by Scott, Kylie
“No?” he asks, voice husky. “Shit. Sorry. You have the most magnificent fucking breasts I’ve ever seen.”
I tug at his belt, getting it undone and out of the way. Then the button and zip on his pants. Thom quite helpfully toes off his shiny shoes, trying to kiss me all the while. Coordinated, we are not. Though we sure make up for it with dedication to the cause. In a frenzy of motion and need, our clothing disappears piece by piece. It sits pooled at our feet, soon kicked aside. Turns out I couldn’t care less about looking after designer goods when getting naked with Thom is on the line.
Soon, we’re both standing there in our underwear. Or at least I am. He pushes down his boxer briefs, the hard length of his cock jutting out, pointing straight at me.
“Don’t get shy on me now,” he says with a smile. There’s something hesitant about it, and a softness to his gaze I haven’t seen before. Like I’m not the only one feeling things here. As if getting real with me is a big step for him too. God, I hope I’m not misinterpreting this. Not projecting or imagining things.
I swallow past my dry throat. “I-I’m not.”
“So beautiful.”
His hands slip around my sides to undo my bra. A gentle touch slides the straps off my shoulders, tugs the underwired cups away from my body. Then, it, too, is on the floor. Eyes heated, he takes the weight of my breasts in his hands, thumbs flicking over my nipples. Electricity shoots through me. My panties are the only thing standing between us now. A damp thong that doesn’t stand a chance.
“Babe. Jesus. Look at you. This is what I missed out on in the dark, huh? I’m a damn moron.”
“Yeah.”
He laughs and kisses me slow and deep. A sensual exploration of my mouth that doesn’t stop until he’s got my head spinning. And all the while, he’s maneuvering me onto the bed, getting me beneath him. Without breaking the kiss even once. He has skills.
Clever fingers glide down my chest, between my breasts and over my belly. Then he’s cupping my sex in his hand, grinding the heel of his palm against my clit.
“Oh,” I gasp.
“You don’t usually get this hot and wet for me.” He rests his forehead against mine, rubbing the side of my nose with his own. It’s weirdly intimate, having our faces this close together. Gazing into his eyes.
“You don’t usually care this much.”
“I’m an asshole.”
I smile. “Yeah, that too.”
Fingers part my labia, sliding inside while his thumb plays over my clit. My eyes just about roll back into my head. Everything between my thighs is dripping wet. Swollen and oh-so-sensitive. He gently thrusts two fingers into me, building my need into something out of control.
“But I’m your asshole, if you’ll have me,” he says, licking over first one hard nipple and then the other. “Betty, will you have me?”
“I need…”
“I know what you need.”
Every muscle in me goes tense, on edge. My hips squirm against the mattress. It’s all too much and yet not quite enough. I tug on his hair as he sucks on one nipple, teasing it with both his tongue and teeth. Holy hell. He definitely knows things. Doing this for myself usually takes much longer and some serious mind porn. But the things he’s doing to me…I can’t keep up. Total body overload. My heart’s pounding, every nerve ending rioting. It’s a little scary, feeling this much.
“And I’m the man who’ll give it you,” he says, voice rough. “Every time without fail.”
His hot mouth on my breasts grows more insistent. The prickle of his stubble against my skin is verging on painful. Then he works a sweet spot inside of me. No hesitation, he really does know exactly what I need and where I need it. Like all his previous explorations were just investigations, marking out the terrain for the moment when it would all matter.
Hands tangled in his hair, I climb higher and higher, reaching for bliss. My whole body is strung tight until it breaks and splinters and falls apart. Pretty sure I officially no longer exist. It’s too much. All of this light rushing through me. Just a mess of molecules are left lying on the bed in a vaguely womanlike shape.
R.I.P. me. She died happy.
Before I finish coming down, he thrusts into me with a groan. His thick length sets off even more aftershocks. Kneeling between my legs, Thom looks down the length of my body, gaze possessive in a way I’ve never seen before.
Hands wrap around my thighs, his grip unbreakable. Again he shows no hesitation. Just keeps thrusting in deep and forcefully, as if he’s branding me for all time. While he might be mine—it’s still open to question—in this moment, I’m undoubtedly his. Because this certainly isn’t lovemaking. But it isn’t just rough sex. His body demands and mine gives. Each sigh and moan I make, he owns. The sweat and fever of us fucking. The chaos of emotions.
It could never be like this with someone else. Whatever happens, I have the worst feeling he’s ruining me for anyone else. Dammit.
“Your pussy feels fucking perfect,” he says. “So wet and hot. Made just for me.”
“Watch your ego.”
In response, he changes his angle slightly, hitting something wonderful inside. I can’t come again so soon. Not possible. But he obviously doesn’t agree. The man has something to prove. So he stirs that big cock of his deep inside of me, setting off all sorts of shakes and shivers. Everything below my waist is being worked into a frenzy. Way overexcited. Meanwhile, his fingers dig into my thighs, doubtless leaving marks. Jerking my body onto his cock time and again. Making me take him deeper. I clamp my legs tight around him, because my body knows the facts even if my mind isn’t quite sure. I want more. I need more. And he’s the one who’s going to give it to me.
“You’re going to come again,” he says.
I just nod. When Thom said he knew things, he wasn’t kidding. And the bastard held out on me all this time.
His hard body is slick with sweat, the man looking like some sort of god of procreation towering above me. The strength in his thighs and the set of his wide shoulders. All of the rippling going on in his chest region. The intense raw look on his face. It’s a whole lot of shock and awe. Meanwhile, as wonderful as I am, I’m no petite doll. As much as I hate it, I can’t help but wonder sometimes what he sees when he looks at me. And there goes that insecurity. Nearly everyone has parts that jiggle or wobble. I will not allow stupid stray doubts to get me down. They can fuck right off. I am a curvy goddess.
“Your mind is wandering,” he mutters. “That won’t do. Come back to me, babe.”
He does some swivel-type move with his pelvis before proceeding to pound into me. Holy shit, it feels good. So good. My mouth falls open on a gasp and the heat is coursing through my bloodstream, building shockingly fast inside of me once more. Muscles tightening, electricity running up and down my spine. Someone is whimpering, and I have the worst feeling it’s me.
Then it hits me and it just doesn’t stop. Wave after wave of light and sensation. The orgasm just goes on and on. My vision blanks, my mind empty. Every part of me goes weak.
Thom groans, thrusting into me once, twice more. His cock jerking deep inside of me. Shoulders slumped, panting, he remains kneeling between my legs. Damp tendrils of hair hang in his face. Meanwhile, the throbbing between my legs persists. All of those delicate inner muscles still fluttering around his half-hard cock.
All of a sudden, I feel horribly exposed, lying naked on the bed. Not just my flushed, sweaty body is on display, but it feels like all of my emotions are too. My heart and mind are lying open for his perusal. And I’m not sure it’s safe. I need armor immediately. Emotional walls at least ten feet deep.
I open my mouth, close it, and open it again. “That was—”
“That was what? Where’s the snappy, irreverent comment, hmm?” He pushes back his hair, inspecting me. “Oh shit. Betty, don’t freak out. Everything’s fine. Well…everything’s not fine. But here, you and me, we’re good. Okay?”
I have nothing.
Gently, he pulls out of me, and lies down at my side. One arm slips beneath my head, the other sliding over my hip and gathering me up against him. We’re cuddling. Only Thom doesn’t cuddle. Normally, it’s an all-out race to the shower to wash off any body fluids or evidence of possible intimacy. And the bathroom door is shut firmly against me every time. My presence neither required nor requested.
The Thom of here and now presses a soft kiss to my forehead, the tip of my nose, a final one on my lips. Quite a change from all the finesse and fury of hammering me with his cock a minute ago. Now he’s all sensitive and sweet. I can’t keep up.
Oh man. Am I going to have hot rough-sex-with-Thom flashbacks when I masturbate? I am. I know it. He’s doomed me for all time.
“Please don’t cry, or I’ll have to cry too,” he says, tightening his hold on me.
I snort.
“It’s okay if you want to cry. Pretty normal after coming, actually. Your muscles relax, all of the tension you’re carrying in them gets released. And with all of the stress and shit you’ve been through lately…”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure as hell are.”
I try not to smile. It doesn’t quite work. “Stop trying to make me laugh. You’re not funny.”
“Sorry,” he says, not repentant in the least.
For a while, we just lie there, legs tangled together. His fingers draw circles on my back, trace the curve of my spine. It has been a beyond-crazy few days. That’s the only reason I’m indulging in this weakness with him. My nemesis—intelligent, wise, and together Betty—would be getting her ass into the shower, locking him out for a change. Pay him back for all of those extra Kegel exercises, expensive sex toys, and the sheer embarrassment of suggesting we do it in weirder and weirder positions in an effort to fix things in the bedroom.
Only I don’t want to move away from him. Not right now. So instead, I lean in and fix my lips to his collarbone, digging my teeth into his flesh. Just because. And I don’t stop until I taste blood.
“Ow, babe.”
“That’s for all of those months of fumbling and shitty sex,” I say. “Making me think there’s something wrong with me when you were deliberately sabotaging things between us.”
He growls low in his throat. “There’s never been anything wrong with you, and I will happily spend the rest of my life proving it to you. Or being tortured by your vicious, gorgeous self if that’s what’s required. Your choice.”
I frown, resting my head on his shoulder. Silence fills the apartment. The distant sounds of the street are muffled by the snow. We could be the only two people in the whole wide world. That would be nice.
“If you want, we can just disappear,” he offers, somewhat hesitant. “I can get us out of the country easy enough and we’ve got money. We could settle somewhere quiet. Off the grid. No guarantees we wouldn’t have to move around periodically, though.”
“You mean we’d be on the run for the rest of our lives.”
“Most likely.” He swallows. “I can’t make any promises until I know more about who’s trying to kill us.”
“I’d never be able to see my family or friends ever again.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Or at least, not for a while,” he says. “But we’d be together, if that’s what you want.”
I listen to his heart beating harder beneath my ear. Feel the slight tensing of his hold. As if he’s afraid, maybe. The super-spy who’s been all over the world killing bad guys and righting wrongs is worried about losing me.
It’s a big leap to trust this man. He did me wrong and then some. And yet…my heart might be confused and wary due to our history, but it’s also all soft and mushy at the idea of him. Despite the biting. Which he totally deserved. I want more of his scent, his touch, the sound of his voice. I need it.
So I guess the truth is, I don’t want to leave him anymore.
“I have no idea if this is going to work or not,” I say. “But, yes, I want us to try and stay together.”
He exhales hard in relief. “Okay. Good.”
“But no more lying. I mean it.” I rise up on one elbow, giving him my best, most serious face. “And we’re not going to run. We’re not going to live like that, always looking over our shoulders. We’re going to stay. We’re going to fight and we’re going to fix this.”
CHAPTER SIX
“This is not good.”
When I get out of the shower, Bear has arrived. He and Thom stand in front of the TV, gazes glued to the screen. It’s a news report about an English lord’s death, his body found only hours ago in a mansion in London. Their complete focus on the news report, combined with their utter stillness, gives the room an edgy vibe.
I clutch at the towel around me, wet hair hanging down my back. There’s no blow dryer, so I’ll just braid it and hope for the best. “He had a heart attack?”
“That’s how I would have done it. Easy enough to fake or induce.” Thom’s already showered and is dressed in black slacks, a turtleneck, and boots. Sensible for the weather yet still displaying much of his quiet hotness. Or maybe I’m still heated from the sexing. At least if we die, we’ve had the makeup sex. Though, this is no real comfort. My anxiety roars back to life easy as that. But I do my best not to show it; Thom has enough to handle without me adding to his woes.
“You’re sure he was one of them?” asks Bear, arms crossed.
Thom nods. “Yeah. He’s one of the three bosses. I’ve known about him a few years now.”
“So it’s not just operatives someone’s trying to kill,” I say. “They’re taking out the head honchos as well.”
Thom turns, taking in my disheveled appearance. His gaze warms for a moment at the sight of me, steamy and wet, wearing nothing but a towel. Then he does a quick turnaround, realizing he and I are not alone to enjoy this state of affairs.
Pretty sure Bear has seen women in various stages of undress before, but cleared of suspicion or not, Thom still stands between me and our guest, the same way he did with Crow. It’s like having my own personal protection detail.
He tips his chin toward the table. “Come get some fresh clothes, babe.”
Several shopping bags sit on the floor, along with a laptop and some other techy-type stuff on the table. Listening devices, maybe. I don’t know.
“Might as well put on something comfortable, since you’re staying in,” he says. “Are you hungry? I ordered pizza. It should be here soon. But I can get you something else if you want.”
“Pizza sounds good.”
“Wolf, who takes over with this boss-guy dead?” asks Bear.
“His son inherits his share of things,” answers Thom. “Typical rich kid living his best life in Ibiza, from what I know. I don’t have a lot of int on him, actually. I didn’t dare get too close, in case someone in-house followed my trail to him.”
“Okay. Sounds bad. What do you know about the other two?”
“Only Helene Sinclair matters to us right now. She’s the most accessible of the remaining bosses, from what I’ve been able to find out.”
Bear frowns. “I know that name. U.N., right?”
“Among other things. Connected like you wouldn’t believe, fingers in plenty of pies,” says Thom, lips a flat line. His expression grim. “Enough money to help fund an operation like ours with the resources to stop any possible shit from flying in her direction if we got exposed.”
“What exactly are you going to do?” I ask.
“The less you know, the better,” responds my idiot fiancé. “In fact, cover your ears, please.”
As if. I just shake my head.
“What about recce on the hotel?” asks Bear.
“We’ll sweep the surrounding area and case the place before attempting entry. I don’t want to risk delaying too long.”
“She going to be up for a chat?”
“Good question. We have no idea who axed communication when things went south. If it was her…”
“We’re fucke
d.”
I watch the two with interest. “Int? Recce? What is this language you’re speaking?”
“Intelligence. Reconnaissance.” Thom looks me over. “Weren’t you getting dressed? I thought you were getting dressed.”
“Well, I can’t cover my ears and get dressed at the same time.”
“Yeah,” he says. “But you’re not doing either.”
“How rude of me. I didn’t properly say hello,” says Bear, leaning to the side to see me around Thom. Considering Bear saw me earlier on the plane, this politeness feels unnecessary, to say the least. Yet the man seems determined. “How you doing, Betty?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“Great to see you again.”
Thom’s gaze hardens.
Whatever game they’re playing, they can play it without me. I go over to examine the bags. The first two bags are full of men’s clothing. Second bag is women’s wear and intimate apparel. Much better. “Everything we got is black?”
“Yep,” says Bear. “It’s just practical. Only color that really hides blood.”
“What about red?” I ask, curious.
“Blood dries a darker reddish brown and becomes visible.” Bear shakes his head. “You don’t want your enemies knowing if or where you’re wounded. Also makes it harder to mix in with the general public if you’re trying to make a swift getaway. Basic escape and evasion, you got to blend in.”
“Clever.” Makes sense, now that I think of it—he does own a lot of dark colors.
“Not that you’re going anywhere and risking the chance of getting hurt,” adds Thom. “Don’t freak her out, man.”
“I asked, and I’m not freaked out,” I say. “Well, no more than the normal current level of oh my God, we’re all probably going to die horrible, violent deaths. But you know, I’m almost getting used to that. It’s harder to sustain a state of constant terror than you’d think.”
Thom stands with his arms crossed, face a careful blank, watching his friend. Or the dude I think is maybe his friend. You wouldn’t know it, however, from the current look in his eyes.
Meanwhile, Bear is grinning for all he’s worth. “See? She’s not freaked out.”
