by Dee Davis
"You mean version." She tilted her head to look up at him, her breath catching in her throat as his eyes devoured her.
"No." His smile was slow. "I definitely meant vision."
There had been passion between them the first time they'd met, and nothing had changed, the resulting electricity an arc between them with an almost physical presence. She could feel it with every nerve in her body, anticipation building without even a touch.
One step and she'd complete the circuit. Body to body, lips grazing in the most wonderful of intimacies. One step...
And still she held her ground. Whether it was an attempt to resist him, or just an instinctual need to heighten her growing desire, she couldn't say. Either way her feet wouldn't move.
Thank God for Nigel.
With a groan that echoed her crescendoing emotions, he gathered her close, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both provocative and punishing. It was as if the urgency that had been building between them for two days had reached implosion point and neither of them had the power to do anything but ride the cresting wave.
Melissa inhaled the familiar smell of aftershave, leather and tobacco—pure Nigel. "Maybe we should go inside."
He swung her up into his arms and strode from the courtyard back into the darkened hall, traversing the unfamiliar corridors as if he were at home. In just moments, they were inside her room, and Nigel released her, their bodies sliding against each other as she touched the ground, the friction almost unbearable.
She opened her mouth to stop things before they went too far, but swallowed the words instead, her uncertainty holding her captive.
"Melissa, I want to do the right thing here." Nigel's breath stirred the curls at her temples, the heat searing through her as if he had actually touched her. "But I'm only a man, and I can't take much more. So either throw me out now, or expect to see me here when you wake up in the morning."
She held his gaze for a moment, then reached behind her to shut the door, banishing all doubt. "I want you to stay."
A slow smile spread across his face as he reached for her, his hands threading through her hair. They stood for a moment drinking each other in, and then he pulled her to him, this time the kiss gentle, almost serene.
She opened her mouth, tracing the line of his mustache, surprised at how soft it felt against her tongue. Then quickly as it had begun, exploration ended, their passion taking flight again as the kiss deepened, their tongues tangling together in a frantic attempt to find release.
Nigel pushed off her coat and reached for the hem of her T-shirt, lifting it over her head in one swift motion. Her nipples pebbled in anticipation and she thrust against him, closing her eyes as he bent his head, his tongue circling her breast, leasing, laving her until she was writhing against him, the building heat threatening to undo her.
He moved to her other breast and sucked lightly at first, then with building pressure, her body drawing tight, like the string of a bow just before the arrow is released. Pain mixed with pleasure, all of it colored with need. And she pulled his head up, kissing him with everything inside her, the past and the present coming together so that there was nothing but this man and his mouth upon hers.
His palms caressed the small of her back, then moved higher to rub her bare shoulders, finally sliding around them to cup her breasts, the motion of his thumb mimicking the circles of his tongue.
She pulled his lower lip between her teeth and bit lightly, the salty taste of his skin making her want to taste more. She kissed her way across the plane of his cheek to the curve of his ear, tracing the whorl with her tongue, his labored breathing assuring her that she was pleasing him.
His left hand dropped lower, sliding under the band of her sweatpants, his fingers stroking the silky hair between her thighs. She shifted on a sigh, moving her legs so that he had better access. And he slid a finger between the folds of her labia, his index finger unerringly finding her clitoris.
Softly he began to stroke, over and over, until her mind refused to function. The only thing that mattered was the sensation building between her legs as it ratcheted tighter and tighter, building and building until she thought she might explode. She hung there for a moment on the precipice, and then with a thrust of his fingers, he sent her over the edge.
She heard herself gasp, and bonelessly collapsed against him, her heart thundering so loudly she was certain that any-one within a five-mile radius could hear. His arms were warrn and he rained tiny kisses along her hair, and her cheek, sew tling again on her mouth with a sweet possessiveness that threatened to send her into convulsions all over again.
Still fighting for breath, she pulled away long enough to look up into his eyes, losing herself in the desire she saw re-fleeted there. With shaking fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, splaying her fingers against the hard muscles of his chest.
He shrugged out of his shirt, and then divested her of sweats and panties. The only thing remaining between them were his chinos, and with a tiny smile, she reached out and undid the button, then eased down the zipper.
He finished the job in short order, standing before her now totally naked. With an impish smile, she knelt, cupping his balls in her hands, circling his penis with her tongue, relishing the salty, masculine taste of him. She remembered everything, the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the velvety soft feel of the skin that covered pure steel.
Pulling him all the way into her mouth, she sucked, gent-ly moving her hand up and down, squeezing in the way she remembered he'd loved. His groan was testament to the fact that she hadn't forgotten how to please him, and she sucked harder, establishing a rhythm, wanting to give to him as much as he'd given to her.
But instead, he reached beneath her arms and urged her up-ward, his mouth covering hers, his tongue thrusting now with a persistence that could only be a promise of things to come She pressed against him, his chest hair rasping against her already-aroused breasts, his penis caught between the hard muscles of his abdomen and the satin of her skin.
He massaged her buttocks, cupping them so that his fingers stroked the inside of her thighs. Her legs were shaking now, her passion beyond anything she'd ever experienced, fifteen years of waiting coming together into a need so powerful it was almost a tangible thing.
With a groan, he swung her into his arms again, carrying her to the bed. He laid her against the soft cotton sheets and covered her body with his own, his heart pounding against hers, his penis throbbing against the juncture of her thighs.
He kissed her neck, then the hollow of her throat, his tongue tracing the swell of first one breast and then the other. He paused at her nipples, sucking each with tender abandon, and then moved lower, stopping for a moment to taste the indentation of her belly. His hands caressed the tender skin between her legs, brushing lightly against her pubic hair, the teasing touch almost more erotic than if he'd been inside her.
His mouth dipped lower still, and she arched upward as his tongue found her soft center, stroking, lapping and sucking until the exquisite tension began to build again. As he began to suck her clitoris, his finger slipped inside her, moving up and down, hot spirals of desire washing through her.
"Please," she whispered.
He moved upward, his body sliding against hers, the contact a lifeline now that his mouth and hands were gone. Their eyes met and held, his asking, hers acquiescing. And in one swift movement he was inside her, his heat blending with hers until she was no longer certain where he ended and she began. Slowly he began to move, thrusting deep and then slowly sliding out until she lifted her hips in protest, wanting nothing more than to feel him back inside her again.
In answer, he slammed home with a force that sent her senses reeling, then he put his hands beneath her rear, angling her for deeper penetration—in and out, in and out—each thrust reaching to her core, the spiral of heat full-fledged fire now, burning in intensity, pulling her onto the ledge again.
Higher and higher they climbed, until he pulled free
and she thrashed with frustration.
"Wait," he whispered, as he pulled her up and settled her on his lap, her back to him, his hands cupping her breasts. "Lift up."
She followed his commands, lifting her body and then impaling herself on him again, relief and pleasure fusing together into heightened desire. "Now, Nigel," she gasped.
In answer, he took her earlobe in bis mouth, sucking at the fullness there, his hands circling her hips as she began to move up and down, matching her movements to the rhythm of his thrusting. His fingers again found her clitoris, his thumb flicking against her tender engorged skin until she thought she'd surely fly apart.
But release danced just out of reach as they began their ascent, flitting higher and higher—taunting and teasing her. And still he moved inside her, up and down, in and out, everything but the feel of their bodies moving together vanishing into the night.
She could feel bis mouth upon her earlobe, his thumb stroking her desire, the heat of his body pressed against hers, and the amazing friction of his penis as it moved inside her. And she relished it all, savoring every sensation, knowing that this was the only man she had ever wanted. The only one who could take her to this place.
And then as if in answer, the world shattered, the moon and the stars joining their dance until there was nothing but the joy of their union and the bright silvery light.
NIGEL LAY STILL, listening to the sound of Melissa breathing. She was asleep, her body curled into his as if it were a perfeet fit. And indeed, maybe it was. But that didn't mean he had the right to pull her into his world.
The little voice in his head reminded him that she was already a part of it. By profession certainly, and now by necessity a part of Last Chance. But when this case was over, and one way or the other it would be, he'd be off to England, and she'd be back on assignment at some hot spot around the globe. Not that he was looking for anything permanent.
But if he were honest, he had to admit the idea was appealing.
Or maybe good sex had addled his brain. He rolled over, breaking contact, and Melissa sighed in her sleep, shifting so that she could snuggle close again. He stroked her hair, the strands satiny beneath his fingers. When he was with Melissa, nothing else seemed to matter. It had been like that fifteen years ago, and the intervening time hadn't changed things at all.
Besides, he knew that she was no more suited for a serious relationship than he was. After all, she'd been the one to walk away. He'd been angry then, but now he could understand. They were neither of them the type to treat love cavalierly, and yet neither could risk the vulnerability of letting someone in. There was simply too much danger.
Love changed the odds, and in his line of work, it was crucial to keep things tilted in your favor. Allow nothing that an enemy could use as a threat. Nothing. He'd learned that firsthand in Iraq with Mariam's betrayal and Kevin's death.
It was only Payton's determination to seek revenge that had kept him alive after his loss. But Nigel wasn't as strong as Payton, and this wasn't about a brother—although Lord knows he'd miss Andrew if anything happened to him. No, the truth was, this was about Melissa, and what would happen if he were to give her his heart.
Payton had found Sam. And the two of them had taken the risk, mainly because Sam simply wouldn't have it any other way. But Nigel still remembered how close Payton had come to losing Sam, as well. And that was pain Nigel wasn't certain he could have survived.
Gabe, too, had found his other half. But to do so he'd changed his professional objectives, stepping away from edgier assignments to safeguard his family. Madison had done the same, their decision made in tandem.
Compromise was the name of the game. And not one of Nigel's strong suits. It simply wasn't in his nature to turn down a challenge. And even if he could find the courage to walk away from his life with MI6, there was no indication that Melissa would follow suit. She'd made it more than apparent that she loved her job. After all, she'd left him for it once before in Italy. And he had no reason to believe that it would be any different this time.
The truth was staring him in the face. Impossible to ignore. Despite his inclinations otherwise, this could only be an interlude. Anything more would be disastrous. He sighed, turning to pull her close against him again, the smell of her hair sweet against his nostrils. Five more minutes, and then he'd leave.
The decision was the right one. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. But somehow he couldn't stop feeling that he was letting something precious slip through his fingers—something that only comes along once in a blue moon. Or in his case—maybe twice.
Unfortunately, a man made his choices in life, and sometimes, there simply was no going back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MELISSA WAS LATE getting to the operations room. First of all, she'd overslept. And then when she'd found that Nigel had already gone, she had stayed longer in bed, ruminating on exactly what his absence meant, and whether or not she should be concerned or relieved, both emotions demanding fair time despite the fact that they were diametrically opposed.
Now she stood in the doorway feeling very much the outsider. Everyone but Harrison was gathered around the conference table, but rather than discussing Melissa's notes projected on the screen above their heads, they were clustered around a small woman securely contained in the circle of Pay-ton's arms.
Samantha Reynolds.
She was almost the complete opposite of her husband— angel to his demon. Tiny and blond, energy crackled around her. She carried an air of competence that one was born with. And even at this distance, Melissa could see the adoration in her husband's eyes. Payton Reynolds had been transformed. The lines of skepticism and speculation that were present when he looked at Melissa were completely gone in Sam's presence. Instead, he was actually grinning, a rare gesture from such an intense man.
Jealousy rippled through her, surprising in its intensity. She had just spent an incredible night of passion with Nigel, but this was something more. Something permanent. A covenant between two people.
Not exactly her cup of tea, despite her reaction. Every girl had a little Cinderella in her, that insane desire for a happy ending. But Melissa had learned a long time ago that happiness starts from the inside out. She'd worked hard to become self-reliant. And she wasn't about to trade that in because someone gave her one hell of an orgasm. Even if that someone was Nigel.
Relationships required constant attention. And even when well maintained, they could be ripped away without the slightest warning. She wasn't capable of withstanding that kind of loss. Just thinking about it made her weak at the knees.
Better to remain autonomous. Much better.
Squaring her shoulders, she summoned her courage and walked into the room. As if he sensed her presence, Nigel turned. His smile was genuine, but there was a touch of regret in his eyes. Maybe his thoughts were following the same lines as hers. Or maybe he was regretting last night. Either way, she was determined to move past it. To keep it light.
Unlike fifteen years ago, she couldn't simply run out the door. She needed Nigel. Needed his resources, his protection and, whether she wanted to admit it or not, probably his friendship. But that was all. She'd stay because she had no choice. But as soon as the coast was clear—she was gone.
Purposefully breaking eye contact, she smiled at the group. "Morning, everyone. Sorry to be late. I'm afraid I overslept."
"That's not surprising," Madison said. "You've been through a lot. Come over and meet Sam. She came in late last night."
"You must be Melissa." Sam's smile was warm as she offered her hand. "I hear you've had a rough go of it."
"Something like that." She returned the smile but still felt absurdly uncomfortable, as if they all knew what she and Nigel had been doing last night. It shouldn't matter either way, but it did. "I take it you caught your bomber?"
"Yeah. Took a little maneuvering, but eventually we managed to find the physical evidence we needed to tie him to the scene. Now it's
just a matter of connecting the dots and I'll leave that to the suits."
"You haven't missed much here," Cullen said to Melissa, his tone mild. "We've mainly been playing catch-up—getting Sam up to speed."
"Sorry I didn't read the crib notes," Sam said with a shrug. "But there were better things to do last night."
Payton's eyes met his wife's, his gaze hot with the memory of what had obviously been a passionate reunion. Melissa automatically shot a glance at Nigel, then wished she hadn't, the sight of his crooked grin causing a deep flush of embarrassment.
Damn the man.
Gabe was grinning now, too, the three of them looking like cats who'd stumbled on an entire vat of cream. Madison and Sam were laughing, and once again Melissa was faced with the fact that she was an outsider. Everyone else shared a history. Some more than others admittedly, but all of them had commonality.
She, on the other hand, had never had anything like their kind of friendship. The only thing close was the relationship she had with her sister, and even that was stunted due to the fact that Melissa could never be totally honest with Alicia about anything involving her work with the CIA. The truth was, she had only herself to rely on. Until last night, that had seemed like enough.
As if sensing her discomfort, Nigel crossed the room and placed his hand against the small of her back as he steered her toward the table. "It's all right, you know. I always feel the same way when Gabe and Madison or Sam and Payton are together. And it's especially difficult when they're all here. It's enough to make one question one's priorities. But what's good for the goose isn't always good for the gander...."
His words were meant to make her feel better, but they didn't. With a sigh of exasperation, Melissa slid into the chair he offered and stared pointedly at the screen with her reports. "So where are we? I see you've been at my notes. Anything that points to a culprit?"
Taking Melissa's cue, everyone else found chairs again, and using a laptop, Cullen switched to a different image, this one enhanced with computer annotations. "Based on probability, we've narrowed your list of unknowns to seven, each of the names highlighted in red."
