The Black Sheep and the English Rose

by Donna Kauffman

  His grin was like sunshine peeking out from behind a stormy cloud. His gaze hadn’t lessened one whit in intensity, so the gleam from the smile was like a laser beam of light, shining directly, and only, on her. “Why not you? No one has ever captivated me like you have. Two years, and I can’t put you out of my mind. We’re back here, together once more, and I’m not going to waste my only opportunity to find out what more there might be.”

  “You think I’m this larger-than-life mystery woman, but I assure you, I’m not so different as all that from other women.”

  “You’re nothing like other women.”

  With you, she wanted to shout, but didn’t. “You’ll scrape off the international woman of intrigue, and the woman of means, and discover I’m that girl who likes to dig in her garden and sip tea. I’m hopelessly boring, and there isn’t anything memorable—”

  In the next instant she was lifted bodily from her seat and pulled fully and tightly into his arms. He spun them both around so he could lower her onto the table. Champagne glasses slid dangerously close to the edge of the table as his body pressed down on top of hers. He pushed her hair from her face and framed her cheeks with his palms. “That’s what makes you memorable. You’re all of those things. Every complex layer. And I want to peel them all away, while savoring each part, until I get to know every inch of you. Inside and out. Don’t you get it? All of you fascinates me. Not what you do, or what you’re capable of—though I assure you, you have my full attention there, too. But who you are that allows you to do all of that. To dig in the garden one day and steal a priceless gemstone the next. To be so confident and in control, with what you do, and with me, matching me breath for breath, thrust for thrust when we go at each other, and yet still look at me like you are now, with such vulnerability and trepidation.”

  “Finn—”

  “Call it chemistry, call it whatever you want. But I’m in, Felicity. I’m all in. In a way I’ve never been in before. If that scares you, fine. It should. It terrifies the hell out of me. So did flying a helicopter solo the first time, but it made the rush that much sweeter. When something intrigues me, fascinates me, I know of only one way to handle it, and that’s to immerse myself in it, learn as much as I can about it. I don’t ask why, I just go. And do. And enjoy the hell out of every second.”

  “And when it wears off? When it grows old?”

  “Life offers no guarantees. You know that as well as I do. But I wanted to fly. So I do. And it’s a never-ending passion for me. I wanted to ride, so I do. I always will. When something fascinates me, grabs me, it’s not a matter of getting it out of my system. It’s more a matter of integrating it into my life so I can feel that passion every day. About as many times as I’m able to.”

  She stared up into his eyes, feeling the impact of every word, the absolute truth in them. Marveling at his certainty. Maybe, she realized, she wasn’t so different from him after all. She wouldn’t be here, on this mission, if she hadn’t been willing to tackle something that both intrigued her and scared her. She’d thought working for MI-8 would be the most thrilling and terrifying thing she could ever do.

  She’d been so wrong.

  Body shaking, lips trembling, she held that passionate gaze, held on to it tightly, and smiled. “Then show me,” she said, “show me what it’s like to take off and fly into the unknown.” She pulled his head down to hers. “Show me what it’s like to have all of you.”

  He took her mouth this time like a man starved. There was nothing tender about it, not that it mattered at this point. She couldn’t allow herself to assign motivation or meaning to every little action he took, or reaction he might have. She could only let herself feel…whatever he made her feel. Then deal with the fallout afterward.

  Even as he pulled back, lifted her off the table, and swept her into his arms, she knew this was as big a mistake as she was likely ever to make. And it no longer mattered. If he was going to be a mistake, best she get on with it and start to deal with the consequences, but telling herself she was strong enough to do anything else was simply putting off the inevitable.

  He was nibbling her neck, and she had her fingers in his abundantly thick mane of dark blond hair. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she said, allowing the joy of the moment to push past the fear and anxiety, and holding on to that joy with everything she was worth.

  “God, I hope not.”

  She laughed, feeling suddenly, gloriously free. She was thirty thousand feet in the air, as unfettered and unbound by the world and what awaited her in it as she was ever likely to be. She was in Finn’s arms and about to be naked under his equally glorious body. Honestly, what more could a woman want? And in that moment, she didn’t want for anything.

  She didn’t dare.

  “The bag of goodies, darling,” she reminded him.

  “Oh,” he said, his voice already huskier, his body already harder, “right.” He spun around, held her close with one arm, and scooped up the bag with the other. “If we’re lucky, we might even get to the contents before landing.”

  “We’ve at least another three hours or so.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows and nipped at the side of her neck. “I know.”

  She laughed, even as she shivered in anticipation of what was to come. Namely, her. Several times, if past history was to be repeated. She used her foot to nudge the accordion-fold doors open so he could swing her into the bedroom and onto the bed, wondering why in the hell she’d let herself get so caught up in his emotional whirlpool. They could have been doing this, having each other, all along.

  She started to unbutton her dress, but he pushed her hands away. “I’m going to undress you.”

  “Okay.”

  But rather than starting with the buttons, he nudged her back onto the bed and motioned for her to scoot back, so she was stretched fully on the mattress. She arched a questioning brow, to which he merely said, “Humor me.”

  He’d been the perfect playmate in the past, aggressive when warranted, and gentle when necessary. She trusted him. Here, anyway. Here is where she knew him best, after all.

  But there was something else in his eyes now, something beyond the teasing, playful bad boy she’d previously known. Something far more…evolved. No, her little voice said. No analyzing, remember?

  She still didn’t believe there could be more to this than…this, no matter how optimistic Finn was. After all, that was his nature. There was no obstacle he couldn’t supersede, no outcome he couldn’t impact in his favor, either with money, skill, or sheer force of will. Or a cunning combination of all three. She was more a pragmatist, a realist, who understood the odds weren’t always in her favor, no matter how much power she wielded. But if this was the only way they could each discover what needed discovering, then she was all in, too. At least that far.

  She let her heels slip to the floor and scooted back.

  He leaned over her, then covered her wrists with his hands before pushing them up along the bedspread, until they were over her head.

  “There had best not be any cuffs in that bag,” she warned, though teasingly. For some reason the idea of him restraining her held entirely different overtones—all erotic—than it had earlier when it simply meant failure of a mission.

  “No cuffs,” he murmured, his mouth next to her ear, then drew his hands down her arms, making her skin tingle at the warm contact.

  She had to work to keep still and not arch into his hands as he drew them along her sides. He didn’t cup her breasts. His knuckles barely brushed the swell as his hands continued to move down to frame her waist. Her nipples tightened almost painfully as the expected contact didn’t come. The lack of direct stimulation was almost more erotic than if he’d teased and tweaked them.

  He massaged his thumbs into the muscles of her stomach, digging his fingers in lightly along her side, before continuing his exploration. Her hips pumped slightly, of their own volition, as he traced his fingers over her pelvic bones. But just as she thought
he’d let his thumbs trail down her center, between her legs, he slid his hands to the outside of her thighs and continued to draw his hands lower, until finally, he reached the lengthy hem of her dress.

  By now, she was almost frantic for him to directly touch her skin. Any part of her skin. Feeling his hands mold every curve of her body, except those that craved his touch most, was far more stimulating than she’d ever imagined. One thing his slow, methodical journey had done was to dismantle her ability to think about anything other than where he was going to touch her next.

  And she was still fully dressed.

  It was hard not to be restless, to move her torso, shift her limbs, in an effort to ease the ache that had pervaded her every muscle and pore. The way he’d positioned her hands above her head meant that any move she made felt sinuous, writhing. It made her feel wanton, sexy, voluptuous even, though she was most definitely not.

  He teased his fingertips along the edge of her hem, so she could occasionally feel his hands brush against the bare skin of her legs. Thank God she’d chosen to skip putting on stockings. It was almost unbearable just having this much of a barrier between his touch and her bare skin.

  As he continued toying with her dress, it took an increasing amount of restraint not to either rip the dress off herself or beg him to do it for her. She fought a smile, wondering if that was his goal. It wouldn’t surprise her. Her eyes drifted shut. It was much easier to analyze and think about his motives when it was just about sex. Especially when she knew he had taken very good care of her needs in the past, so there was little doubt of a repeat performance, no matter what route he took.

  Her smile didn’t fully materialize, however, as without warning, her thoughts veered dangerously toward the area she desperately wanted to avoid. Wondering about things like what he’d be like as a lover over an extended period of time. And she didn’t mean a long weekend. Would he remain a considerate, seemingly inexhaustible partner, or would passion ebb, along with his interest in her? More disconcerting was why it mattered?

  It mattered, she realized, because if she allowed this to progress the way he wanted it to, lowering barriers, letting him get close, risking…things that weren’t really in her power to risk, only to have him bounce off in some other direction the moment he grew bored, it would devastate her.

  And she knew that, because he was already starting to matter to her.

  “Felicity,” he said, his voice smooth and soft, like a warming sip of cognac.

  “Mmm,” she replied, realizing he’d stopped toying with the hem of her dress.

  “Don’t think,” he said. “Just feel.”

  “I was,” she said, being honest. He was the one who wanted more, not her. She just wanted…this. For as long as she could get it. And, at the moment, he was willing to let her. “Am,” she corrected herself, then tilted her head back, pressing her eyes more tightly shut. She’d waited two years; she wasn’t going to screw this up. “Just…don’t stop.”

  He responded by slipping free the button closest to the hem of her dress. The garment buttoned—and unbuttoned—all the way up the front. She wasn’t sure she’d survive it.

  “No slip,” he mentioned as he slid another button free.

  “The dress…it’s lined,” she managed, a little short of breath just feeling the brush of his fingertips nearing the sensitive skin along the inside of her knees.

  “Lucky me.”

  Oh, she was pretty sure the lucky one at the moment was her, but she didn’t give voice to the thought. Besides, he’d already seen her in the lingerie she was wearing, with no dress. She’d felt the full weight of his body on top of her while wearing nothing more than the silk bra and panties she currently had on. Which did nothing to explain how incredibly erotic this slow striptease was.

  He continued unbuttoning her dress, carefully parting it as he went, but also careful not to do more than casually brush his fingers against her skin. She felt the cooler air of the cabin brush her skin as he bared it, which did little to soothe the heat that was pervading every inch of her body. When he got to the button ever so helpfully positioned at the top of her thighs, he paused. She wanted to squirm, or scream, already dying for him to do far, far more than lightly brush any part of her with any part of him.

  She curled her fingers into her palm, resisting the urge to reach down and push his hand where it would do a fair amount of good right at the moment.

  She felt his warm breath blow softly against the tender skin of her inner thighs. Then he slipped open that button—that button—brushing against her just enough to make her entire body twitch and a soft gasp escape her lips. He parted her dress, then dropped the softest of kisses to the inside of either thigh, before shifting up and moving on, opening another button, followed by a kiss below her navel, then another, and another, until she thought she’d surely lose her mind.

  “Finn,” she choked out, not certain if she could stand him opening the front of her dress and not touching her nipples, either. She needed something, anything, to ease the ache that was almost physical pain by now.

  “Mmm,” was his only response as he did, indeed, unbutton the last few buttons between her breasts, then draw the material slowly across the front of her silk bra, so gently abrading the tight tips of her nipples, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through her. She moaned now, and didn’t care what he made of it. She dug her nails into her palms, determined not to sink her fingers into his hair and drag his mouth back to her nipples. Even through the silk, the sensations of his lips tugging on them would be exquisite.

  Maybe she’d been right, and his goal was to make her lose control, lose whatever inhibitions she might have left with him, to demand that he give her what she wanted, so he, in return, could make demands of his own. Only she had no idea what those demands might entail now that he’d made his intentions clear, and she was in no position, or state of mind, to risk finding out.

  So she squirmed, and she twitched…and waited breathlessly to see what he’d do next.

  Chapter 11

  She was lovelier than he’d remembered, which was incredible considering he’d been fairly certain he’d romanticized and immortalized every moment they’d shared in the hundreds of dreams and waking fantasies he’d had since last being with her.

  The contrast of the midnight blue silk made her skin appear almost translucent, and he wanted to lick every creamy, smooth inch of it. She smelled like a combination of the lavender scent she wore…and the musky scent that was simply hers. Her soft moans, and the gasps every time he so much as breathed, told him she was in as heightened a state of awareness as he was. Which was exactly what he wanted.

  He wanted her to respond to him at the most basic level; then, from there, he could take her to places accessible only to those who felt more than physical pleasure. She’d come to understand what he knew was there, because she would no longer be able to deny it. He’d imagined it wild and tender, carnal and sweet. A rollercoaster of sensation, emotion, and primal responses, where barriers of any kind could no longer exist. And when he had her there, in that moment, as defenseless as he was, he’d ask her again. Push her again.

  But she wasn’t letting go. She was clinging, desperately if the fists above her head were any indication, to the patterns they’d established in the past. Wild and carnal they’d been, yes. Primal as well. But with no foundation to build on, except seeking even greater pleasure. Which they had, to sublime, almost ridiculous levels. That, in and of itself, should have told her something.

  It had him.

  This was likely not the time, or the place, to mount such a delicate and critical mission. He wouldn’t get another chance to get it right. But sometimes a person had to take the only moment available and find a way to make it work. They’d be on the ground all too soon, and the job would take center stage again. And they didn’t have a really good history of sticking by each other when things got down to the wire, with the spoils going only to one victor. In fact, they had zero
history of that.

  What he wanted her to see was that there were treasures far greater than priceless gemstones. And that sharing victories made them doubly sweet.

  He leaned down and gently bit the tip of her chin, thrust upward as it was, while she arched against the need for his touch. She moaned, and her legs moved restlessly against his, while he fought an equally challenging battle against going ahead with this and risking losing it all.

  “Felicity—” he began, only to be surprised when she lowered her chin and claimed his mouth. He hadn’t been expecting an offensive maneuver, and it caught him off guard just long enough for her to make serious inroads into destroying whatever common sense and rational thought he might still have. And he wasn’t too certain he’d ever had any of that around her. After all, he was campaigning for the affections and possible commitment of a woman he knew to be a thief.

  A damned good one, too, he thought as she gently bit into his bottom lip, making him groan, then stretch his body along hers, bracing her wrists to the bed with his hands as he plunged his tongue into her mouth and gave in to his raging need to consume her.

  She met his thrust with a sinuous kiss of her own, taunting and teasing him with her tongue, becoming the wanton, confident vixen he’d seduced in Bogota and bedded in Prague. Gone was the uncertain Felicity, her vulnerability vanished and almost hard to believe existed.

  She slid her ankles along the backs of his calves, urging him to snug his bulging erection tightly between her thighs. She gasped at the direct contact, the increased pressure, and he silently swore, wishing he’d removed his clothes before he’d started unbuttoning hers.

  He slid his hands down her arms and wove his fingers into her soft, fine curls, holding her where he wanted, so he could taste those lips, plunder that mouth, fully and completely. She responded in kind, sinking her slender fingers into his hair, lightly raking his scalp with her nails, making him shudder in pleasure as she drew them down to his neck and urged his tongue more deeply into her mouth.