by Mia Downing
A moan escaped her, almost as shocking as the jolt of sinful lust that shook her to her toes. She could feel every tug on her nipple between her thighs, deep inside, awakening her pussy. No one had ever touched her breasts except her, and she sure as hell didn’t give herself this much pleasure. She arched upward, wanting him to squeeze her breasts harder. Maybe move the other hand further down to see if he could give her a better orgasm than her own fingers gave.
He backed her one last step and pushed her back on the bed, straddling her a moment and then maneuvering himself to the side, never once taking his mouth from hers. He tugged at her nightgown and she raised her hips. He yanked it upward, over her hips but not off, his hand on her inner thigh, his fingers so close to her pussy, brushing the material of her panties.
Yes, she wanted his hand there. Years of feeling unloved, alone, had her desperate under his hand, needy for his attention, even if he was a stranger. It was better than the alternative. It was better than being alone.
He broke the kiss and his mouth slid along her jaw, down her throat to her chest. The kisses were hot, sinful, and she couldn’t wait until he found her nipple. But he kissed around, under, his tongue making a spiraling path that tantalized her skin, caressed the globe of her breast.
She held her breath a moment and his tongue finally slid over her nipple. He took it gently into his mouth, his tongue lapping, then his teeth teasing, tugging. She wanted him to suck harder so she ran her fingers over his head, though his hair, and urged him closer, deeper, harder.
“Eager, aren’t you?” he murmured against her breast. His fingers dipped into the side of her panties and found the dampness pooling there. The intimate touch was shocking and at the same time incredibly sexy. Her hips had a mind of their own and the timid part of her screamed for them to stop, but she arched into his hand, urging his fingers to find the spot she needed him to touch.
He slid upward, the tip of one finger finding her clit. He rubbed the sensitive nub then dipped down to gather her juices to lubricate the bud again, his touch harder this time. Another finger slipped between the folds, and into her core.
Stop him. The timid voice screamed louder, and Emma listened. She froze as his finger slid home, deep inside her, curling upward to hit that soft pad of flesh with all of the delicious nerve endings. She was so close to coming. She could feel it in the quivering in her pussy, her muscles contracting, her belly tight with anticipation. But it felt wrong to come under his hand when she didn’t know more than his name. A horrible time to grow a conscience.
He lifted his mouth from her breast. “Something wrong? You can come if you want. We have all night.” His fingers remained in place, one still rubbing her clit, the others now starting to gently thrust in and out of her pussy.
Her orgasm loomed nearer, and she clamped her thighs on his hand, the pure, chaste part of her panicking. “I need you to stop. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
He kissed her neck. “Nonsense. Your father said I had a present in my room, for my birthday tomorrow. Well, today. I thought that present was you.”
A present. Terror rumbled into her chest, up her throat and she bit back the bile it brought. Her father had instigated this. She hated to think he was pimping her out, but there was no mistaking what Alex thought. She was his birthday gift. Had anyone had ever given him a virgin for his birthday before?
A sick part of her laughed inside, finding it even more horrible that indirectly, she was getting a present as well; they shared the same birthday. She shoved his chest, trying to get him to roll off.
He did roll, and his fingers left her pussy to prop himself up on an elbow. “Are you okay?”
Alex had to be in on this. None of her father’s associates had been interested in her before. Plain, boring her. She looked at him with new, calculating eyes and promptly brought a knee up and into his hard groin.
“Ow! Jesus, what’s—”
She ended all conversation by head-butting him right in the face. He groaned and then rolled to the side, eyes closed.
“Alex?” Good lord, she’d knocked him out. She lingered for a moment, rubbing her forehead. She put a hand to his chest. His breath was slightly labored but there, so she kissed his lips one last time, and scrambled from the bed. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but I’m not becoming a whore for my crazy father’s friends.”
She clutched the neck of her nightgown to her throat and glanced at his gorgeous, unconscious form one last time, wishing it could be different. Maybe in another life, another time. But Alexander Bishop wasn’t meant to be hers.
She had to leave—tonight. Before it was too late.
****
A year later…
Emma hid behind a tree, her towel around her shoulders, her breaths coming in pants from the hard work out, unable to believe he was here, laughing with her new work partner, Jake Anderson.
Alexander Bishop—if that was even his name—wore a black suit and a skinny black tie, the shirt beneath crisp and white. He was a bit taller than Jake, and she remembered from that night that felt so long ago how he had loomed over her, his mouth and fingers blissfully divine…
She frowned and peeked around the tree. He didn’t look as old. His hair was now jet black, a little shorter, spikier. Maybe a younger brother? But that dimple was still there in his right cheek as he laughed at something Jake said.
“Hey, Kate. Come meet your new boss.” Jake beckoned to her, and she started forward, reluctance in her stride.
Kate. She kept forgetting the government had renamed her—she was Katelyn Wells now—when they’d rescued her from the plane that had crashed a year ago, killing her father, leaving her at the edge of death. After she had left Alex, she had run away, getting as far as New York City before her father’s men had found her and dragged her back. She was much, much too valuable to be set free in the world.
Obviously the government thought so as well, because when her father’s jet had crashed, the government had stepped in, rescuing her, giving her a new identity and plastic surgery. She still couldn’t believe what she saw now when she glanced in the mirror. She was no longer plain but beautiful, with a nicer nose, better cheeks, lighter blonde hair. A nice set of boobs. Only the American government would set her up with a nice rack, not too big, not too small.
When she was conscious enough to be coherent, the government had informed her she had to either go with the flow or be jailed for conspiracy and treason for what her father had done—sold weapons of mass destruction to undesirable foreign countries. How stupid was she? Her father had told her they were making weapons for the U.S. government and other friendly nations. She’d believed him.
She agreed to become a special agent for them as long as she could continue her work in the lab. They had set her up with a lab position and imported all of his documentations—boxes and boxes, since the man hated computers. They trained her as a spy—marksmanship, martial arts, weapons. She was leaner, stronger, faster, and her new self, Kate, loved most parts of the training, though she never once believed she’d make a good spy. Emma would have curled up and died in a corner.
And now, Kate realized that the man that had given Emma her first trip to third base was now also a part of her future. As her boss.
She stopped before them—Jake Anderson, six foot and blond, built like a football god and was every bit the player. She took in her new boss. Yes, it was him, six-one, leaner than Jake, darker haired, and every bit as dangerous as she remembered.
Jake took her arm. “This is Chase Sanders—my buddy, and also, our boss.”
Chase didn’t offer his hand, and she didn’t move in like she wanted to shake anything on him.
“We know each other,” Chase said, his voice all American, his hands still in his pockets, his face a mask that hid everything.
“Yeah? How?” Jake looked at Kate, then at Chase. “Why don’t I know about this?”
“Am I allowed to tell him?” Chase nodded slightly, and she sai
d, “I left him unconscious, in his bed.”
“Ouch.” Jake winced. “How’d that happen, buddy? You’re slipping.”
Chase shrugged, and even the graceful shift of his shoulders was sexy. Damn him. “Too much vodka. It will never happen again.” His hot gaze leveled in on hers, intense. This man didn’t miss anything. “You and I have to talk. Half an hour, in my office.”
“I don’t have much to say to you.”
He smiled, but the dimple didn’t detract from his deadliness. “I have a lot to say to you. In case you didn’t get it, when Jake said boss, he meant you now work for me. They released you today. You’re mine.”
The way his lips rolled over the mine made her shiver. A part of her had wanted to be his, a year ago. But Emma had died in a plane crash—hadn’t she? She swallowed and glanced at Jake, not wanting to go alone.
“I’ll take you,” Jake said, sliding a hand to her back. “I have something to do over there, anyway. You can tell me more about how you and Chase met, on the way over, since Chase’s version will be much shorter. Yours should be a hell of a lot of fun.”
She got into Jake’s truck and slammed the door. She was terrified. That man was her boss, and as pissed as she knew Chase was, if he crooked a finger, she’d follow him to the closest bed and allow him to finish what he had started. She had no shame. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“Where’s the fun in that, darlin’?” Jake drawled. “I’ve known Chase for years. He’s a hard ass as a boss, but out of work he’s a great guy, and when he was strictly an agent and my partner, I trusted him with my life.” He glanced over at her. “But I wouldn’t want to get in a fight with him, even with the training I have. He doesn’t play fair. So how were you, then untrained, able to take him down?”
“He was thinking about something else,” she muttered, recalling the skill of his fingers in places they shouldn’t have been.
“I’ll say. He had to have been dick-deep inside—oh.” He must have noticed the blush heating her cheeks to a high flame because he laughed. “Score for Chase.”
“There were no penises involved.”
“I bet he was on his way to that.”
They drove in silence, and Kate continued blushing, hating Jake. Jake had mentioned Chase often, and she had wondered why she hadn’t met Jake’s best friend. They obviously were close, from the stories he had told. Now she knew why Chase had avoided meeting her. “I’m sure he’s pissed as hell. Way to start a new work relationship.”
“I’d be pissed, too, but I’d also be impressed by an untrained version of you kicking my very trained ass during sex. If I were Chase, I’d want you even more.”
“Really? Wait, I don’t want him to want me more. I mean, anymore. That was a bad mistake on my part.” She sank down in the leather seat. “I didn’t even realize I was part of a mission. He was probably ordered to seduce me, to get to my father somehow.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jake glanced at her. “You’ll have to ask him.”
She wasn’t asking him anything, but she also wasn’t going unprepared. She turned to Jake. “Give me some ammo, then. I can’t go in and meet him blind, not when he knows more about me than I do him.”
“He’s my best friend,” Jake warned.
“You’re my best friend. That should count for something.”
“And you’re my partner.” Jake must have justified ditching his alliance with Chase for one with her because he thought for a moment. “He’s going to come off as a cold, heartless bastard. Ignore it.”
“Is it an act?” How did she ignore cold and heartless? And how did that mix with hot as hell? He should end up lukewarm and mediocre, not all of that, in one package.
“Yes and no. He’s all work at work. Follow the rules, dot the i’s, cross the t’s. He’s going to fold his hands on his desk, and that means all hell is going to be unleashed. You need to set him on edge to have an advantage if he’s unleashing the hounds of hell.”
Kate fought the desire to jump from the vehicle, on the highway, speeding along at God knew how fast. “How?”
“Just be you, Kate. You’re my TNT. You have the power to knock him for a loop.” Jake grinned. “You already did. Once. Go do it again.”
She didn’t believe she could do it again, not for one second. Not any more than she believed she’d make a good spy.
Jake sighed, which set her more on edge. Jake never sighed. “Look. He hasn’t told me a damned thing about you beyond what I needed to know to find you in New York when you ran. Just the facts. That means you’re either high-clearance, he likes you more than he’s willing to admit, or you are in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
“Do you know who I was…before?”
“Yes.” Well, that took care of high-clearance.
She blinked and swallowed, hard. Chase couldn’t like her. “I think he’s embarrassed, his ego is hurt, and I’m in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
“Maybe.” A one-word answer from Jake was never a good sign.
“Can you stay with me? One shouldn’t have to meet the devil alone.”
He barked out a short laugh. “The devil? He’ll like that.” But then Jake shot her a skeptical frown. “I don’t think you need me. You’ll be an amazing match for the devil. You just need to believe in yourself.”
She believed she might barf and pass out, that’s what she believed. “Please?”
“Fine.”
****
Chase Sanders drove back to the office, taking a more leisurely route than the highway, so he could think. Kate Wells had made him think about quite a bit in the last year.
Before meeting her as Emma, he had thoroughly loved his job. Now he wasn’t so sure. A year ago he would have never believed in love at first sight. If someone had told him he would fall in love with a certain virgin, he would have shot them dead sniper-style, picking them out of a crowded room, off a busy street. He didn’t fall in love. He was done with love.
But seeing Emma—no, Kate—again, being close enough to touch her, for her to realize who he was, had definitely shaken that premise out of the tree.
The sexual attraction was still there. His cock had hardened immediately as he watched her work out with Jake, which was pretty damned unusual. Work and women didn’t mix. Period. But his dick had forgotten that rule as blood rushed through his veins, filling the one part of him that didn’t need to notice her.
Notice wasn’t accurate—enamored was more like it, which pissed him off. Usually his mind hummed with work, information that flowed in his subconscious like a river of knowledge. But the river became muddied when he thought of how good she looked. Lean yet curvy, her lips soft, inviting, even while frowning.
She’d smelled damned good considering the workout Jake had given her. Floral, with just a hint of salt as she had stood before him, so unsure. Her gaze had devoured him, terrified but so damned turned on. And fuck if he hadn’t wanted to take her right there, in front of Jake, to finish what they had started a year ago.
Chase stopped the vehicle, waiting as the construction mess ahead sorted itself out. His phone dinged—a text coming in. He picked up his phone and sighed. Jake.
Jake lived for texting, and Chase would often go days without seeing him but get a zillion texts filled with shards of Jake-isms. Chase hated texting, spelling crap out, finding punctuation—he hated punctuation. He usually just picked up the phone and bitched at whomever. Plus, he had a sixth sense about things, and it was hard to tell if Jake was slacking off in a text or e-mail. He knew right away on the phone.
Chase wouldn’t admit it, but those texts were high points in his boring day, even the ones Jake sent him in the midst of meetings Chase was leading. Usually he sent SFB—so fucking boring, or same fucking bullshit. Chase was allowed to interpret the meaning of the day. Jake was his link to the outside world, a world he liked far better than the one he lived in now.
Jake’s text read: My little bundle of TNT won’t meet with you unless I can sta
y. I’ll bring her in and dump her at reception. Helen won’t let her bolt.
Jake gave everyone a name of some sort. Except Chase—he was just the boss. Chase gave a sharp laugh and replied, TNT? Insensitive to shock and friction, is she?
But he found it hard to believe Jake would nickname a meek thing like her after explosives, despite her calling in the lab, working with bombs. Then again, he didn’t see her as Jake did. When he thought of Kate, he saw her either as Emma, trembling and aroused, or as Kate, broken and near death in her hospital bed.
While she had fought for her life, Chase had petitioned to make her an agent, her genius brains and the scientific skills she’d learned at her father’s hand enough to con his bosses. He had sat with her every night in the hospital as she recovered from the plane crash, then the surgeries, always leaving before she woke. She never knew it was him holding her hand, and he had planned to keep it that way.
Jake shot back, I wouldn’t know how she responds to friction since your dick was inside her. I would assume she’s blown your mind since you didn’t share the 411.
Chase snorted. Nothing happened
That wasn’t true. He’d had a sweet run to third base, got knocked out, and then sat on the bench because he’d fucked up. His ego hated him for it. He was former military, sniper-trained, a member of elite forces at one time. He now ran a spur division of secret agents seeking intelligence to benefit the American government. Who knocked him unconscious? Not a sweet, pretty virgin with no training whatsoever.
But she had, and then she had run away, fucking up his mission, nearly blowing his cover as a business associate purchasing bomb making skills for a small country in the former USSR, and getting him into a whole heap of trouble with his bosses. Chase never screwed up. Never. Until then, that is.
He’d set his men on her, Jake included. How long would it take to track her down, a civilian? Forty-eight hours, max. But it had taken him a month because she was so damned smart, so crafty that she had fooled him, eluding capture at every turn, always a step ahead of him.
