The Spy Ring (Cake Love Book 4)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  He shook his head like a toddler, making his hair fly in all different directions. “No, my family is gone. The ones I care about and who care about me. The others can go fuck themselves because they know what they did.”

  His voice grew and I wondered if he might punch a wall. It broke my heart to hear him talk of his family like that. What sort of life did Jagger have? I wished I knew and that he could tell me.

  “How about friends? Can I call anyone?” I asked and helped him farther into my place, guiding him to the couch in my living room.

  He flopped back on the mint green sofa and melted back like it was made for his huge body.

  I sat on the end, closest to his feet. I realized his eyes almost matched my couch but they were a little darker. Where the sofa was comfortable, how he stared was not. There was an intensity in him and he directed that intensity straight at me.

  “Your friends?” I asked again.

  “Don’t have any,” he said

  I frowned but he laughed.

  “Isn’t that funny, Tiffany? I gave up everything for that place. I had no life other than work, and this is what happens.” He waved his hands between us.

  “I’m sure there’s someone who you could call?”

  He needed someone who was close to him and since I knew absolutely nothing about him, that person wasn’t me.

  “There are only two people I could remotely consider friends. One was Tenn, my partner at work. But based on the pile of papers I signed today, I’m pretty sure I can’t have any contact with him for a long time.”

  “But why wouldn’t you be able to have contact with your work partner? What happens when you go to work?”

  I was confused. Did that have anything to do with us? Did being with me get him assigned to something else? I wish I knew what exactly he did so I could help him. I hated sitting here like an idiot and not being able to help someone in need.

  “Because I got fired. I’m no longer working for the Federal Government. I’m unemployed, Tiffany. All because of my penis.”

  My eyes widened. “Oh no, Jagger, I’m so sorry.”

  I reached out and put my hand on his knee. He was lying in such a way that it was as close as I could get to him. He pushed himself up and scooted closer to me. Taking my hand in his, he gazed into my eyes.

  “Which do you like better? Penis or cock?”

  My head went back. “What? Uh, what, uh, why would you ask that?”

  He ignored my question. “I like that you cook,” he grabbed the sticky lollipop from my free hand and placed it back into my mouth, “and I really like watching you suck on this.”

  Jagger leaned forward so his lips were next to my ear. I could feel his hot, alcohol-soured breath drift down my neck. It felt good but he was drunk. As much as I still wanted him, nothing could come of it tonight.

  His fingers drifted to my neck, cupping it as he said, “I have an idea. While you whip up a batch of cookies and continue sucking on that lollipop, I’ll be hard at work making sure my cock keeps you hungry for more.”

  I was angry. Yes, mad that the idea of baking was turning him on. Like I was some 1950s housewife. But was I really annoyed at him or how I was reacting to his words? Because what was happening between my thighs was heated and tight and made me squirm.

  His hand began to drift, lower from my neck to my collarbone, over my shoulder and curved around. It hovered just above my nipple. And I ached for him to continue, knowing that wasn’t right. He was drunk and upset at his job loss. I would be taking advantage of that.

  But it had been so long since I had been touched like that by a man. Maybe once wouldn’t do any harm. Then I could put him to bed in David’s room after making sure he drank a glass of Pedialyte I had in the refrigerator from when David was sick with the flu this past spring.

  His forehead leaned on my shoulder but his hand remained still. He smelled of alcohol and something spicy that was most likely his shampoo or aftershave, but I wanted to believe was uniquely Jagger.

  And he sounded . . . wait, he sounded like he was snoring. I pushed back on Jagger and realized he had passed out. So much for a little boob action.

  I pushed him back until he was lying down and pulled his legs up on the couch. After taking off his shoes, I grabbed an extra blanket from the hall closet. I made sure he was lying on his side—in case he got sick during the night—and set a small wastebasket below him and a glass of water on the coffee table.

  He looked so peaceful. The hard lines on his face that always seemed to be there vanished. His life couldn’t be easy with what he did, and I wondered how much of a toll it took on him mentally.

  I brushed my hand over his hair, pushing some strands that had fallen over his eyes, when he surprised me by grabbing my wrist.

  I gasped as his eyes opened.

  “I’m not Jagger anymore. You can call me Geoffrey,” he said before his eyes closed and the snoring started again.

  SIXTEEN

  Jagger

  Geoffrey

  “Must you sing,” I said as I hugged the cool, granite counter.

  It felt refreshing despite the off-key rendition of “Single Ladies” being earsplittingly lacerated to a bloody demise by the most beautiful woman in the world, Tiffany.

  “Drink this.” She pushed a glass of cloudy green liquid at me.

  With tremendous effort, I lifted my head and closed one eyelid to ease the dagger that was hacking away behind it. That’s when I made the terrible decision to stand. Everything that hurt in my body, in my head, felt like it was about to explode.

  “Will it kill me?” I asked.

  “No.” Her plump lips curved in that sexy way that normally drove me crazy but it only made me sad right now.

  Unhappy because I couldn’t enjoy it. My body wouldn’t let me relish anything right now.

  “What if I wanted it to? You could, you know. I’m sure no one would miss me.”

  The curve of her mouth turned down and I didn’t like that. I was in terrible pain, but I would bear it if I could make her unhappiness disappear.

  “I’d miss you and I know David would,” she said before turning back to the stove to continue torturing me with that delicious smell permeating from the pan. Tiffany poked at it with a spatula.

  For a moment, the pain dissipated and all I could feel was my heart filling my chest, in fear of choking me with happiness. The aroma, her pity for me, and how she had been puttering around me since I woke to ease my hangover.

  She didn’t realize her sour musical stylings were the things that woke me up on Tiffany’s couch ten minutes ago. Or maybe she did, and this was to make up for her tremendous lack of talent. But if that were true, she would stop singing and she won’t. No matter what I say.

  Despite all that, I smiled as I watched her. So, I did as she commanded and lifted the repulsive looking liquid to my lips. It’s weird apple flavor wetting my cottony mouth.

  “Don’t drink too much at once,” Tiffany paused her melody to warn me as she continued cooking, “or you might get sick. Take it easy on your stomach today.”

  “Okay, Mom.” I chuckled as I put the glass down and scooted onto the stool.

  After a minute, she turned around with a plate of scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast.

  “Wow, this looks great,” I said with the sudden realization of how hungry I was.

  “Here’s some oatmeal, and honey for your toast.” Tiffany moved around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl that she must have made earlier and the glass jar of honey.

  It was all so much. I haven’t had anyone take care of me—not like this—since I was a little boy. It was something I never really thought I needed. I believed that being strong and independent meant taking care of yourself, even when things were bad.

  I stared at the food in front of me trying to find the words to tell this wonderful woman how much it meant but what I got out was, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m used to it. I’m just glad I had some
Pedialyte left over.” She came around the counter while taking sips from her mug that had a picture of a coffee pot on it with the words Pot Head underneath.

  She sat on the stool next to me with a funny look. “Are you going to eat or just stare?”

  I was still in shock that she was taking care of me when I had done nothing but lie and spy on her. Ugh, I don’t know what felt worse, this hangover or my guilt?

  “Yeah, of course.” I lifted a forkful of the fluffy eggs to my mouth.

  They had to be the best eggs I had ever had. That added to the guilt. And the toast and oatmeal. Everything was delicious. Who knew toast could be satisfying? Tiffany must have done something to make it extra delicious.

  The meal was so wonderful that I was done in a matter of minutes. Damn, I needed that.

  Patting my belly, I turned to her to smile. I meant to compliment her but what came out was an extra loud, extra long burp.

  Her hand went to her chest. Tiffany laughed and it was melodic. Her cheeks flushed and that smile was worth suffering through a thousand hangovers.

  Her eyebrow rose as her laughter subsided. “I’m assuming you liked the food?”

  “God, yes. How do you make toast taste like heaven?”

  “I’m pretty sure the bees do that.” She took a sip from her cup, never taking her eyes off me.

  Fuck, she was sexy when she drank coffee. And cooked. And laughed. And stood there doing nothing.

  “The bees?”

  “They made the honey that gave the toast the sweetness.”

  No, I’m pretty sure it was you that gave it that sweetness.

  “I almost forgot.” She stood and disappeared down the hall.

  My gaze drifted around the room. Her place, decorated in soft colors, looked like a comfortable home. Nothing about it stood out, but at the same time, it drew me in like a warm blanket on a cold winter day.

  I smiled at the thought of how much her place reflected her. There’s only one thing missing to make this room perfect. And as I comprehended that thought, that one thing strolled into the room.

  “Aleve. It’s all I got but it works great on headaches.” Tiffany jiggled a small blue and white bottle.

  She placed it in front of me on the counter. I stared at the plastic bottle as a war raged inside me. This time the battle involved guilt fighting attraction. Tiffany was like the sexiest nurse to never wear a uniform. One more fantasy for me to fuck my hand with tonight.

  My hand and I had been getting to know each other a lot these past several weeks.

  I threw the pills into my mouth but realized I had no water and had long since finished my Pedialyte. Instead of walking into the kitchen and getting some water, I made my way down the hall to the bathroom.

  I locked the door behind me. After getting enough water from the sink to swallow the pills, I gazed at myself in the mirror. I looked like crap. Physically, I was starting to feel better—her food helped. But what I felt was reflected in that mirror.

  I had lied to Tiffany for so long. First about being her son’s PT, then not letting her know about our marriage, and finally, spying on her. At least I explained that I wasn’t her son’s therapist and finally came clean about the marriage. But I still haven’t told her about the spying and it was screwing with my head. I took the devices away, the ones I could find. It was a stupid move. I’m glad they fired me because I deserved it.

  After splashing water on my face, using some of her mouthwash, and washing my hands, I decided to go back out there and be honest with her. I may never see her again after that, but at least I won’t feel so much like a scumbag.

  As I emerged from the bathroom and slowly walked down the hall like a man making his way to the electric chair, I hesitated as I entered the living room. She was standing there waiting for me. Did she know I was about to admit to being an appalling excuse of a human being?

  She frowned and it was the confirmation I needed. Tiffany must know.

  “So, uh, what do I call you?” she asked.

  “Asshole maybe, or how about turd-blossom? I always liked that insult for some reason.” I tried to laugh it off, but she wasn’t having it.

  “Why would I insult you? I just want to know if I should call you Jagger or Geoffrey?”

  My stomach did that thing when it wanted to try out for the Olympics by doing a half summersault followed by a backflip.

  “My name? Did I tell you that last night or do you remember what I told you in Vegas?”

  For so long I feared she would start to remember me telling her my real name in Las Vegas. Now, it didn’t matter. It’s not like the government could fire me again.

  I don’t remember much from last night. The most I could recall was buzzing her building. After that, it was a blank.

  “Last night. I still can’t recall anything from Vegas.”

  “I’m so used to Jagger now, it almost doesn’t feel right to be called Geoffrey.”

  She paused and bit her lip. “I’ll say both names and you see how it feels.”

  I nodded and took a step closer to her.

  “Geoffrey.”

  Everything sounded lovely coming out of her mouth, but I didn’t have much of a reaction to the name. I waved my hand for her to continue.

  “Jagger.”

  Did she deepen her voice when she said that? Like she was trying to sound seductive. I took another step toward her with only a foot between us.

  “Say it again,” I said.

  “Jagger.” Her voice distinctly softened. Her chocolate eyes dipped to my lips as I took one more step toward her.

  I was right in front of her. When I exhaled the wisps from her braid fluttered around her face. I reached for one that landed on her cheek, sliding my finger back until I traced a curl around her ear.

  She shivered and I felt the vibration move with warmth and vigor up my arm. My finger never left her skin. Like a pencil to paper, I traced the beating line down her neck until I found the thin ridges of her collarbone.

  Her eyes were cast down, watching my arm as it moved. And when Tiffany gasped as my fingertip trailed farther down to the seam of her neckline, I lowered my head. Just enough so she could feel my heat and I could smell her beauty.

  “Say it again.”

  My hand reached back, pulling the band that held her braid together, and dropped it on the floor. She lifted her hand, but I stopped her before she could shake out this thick, sensual mane. That was my job.

  I took one hand and tilted her head back by her chin. While the other hand curled and mussed that fucking sexy hair.

  “Jagger.”

  When she said it this time, her eyes were wide, like bottomless pits I never wanted to end. Tiffany was soft and warm, and I could feel how she vibrated from my touch.

  “Tiffany,” I said just before my lips landed on hers.

  With a swift swipe of my tongue to the seam of her mouth, she opened so I could take the kiss I had been dreaming about for weeks.

  She tasted like coffee and honey, and I didn’t think I could get enough. And when she whimpered my skin vibrated with anticipation. My hands fell from her head. One landed on that perfectly round ass as I squeezed.

  The other hand took it upon himself to lift her shirt, tug at the cup of her bra, and pinch. No slow swirl of my fingers through dips and over mounds. A slow, chaste touch was for teenagers that only had curiosity and hormones directing their thoughts.

  That tantalizing nipple needed my attention. I wasn’t about to waste our time and not give Tiffany what she required.

  Her head fell back as she groaned. Not only did she sound like I was giving her the perfect attention, but her hips kept grinding into my growing cock.

  That’s until the worst cockblocker that had ever been invented made itself known. Her cell phone went off.

  Tiffany pushed me off her so fast, I was still making kissing movements with my lips to the air in front of me. When I stopped, realizing she had disappeared, I glanced up to see her adju
st her shirt as she lifted the phone to her ear.

  “Hello, David? Are you okay?” she said.

  Still in a carnal fog, I blinked, pressing my hand against my achingly hard cock.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll come get you. Be there in about ten minutes,” she said just before she put down the phone.

  She turned and it was as if the last five minutes never happened. That she hadn’t made me want to fall to my feet and wonder if kissing her lips was like tasting anything else on her body.

  “I have to go pick up David now. Do you think you’re well enough to go home?”

  What was happening? Even more confusing, she came over and placed her hand on my arm like some friend doing their best to cheer someone up but not really wanting to put any effort into it.

  “I guess,” I said before she pulled me along with her.

  “I’ll walk you out. Let me know if you need anything,” she said as she closed and locked the door behind us.

  Once we were on the street, she didn’t kiss me or hug me or even shake my hand. Tiffany waved goodbye, and turned her back on me as if her lips on mine just minutes ago hadn’t turned me into a devastated mess.

  SEVENTEEN

  Tiffany

  “Damn, that’s cold,” Morgana said as she lifted the teacup to her lips.

  “I know, right. Even I wouldn’t be that harsh,” Aria said taking a bite from a small pastry with a strawberry on it.

  “What about you, Evaleen? Am I that terrible?” I asked knowing Evaleen would have my back.

  It had been two days since I’d left Jagger on the sidewalk outside my building to get my son from his sleepover. I knew how I reacted to that kiss wasn’t right.

  Ahh, that kiss. It was even better than I fantasized it would be. And I had imagined Jagger’s lips on me a lot over the last few weeks. That man knew what to do with his mouth. And the way he untangled my hair . . . I thought I was going to orgasm right then and there.

  Who knew taking out a braid could cause all the blood to race down to my vagina waiting for action?

  “Did he say something bad to you after the kiss?” Evaleen asked as she nibbled on a chocolate chai scone.