Sex, Lies & Lace (Sex and Lies Book 4)

by Kris Calvert

  “It’s hers, too. She doesn’t live there, but it’s hers all the same. Georgia is my family. All we have is each other.” I turned onto the main drag and checked the time once again. “Have you got it all together over there?”

  Reagan pulled her new sweater around her body, crossing her arms. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  We rode in silence and the closer we got to the hotel, the more I could tell Reagan wanted to say something. So I asked. “Everything okay?”

  “King,” she began. “About last night…”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t really know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing to say. Why? Are you embarrassed?”

  “A little.” Dropping her head, I got the impression Reagan was suddenly ashamed of what transpired between us. The morning after always brought a myriad of questions, the biggest of which was, did I do the right thing? I wanted to stop that thought in its tracks. Shame had no place in my bedroom.

  “Don’t be.”

  “I just feel like a stupid person, you know? What you did for me? It was like remedial sex education.”

  I stopped at a red light and looked to her, taking her hand. “Don’t ever put yourself down like that again, Reagan. It takes time to get to know one another—and there’s nothing wrong with taking the time to make that happen the right way.”

  “I know but—”

  “No buts. Everything about last night was perfect. Everything.”

  I continued to glance at her as I drove down the road and watched a sly smile creep across her face. I could only imagine she was reliving the moment we shared, and it was all I needed to see.

  “Perfect.” She repeated the word as if she was memorizing it. “You do have a perfect body, King.”

  “So do you.”

  She giggled. “But you didn’t even see mine.”

  “Bodies are like souls. You don’t need to see them—you only need to feel them. I could feel you last night Reagan. And you’re perfect.”

  I turned into the parking lot of the hotel and turned off the engine.

  “Look, I’m not going to let you walk me inside. I can get to my room by myself. I don’t want to make you any later than I already have.”

  “Sorry, love. That’s not going to happen.” I opened my door and hustled to her side of the car. “Now make time,” I said opening her door, glancing at my watch.

  I took her hand in mine as the lobby doors opened with a whoosh and we ran to the elevator, doing our best not to be spotted by the hotel staff.

  Once on board, Reagan began to laugh and I put my arms around her, leaning down to kiss her giggling mouth.

  The elevator rang out to the sixth floor and I pulled away from her, grabbing her hand and leading her down the hallway to her room.

  Fumbling through her purse, she found the key and opened the door without delay.

  “May I call you while I’m away so we can make plans to see each other again?”

  She hung on the side of the door and smiled at me. “King, I’m leaving to go back to New York today.”

  I leaned in and kissed her lips hard. “I know my way to the Big Apple.”

  She nodded at me as I pulled away. “Yes, King. I’d love to see you again.”

  I was six minutes late onto the tarmac but the flight plan was complete and we were on still schedule. Boarding, the captain, and two other co-pilots gave their early morning hellos.

  I climbed to the back of the plane, setting my bags in the seat across from me. Once we were in the air for the fifteen-hour flight I would need to go over my plans again and get some sleep.

  I took a deep breath and counted the number of missions I’d had over the years. The number was ten. Ten successful missions in the last eleven years. Of course they’d become more dangerous and complicated the longer I carried them out, but I felt I had no choice. I was in deep—very deep. And the only way out now was from the other side.

  15

  REAGAN

  It was only five thirty in the morning when I climbed out of the dingy hotel shower. Moving at a glacial pace, I couldn’t seem to wake up as I found my way around the room picking up my clothes and personal belongings. I’d strewn my life across the bed and room trying to get ready for my date with King last night.

  I dressed in a navy suit, dried my hair and left it down as I put on make-up and lipstick. Being with King made me feel more like a woman than I ever had before, and I wanted my outward appearance to show my inward feeling.

  My bags sat at the door, I was ready to call a cab and make my way to the airport. Digging it out of my purse, I knew it would be nearly dead and I searched my backpack for the external backup battery to charge it on the road.

  Finally locating it at the bottom of my bag, I held my thumb to the home key to wake it up and unlock it.

  On the top of the extensive list of things my phone detailed that I’d missed was a text from King.

  KING: I’m looking forward to spending more private time with you. In the meantime, is it okay if I text you while I’m away?

  I sat on the edge of the bed and wondered if I should be witty or honest in my text back to him.

  REAGAN: The evening was lovely and perfect. And yes, please do.

  The thinking bubbles came up on the screen of my phone and my heart began to beat faster. He was texting me back.

  KING: You are lovely and perfect and our evening together was both. I’m going to give you some homework while we’re apart. Things to think about and do until we are together again.

  REAGAN: Homework? That sounds…interesting.

  KING: Think of it as enlightening—for both of us.

  REAGAN: Sounds a little, dare I say, wild?

  KING: Hearts are wild creatures. That’s why our ribs are cages.

  REAGAN: You really are something. You know that?

  KING: I’ll expect each task to be completed before I return in a few days and I’ll check in with you to make sure you’re keeping up.

  REAGAN: I don’t understand.

  KING: You wanted more. This is more.

  I had asked for more. So I texted back the only thing I could.

  REAGAN: Okay.

  KING: I’ll see you in New York in a few days.

  I laid back on the bed, my phone over my face in the air and wondered what I’d gotten myself into. Was King Giles going to be my sex teacher?

  Sitting up, I threw my backpack over my shoulder and picked up my suitcase where I’d packed my new dress, heels and the sweater from King. I needed to check out and catch a cab to the airport. Off to New York, I was homeward bound—with homework.

  I opened the door to my little apartment and dropped my suitcase at the door. It was nearly two in the afternoon and I needed to change, hit the gym and check in with Win. I wanted to find out what other hangouts in the city were patronized by the Russians. With my language skills so finely honed I could potentially pick up on anything that could be going down.

  I opened my big suitcase I’d yet to unpack since my hasty departure two days ago and began putting away clothes in the empty drawers when a knock came at my door. Without thinking, I instinctively cocked my gun, sliding it in the back waistband of my pants. The security system should’ve alerted me to someone coming to my door, unless they were a resident of the building or slipped in with someone else.

  “Yes?” I called out without opening the door seeing the eyehole after the fact.

  “I have a delivery for Reagan Weatherford.”

  I slid back the cover over the peephole and saw the young man standing in the hallway.

  Cracking the door, I assessed him from head to toe before opening all the way.

  “Are you Reagan Weatherford?” he asked, his bicycle helmet still square on his head.

  “Yes.”

  “Sign here please,” he said as he pulled the brown paper package from the corner of the doorway.

  Before I could say thank you, he was gone and I look
ed at the box wondering if it was from Agent Daniels at HQ.

  Setting it on the small table in front of the couch, I pulled the Glock from my waistband and uncocked it, placing them side-by-side. I thought perhaps it was something from Win as I untied the string.

  After tossing the brown paper in the floor, the white nondescript box gave me no clue as to where it came from and the feeling in my gut told me something was up. I felt the box to guesstimate the weight of it. I shook it to get an idea of how tightly it was packed, but finally just sat it on the table and slowly lifted the top.

  White tissue paper floated from the inside and reminded me of my night with King. Peeling back the paper inside there was another gift wrapped with red satin ribbon just like my sweater. In the bottom of the box was a white note card with an embossed crown and a heart drawn with a black fountain pen and one word: Homework.

  I opened the box, worried what I might find inside. At first it was merely more tissue paper, but then I dug deeper and discovered a bra and panty set. Holding them in my hand I knew right away there was something different about them and the note told me exactly what.

  My Dearest Reagan,

  Homework lesson number one: You never know when the mood might strike. It’s my turn to use my hands. Inside this box you will find a high-tech bra and panties with concealed sensors. I will know when you’re wearing them, and I may choose from time to time to run my fingers across your beautiful body using my discretion and an app on my phone. Because you’re an excellent federal agent, I know you are always prepared. That will serve you well in this experiment.

  K.

  The black bra and panty set weren’t particularly sexy, but they were trimmed in lace and they were my size—even the bra. As I held them in my hands I wondered how the man could be so good at what he did—seducing women. And then I remembered who I was dealing with. Still, I loved that he was easing me into becoming a sexual being.

  If he could tell whether or not they were on my body, I decided I should probably shower and try them on. After all, I was always known as a good student and I always got A’s on my homework assignments.

  My phone began vibrating across the room on top of my desk and I prayed it was King calling me from Washington. It was Win.

  “Yo,” I said answering and pulling my running tights and a sports bra from my suitcase.

  “You back?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I want to meet you tonight to go over some new information.”

  I was impressed. Win was all business and didn’t ask me one detail about my night with King.

  “Okay. Where. What time?”

  “Vodka Room on fifty-second. There’s been some chatter.”

  I looked to the clock by the unmade bed. “Five?”

  “See you then.”

  With a nod of my head, I acknowledged Win standing on the corner waiting for my arrival. I’d worked out, put on my new bra and panties and made my way to the restaurant by taxi without incident. Part of me wondered if King could actually control the sensors in the lingerie all the way from Washington, D.C., but the other part knew when it came to things like this, he didn’t joke around.

  “Hey,” I said making my way to him through the crowded street. It was the end of the business day for most folks in Manhattan. My workday was just about to begin. “How you doin?”

  “You’re picking up the slang pretty fast in the city, Gip. How you doin?” Win joked in his best Queens accent.

  “I don’t think I sounded like that at all.”

  He smiled at me and nodded his head, causing his blonde curls to move about. Win was funny, smart and considerate and I was glad he was my partner—no matter what kind of reputation he had with the Bureau secretaries.

  “I thought I was meeting you inside?” I asked pulling the scarf from my neck. The fall chill in the air had started to take hold and I responded with a sweater and scarf.

  “Keep your scarf on. I want to take a little walk.”

  I followed Win through the crowded street, coming alongside him. “What’s up?”

  He motioned for me to take a seat at the white table and chairs inside the small park area with the wall of falling water. “This is cool,” I remarked as he joined me.

  “Yeah. It’s Paley Park. We need to talk, Reagan.”

  “Okay.” I waited to hear the lecture on why I shouldn’t have stayed to meet with King. I fully expected the you can’t mix business with pleasure speech.

  “We’ve received some information about ROC,” Win began. “And a terrorist plot.”

  “What?” I nearly choked on my own gasp. “What kind of information?”

  Win looked around and began speaking to me without looking at me. “We only know the city the Russian messages were intercepted from. Ussuriysk.”

  “So what’s our directive?”

  “We’re to have a very long romantic dinner inside the Russian restaurant and listen. The source has said there will be an important meeting between a couple of the higher ups in the organization—ex-KGB, real winners.”

  I nodded. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  “We’re posing as a couple, Reagan. Are you ready for that?”

  I grimaced and shook Win’s question off. “Of course I’m ready. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Win stood and took my hand in his. “This—because of this. We need to make it look convincing so be prepared to act your heart out in there. You have to pretend to like me.”

  I pressed my head into his shoulder, nuzzling his neck. “You mean like this?” I whispered. Chill bumps rose on Win’s neck and I watched his Adam’s apple sink in his throat as he swallowed hard.

  “Agent Weatherford,” he whispered with a sigh. “I think you’re ready.”

  “Bullshit, Agent Holloway. I was born ready.”

  “Yeah, yeah…just remember. No names. You can call me sweetheart, honey-bunny, anything you want. Just not Win.”

  “I got it, partner.”

  Hand in hand we walked the long block to 52nd street and into the restaurant where Win opened the door and ushered me into the building with his hand squarely in the small of my back. “Two please.”

  I gripped my phone in one hand, as was my usual practice and glanced down when it silently buzzed.

  KING: Good evening, love. I’m glad to see you’ve shown up for class. For the next hour or possibly longer, I’m going to school you in two of the best parts of a healthy sex life: pleasure and control. Please text me back to let me know you’re receiving this message and not just the private palpations.

  “What is it?” Win asked putting his arm around me and pulling me into him as we walked to our table. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” I replied to Win as I typed the same word to King.

  “Good, because I want this night to be all about us.”

  I nodded, and felt a slight tingle in my left breast—as if a finger ran lightly across my nipple. I shifted my weight in the booth the moment we sat.

  “You okay over there, baby?”

  I nodded, but didn’t say a word. Another wave overcame me, but this time the pulse came from my panties. I let out an uncontrollable gasp. “Yes.”

  Win’s face screwed into a tight knot and he tilted his head at me. It was obvious something was up, but what exactly I was sure he didn’t know. Setting my phone discreetly in my lap, my right breast tingled and I shrugged my shoulders, doing my best to shake it off.

  “Sweetheart, I hear the lamb and the vodka here are magnificent.”

  I could only nod as another pulse of pleasure ran through the panties, as I did my best not to squirm in my seat.

  The table next to us filled with four older men and Win tilted his head as if he was stretching his neck. I understood that he wanted me to eavesdrop on their conversation. The problem was, with each tremor of my high-tech lingerie, I found it harder to concentrate on the words that were coming out of their mouths—and in Russian nonetheless.

&nb
sp; My phone buzzed simultaneously with my bra and I looked to my lap to read the text.

  KING: Are you in control?

  REAGAN: No.

  KING: Good.

  Win shot me a look across the table, and leaned forward with an outstretched hand asking me to hold it.

  “You look beautiful tonight.” Win flashed me a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so radiant. You’re practically glowing.”

  I mustered an embarrassed smile. I was doing more than glowing. I was about to lose my mind. At the rate King was going with his remote sexual spree, I’d be completely undone somewhere between drinks and the appetizer.

  Then suddenly, Win’s demeanor changed. Dropping his shoulders he also seemed to drop his act. “I’m actually serious. You truly are the most interesting woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You’re smart and sexy, funny as hell. And your body is truly beautiful—almost as beautiful as your mind.”

  I cocked my head and raise my eyebrow at Win. Was he being serious or was he still acting? Then right on cue, my panties gave me a vibration so strong I found myself gripping the edge of the booth with my free hand.

  “Sweetheart?” I could hear the concern in Win’s voice, but I couldn’t bear to look at him. Not until the pleasure had passed completely.

  Letting go of his hand, I started to pick up my phone and excuse myself to the ladies room, but instead I haphazardly slung it into the floor of the restaurant.

  “Sweetheart?” Win said again, obviously concerned by my behavior.

  I held up one finger silently begging him to give me a moment and leaned down to pick up my phone. Stopping for a split second, I winced. Not because King was giving me another long distance grope, but because I spied a Russian made handgun—a Makarov—in the lap of the man to my immediate left. I had no choice but to stay put and work my way through King’s training while doing my best to remember my Academy training.

  They spoke in fluent Russian with little slang and I listened, tuning out Win’s small talk. When the waitress came to our table and asked what we wanted to drink, my mind was still thinking in Russian. “Voda i vodka,” I replied before checking myself.