lady. At least, not all the time.”
Dusty looked down at Viv’s fingers outlining each of hers. “A game would be great.” She looked up. “Except bas
eball season is quite a ways off. You’ll have to pick something else.”
Viv nodded, a big red caution sign flashing before her eyes. Dusty wasn’t playing games, she wasn’t flirting. She was totally honest. How amazing. How scary. “I’ll let you know when I’ve decided.”
“Okay. Whatever you like.”
Viv wasn’t about to say what she’d like. First of all, she didn’t kiss on the first date, and she certainly didn’t have sex after one dinner date. But she couldn’t help thinking about it, sitting across the table from Dusty. With every minute that passed, with everything new she learned about her, she found her more attractive, more intriguing. Physically she was gorgeous—tight bodied and strong—with piercing green eyes that focused on her with such intensity she felt as if she were the only woman in the room. Hell, the only woman in the universe. Dusty’s gaze made her feel at once incredibly desirable and desired.
Then in the next moment, Dusty would hesitate, looking slightly abashed and uncertain, and that vulnerability was so touching, Viv wanted to stroke her and assure her she was doing everything right. Just imagining stroking her sent heat coursing through her until glowing embers settled in the pit of her stomach and slowly spread everywhere. The desire was surprising because it felt so good and had been so long. She wanted more of that hot, heady sensation, but she wasn’t going to rush. Whatever happened between them, she wanted to savor every moment.
All she had to do was convince her body that waiting was a good idea. She released Dusty’s wrist in a fruitless attempt to temper the wanting. “My car is nearby. I can drive you back.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind walking.”
“It’s dark and cold. Please, I’d like to.”
