Undercover Agent

by Slade, Heather

  I stared into her eyes, wanting nothing more than to pull her into my arms and kiss her. Before I thought better of it, I did. Pull her into my arms, that is. I stopped short of kissing her, but just barely.

  At first, her body was stiff, but within seconds, she relaxed into me. I’d only been with her a few hours, and my resolve to make her think I didn’t remember our night together was already weakening.

  Unless I admitted that I’d never forgotten her, I couldn’t kiss her. And I had to kiss her. I cupped her cheek with my palm and stared into her ocean eyes.

  “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  Her eyes scrunched with confusion. “It was only a few minutes…”

  I shook my head and pressed my lips to her ear, loving the shudder that shot through her body. She was just as responsive to me today as she had been three years ago, and my cock loved it. “It’s been far longer than that, Emerson.” I brought my lips to hers and parted them with my tongue. I couldn’t wait patiently until she opened to me; I had to possess her immediately. I brought my other hand to her face and held her there, reminding myself not to push too hard when what I really wanted to do was devour her.

  “Wait,” Emerson said, pulling back. “You remember me?”

  “How could I forget you?” I saw the question in her eyes, and as much as I wished she didn’t have to ask, I knew she did, or I could be a man and tell her. “I recognized you this morning…in the lobby.”

  “But…why did you act like you didn’t?”

  “Because of what you do, and what I do too.”

  She took a step back and folded her arms. “I don’t know what you do. In fact, until today, I didn’t even know your last name.”

  “Nor I, yours.” I took the same step forward that she’d taken back and unfolded her arms, putting one hand and then her other on my shoulders. “I woke up and you were gone.” I leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “My disappointment was profound.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  Other than keeping up the charade that I didn’t remember her, there was nothing I’d done that warranted her distrust. “Why would you doubt it?”

  “Because you’re…”

  I smiled and captured her mouth a second time. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed her again, but I was powerless not to.

  I’d kissed other women in the last three years, but never anyone like her. I remembered more than her scent. The look on her face when our bodies first came together, the wonder of her, stretched out naked before me…I remembered it all, especially how her lips felt when they touched mine. For three years, I’d looked for another kiss that felt like hers, and until today, I thought I’d never find one.

  “Wait,” she said, pushing away from me.

  I knew exactly what she was about to say, and wished I could stop her. Instead, I said it for her. “Niven.”

  “Niven? Oh, you mean Tommy.”

  Right. Tommy. They even had pet names for each other. As difficult as it was, I released her. More difficult, though, was stopping myself from asking about their relationship.

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” She tapped her mouth with her fingertip.

  “What were you going to say?”

  She cocked her head and backed up. “Now I can’t remember.”

  I reached out for one more touch, but she was too far away. “I’m not sorry.”

  She spun on her heel. “What did you say?”

  I looked away, ashamed, but at the same time, I would kiss her again—more—if she’d let me. “I don’t regret kissing you, Emerson. But if you and Niven are in a relationship. I’ll respect that.”

  “Relationship?”

  “Seeing each other. Whatever you want to call it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  I studied her. Was I wrong somehow?

  I felt as confused as she seemed to be. However, if she felt no particular loyalty to a man I knew would make the most of any opportunity another woman presented to him, then why was I worried about it?

  “Go with me tonight. Please,” I said, holding out my hand. She didn’t take it, but she nodded.

  8

  Emerson

  “You look fantastic,” Lynx said when I answered the door to my apartment thirty minutes later.

  When he’d offered to leave me on my own to shower and change, I had a flashback to our one night together, and how at midnight, we’d shared a candlelit bath in his room’s claw-foot tub.

  “Shall we?” Lynx asked, jarring me out of my memory…fantasy…memorable fantasy.

  Stepping into the elevator, thoughts of our bath were immediately replaced by memories of a very different elevator ride than the one we were taking now.

  Once the doors closed behind Lynx and me that night, he’d pushed me up against the wall, parted my legs with his knee, and ground his thigh against my wetness.

  “I’m going to fuck you senseless,” he’d said, and I’d almost orgasmed from that alone.

  I took a deep breath and let my eyes wander the length of him. He’d changed into a black t-shirt similar to the white one he had on earlier, and instead of dress pants, he wore jeans. He looked so fucking hot I could barely stop myself from pushing him up against this elevator wall.

  The door opened, and the harsh light of day shook me out of my lustful stupor. Lynx motioned for me to go ahead of him, and every so often, I could feel his fingers brush against the curve of my spine. He’d done the same thing that night. I shuddered.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “It’s fine,” I said, raising my eyes to catch the lip twitch and smirk he quickly tried to mask.

  A car similar to the one that had taken us to MIT this morning and then driven us back later, sat at the curb in front of the building. Thankfully, though, Speed Racer was nowhere to be found.

  He held my door open, leaning in close enough that he could’ve kissed the side of my neck, but he didn’t. My disappointment was palpable.

  We’d been on the road for at least fifteen minutes, and neither of us spoke. The longer the silence dragged on, the more I thought about why he’d acted like he didn’t recognize me. Part of me felt angry, but did I have any right to be?

  Had I said, “Hey, Lynx, you were the best fuck of my life. Why don’t you remember me?” Nope. Did I remind him we met in the bar of my hotel and within an hour of meeting we were tearing one another’s clothes off? Nope. I hadn’t done that either.

  He’d said his reason for not acknowledging he knew me was because of what I did. And what he did. What did that mean? And why hadn’t I asked? So I did.

  He took a deep breath and looked everywhere but at me. I sensed this was bigger than, “What do you do for a living?”

  “The position I’m in…scratch that.” He took another deep breath. “I know what really goes on at IPP. All of it, Emerson. However, until this morning, I had no idea you,” his gaze traveled the length of me, and I shivered, “were Dr. Charles.”

  “And now that you do?”

  “You should be aware that I’m in Boston undercover on behalf of MI6.”

  Something else occurred to me. “Tommy is MI6 too, isn’t he?”

  Lynx nodded. “Although in our world, he’s known as Saint.”

  “And you’re known as Lynx?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Were you with MI6 three years ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you try to find me? The next day?”

  He shook his head and looked away.

  He hadn’t, but I already knew that. The only reason my insecure self could conjure was that it hadn’t mattered enough for him to bother.

  “You’re wrong.”

  I’d been looking out the side window but turned to face him. “What did you say?”

  “What you’re thinking is wrong.”

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

  Lynx reached over and brushed the bar
e skin of my thigh with the back of his hand. “Because I do.”

  “Why didn’t you try?”

  “Because I woke and you were gone. Because you were a wide-eyed twenty-five-year-old on your first time in London, at a conference you didn’t believe you belonged attending.”

  “You remember all that?”

  “I remember everything, Emerson.” He slid his hand down so it rested above my knee. “Why did you leave?”

  Why had I? To avoid embarrassment. To avoid the ugly morning after when the hotter-than-hell guy wishes the girl had just left rather than having to endure an awkward conversation in which he’d say he’d call, yet never would.

  “Here we are,” he said, pulling into the driveway before I had a chance to answer. The suddenness of our arrival jarred me.

  Why had I agreed to this? How would he introduce me? Would I be the crazy woman who spilled water on him and then bonked her head on the table, requiring Simon to give her medical care when he was really in Boston to attend a conference?

  Lynx unfastened his seatbelt but didn’t get out of the car. Instead, he took my hand in his. “They’re going to love you.”

  “I feel so…”

  “What?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’ll tell you how I feel. I’m happy you agreed to come with me.”

  “Who will you tell them I am?”

  “A woman that I’ve recently reconnected with. One I’m very anxious to get to know better.”

  “Lynx?” I said, looking down at our hands. “When do you think Tommy—Saint—will be back?”

  The look on his face made me wish I hadn’t asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  —:—

  Dinner with Simon and his wife was delightful. While initially I felt like an imposition, Bridget put me to work almost immediately, perhaps sensing I’d be more comfortable if I was doing rather than watching.

  “I have to warn you, I’m a bit of a klutz.” I pointed to my head.

  She washed her hands, dried them, and refilled my wine glass. “The first time I met Simon’s parents, I dropped an entire carton of eggs on his mother’s feet.”

  I choked on my wine when I laughed, which was better than spitting it out, which was what I almost did. “You’re kidding.”

  “They surprised us, Simon really. I don’t think they expected he’d invite them to dinner here. Let me tell you, it was disastrous. On top of everything else, Simon had planned to propose to me that night, and I was pregnant with the twins.”

  “Wow.” I had nothing else. I couldn’t even imagine what that night must’ve been like.

  “It all worked out in the end,” she said, looking into the other room where her husband sat on the floor, chatting and laughing with Lynx while he and Brendan played with the two girls.

  “Your children are lovely.”

  Her cheeks pinkened, and she smiled. “Thank you. Eleanor is so much like Simon. Elizabeth is more like me, and Brendan has absolutely taken to being a big brother. I pity any boy who tries to date either of the girls once they’re old enough. Between their father and their brother, their dates will not stand a chance.” She smiled again and shook her head. “I’d best stop talking. This chicken isn’t going to cook itself.”

  Part of me wished we’d ordered in, just so she would keep talking. I didn’t recall meeting another woman who put me so at ease.

  “Let’s eat,” Bridget shouted out to Simon and Lynx as she directed me to the other side of the house where the dining room was located.

  “Something smells appetizing,” Lynx whispered, coming up behind me, resting both hands on my waist, and practically burying his nose in my hair. “I know what I’d like for dessert.”

  If he didn’t have his hands on my waist, I might’ve slid straight to the floor when my knees went weak. My eyes rolled back in my head as the memory of waking up with his head between my legs sent an electrical current ricocheting straight to my clit.

  “Quit that,” murmured Simon, bumping Lynx as he walked past us. “If you give Bridget any ideas, before you know it, you’ll be babysitting the twins after dining alone.”

  Bridget came around the opposite side of me. “The men in their family claim God-like irresistibility,” she murmured.

  “Try to tell me that isn’t the case,” said Simon, kissing her neck.

  I wiggled out of Lynx’s grasp when I saw Brendan walk around us and take a seat at the table, seemingly ignoring the adults behaving like adolescents.

  By the time we left, I felt as though I’d known both Simon and Bridget for years rather than just a couple of hours.

  She and I agreed to meet for lunch in Boston one day the following week when Simon was off-duty and before Brendan’s school vacation ended.

  “I knew you and Bridget would hit it off,” Lynx said on the drive back.

  “She’s great, and so is Simon.”

  “He and I haven’t spent much time together since we were kids, but when we’re together again, it’s like no time has passed at all.” He smiled at me. “Kind of like it is with you.”

  Was it? The only thing between us had been sex. Mind-blowing, life-altering—for me anyway—hot-as-fuck sex. That had been it. There hadn’t been time for anything else.

  “What’s troubling you? Headache?”

  “No. I’m…fine.”

  He laughed.

  Before we left, Simon asked several questions about how I was feeling, checked my laceration, and told me he doubted I had a concussion. However, he did remind me what to be aware of in the event I began having symptoms. I’d thought we were alone until I looked over and saw Lynx standing in the doorway.

  When our eyes met, I’d wondered what he was thinking. Simon admitted he doubted I had a concussion, so there was no reason for him to babysit me for the next few hours. What would we do when he took me home? Would we say goodnight and go our separate ways?

  “If it’s not a headache, tell me what is bothering you.”

  It took me a long time to answer as I sorted through what I was feeling. Lynx reached over and brushed the side of my leg like he had earlier, but didn’t say a word.

  “I got carried away,” I finally said.

  “By?”

  “Simon and Bridget were so welcoming, but I’m not sure meeting her next week is a good idea.”

  “Hmm.” It was dark in the car, but I could see his eyes scrunch and his forehead furrow. “She’ll be disappointed.”

  I doubted that. Someone like Bridget would have countless friends. I was different. Work had become my bestie.

  I thought about Tommy again. He was my friend and I missed him. He was out of town so often, that when he was home, I didn’t feel guilty about leaving the office earlier than I normally would when he invited me to join him for dinner.

  I hadn’t even begun to process that he worked for MI6. Why hadn’t he let on? He knew what I did for a living—at least in theory. But had he really kept it a secret? Hadn’t he given me enough clues that if I had been paying attention, I should’ve picked up on it?

  There was something about the way Lynx said he didn’t know when Tommy would return that gave me the impression he was worried. I wouldn’t ask him about it again now, though. The mood had already shifted enough because of my melancholia.

  “Why don’t you see how it goes?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I truly believe Bridget is looking forward to spending an afternoon with you. My prediction is you’ll both enjoy yourselves.”

  I didn’t know what to say in response, but nothing needed to be decided tonight.

  Lynx moved his hand so it rested right above my knee, also like he’d done earlier. “I enjoyed our evening very much.”

  “I did too,” I admitted. I didn’t remember laughing as much as I did tonight since before my brother died.

  Lynx and Simon had been playful, neither shy about making nearly everything a sexual innuendo, although not until Brendan
had left the table, I’d noticed.

  It reminded me of how Lynx had been that night at the bar. Playful, teasing, flirtatious, and finally seductive—he’d been so self-assured that I would’ve put my hand in his and followed him anywhere.

  I closed my eyes—remembering. Maybe he’d been right not to try to find me. One perfect night. That’s what we’d had. Instead of wondering what might have been, I should simply be thankful it had happened at all.

  9

  Lynx

  The way Emerson shifted in her seat and looked down at my hand on her knee, it was easy to assume she was thinking about the same thing I was—the night that I’d never been able to forget.

  Was it because she’d left before dawn? Had she stayed, would I have felt differently? As it was, the memory of Emerson took on a life of its own. She became the one who’d gotten away.

  I’d lied to her earlier when she asked why I hadn’t tried to find her. I had. In fact, I knew she’d left before the end of the conference, and why.

  I often wondered if I ever saw her again, if she’d live up to my memory of her. She did. In fact, she was so much more. She was beautiful, like Irish had said. She was also charming and witty, extraordinarily intelligent, and had fit in with Simon and Bridget like I’d hoped she would.

  While this morning I thought she was too thin, her tits maybe too small, when she came out in the dress she was wearing, my eyes nearly popped out of my head, and my cock almost pushed through the zipper of my jeans.

  The sleeveless dress hugged her slight frame, and while it didn’t dip far enough to show much cleavage, the swell of her breasts made me want to lean over and lick them. That it fell midway down her legs, had me imagining what she might be wearing under it. Lace knickers? A thong perhaps? Or maybe nothing at all.

  I groaned, removing my hand from her leg. If I hadn’t, I would’ve gone farther, letting my fingers explore the heat between her thighs. It was all I could do to stop myself from imagining what I’d find. Would she be wet? I knew she would be. When I slipped my finger under the drenched material, would she spread her legs for me? When I reached her pussy, would it be bare like it had been three years ago?