by Jo Davis
She grinned, and it transformed her face into a vision that awakened his cock. “Have lunch with me?”
A little burst of happiness lit his previously crappy day, and he warned himself not to get too excited. She was probably already headed in his direction and asked him as an afterthought. “What a coincidence. I was on my way to the cafeteria.”
“I know. I stopped by your office to ask if you wanted to grab a bite, and your secretary said you’d just left. I’m glad I caught you.”
“Me, too.” So she had sought him out. Okay, so his entire week was suddenly looking up, and not a moment too soon. “Anything in particular you wanted to talk to me about? Or is the invite purely social?”
“Mostly social, though I did want to tell you that the new shipment of microchips came in to replace the faulty ones in the cameras.”
“That’s good.”
She nodded, then cut him an assessing look. “I also wanted to see how you’re doing. You don’t seem nearly as stiff as you did four days ago.”
“Worried about me?” The idea warmed him all over.
“Of course. If anything happens to you, who’ll buy me cheap, fatty lunches at the compound’s roach buffet?”
He laughed. “There’s an image I needed before I bite into my burger.”
“Assuming it is, in fact, all beef. How do you really know?”
“Gross. I think I’ll get a salad. Nobody can fake lettuce.”
“True.” They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments. “How are you doing?” she asked, more serious now.
“I’m good. The soreness is almost gone, and I’m ready for our night out whenever it works for everyone else.” Truth was, he couldn’t wait. Michael had been right to badger him into putting it off, though.
“Tomorrow night?”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll check with Michael.”
“Great! I’ll get with Emma, but I’m almost positive it’ll be fine as long as Blaze isn’t working.”
Bastian thought for a second. “I don’t believe he’s scheduled for an assignment.” And if he was, Bastian would pull him. Selfish but true. He wanted, needed, to get out with his friends for a while, and forget all his worries and disappointments.
Forget that he and Michael were on Dietz’s hit list—and on the lists of about a dozen more criminals besides. Cheerful thought.
“Hey, where’d you go?”
Shaking off the dismal mood threatening to encroach on his break with Katrina, he ushered her into the lunch line. “Somewhere a lot more fun than this building,” he said wryly, covering his lapse. “I can’t remember the last time I went for drinks and dancing with friends.”
“No wonder, considering how you’ve been taking care of Michael for weeks while he was on the mend, on top of running this place.” She selected a large salad and a drink from the offerings and set it on her tray.
Following suit, he gave her a sharp look. “I hadn’t realized that was common knowledge among the agents and other staff. About my playing nurse to Michael, I mean.”
Turning her head, she raised a brow. “Really? Even though you employ a few hundred spies who are trained to find out stuff they shouldn’t know and are the best at what they do?”
He sighed. “Well, hell.” No telling what else was general knowledge when it came to his feelings for his best friend.
They reached the cashier. He paid for both lunches in spite of her protest, then followed her into the dining area. Of their own accord, his eyes dipped to the sight of her shapely ass gently swinging, hugged by a pair of crisp, tan dress pants as she walked in front of him. God, what a view. And he was too damned starved for hot, willing flesh to drive himself—
Abruptly, she stopped and turned. “It’s too loud and crowded in here. Want to go somewhere else?”
He barely kept from running over her. “Let’s eat in my office,” he said hoarsely. Then cleared his throat. And let’s ditch the food.
“Okay.”
During the brief walk, he wondered whether he was so pent up, sexually frustrated, and starved for attention that any beautiful body would do to help him unwind. The sad answer to that was probably yes, but . . . Katrina was more than a pretty face.
She was intelligent, possessed a sharp wit, and was poised and confident. For the past few weeks he’d noticed she had a way of looking at him, as though she’d like to learn his every secret, that made his balls tighten and his breathing hitch. And he realized he wanted to answer all the questions in those sultry eyes, and do some learning of his own.
This was not a woman to be fucked and forgotten. And why did the idea of any man treating her like an object make him want to punch someone?
Striding past his curious secretary, he led her into his office and closed the door behind them. The large conference table was clear, so he headed for the nearest spot at the end, set down his tray, and took a seat. Katrina settled beside him, at the head of the table, making it easy for them to talk. Cozy.
“Your office is bigger than Michael’s,” she observed, sticking her straw in a plastic glass of lemonade. “How’d you get so lucky?”
“When Michael gave me the promotion, we ordered the conference table for closed-door meetings, but he didn’t want the table in his office. He doesn’t like having meetings there.”
“And you get to be the one to put up with the foot traffic in and out.” Her lips turned up. “Smart of him.”
He shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I don’t really mind, because the meetings are usually scheduled in advance, unless a crisis arises.”
“Well, that gives you about ten whole minutes of peace per day,” she teased.
“Maybe fifteen. Remind me why I wanted this job?”
“Because it makes you the boss of me? And you’ve got a great view? ”
Taking a bite of his salad, he pretended to consider. “Both very good reasons. Too bad I don’t get hazard pay anymore, though.”
“Why not?”
“I’m no longer in the field. I’m an office drone.”
“That’s hardly fair when you’re in just as much danger as you were before,” she said, scowling.
“I’d get extra money if I went on assignment, but that doesn’t happen often in my position.” He grinned. “You’re pretty when you’re huffy. And I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”
“Hey, you won’t hear me complain about receiving a compliment from a sexy man, whether he’s my boss or not.” She gave him a pointed look, the meaning of which was perfectly clear. “And I shouldn’t have said that out loud. Do you mind that I did?”
“Not at all,” he managed. While his looks wouldn’t break a mirror, it was on the tip of his tongue to say he was far from sexy, but he didn’t want her to think he was fishing. After picking at his salad for a minute, he asked, “We’re friends, right?”
“Of course. We have been for a while, and it’s not like this is the first time we’ve caught lunch together.” Cocking her head, she looked at him in open curiosity. “Why do you ask?”
“But it’s the first time we’ve ever eaten alone and enjoyed any sort of privacy. Now I’m wondering why we haven’t before.”
“It is rather nice, isn’t it?” She smiled.
“Very.” He hesitated. “Is it just me, or does it feel like something is . . . changing. Between us.”
Abandoning her fork, she reached over and laid her hand on his. “I feel it, too. To be honest, I’ve always admired you. Not just physically, but for your strength of character. How you treat others and how people look up to you. Anyone in this building would put themselves between you and a bullet, and not just because it’s their job. Not everyone inspires that sort of loyalty, but you do. And I find that very sexy.”
He squirmed inwardly at the praise and thrilled to it, as well. Not that he believed he was so great, but that someone else did. Hell, he was only human—sometimes a man needed to hear how much he meant to someone. And be shown. His lonely soul soaked
up her words and the open expression on her lovely face. The heat was back in her eyes, too, along with a hint of challenge. His cock leapt, defying his iron control and finally growing to full hardness in his pants, not giving a damn that he was her boss and shouldn’t mess around with an employee. Friend or not.
His voice was husky. “All those same things are true about you. Plus you’re smart and confident, a straight shooter who goes the extra mile for your friends and coworkers. Look how you came to see me after I wrecked—”
“No,” she interrupted, scooting her chair close so their knees touched. “Making sure a friend is okay isn’t extra. It’s just what you do when you care. And I care about you.”
She bent close, and his pulse pounded in anticipation at her clear intent. Their lips touched and he opened himself to the kiss, her sweet taste drowning any remaining inner protests that this wasn’t advisable. His blood throbbed and his balls grew heavy, a wonderful ache that he should try to resist, though now he couldn’t think why.
“Stand up,” she murmured, tugging at his hand.
He didn’t think, simply did as she requested. Because he didn’t want to talk himself out of what she obviously planned as she shoved her chair back and slid to her knees. Reached for his belt.
The buckle proved a bit stubborn, but she unfastened it and went to work on his pants. In seconds, he was standing over her, cock pointing at her face, flushed and eager. Her lips quirked up and she grasped the base, licked away the little drop. Those striking eyes met his as she brought the head to her mouth, took him inside. The sight of his hard flesh disappearing between her lips almost finished things before they began.
“God, that’s good,” he groaned. She hummed around his cock in agreement.
He was greedy for her mouth, the silky suction pulling his brain through his cock. He thrust, slowly at first, then with deeper, faster strokes. Gave himself to the pleasure until the tingle at the base of his spine warned him that release was too close.
“Not yet!” Gently, he coaxed her to let him go. “I want to fuck you, come inside you.”
“Yes,” she rasped, standing. As she reached for the button on her pants, three quick knocks on the door sounded like gunshots.
“Mr. Chevalier?” his secretary called from the other side. “You’re needed in the gym right away.”
He tried to keep the growl of annoyance from his tone. “What for?”
“Fistfight. Marks and Taylor are going at it. Marks apparently shot off his mouth again about something.”
“Goddammit,” he muttered, quickly tucking his flagging erection into his pants. Then he called back, “Tell them I’ll be right there.”
“Will do.”
“Sorry about this,” he said to Katrina, reaching out to brush her plump lower lip with his thumb. Damn, what rotten timing.
“It’s okay. Duty calls.” She sighed.
“Rain check?”
She winked. “If you’re lucky.”
God, he didn’t want to leave. “Stay and finish your lunch if you want. And let me know about tomorrow night.”
“Okay.”
Stealing his resolve, he left before he could change his mind and bend her over the conference table, fistfight be damned.
But there was always tomorrow.
Michael studied his designer-jeans-clad ass in the mirror with a critical eye, gave it a little shake. Not bad for a guy on the long side of his thirties, one entering a new phase of his life.
New phase. How appropriate. He was finally healing after Maggie’s murder, and looking forward to being happy again. What would it take to cross that threshold?
And why did it feel like tonight was crucial to crossing it?
Crazy. Just like these weird feelings he’d been having around Bastian lately. And when Kelly phoned the other day to say someone had tried to take out his friend? He’d almost lost his shit. He couldn’t get to Bastian fast enough, and nothing equaled the relief of seeing him awake and doing relatively fine—though they ended up putting off their club outing for a few days because his friend was too sore by the next day to move much, as Michael had predicted.
And then there was the gorgeous Katrina. Her comment about having two hot guys on her arm had fired his imagination, sending it boldly trekking where it had never ventured before. Two women? Fantastic. But sharing a woman with his best friend, a man he secretly . . . what? Desired?
Insane. Yet he’d hardly slept the past few nights as a half dozen naughty scenarios involving Katrina and Bastian floated through his mind. Katrina between them, taking them both. One of them doing her with the other watching. To his shock, he’d even pictured Bastian underneath him, Michael powering in and out of his tight channel while Bastian fucked her. . . . And he’d come like a geyser, cock in hand, despite his recent escapades with the twins.
Just a stupid fantasy. It meant nada.
Shoving aside his confusion, he pulled on a dark blue T-shirt and went down to meet Bastian outside. His friend wasn’t there yet. His driver, who was one of his private-security men, waited beside the Mercedes limousine that Michael rarely used. That would have to change for a while, since the sturdy vehicle, with its bulletproof windows, was safe enough to transport royalty.
Once they were under way, one of his SHADO agents would follow at a discreet distance, ready in the event of trouble. Michael and Bastian were armed, as well, and wore their guns strapped to their ankles, hidden under their pants. All of this fuss for an evening out. It hardly seemed worth the effort, but maybe he’d change his mind.
The second Bastian exited the front door and started down the steps, he did just that. His friend wore a pair of black leather pants that must’ve been airbrushed onto his lean body, and a black mesh shirt. As the man stopped in front of him, Michael stared at the broad chest visible through the holes in the fabric. Holy God, was that a . . .
“Are you wearing a ring in your left nipple?”
His friend’s grin would’ve charmed the devil. “You like it?”
He gaped like a landed trout. The man’s whole outfit screamed, Fuck me now! Damned if his unruly cock didn’t take notice, too.
“When did you get your nipple pierced? You’ve never worn one of those when we’ve gone swimming.” He’d sure as hell remember that, of all things.
“I had it done years ago.” He shrugged. “I don’t wear it all the time, and normally the only people who see it are the ones I fuck.”
The image of Bastian with his shirt off, back arched in ecstasy, the little ring glinting wickedly on his chest, slammed him hard, left him aroused. Shaken. And royally pissed to think of some random hookup getting his or her claws into Bastian.
Michael cleared his throat. “Ready to go? Katrina’s expecting us.”
“After you.”
He climbed in and scooted into the far corner, grateful for the cool, dark interior that hid his steely erection. Needed to get laid again, that was all. Take the edge off, forget about this forbidden craving that dogged him night and day. Only he’d be with friends and playing escort to Katrina, so he couldn’t very well sneak off for some action. Or he could, but it wouldn’t be right.
“The driver know where she lives?”
He glanced at Bastian, careful to keep his hands covering his lap. “Yeah, I told him. I went by her place the other night to chew her out for the glitch in the new pinhole camera.”
“What was the verdict on that?”
“Turns out it wasn’t anything she had control over—defective batch of microchips.” He chuckled at a sudden memory.
“What?” Bastian eyed him curiously.
“You should have seen her, facing me down. She didn’t take any shit from me, just gave it right back.”
His friend lifted a brow. “Most of our toughest agents wouldn’t oppose you.”
“She could teach them a thing or two. Got right in my face, told me to fire her if her work wasn’t good enough. She was . . .”
“Stunning
? Glorious?”
“Jesus, yes.” He sighed, sinking even farther into the plush seat. “Do you have any idea how much it turns me on when someone gives to me as good as they get? No fear, no hesitation? God, what an aphrodisiac.”
“Is that what it takes? Wish I’d known that long ago.” Green eyes glittered in the darkness. A solid, warm body slid close.
“Bastian . . .”
Strong fingers cupped his face and full, sensual lips descended on his before he could draw a breath to protest. Shock froze him in place as his mouth was taken in a fierce kiss, but when the other man’s tongue swept inside, demanding, tasting—
His brain went on the fritz and his entire body melted. Simply opened to the kiss, to the delicious sensations flooding his limbs. How could he feel drugged, yet light enough to fly out the window? The weight pressing into his felt so damned good, so right. Expensive cologne teased his nose, a heady combination of spice and man, and he wanted more.
Without his permission, a needy sound, something like a whimper, escaped his throat, but he was far too lost to be embarrassed. Clinging to Bastian’s shoulders, he returned the kiss with months of pent-up passion, loosed the part of his soul he’d kept prisoner in the darkness. It was almost too much, too big, that empty space being filled with light.
Bastian broke the kiss first and moved downward, nibbling his throat. Each small bite made him desperate for more contact, and he wasn’t aware he’d arched his back and spread his legs until Bastian laughed in a low, seductive rumble and eased to the floorboards to kneel between his thighs. The man pushed up his shirt and splayed a big hand over his flat stomach, caressing. Then the hand moved lower, palmed the erection straining in his jeans. Rubbed the proof of the feelings he wanted so badly to deny, if his tongue hadn’t been stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Tell me to stop,” his friend murmured.
He shook his head, unable to say the word. The one syllable that would prevent his life from being changed forever—if it hadn’t already.
His jeans were unbuttoned, zipper lowered. No underwear was present to impede progress, and hungry eyes flashed to his before his jeans were tugged to his hips, cock and balls freed. His only coherent thought was gratitude that the driver had discreetly raised the privacy glass. . . . And then that clever tongue bathed the head of his cock.
