by Unknown
“Sonia!” There was a warning note in his voice.
Tarquin disappeared around a corner and she darted after him.
“We can’t lose him now, after all this. He’s moving fast He’s just turned onto…” She strained her neck to read the street sign. “Bou-levard Sébastopol.”
She heard him curse under his breath and the echo of his feet pounding the pavements as he raced to catch up with her. The sound of it and his breathing kept her anchored on the task, despite the urge to crumple into the nearest doorway.
Her breath hitched up.
“Shit.”
“What? Are you okay?”
Tarquin had stopped almost immediately after he’d turned the corner. He’d turned towards her and he was staring right at her. Her skin crawled. She could see his frown, the white hairs amongst the dark on his temples, the icy splinters in his assessing eyes. He was ten feet away and she was headed straight for him.
“Sonia, talk to me,” Oliver urged. He sounded so far away now.
She swallowed, her heart thudding hard against the wall of her chest. Every atom of her body told her that Tarquin knew who she was, but a shred of functioning logic reasoned it out. He wouldn’t be expecting her to be in Paris. She looked different; she was imagining that he recognized her.
“Oui,” she managed to say into the phone.
She stopped to look at a window display, her heart pounding.
She made a supreme effort, pushed her sunglasses up onto the bridge of her nose and smiled as if chatting easily into the phone.
She forced herself to take a glance. Tarquin was still staring in her direction. Her blood ran cold.
In her ear, she could hear Oliver as he raced toward her. Take action, her inner voice demanded.
“Ca va?” she said into the phone, loudly, and as cheerfully as she could manage. She fixed a grin on her face.
“Has he seen you?”
What could she say? Tarquin was on the move and he was
stepping closer. Oh God. She stared, unable to look away, as he descended on her. Her smile faded into nothing, and she fought the urge to run. She closed her eyes.
“Pardon, Mademoiselle.” Tarquin pushed past her.
Her body jolted from his touch, and a whiff of his cologne lingered in his wake. She wavered, her legs felt weak.
“Sonia, are you still there?” There was a note of desperation in Oliver’s voice.
“Yes, I’m here. I’m okay. He looked at me for a minute, came back toward me and I thought…” She glanced back. He was
walking slower, looking about. “It’s as if he knows he’s being followed.”
“He’s probably checking to make sure he isn’t being watched.
Now just bloody do as I say and merge into the crowd. Stay focused on something else and keep him in your periphery.”
“I am, oh, wait.”
Tarquin had stopped in a doorway and was in conversation with another man. “He’s met up with someone. The guy was waiting up the street in a doorway. That must have been who he was looking for.” Relief drenched her. He hadn’t recognized her at all.
“Describe him.”
“About 5 feet 6, balding, glasses, gray suit. Looks like an insurance salesman.”
“That’s our man.”
“Really? That’s Watson?”
“You sound disappointed. What were you expecting, safari suit and a South African accent?”
Despite the recent shock, she had to laugh, the sudden sense of relief making her feel giddy. “Well, yeah.”
“You watch too many movies. This is the real world.” His
remark was undermined by the fact they were stalking a known gunrunner and a member of the British government on some dodgy arms deal.
As she watched the two men talking, Watson indicated they
move on and Tarquin nodded.
“Hey, they’re moving again. Where are you?”
“Right behind you, Princess. I can see them now. Turn away, keep them behind you. Kiss me in greeting when I get there and then I’ll take some shots over your shoulder. You can hang up now.”
Princess? That’s what Alec called her.
Glancing past Tarquin and his companion, she made eye contact with Oliver as he moved through the crowd, and then turned her back.
“Bonjour, Cherie,” he said as he snatched her into his arms, panting. He kissed her on both cheeks.
She latched her hands on his shoulders, unwilling to let go.
“Okay, I’ve got them,” he added in a lower tone, as he pulled out his camera. “You stay right there, and I’ll catch some tape.”
She resisted the urge to cling to him like a limpet; instead she savored his presence, breathing in his scent and admiring his broad shoulders, wishing for the moment when she might be able to rest easy against them.
“There you go, phase three complete.” He snapped the camera shut and pocketed it.
She glanced over her shoulder to find that Tarquin and Watson had gone.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “We pulled it off.” She felt his arm go around her before she realized she’d moved up against him. She was holding on to him for dear life.
“We did, although you pushed your luck there.” There was concern and chastisement in his eyes.
“I couldn’t let the moment escape, but I’m glad it’s over.”
“Yes, it’s over,” he whispered quietly against her hair. “Just relax.” He held her firmly and she murmured her pleasure against him. His hands followed with a more direct acknowledgement, holding her closer, drawing her against the hard outline of his body.
That was such good news. They’d done their bit. Very soon Alec would be out of it too.
“I’ll call Alec and then we can take some time out.” He eased her away with his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her eyes, his concern still tangible. “We have until ten tomorrow morning before we have to check in for our flight to Prague. Paris is ours.”
The way he said those last words tugged at her heart. “Paris is ours,” she repeated, and accepted the kiss he offered, emotion rising in her chest. She wanted Paris, and more. She wanted him, more of him. She wanted it all.
Falling for Trouble: Chapter 6
Oliver swore silently, rolling his head against the velvet-padded headboard of the bed, the minutes dragging as he waited for her to rejoin him after a shower and change. They’d already had quick fire sex up against the wall of the hotel room as soon as they had shut the door on the outside world.
He’d knocked a framed print down when he’d ridden her hard up against the wall, and she laughed and caught it in one hand just as her body clenched on his and he’d buried his cock deep inside her, as if his life depended on it.
He looked over at the wall by the door, picturing her as she had looked there in the throws of lovemaking, with her jeans on the floor, her panties round one ankle, otherwise fully dressed. It was then he noticed that the lampshade on the wall light was askew.
They must have hit that too. He made a mental note to check for breakables when they went at it like that. He’d convinced her to forgo the sights and get a hotel. He’d had to be inside her. She’d been desperate too.
Adrenaline did that to you.
But he wondered if it was really just the adrenaline. He’d assumed so the night before, but now… He couldn’t deny it any longer. He didn’t want to just have sex with her, outstanding though it was. He wanted to be with her… cherish her.
He shook his head, and rested back against the headboard. It was like an addiction, he decided, staring at the ornate ceiling rose.
Some weird addiction. But addictions were usually selfish things and he wanted her happiness above all, so this had to be something different. He couldn’t get enough of Sonia Harmond, and he wasn’t entertaining the thought of this ending when they were back in London.
The bathroom door clicked open and Sonia emerged, an abso-
lute
vision in her new black lingerie.
She’d piled her hair high and still had her heels on. What a total fox. She sashayed over to him with a smile that would melt ice. His brain seized while other parts of his body remained active.
He swallowed. A corset. It wasn’t lacy. It was even better than lacy. It was shiny, like a pool of oil on her body, slick and sexy, clinging to her every curve as if it had been painted on. Her tits spilled over the edge, and the built-in garters looked starkly beautiful on her thighs. She wore it with a scrap of silk over her crotch and sheer black stockings that clung to her legs just the way he wanted to. God knows what the corset thing was made of; all he knew was that his brain had turned to mush and his cock was pounding. It was like a heat-seeking device, and she was the hottest thing on the planet.
She reached the end of the bed and put one hand on her hip, smiling while she looked him over with a direct, assessing stare.
Argh. A guy could go insane under that kind of sexual scrutiny.
His balls were tight, the blood thundering in his loins. The only rational, functioning part of his brain tried to work out how long he might be able to last.
“It looks like you have a situation there.” Her gaze flickered over him.
“A situation?”
“A situation that might need some… attention.” She nodded
toward his erection, one perfectly arched eyebrow lifted in query.
He forced himself to breathe. “Ah, yes, perhaps, although I have to point out that the ‘situation’ has been brought on by your spectacular appearance, so you are entirely to blame.”
She smiled, and for just a moment her poise vanished and he saw the soft, underlying pleasure she took in his remark. How did she do that, and why did it make his chest feel tight?
“I’m very glad you approve, especially because the outfit was bought to reward you for your patience with me.” She ran her tongue against her lower lip in the most suggestive way.
His balls were getting tighter all the time. His cock was practically poking through his jockeys.
“My patience with you is under severe strain right now, Sonia,”
he murmured in a low growl. “It’s not entirely unpleasant, but if I don’t get you here on the bed with me soon, I might go insane.”
He reached forward to beckon her closer, but she put up one hand indicating she wanted him to stay right where he was.
“Now, now, don’t wish your life away. Good things come to
those who wait.”
She slid one knee onto the end of the bed, and began to crawl up the length of the bed toward him. The black bands of her stocking tops were just where he’d have his hands when she settled those thighs either side of his hips. He wanted her, now, but she was taking her time. She inched her way up the bed, tendrils of hair framing her face. The look in her eyes was so bloody sexy. As she slowly crept closer, he forgot the stocking tops because he was taken instead by the spectacular view down her cleavage, soft, pale and inviting against the stiff, shiny black enclosure. In the mirror on the wall behind her, he caught sight of her derriere and her thighs as she moved. It was too much stimulation all at once, too much for a man to bear.
He had to close his eyes for a moment. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
His eyes snapped open when he felt her hands on the waistband of his jockeys. He glanced down just in time to catch sight of her freeing his cock and taking it into her hand.
He arched his eyebrow at her. It was about the highest level of response he could manage.
“Why, Oliver, you look surprised. What were you expecting me to do?” She moved her hand over the arc of flesh between them.
He lifted one shoulder, attempting a shrug. “I’m in your hands, darling.” The tension in his voice was nothing compared to that pounding in his cock. It was rigid, hot and ready.
She bent down and kissed the swollen tip and then tasted him with her tongue, sweeping over the surface of his cock-head in circular movements. She was enjoying it, and that fact all but blew out his circuits. His hands dug into the bed covers.
She reached for his balls and embraced them in her hand as she sucked at the end of his shaft, and then swallowed the shaft of it into her mouth, before returning to the head. Her mouth was working sheer magic. He was aching with restraint, pain and pleasure running together in his blood. When she plunged again, filling her mouth with him, he almost came there and then.
“Sonia?” He breathed out her name, choked with sensation.
She eased off, looking down at the throbbing tip of his cock. He reached out to touch her lips and as she looked up, their eyes met.
“You are so delicious, Oliver,” she whispered and her voice was husky.
He groaned his frustration.
She laughed.
“Take those panties off and sit on my cock.” He grabbed for the condom he’d left on the nightstand
She shook her head and snatched the packet away from him.
Something in his gut knotted.
“Oh, no, I’m not taking them off, after all, I’ve just put them on.” The look on her face was deadpan, but he knew she had to be kidding. She must be kidding. He had to have her. Now.
A moment later she rose up and straddled his thighs, and as she did so, she pushed two fingers down to her pussy and showed him the open crotch on the panties.
“I see,” he murmured, almost unable to breath. “Very clever.”
She smiled and then ripped open the condom packet. Incredibly, she bent over his cock, rolling it on with her mouth in the most amazing way.
Dear God in heaven help me.
He thought he was about to embarrass himself and come im-
mediately, when she stopped with that crazy mouth thing, straddled him and took him to her hot pussy.
“I want to show you how much I want your cock inside me,” she whispered as she trapped his prone body, pinning him down with her hips, her hot, wet pussy gliding down on him and holding him so very tightly.
“Yes, show me,” he encouraged, hoarsely. He wanted that too, more than anything in the world. He’d wanted to be inside her all day. He reached forward to hold her cinched waist in its elegant black enclosure.
She trailed her fingers over the line of his chin and down his throat, stroked her hands over his torso and followed the dark patterns of hair on his chest. Somewhere it registered that he liked the fact she seemed to touch him possessively.
His hands went to her thighs, holding them around the black stocking tops. Her legs tensed and flexed, and she found her rhythm, riding his cock fast and hard. What followed was a blur of exquisite pleasure. Each time she slammed down, his cock wedged hard up against her core. She whimpered and clenched, her entire body shuddering with pleasure while she milked him off to climax.
He was pretty sure he lost contact with the world for a few moments, but his hands locked onto her waist until his vision returned, until the soaring sensation that ripped his body up from the base of his spine leveled off and he regained his faculties. Then he rolled her over onto her back, determined to stay inside her for as long as possible.
He was unwilling to let the afterglow slip away. He rolled his hips against her, the pluck of her damp panties a tickle that brought a smile to his face. When his cock finally gave up the battle to stay inside, his fingers took over. He explored her damp passage, where shivers of delight still sped over the intimate surfaces of her secret places. Then he stroked her clit till she growled and cursed and came all over again, locking her knees over his arm as he worked on her.
She was so beautiful. He loved to see her come. He savored every moment, teasing her with intimate kisses, savoring her every whimper and moan. He simply didn’t want it to end. When she pushed him away with feeble hands and truly seemed unable to endure another moment of his attentions, he turned them toward her exquisite underwear.
“You’re a cruel man. Doesn’t a girl get to rest when she’s had a hard day doing
surveillance work, hmm?”
He smiled but ignored her accusation. He didn’t feel ready to confess he hadn’t enough and possibly never would.
“This is totally fabulous,” he stroked the surface of her corset,
“but I find myself compelled to explore it and discover its mechanics.”
She chuckled lazily, her eyes barely open.
“How very like a man.”
“Yes,” he answered, instantly wondering how many other men there were in her life, and if he could fight them off, one and all, with his bare hands. Instead of quizzing her about it and ruining the moment, he just assumed there were hundreds of the bastards.
He couldn’t really blame them, but he’d throttle them nonetheless.
He sighed into her cleavage, kissing deep in its exquisite shadow, before he undid her.
He couldn’t blame them, no, and instead he opened the first hook and eye of the corset with possessive hands, enjoying the sense of power he got when he had to squeeze her breasts together in order to release that lock.
He’d only got half a dozen steps down the ladder of minute hooks and eyes when he decided to roll her onto her back and tackle it from the other side—more to make the moment endure than anything else. He had the feeling that when she was naked, they would meld together and sleep might claim either one of them, or both.
“Laces?” He was surprised. “How in hell’s name did you get this on by yourself?”
“It’s a woman’s secret,” she said sleepily into the pillow. “Like the way we can take our bras off without taking our tops off.”
He didn’t answer, because while he hadn’t seen it himself, he had heard of this phenomenon and he was puzzled by the potential mechanics of that too. He stored it away to ask for a demo the next day.
“Can we do that again with you sitting on me but facing away, so I can tug on your laces while you ride my cock?”
“Jesus Christ, Oliver! If I had an ounce of strength,” she flashed him a look that made his chest ache, “we’d be doing it now.”
He smiled and stored that away too. He was storing lots of plans away. This wasn’t going to be over when their joint cause was, oh no. At least, not if he had anything to do with it.
