Firestorm

by Rachel Grant

  “You want me to grope you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Even after what Harrison Evers did?”

  She nodded. “You aren’t Harry. You aren’t even Mani. I chose you for this mission because I trust you. I’m okay with you touching me because I know you won’t hurt me. Not really. I know you won’t take advantage of the situation.”

  “I will never willingly hurt you. But I’m not so sure about the last part. I’m a man, Sav—Jamie. You’re a beautiful woman. Touching you will turn me on. Turn us both on. What happens then?”

  “You’ll use it to inform your character. You’ll kiss me and grope me and rub against me. These men will expect that. I fully expect there will be a sex show as part of the entertainment. This is how Gorev gathers his kompromat, after all. The more they see us getting it on, the more distracted they’ll be. They’ll never guess why we’re really there.” She lifted his hand from his lap and placed it over her breast. “You need to get used to touching me. Casually. Unconsciously. Like it’s a reflex.”

  He cupped her, gently squeezing, then rubbed his thumb over her erect nipple. She lifted his free hand and brought it to her other breast. He gave it similar attention. God, she had perfect breasts, and he longed to lick and suck on them.

  “If—if this goes further than we intend,” she said, “I want you to know I’m two years into the five-year shot. I won’t get pregnant. I don’t even have a period anymore. I get tested for everything on a regular basis—even when I’m not having sex, which hasn’t happened since I arrived at Camp Citron. I’m clean. Are you?”

  He nodded.

  It was strange to be having this conversation as he groped her, when he’d never even kissed her. And now his gaze fixed on her lips, and he had a pressing urge to do just that.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “I won’t get caught up in fantasies that it means something. I know this isn’t real. I know how you feel about me. What happens on the op…it’s covert work. Mani and Jamie, getting it on.”

  And like that, the urge to kiss her evaporated. The words he’d flung at her in the gym came back to him and deflated his erection and inflated his shame. He’d been such an ass to say that to her, but it wasn’t the kind of thing he could simply take back, not without forcing a conversation he didn’t want. Not now.

  He dropped his hold on her breasts and scooted back on the bed, giving her a sharp nod. A glance at the clock showed it was ten thirty. “Let’s hit the car dealerships and get a truck. With luck, we’ll be on the road in a few hours.”

  The wildlife park was stunningly beautiful, and Savvy found herself gawking at giraffes, elephants, and other megafauna like any tourist. They drove through this area instead of flying to Dar because they had time, but also so Savvy could describe it should her travels with the octogenarian be questioned.

  They’d gone shopping in Nairobi before hitting the road and had gotten several burner cell phones. While Cal drove, she activated one and, on a whim, downloaded several songs to entertain them on the drive.

  With timing she couldn’t have planned, the song “Africa” by Toto came on as they neared the park and a herd of elephants loitered in the savannah below. Mt. Kilimanjaro could be seen in the distance, a stunning backdrop to the herd.

  Cal laughed and turned up the volume on the music. He reached across the console and took her hand, giving her a slight squeeze.

  She laughed with him, holding his hand, her gaze focused out the window at the majestic mountain and a baby elephant that rolled in the dirt. The moment was surreal. And strangely perfect. They weren’t here for fun and safari. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy this small moment of bliss.

  “I don’t know if I even realized I like this song before now,” she said. Sure, she’d downloaded it, but she’d also gotten The Lion King soundtrack, a few songs from the Graceland album by Paul Simon, and some Congolese Rumba tracks by an artist she’d never heard of.

  “I love this song,” Cal said.

  “It’s not hokey? To your mom?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I never asked. It’s a good beat. Satisfying, if that makes sense.”

  Sitting in the car, listening to the explosive chorus while just out the window she gazed upon one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen, the word satisfying made perfect sense.

  They found a motel in a tourist area between Amboseli National Park and the border with Tanzania. They had a view of Kilimanjaro to the south, as awe-inspiring as the wildlife.

  The motel was run-down and inexpensive, but it had a family-owned-business charm that was irresistible. The man at the reception desk was from Kinshasa, and he and Cal chattered away in Lingala, ensuring the man would remember them. It was doubtful anyone would track their itinerary, but it never hurt to be methodical. For this reason, they booked a room with only one bed. It was time to start living their cover.

  The day had been strangely fun, a break from the stress of the job. It almost felt…real. Not like they were playing roles. They’d gone to a mall in Nairobi to get the phones and clothes and other odds and ends before buying the used SUV.

  The mall had been the site of a devastating terrorist attack in 2013. Al-Shabaab had claimed credit for the attack. Savvy viewed the place where at least sixty-seven people had died—more than any mass shooting in the US to date—and another hundred and seventy-five had been wounded, with the same solemnity of looking at the memorial wall at CIA headquarters. It was attacks like the one in the mall that drove her. Her work could help end al-Shabaab.

  Lubanga likely had ties to al-Shabaab. Taking him out would be a gift to the world. In the days after Drugov was killed, she’d found definitive connections between Drugov and Boko Haram. Her work got results. She planned to remind Cal of that when she explained the real mission to him.

  Cal had been entertaining on the drive, sharing anecdotes about his A-Team’s missions. He’d asked her questions about her life stateside, nearly none of which she could answer. He wasn’t technically even supposed to know her real name.

  But they were on a mission together, and he already knew she was SAD. She could probably relax the rules but figured it would be easier in the long run if she didn’t. She needed to keep emotional distance between them, given that physical distance was impossible.

  They’d eaten a light meal on the drive, and it was late by the time they carried their luggage to their no-frills motel room. Savvy let Cal have the first shower, and she used the privacy to check her email. No word from Seth. When she’d left, he said he didn’t know if charges would be pursued against Harry or not. She wasn’t there to make statements, and it would be easier all around if he returned to the US and Langley dealt with him. Which meant nothing would happen until she returned stateside and pursued charges.

  The system sucked. She’d have to give up the best assignment she’d ever had if she wanted justice and to protect other women entering the CIA’s ranks. Harry would get away with it—again—but at least this time, he hadn’t really hurt her, and Cal might well have loosened a few of Harry’s teeth.

  Small victories.

  She could also take comfort in the fact that moving forward Harry’s record would carry this assault. Her earlier rape allegation was now on record as well. Seth had backed her up with O’Leary.

  Cal finished in the shower, and she took her turn. She’d tell him the truth tonight. Before they were in too deep. He’d have a chance to back out, and she would have time to scramble and come up with a new plan if he did.

  She stepped out of the shower wearing the T-shirt and yoga pants she planned to sleep in, braced and ready to come clean. On the bed, Cal was stretched out naked but for a pair of boxer briefs, staring at his phone.

  God, the man was beautiful, from his thick biceps to sculpted abs to tapered waist and muscular thighs. He looked like a Calvin Klein ad, and she wanted to get between him and his Calvins.

  He smiled when he caught her blatant stare. “See anythin
g you like?”

  She pressed her lips together in an assessing smile and scanned his body as if weighing his imperfections. Except she couldn’t find any. “If you were a picture and not a living, breathing man in my bed, I’d suspect you were edited.”

  His smile turned to a full grin. “Come closer and see for yourself.”

  She took a step closer as he set his phone on the nightstand. “What’s your plan here, Mani?”

  “Well, Jamie, I was thinking we need to get familiar with each other’s touch. If every time I lay my hand on you, we both light up like fireworks, people will guess something is up—and I’m not just meaning my dick.”

  “Do I light up like a firework when you touch me?”

  “Yes. I can feel it, and anyone paying close attention will see.”

  “So what do we do about it? Aside from having sex to get each other out of our systems.”

  “I don’t think sex is the cure. In fact, I’m pretty sure it would only make it worse. I was thinking a better inoculation is massage.” He stood from the bed. “Take off your shirt and lie down. I’ll work on your back and shoulders. Get you used to the feel of my hands.”

  She smiled, liking the idea. “You know this sounds like a come-on.”

  He placed a hand behind her head and pulled her closer, tilting her head back with his large palm. “When I come on to you, Jamie, you won’t have any doubt.” He stared at her lips as if he wanted nothing more than to taste her.

  She licked her lips, an unplanned, involuntary action.

  He released her and stepped back, looking pointedly at the bed. “Strip.”

  She pulled her T-shirt over her head, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze. This too was something they had to get used to. There was no doubt they’d see each other’s bodies a lot in the coming days. The gathering would be an orgy of sorts. They needed to be prepared for anything.

  He blatantly stared at her display. Her nipples tightened as she thought about this morning, when he’d cupped her breasts in the Nairobi hotel room.

  “You sure you don’t want to just have sex?” she asked. Her eyes fluttered closed as she imagined him sliding deep inside her.

  “Get belly down on the mattress.” His voice was deep and held a note of hunger.

  She did as he commanded, tucking a pillow beneath her chest and shoulders and resting her forehead on another, creating a makeshift air well. He straddled her ass but didn’t rest his weight there. A cool liquid hit her back, and she jolted. “You’ve got massage oil?”

  He leaned down, bringing his low, deep voice next to her ear. “I picked it up at the Beauty World spa when you were trying on lingerie. It was the spa that gave me this idea.”

  His warm hands spread the oil up her back and over her shoulders. She let out a soft groan at his firm touch as his thumbs found the knots in her shoulders. “God, that feels good.”

  “Shhh,” he said softly. “Just relax and get used to my touch.”

  How could she ever get used to this? His hands were the best thing she’d ever felt. But she had to admit, there was nothing sensual about the massage except for the fact that she felt his knees at her hips as he straddled her.

  She tried to imagine he was a faceless massage therapist. She’d had plenty of massages over the years, given by men and women, and their touch didn’t affect her in this way. But then, she wasn’t on a massage table; they were on a bed. One they would share tonight. His cock was just inches from her ass. But most important, this was Cal, who would never be faceless to her.

  He worked her shoulders, and she purred with the pleasure of it. She wanted more, though, and couldn’t help herself. She raised her hips from the bed, bringing her ass in contact with his penis, delighted to discover he was as hard as she’d hoped he’d be.

  He pushed her hips down as he rose higher on his knees. “Bad Sav.”

  They’d agreed he could call her Sav just as she could call him Kal. Otherwise, it always had to be Mani and Jamie.

  Freya was out. Much as she’d liked hearing that name from his lips, it would be a bad habit to start. She was Jamie Savage now.

  “I think you like it when I’m bad.”

  He laughed. “I do. But this isn’t supposed to be sexual.”

  “You’re sporting impressive wood for something that’s not sexual.”

  “I’m not made of stone. Of course I’m aroused. Jesus, my cock is inches from your round ass, and you’re groaning like you’re about to come. But the massage itself isn’t supposed to lead to sex. The massage isn’t sexual.”

  She rolled to her back. He lifted his hands from her and sat up straight but remained straddling her. “Touch my breasts, Kal.”

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  “I’m changing what this is about. Touch me.”

  He held her gaze, all humor gone from his eyes, as he did what she asked. Or rather, commanded. This was a touch they needed to get used to too. He would almost certainly have to grope her in front of the others. A way of staking his claim.

  Her nipples hardened, and he played with them like they were a fascinating toy. So, Cassius Callahan was a breast man. She’d suspected, but now she was certain. “Lick them,” she said softly. That too was an order, but really more of a plea.

  He leaned down, bringing his erection into full contact with her pelvis, and ran his tongue over the tip of one nipple. Then he sucked it into his mouth, and she nearly came off the bed with the joyful ache it triggered.

  He moved to her other breast as she ground her hips up, bringing his erection to her clit.

  Lord, how she wanted this. Him. She had for months.

  He sucked on her breasts, then blew across the tips, watching the nipples tighten. She cupped his face and pulled his mouth upward. They’d yet to kiss, and she was desperate for their mouths to meet at last.

  He froze all at once, his body hard and stiff against her. “That’s not what this is about, Sav.” He sat up and scooted back, his body leaving hers. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

  Her body went from hot to cold in a flash. It was a burning sort of cold, like walking in snow barefoot. Her gaze fixed on his erection as she tried to find her composure. Her pride. “I think you’re lying about that.” The words came out husky, which was better than hurt or angry, she supposed, even though both feelings surged.

  “I mean not like this. Not as an exercise in espionage. Not because of proximity. Sure, my body wants to fuck you. My dick is pretty pissed right now that I’m talking and not taking what you’re offering. But when this is all over, I don’t want us going back to Camp Citron confused about where we stand because we gave in and fucked in the heat of the moment. This mission is business. We need to keep it that way.”

  His words were logical and made sense, but she couldn’t shake off the rejection in them. The excuse of it all.

  “That’s why I wanted us to try massage. A way to get used to each other’s touch. To condition ourselves to get accustomed and not to react sexually. My proposal really wasn’t a come-on.”

  “No, it was a test. You were testing yourself. Your willpower.” Anger was building now. It was fine for him to have these boundaries and rules, especially when he got to break them at will—he could touch her and suck on her tits and put on the brakes when it got too intimate for his liking. But there was no room for him to adapt when she wanted more.

  Was she getting mad because he wouldn’t put out? What was happening to her?

  “No! I didn’t plan that part. I honestly thought massage would…help.” He cleared his throat. “I need you to massage me now. I need to get used to the feel of your hands on my skin.”

  She glared at him. “Below or above the belt?”

  “I’m serious, Savvy.”

  “Jamie,” she corrected.

  “Jamie,” he repeated. “I’m serious. You touch me, and I want to pin you down and fuck you till we’re both blind. I want you so bad, my jaw aches with the pain of holdin
g back, and I’m pretty sure there’s ringing in my ears. But there’s no room for that sort of reaction when we’re at the meeting. Not when I need to look at you as a disposable toy, and you’re supposed to be on the hunt for a richer sugar daddy than Mani Kalenga. We can’t appear that into each other. So I need to learn how to take your touch without fucking you. Without it going where we were just headed.”

  His words were fair. And reasonable. And still, part of her ached. Probably the vaginal part, because damn, she wanted sex right now. Come to think of it, her ears were ringing too.

  He took her spot on the bed, similarly using the pillow to support his shoulders so he could breathe facedown. She grabbed the body oil from the nightstand and squirted a large amount on his back.

  His smooth ebony skin stretched over a muscular back. His body was a work of art. She paused before straddling his butt, just taking in the beauty of him. If this were a sexual massage, she’d explore that skin with her tongue.

  She placed her hands in the puddle of oil and spread outward. Her thighs relaxed, and she settled in for a long, professional massage. Well, except for the fact that she was topless and straddling him. That part wasn’t very professional at all.

  Cal let out a soft sigh as she set to work, zeroing in on knots and gently massaging them away. She fell into a rhythm, enjoying being able to stroke his body, touch that beautiful skin, and, strangely enough, the sexual tension faded even as the intimacy increased.

  He’d been right. Damn him. They did need to condition themselves to make touching less sensual. Less electric.

  It was clear she’d achieved his goal when his muscles relaxed in sleep.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. So now her touch had a soporific effect. Not exactly what she’d been aiming for, and definitely not a great ego boost, but it would serve their needs.

  She climbed from the bed and turned out the bedside light. She returned to the shower to rinse the oil from her back, then crawled into the bed beside him. She was dressed again in T-shirt and sweats and he was sound asleep above the covers in his boxer briefs.