by Cindy Dees
Her face fell. Her cheerful countenance slipped away, and her eyes went wide and hurt and moist. “It’s me, isn’t it?” she mumbled. “You just don’t want me to love you.”
He huffed, exasperated. Dammit, he really wished she wasn’t such a sincere actress. “I have nothing against you. In fact, I find you attractive, fascinating even, and pleasant to be around when you’re not getting ready to cry onto my shirt.”
She whirled away from him, shoulders shaking suspiciously. Okay, act or not, he was an ass. Not to mention he really couldn’t afford to drive her back into the arms of her handlers until he knew her play. He stepped close behind her and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Katie. I told you I can be a real jackass.”
She sniffed. “You’re only a jackass when you’re trying to push me away. And that’s not your fault. No one ever taught you how to love.”
In a moment of brutal honesty, he responded, “I would have to know what you’re talking about to be able to respond intelligently to that observation.”
Katie laughed reluctantly. Not that he understood why she thought it was funny. But it was better than tears. A knock on the door made them both start, and he gestured her urgently out of the line of fire. Only after she was lurking in the shadowed doorway to the bathroom did he open the door an inch. Waiter. Table. He powered down and threw the door open to let in their dinner.
He tipped the guy, and Katie shooed the waiter out when the fellow would have laid out their meal. The door closed and Alex turned to face her and the table. “What’s all this?”
She uncovered the plates with a flourish, and he stared, surprised. Hot dogs. And piles of French fries. Ketchup. Mustard. Cups with chili, chopped onion and shredded cheese. “I didn’t know how you like your dogs, so I ordered all the trimmings.”
He shrugged. “No clue. I’ve never eaten a hot dog.”
“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “Your father raised you like a European. A stuffy one. You need to chillax. Embrace your inner American. And Americans raise eating sloppy, fattening, unhealthy food to an art form.”
He watched in amazement as she popped the lids off two bottles of beer and poured them into tall, frosty mugs. She handed him one and intoned solemnly, “Look out teeth, look out gums, look out belly, here it comes.”
“Am I supposed to say something in return to that, um, poetic greatness?”
“Yes. You say ‘bottoms up.’ And then slug some beer down.”
He lifted the glass to her. “Bottoms up.” He couldn’t help smirking. “I gather Americans like their beer and their women the same way?”
Katie laughed and lifted her beer glass to him saucily.
She was, without question, the strangest spy he’d ever encountered. He flipped the TV channel to a basketball game and, after a little experimentation, determined that he was a chili-dog-with-onions man. They kicked off their shoes and sat on the bed with their plates propped on their knees, swigging beer and watching the game.
Whether it was the combination of manly indulgences or the sheer brainlessness of it all, Alex found himself relaxing. “I don’t ever recall intentionally doing nothing,” he commented. “It’s interesting.”
“This is the part where you flop your arm over my shoulder and we veg out together.”
He did as she suggested. “What’s next?”
“Well, for most people, they get a little drunk and make a pass at whoever is closest of the appropriate gender for their tastes.”
“Which helps explain the proliferation of STDs in this country,” he added drily.
“Beer, Doctor. You definitely need more beer,” Katie declared.
At her insistence, he downed several more beers, and he had to say he saw the appeal. Hard liquor slammed a man fast, but beer crept up on a guy slowly. Gave him a little more time to bid a fond farewell to his judgment as it slipped away.
Katie turned off the lights so only the flickering glow of the basketball game lit the room. She excused herself to the restroom for a minute. When she returned, she was wearing a white silk nightgown that barely skimmed the top of her thighs. It was simple and elegant, outlining her body’s curves like a seductive whisper. He had to give her credit for great taste. She managed to look sexy and classy all at once. It was a sharp departure from most of the hookers he’d ever known.
“Like it?” she asked shyly from the doorway.
“I approve.”
“Really? It’s not too...”
She trailed off and he replied, his voice unaccountably rough, “No matter how you were going to finish that sentence, I assure you, it’s not too anything. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Great,” she said brightly. “And as for you, Dr. Peters, shirt off and on your stomach.”
“Only my shirt?” he asked wryly.
“It sounded weird to tell you to strip. But naked would be better for what I have in mind.”
One eyebrow cocked questioningly, he chucked off his clothes and stretched out on his stomach. A silky leg went across his thighs, and Katie straddled his buttocks. Startled, he tensed.
Her hands landed in the middle of his back, soft and warm. “You’re always so tense,” she murmured. “We need to fix that.”
“Why? Tense equates to prepared. Alert. I like tense.”
“That’s because you haven’t tried relaxed,” she retorted.
He generally didn’t like back rubs, but he had to admit this one felt pretty damned good. Maybe it was the beer that had relaxed him in the first place, or maybe it was Katie’s enthusiasm for the project that was contagious. Either way, he found himself sinking into a state of blissful contentment.
She kneaded her way across his shoulders and neck, then down either side of his spine, outward across his ribs and farther down his back. She pulled down hard on his hips, stretching his back before she went to work on his glutes and hamstrings. Down his calves to his feet, and then, holy crap, she sucked his big toe. Who the hell knew a toe was such an erogenous zone? His body went on full combat alert as her hot, wet tongue laved between his toes and then sucked them one by one.
He tried to roll over, to pull her up his body, but she used her position, seated on his thighs, to pin him down. He would have tensed or maybe even attacked if she’d ever shown the slightest bit of unarmed combat training. But as it was, he subsided cautiously.
Back up his legs she went, using her mouth to supplement her clever hands this time. She kissed and licked the backs of his knees until he actually squirmed, a novel sensation for him. He was usually in the business of making women squirm. He made the mistake of groaning, and, of course, Katie giggled and redoubled her tickle torture.
She nipped up the back of his right leg, and his breath caught as her mouth slid inward toward the juncture of his thighs. Her hands pushed and he let his legs fall apart for her.
She licked the underside of his shaft, and he about came off the mattress. It didn’t help that her breasts were mashed against the backs of his legs and her hands were squeezing his glutes hungrily. Her mouth closed on his sac, and she took it gently into her mouth. Heat and moisture and a gentle pulling sensation roared through him, ripping through his belly and straight back down to his erection. He was abruptly so hard and heavy it hurt.
Her tongue delicately traced the length of him again, and then it swirled around the tip until he all but shouted his frustration aloud.
“Let me up,” he growled.
“Nope. Not done with my massage,” she answered blithely.
She kissed everything within reach of her mouth and tongue, invading his privacy until he didn’t have any left and, furthermore, didn’t give a damn about it. She reversed position and her hands started up his spine and her entire body followed until she was all but lying on top of him, a delicious silken blanket of woman and sex.
Her thigh nestled between his, rubbing his man parts where her mouth had left off, while she nipped across the back of his neck to his e
arlobe.
Her tongue swirled into his ear—crap, another erogenous zone he’d never discovered before now—and she whispered, “I love everything about you. Your body. Your mind. Your sense of humor. Your honor. The way you keep me safe. The way you make me feel—”
That was it. He couldn’t take any more. He surged up beneath her, flipping over beneath her in a quick wrestling move. Once he was able to get his arm around her, it was an easy matter to use his superior weight and strength to reverse their positions.
He realized she was grinning up at him triumphantly. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her legs around his hips, and she held him like she wasn’t ever going to let go. Something cracked in his heart as the moment burned itself into his memory for all time.
He shifted position slightly and then pressed into her, groaning as her internal muscles gripped him as tightly as her arms and legs. He stared down at her intensely, and she gazed back at him, her smile slowly fading into something deeper. Something raw and personal and unbearably intimate as their bodies fit together and found unison.
He made love to her in slow motion, one deliberate thrust at a time. He felt every inch of her, felt every little clasp and release, registered every nuance of expression across her face. It bordered on sensory overload.
How could he have raced through this act so many times before and never stopped to notice a thousand details that made it mind-blowing? The way her lower teeth caught at her lower lip now and again. The way her chin lifted every time he seated himself all the way inside her and rocked a little. The way the arch of her feet flexed and relaxed against his lower back.
It was exquisite. And he’d never experienced anything like it. Even the scrap of silk that was her slip thing sliding between them was delicious to his heightened senses.
Eventually, though, her breathing quickened; her heels became more urgent against his back. Her hands slid down to clutch his buttocks and pull him deeper. She surged up against him, and he let her suck him into the maelstrom. He plunged into her deeper and faster, harder and more urgent.
But all the while, he stared into her eyes and she into his. He saw her gaze fill with wonder and glaze with pleasure and finally black out in the moment of her release. She came back to him slowly, her gaze refocusing in awe. Then the awe transformed into a smile that lit her entire being from the inside out. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. In that instant, everything was right with the world.
He was loved. And it was good.
And it was...what?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KATIE WATCHED HAPPINESS fill Alex’s gaze, and the conscious realization that he was happy followed soon after.
But then he rolled away from her abruptly, swearing luridly in Russian if his tone of voice was any indication. In English, he demanded, “What the hell are you trying to do to me?”
“Show you what it feels like to be loved and appreciated?”
“I’m not falling for it. You can’t suck me in. I won’t be suborned.”
“Suborned?” she echoed, not understanding.
“It means bribed, blackmailed or corrupted,” he spat. “Surely you learned it at the Farm.” He jumped out of bed and strode to the far end of the room.
The Farm? As in the famous CIA training facility? Huh? She wasn’t CIA. She sat up, yanking her silk nightgown down as far as it would go. Why couldn’t the stupid thing be a gunnysack? “I know what the word means. You already made it crystal clear you’re not blackmail-able, so why would I even try?”
“You tell me.” He whirled and stalked back toward her.
Why was he lashing out like this? She hadn’t done anything to—
Oh. She must have scared the hell out of him. Which meant she had gotten through his carefully constructed emotional armor, after all.
“There’s nothing to be scared of,” she said matter-of-factly. In her experience with five-year-olds, if she sounded like there was something to be scared of, no matter how hard she tried to convince a kid not to be afraid, she would fail.
“I will not be trapped!” he exclaimed. Away he went again, pacing the length of the spacious room.
“Okay,” she said reasonably. “Who’s trying to trap you?”
Her question stopped him cold. He stared at her like she was crazy. “Your CIA. My father and the FSB.”
“Who else?”
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“Well, there’s obviously me. Who else?”
He frowned. “You admit to trying to trap me?”
“Not at all. I’m trying to understand who you think is trapping you.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She wished she could go to him. Hold him. But she highly doubted he would let her touch him right now. She said carefully, “I think it’s you trapping you.”
He turned to stare at her. “How’s that?”
God, she wished she could read him better. But he’d gone still and frozen, his face a mask. Did he realize he was clenching his fists at his sides like that? His voice gave away nothing. Was he angry? Surprised? Upset?
“You’ve built so many emotional walls to hide behind, so many rules to live your life by, that you’ve practically paralyzed yourself.”
“Wouldn’t you build walls in the same situations I’ve lived in?”
She sincerely hoped not. “I’m not you, so what I would do doesn’t really matter. You did what you had to in order to survive. And you made it. Here you are.”
“I don’t need psychotherapy,” he announced.
“Of course you don’t. You need more sex.”
That threw him. He looked over at her, startled. His need for control in bed made perfect sense now. He was desperately seeking control of his life. Look at how badly he’d flipped out when she took control of their lovemaking and took it to an emotional place not of his choosing. No matter how badly he subconsciously craved the affection and caring she’d shared with him, he could not allow himself to accept it if it wasn’t of his taking.
“Go ahead, Alex. Take control. Make me beg. Do whatever you want to me. I dare you.”
That dark fire flared in his eyes again, and the hurt little boy retreated, leaving behind the dangerous man who made her breathing speed up and her heartbeat go wonky. “You really do like to live dangerously, don’t you?” he murmured.
“Show me how dangerously,” she challenged him.
He stalked her slowly, pantherlike. An urge to bolt shivered through her, but she ignored it and stood her ground. He needed this.
Alex stopped in front of her. Reached out slowly and took the low neck of her silk gown in both hands and gave it a violent yank. She jumped as the fragile silk ripped apart in his powerful hands, tearing all the way down her front and falling away from her body in shreds.
He moved aggressively, then, backing her up hard against the wall and yanking her arms high over her head. His leg jammed between hers, forcing her to ride high on his leg. His head bent to her neck, and he bit her on the shoulder.
She cried out, not in pain but pleasure. Stunned, she arched into him, intensely attracted to his aggression. It turned him on, too, apparently.
He lifted her right knee, and she draped her leg around his hips as he rammed into her, filling her with his heat and hard length. He slammed her higher against the wall and she stood on tiptoe on her remaining foot. He yanked her left leg out from under her, forcing her to cling to his shoulders and wrap her legs tightly around his waist while he supported her bottom with both hands.
The position left her completely vulnerable to him. He slammed into her again, filling her and stretching her almost to the point of pain. She had no defense against his invasion, and he took full advantage of it, thrusting again and again into her.
If she was supposed to fight him, she refused. If she was supposed to be angry at him for this rough sex, she embraced it instead. He needed this, and she willingly gave it to him. In fact, she pulled his hips closer with her legs, pulled
his head down to her neck again with her arms, offering herself to him freely to devour.
He growled and increased the force and intensity of the sex, and she urged him on, opening herself fully to him both physically and emotionally.
“More, Alex,” she panted. “Give me all of you. Take all of me.”
He growled as if frustrated by her reaction. He spun, carrying her still impaled on him to the table. With a sweep of his left arm he sent the plates and glasses flying, laid her down on the edge of the table and drove into her. The hard surface at her back forced her to absorb the full ferocity of his sex, and he slammed all the way to her core.
“Yes,” she groaned. “More. I want it all.”
“You make me crazy,” he ground out from behind clenched teeth.
“I want crazier,” she panted back.
He grabbed her knees and shoved them wide. She helped by grabbing them and holding them. His eyes closed as he lost himself in her body, thrusting mindlessly, over and over.
She wondered if he realized he was slowing his angry thrusts. That they were becoming more strokes than attacks, long and slow and deep. In, then out. Over and over and over.
His hands came down on either side of her head as he braced himself, eyes still closed, making love to her. She let go of her knees. Gradually let her legs wrap around his waist. Found the rhythm with her own body, rising up to meet him as their bodies joined, stroking each other to a building climax. The now familiar tingling started at her extremities, racing from her fingers and toes toward her core, growing, growing, clawing at her insides until it all exploded and she cried out with the power and glory of it.
Alex’s body tightened against hers. Took on a terrible urgency. She opened her eyes and stared up at him. His face was angelic, his eyes demonic, as he stared down at her, furious and desperate and lost.
Her internal muscles clutched at him. She surged up against him one last time, and he detonated inside her. Pleasure ripped across his face, and he shuddered hard against her, once, twice. She held him close with her body and gaze and soul, absorbing his release into her, opening herself completely to him and taking him into her in every possible way.
