by Tia Louise
“For the third time,” he says.
My eyes narrow. “Second,” I argue.
His hand on my ass under the water tightens. “You’re lucky we’re in water. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably tomorrow.”
A little thrill moves through my stomach at his words. “Is that so, Mr. Moscaretti?”
“Risk your life like that again, and I’ll tan your hide.”
Leaning into his lips, I kiss him slowly. “Watch what you promise.”
He only smiles briefly before catching my shoulders and moving me back. This time his expression is serious, possibly even angry, and the thrill in my stomach fades.
“I’m not joking, Jess. You took an unnecessary risk tonight. How would you feel if I pulled a stunt like that?”
Sliding to the side, I’m back in front of the jet. My eyes are fixed on the glowing, swirling water, and I know how I’d feel if I thought I might lose Mason.
“It wasn’t intentional. I ran out of time.”
“Make the time. If you’d alerted them of our presence, I would have covered you.”
“We couldn’t lose that chance. We’d worked so hard to get to tonight.”
“Nothing is worth more to me than you.” He’s with me again, large hands spanning my waist. “If we’d blown the job, I’d have gladly started over—as long as you’re safe.”
Lifting my eyes to his, I blink away the mist. I think about the danger I used to manage on a regular basis before I left the service, before we retired and started our own firm.
His smile is warm, and he lifts his thumb to touch my chin. “What are you thinking about?”
I slide on his lap again, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my breasts against his firm chest. “Colombia… Araña.”
He reaches up and moves a lock of damp hair off my cheek. “The first time I saved your life?”
Shaking my head, I look down and grin. “The first time we met. I’d been tracking those weapons from the day they left Moscow. I was so close to taking them all into custody until you showed up. Then it turned into a kill order.”
“I’d been tracking those guns since they left Russia. I’d also been tracking the communiqués that had been tracking you. They knew you were a mole. It was only a matter of time.”
A chill moves through my torso. I’d been inside Araña’s compound, posing as his girlfriend for six months. Every night, I would leave my bed and download files from his laptop onto a thumb drive I would later deposit in an unmarked post office box in the city.
“I would’ve gotten out.”
“Maybe.”
Mace turns me so my legs are over his arms, and he stands, carrying me out of the hot tub Cinderella-style. I lean my head against his shoulder, still holding his neck. Cold air swirls around us, and I press my lips to his heated skin.
“All I know is, when I followed the trail to the mole and found you, I couldn’t believe my luck.”
I’ve heard this story before, and it still makes me smile. I wait as he opens the door and steps into the heated foyer of our Mendocino home. We’re high on a cliff just outside one of the most beautiful, most remote beachside hamlets on the northern California coast.
“You raided the compound, risked your life… and apparently mine.” A tease is in my voice, and I hold him as he continues to the recessed shower stall, where he lowers me to standing while he turns on the water.
I step back out of the water, watching the lines of his back in the yellow light. It takes a moment to get the water warm, and he turns to face me. His dark hair hangs in damp curls around his temples and at the base of his neck. Blue eyes gaze warmth at me from beneath his dark brow.
“I had everything under control… until I saw you.” He holds out his hand, and I place my noticeably smaller one in it. “I had to have you. The only variable was convincing you.”
He pulls me close. My arms are around his narrow waist, and standing in my bare feet, my cheek rests in the center of his torso. As the space around us fills with steam, my mind slips back to that blazing hot, humid afternoon when Mason’s team raided the compound and nuked my assignment.
I’d been with Araña in his office when gunshots broke out like fireworks all around us outside. The guerrilla leader grabbed my arm and dragged me into a small anteroom hidden deep in the bowels of the enormous mansion.
In retrospect, I know Mace had secured the floor plan of the house and knew about our hiding place. We were soon discovered, and I was revealed to be an assassin.
I’ll never forget the hatred in Araña’s black eyes. After six months of pretending to be in love with him—but refusing to sleep with him like a good catholic girl—he had finally trusted me enough to propose (or so I’d thought), and though I’d seen him torture, dismember, and incinerate traitors, I’d said yes. It was my last step before complete immersion in his world.
That raid changed everything.
My commanding officer had ordered me to kill Araña for my own safety, but Mace had competing orders. Araña was taken into custody and sentenced to a lifetime in prison for aiding and providing weapons to known terrorist groups.
Once the dust had settled and I’d been processed through the system, Mace’s team returned to D.C. I was left to make my way home where I would explain my failure to my superiors and accept my reassignment.
Sitting alone under the palms and ferns, beside the fountain at the outdoor bar of my hotel, I’d come face to face with the man who had essentially ended my black ops career… He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
He pulls me to the present with the brush of velvet lips followed by the scruff of his beard against the side of my face. “Where are you, beautiful?”
Lifting my chin, I place my palm against the side of his square jaw. Our eyes hold each others’ several moments, and all the heat between us smolders to life.
“You made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” I say softly.
“It was the least I could do, considering.”
“Considering you’d destroyed six months of dangerous, concentrated effort?”
“Considering you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and I had no desire to be without you another minute, much less a day.”
My fingers curl against his cheek, and I rise on my toes. Lifting my chin, our lips meet, and his force mine apart for the slow, lingering sweep of his tongue. Heat floods my lower pelvis, and a little whimper comes from my throat.
I’m off my feet, legs around his waist, and ready for Round 2, knowing I’ll never regret my decision to leave the service to work with this man.
4
Mason
Jessa’s face is pressed against my skin. I hold her arm in one hand and with my other, I smooth her long, silky hair away from her cheek. The morning sun filters through the blinds, and a quick look at the clock tells me it’s almost noon. We’ve slept nearly eight hours, but my body remains sore from last night’s exertions. Most notably, my shoulders and hips feel nearly dislocated from my flying leap to catch Jessa, who is currently snoring softly against my skin.
The cute little noise makes me smile. This woman is my perfect fit—she has been since that blazing, dusty afternoon I first saw her sexy as hell in the ruins of a compound deep in the jungle of Cartagena. Her dark hair draped her shoulders like a cape, and she wore a filmy white dress that whispered over her curves. My insides moved to her as if by instinct—I had to possess her.
Then I saw that motherfucker Araña looking at her, and if I hadn’t been committed to capturing him and bringing him to justice, I would’ve killed him on the spot.
Now, we’re six years into our own professional and personal alliance and the only thing that would make me happier is planting my baby in her womb. Her breathing has changed, and she stirs, turning her lips to my skin and kissing me good morning.
“How would you feel about that?” I finish my thought out loud, still threading my fingers in her hair.
“About what?” Sleep is in her voice, but she’s smiling.
We’ve been together long enough that I know she feels like me—recovering, but happy with a job completed. I lift her gently, sliding her body higher so she’s cradled in my arms, her full lips a whisper from mine. Her eyes blink slowly, warmth floods my insides, and I kiss her softly.
“How would you feel about starting a family now?”
Her slim brows wrinkle ever so slightly, and her eyes blink wider. Gorgeous emerald greets me, and I can see her thinking. Her smile fades a notch, and my insides tense.
“I’ve actually thought about it,” she says, turning from my arms and sitting up in the bed. “It was the last thought I had when I slipped off the metal rod.”
The image of her hurtling toward that fucking concrete floor appears in my mind, and ice shoots through my stomach. My desire feels more urgent in view of what could have happened—what could happen on any of our jobs.
“What did you think?”
The sheet is wrapped around her body, and she reaches for the bottle of water on her bedside table.
“I’ve been so careful since the beginning not to get pregnant,” she says, unscrewing the cap. I wait as she takes a sip. “Then in that moment, when I thought it was all over… I thought I’d never see our baby… your baby.”
Her voice hiccups, and tears flood her eyes.
Just as fast, I take the bottle from her hands, put it on the side table, and pull her to me. “My baby?”
Jessa is soft in my arms, despite her muscular physique. Her breasts flatten against my chest and her forehead is against my jaw. I span the nape of her neck with my fingers, and with my other hand, I cup her ass. I’m not sure what she’s saying. Is she pregnant, and she hadn’t told me?
“When I went for my physical last month, I spoke to the doctor about going off my birth control.”
My stomach tightens, and my hands do as well. Carefully, I lift her so our eyes can meet. “Look at me.” The low rumble in my voice makes me sound angry. The truth is, anticipation has me on edge. “Are you pregnant?”
Liquid green holds me. “No.” She shakes her head, dropping her chin. “Not yet, anyway. But I haven’t used anything in three weeks.”
“So you could be?”
“It would be very early if I were…”
Catching her cheeks, I hold her face, forcing her to look at me. Satisfaction like effervescent bubbles surges in my chest, and I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face. The heaviness leaves her, and she blinks rapidly as she starts to laugh.
“You’re not angry with me?”
“Angry?” Covering her mouth with mine, I push her lips apart. Our tongues collide, and I kiss her roughly, nipping her lips and pulling them with mine.
She shifts her position, moving onto my lap in a straddle and holding my shoulders. My morning semi surges to a full erection as heat floods my pelvis. I reach down to lift her. Our mouths are fused, and her slim hand is between us, grasping my rigid cock and positioning my tip at her entrance.
With a loud groan, I sink deep into her slippery heat. Her fingers grip my shoulders, and she rides me fast, her breasts bouncing between us.
She grinds against my pelvis, scrubbing her clit on my shaft. Her head falls back as she moans my name. It’s morning, which means I’m so fucking close to coming, I clench my jaw to keep from losing it. Still, her inner muscles clench and pull, milking me. Her dark hair shimmies down her back, and my fingers thread in the thickness. It’s all I can do.
“Fuck, Jess,” I groan as my cock throbs, filling her hot and hard. “Oh, yeah,” I shout, thrusting upward, the pleasure blanking my mind.
She sighs as her orgasm breaks, and only two things exist in this moment—Jessa and me… and possibly the little life inside her.
I groan as her inner muscles coax one more pulse from my aching cock. I’m so fucking in love with this woman. She’s my perfect mate, my ideal partner, and now she could be the mother of my child, our legacy growing quietly inside her beautiful body.
She leans forward against my mouth, touching my lips with her tongue. I blink hazy eyes and see a sexy grin curling her lips.
“Good morning?” she whispers in that kitten voice.
“If you weren’t already pregnant, you are now,” I say, sliding my hands up her sides, and circling her taut nipples with my thumbs.
She exhales a satisfied hum, and I slide her off my lap, turning her so as we move down into the bed her back is against my chest. My hand covers her flat stomach.
“I can’t think of anything sexier than you carrying my baby.”
Her hand covers mine, and she threads our fingers. “Do you want a boy or a girl?”
Of course, it doesn’t matter as long as the baby is healthy. Still…
“A son to start would be good,” I say.
That makes her laugh. “To start?”
“I was just thinking if we’re having four in four—”
“Four in four!” she shrieks, trying to struggle out of my arms.
Now I’m laughing, tightening my grip over her arms. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“If you think I’m going to be pregnant four years in a row…”
I laugh more, kissing her neck, moving into her hair. “I would love to keep you barefoot and pregnant. I can just see you with a baby on your hip and three more running around the house.”
I actually can see it—me coming home from work to a massive loving family, Jessa round and glowing.
“How about we start with the one, and then we can build from there,” she says no longer struggling.
We’re quiet, and I trace my fingers along her back. When she speaks again, her voice is warm. “So you want a little boy?”
“I want whatever we have. I was only thinking a big brother would be a fun place to start.”
“You could teach him to play football.” Her head tilts back, and she kisses my jaw. “When he’s older, you can teach him to shoot. Teach him how to treat a lady…”
“Then our daughter will be my little princess.” The idea of a dark, curly head with little rosebud lips squeezes my chest. “Her feet will never touch the ground.”
“And when she’s older, I’ll teach her to shoot, how to take down pushy boyfriends…”
“Just leave those pushy boyfriends to little Mace and me.”
“Little Mace.”
My palm returns to her stomach, and I spread my fingers. In this moment, I can see it all. It’s perfect, and I wonder how long we’ll have to wait… Will it happen this year? Next?
She’s quiet, and I can tell her mind is somewhere else. I lean down and kiss the top of her shoulder before I ask. “What is it, beautiful?”
She hesitates, and I feel her muscles tense. My girl keeping secrets from me is something new.
“Jessa?” I repeat.
“I have to retire.”
It’s not a question. It’s not an apology. It’s a quiet statement of fact. Even with my eagerness to start our family, the thought of me alone on a job throws a bit of cold water on my enthusiasm. When I retired from the CIA, after the job in Colombia, I’d convinced Jessa to come with me and start Moscaretti and Steele. It won’t be the same without the Steele.
At the same time, I know she’s right… at least temporarily.
“Perhaps we can put the firm on hiatus for a year,” I say, imagining the two of us together, Bora Bora, a dark-haired toddler running naked in the surf. It’s a fucking amazing image and one we’ve both earned.
“Mason.” Her voice is a gentle argument.
My arms tighten around her. “Jessa.” I echo her tone in a teasing manner.
She wiggles in my arms, and I release her, allowing her to shift away and turn to face me. “It’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s the part of this I struggled with the most.”
Her head is propped on her hand, elbow bent, and a thick coil of dark curl falls across her cheek. I trace
it back with my finger.
“Afraid you’ll miss the adrenaline rush? I think we’ve both earned a year’s vacation. Longer for you, of course. You can take as much time as you need.”
A sad smile pulls at her lips. “I’m retiring for good.”
Now I push into a sitting position. “We can make it work, Jess.”
She follows me up, and I see the resignation on her face. “I can’t risk my life every day with a baby at home. I can’t even do it with a toddler or a little kid or a tween or a teen…” I start to object, but she places her fingers lightly on my mouth. “One of us has to be here for them. It makes the most sense for it to be me.”
Her voice is soft, not angry, and our eyes hold a moment. I don’t have a response prepared—I don’t know the right answer. I only know I’m not ready to give up on this.
It doesn’t matter. She leans forward to give me a quick kiss before bouncing out of bed and walking naked across our large bedroom. The morning sun burns bright against the pale ceramic-tiled floor. I watch as she wraps a silk robe over her shoulders and around her body before pushing the heavy, velvet curtains completely open. The French doors are next, and the sea breeze drifts in on the sound of the surf below.
“I’ll check in with Ella and let her know we finished the job last night.” She continues to the weathered wooden door of our bedroom, not even pausing as she passes through it, calling, “You want coffee?”
“I’ll be right there.” I say, watching the sheer fabric billow in the warm, salty breeze.
Jessa. My beautiful wife, my sexy lover, my perfect partner. I’m not giving up on keeping you by my side that easily.
5
Jessa
Ella pops up on the 27-inch screen of my iMac. Dark glasses are perched on her freckled nose, and her straight brown hair is twisted into a bun on the top of her head with a pencil stuck in it.
“Morning, boss,” she says, settling into her chair and holding a large mug of coffee to her lips.
“Morning, Ellastein,” I tease.
