by Misty Evans
Mia joined in on the theatrics and slapped her bare thigh. “Harder! Come on. I need you to fuck me!”
They were both silently laughing as they sped up the sound effects. Mia began her best Meg Ryan-orgasm imitation from the old movie Harry Met Sally. “Ooh, yeah…oh, unh, oh. Faster…that’s it. Come on, baby. Oh God. Oh yeah, right there. I’m almost…almost…” She threw her head back and closed her eyes. Once again, her imagination supplied vivid details of what it would be like to have Ryker inside her. “Oh God! Oh, oh, oh! That’s it! Yes…yes…yes!”
She opened her eyes and glanced at Ryker. For half a second, he looked like a deer caught in headlights, his attention totally focused on her face. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he glanced away and rolled onto his back so he could slam a hand into the wooden headboard. “Fuck!” he yelled in a tense voice, smacking it again and breathing heavy. “Goddamn, woman. You…you...ooh, fuuuck.”
Mia fell on the bed next to him, silently laughing so hard she thought her belly might split wide open. A sound somewhere between a hiccup and a cough snuck out and Ryker put a hand over her lips. He was silently laughing too and the bed jiggled from their combined shaking as they both tried to hold their mirth in. Mini squeaks kept slipping out from the poor mattress.
“Quite a show,” Parker said in Mia's earbud.
Mia jumped, startled. Little did Parker or Ryker know Mia was just getting started.
She playfully bit the palm of Ryker's hand and he jerked it away, pinching her side in retaliation. A squeak escaped and she sat up, still laughing. Silence filled the room between them for a moment, both grinning from ear-to-ear. Had they really pulled it off?
“That was amazing,” she purred for those listening. “I can't believe how lucky I am to have you.”
He sat up too, coming nose to nose with her. His eyes were sincere as he said, “We make a good team—in and out of bed.”
It was true, wasn't it? So far on this mission the two of them had worked together so well it was as if they’d been undercover with each other for years.
She draped an arm over one of his shoulders and made a face, letting go of a dramatic sigh and hanging her head. “If only…you know.”
He was quick on the uptake, if a bit hesitant. His hand went to her arm and gently caressed it, sending sparks across her skin. “If only what, JoJo?”
That nickname. Of course he’d come up with one, and it was better than the generic baby or sweetheart. “It's just…” She faked a soft sob. “I'm so sorry I can't have your baby. I know how much you want one. You don't have to pretend you don’t anymore. Maybe we should look into adoption again. Surely someone can help us outside the legal channels.”
His hand stopped and she looked up to find his brows drawn. His voice was low, gruff. Was he irritated that she was working this angle again? “You have nothing to be sorry about. I told you, we’ll figure out the family thing, one way or the other.”
“I love you so much.” She stuck her tongue out at him, even as she gave a bigger sob. “Our life together will be perfect once we have a baby. I know it will. I can't think of anything else I want as much. As soon as we get to America, can we look into some… alternative…ways of adding to our family?”
He shook his head and rolled his eyes at her drama, but obligingly played his role. “I'll reach out to some of my contacts. We have money, so that won't be an issue. I promise no matter what, I will get you a baby.”
“Soon?”
“As soon as humanly possible.”
There. If that didn't seal the deal and tease Karl into revealing his new business enterprise to them, she wasn't sure what would in such a short timeframe. All they could do now was hope.
Delighted she’d pulled off the performance even better than expected, she leaned forward and kissed Ryker on the cheek. He gave her a surprised smile. “Goodnight, my love,” she said on a yawn.
He smoothed a renegade hair from her cheek. “Goodnight, mon coeur.”
And then he playfully slapped her on the ass.
* * *
Spies make strange bedfellows
* * *
Ryker came awake with a start.
The room was dark, except for a slice of light under the door. For a heartbeat, he couldn't remember where he was, other than lying on a hard, carpeted floor. And what was that soft noise close to his ear?
The cabin. Had Jaeger had another bad dream and crawled into bed with him? Had Mite got inside and was now snoring in his ear?
That didn't explain the light under the door a few feet away. It wasn't the door in his bedroom, which he never kept shut. Maybe it was he who’d had the nightmare and had been sleepwalking again.
God, he was tired. So tired. He tried to remember the dream he’d been jolted out of, but all he could remember was the sound of Jaeger’s cry, the smell of a fire out of control.
Something warm pressed against his back, and everything returned to him in a rush. Mia, the casino, the mission. Not only had he used all the locks on the door, he’d put a chair against it and then he’d laid on the floor facing it, with a gun in his hand to make sure if anyone came through it with the intent of hurting him or Mia, they were going to be sorry.
Mia. He shifted slightly, realizing that the snoring was coming from her. Her back was to his, and she had thrown a blanket over both of them.
Trying not to disturb her, he rose to a seated position and looked down at her sleeping form. Near her pillow, he saw her weapon—a Walther PPK—ready for action.
The blanket had fallen to her waist, the silky nightgown off-center and once again exposing most of a breast. He took a moment to scan his sleeping beauty and wonder why she'd wanted to come on this mission so badly. There was more to it than stopping Kaiser or getting her job back, but he still hadn’t had a chance to find out what it was.
The sun was beginning to creep through the heavy blinds and curtains of the patio doors. Ryker ran a hand over his face. He should pick her up, put her in the bed, and let her sleep. She had to be as exhausted as he was and there was no reason for her to sleep on the floor.
But there was something about the fact she had his back, even in sleep. She'd proven to be an asset, whether he liked it or not, and he’d be a fool not to give her the respect she deserved.
He had to keep her safe. She was unconventional and liked to take risks. So be it. In undercover operations, that often made the difference between a successful mission and ending up with your ass in a whole lot of trouble. Thing was, she didn’t have experience in knowing when the odds were against you. So far, they’d been lucky, and hopefully, that would continue. Coming into the mission, he thought he’d have to sneak into Kaiser's office to find the damning proof they needed about the illegal adoption ring. Now, the door was open to having him bring the proof right to them, thanks to Mia.
She was quick on her feet, thought out-of-the-box, and was willing to go pretty damn far when it came to keeping their undercover identities secure. She’d surprised him every step of the way, and he had to admit that while he didn't like surprises, he was fascinated to see what she’d come up with next.
So instead of hauling her to the bed and tucking her in, he lay down next to her once more, the feel of her against him reassuring. It made him miss Jaeger, who more times than not found him on the floor in their cabin, guarding the door just like this, and curled up next to him like Mia had. He felt his eyes grow heavy, sleep already pulling him back under, with her right smack next to him.
She belongs there…
The thought came out of nowhere but he was too far gone to analyze it.
Now, if only he could get her to stop snoring.
* * *
Mia’s snoring didn’t wake Ryker again. In fact, by the time the sun fully peeked through the cracks at the sides of the patio blinds teasing under his eyelids, he found himself spooned around her, a flagrant erection pressing into her butt.
She moaned softly, backing into him, and he froze
, his hard-on becoming steel. That moan. He'd heard it last night during their escapade, but now? Now it was real. His brain fuzzed out and he blinked at the back of her head, a few strands of her hair tickling his nose. She was warm and incredibly soft, the scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils and making him breathe deeply.
He wanted to move and yet he didn't want to. The last time he’d held a woman like this… well, he couldn't remember. His first UC assignment, he’d thought he’d be James Bond. That had been his plan, hadn't it? Travel the world, sleep with as many women as possible, and all the while serve his country. In reality, it wasn’t that glamorous, and like he’d told Mia earlier, casual relationships were dangerous when undercover, but it had been a nice dream.
If only he could stay here, his arm around Mia’s waist, the feel of her warm body making him feel like a man again.
She stretched and he jerked his arm off her. A teasing tone laced her husky voice as she reached back and patted him. “Good morning.”
That was it? He was filled with questions—why had she ended up on the floor with him, being the biggest. He couldn't ask her that or anything else, thanks to the damn listening devices, and he certainly couldn't do what he wanted to deep down—pull her under him and slide up the hem of that silky nightgown.
For half a second, he let his mind go there. He really couldn't help it, she was so damn close, so damn warm, so…
Fuck. He eased his lower half away, willing his erection to subside by flooding his brain with mundane images. A Tree. A bird. The lake near the cabin. Calm and flaccid…er, placid.
“God, I slept so good.” She shifted slightly, her voice rough with sleep. Her hand dropped to his hip, settling there and she gave a big yawn. “Must’ve been that amazing sex we had.”
And yep, just like that, he was hard as steel again.
“Mm hmm.” It was all he could manage to get out. He rolled away, sat up, and mumbled, “Morning.”
His gun was to his left, along with his phone, and he swiped up both as he rose to his feet. It was already nearing noon. How could that be? He'd slept nearly ten hours.
Along with his very awake cock, the rest of him felt energized as well. Sleep had been so elusive the past few years, he’d become used to chronic tiredness. “Pretty sure we missed our gym session.”
She threw off the blanket and stretched out flat on her back. “Fine with me, but I do want that massage.”
He glanced at her as he passed by, motioning for her to follow him to the bathroom. Her eyes were twinkling, and God help him, that nightgown showed every curve, including her very erect nipples.
He stopped in mid-stride. Part of him wanted to sink down on his knees, place his mouth on those beauties and gorge himself. He wanted to know how they felt between his lips and tasted on his tongue. The rest of him was pleased she wasn’t immune to their situation, that she was as turned on as he was, waking up in such an intimate position.
Of course, she was grinning, taunting him. He gritted his teeth. Better be careful, he mentally warned her. While he knew quite well the line between their act and real life, he wasn’t sure she cared about it.
She was riding the high of a mission. It happened to everyone, especially their first time out. The lies came easy, the persona of a false identity taking over. In a nutshell, it was a form of power, and for many, it was easier to pretend to be someone else than it was to be who they really were. Just like him secretly wanting to act like James Bond his first time in the field, every operative went through this initial “honeymoon” stage. When things went right, you felt invincible, self-righteous, and intoxicated with the adventure, the thrill.
He understood her euphoria. Understood her bravado and confidence. But they had only cleared the first hurdle. There was plenty yet to do, and not much time to do it in.
A knock at the door saved him from her teasing. Both of them went into action, her picking up the blanket and tossing it on the bed, before she palmed her weapon and hid behind the wall near the kitchenette. “Who is it?” She mouthed to him, peeking around with her gun raised.
He had no idea, but he was about to find out. His own up and ready, he worked his way to the door and peered out the peephole. A woman wearing a burgundy and black uniform stood in the hall with a wheeled cart.
“Room service,” she called.
He put his back to the wall. “We didn't order any.”
“Complements of Mr. Kaiser.”
Complements with a side of poison? Nah, if Kaiser was going to do that, he probably would’ve last night. Didn't mean Ryker trusted him or the woman delivering the meal. “Leave it outside the door.”
When he looked once more, she was walking away, probably cursing him because she didn't get a tip.
He waited a minute to be on the safe side. Anyone could be in the hallway waiting for him, out of his line of sight.
Paranoid much?
He couldn't help it. He couldn't shake the feeling he’d walked into the spider’s web.
Movement caught his eye and he turned to find Mia motioning at her ear. “Room service, excellent. I could kill for some good coffee right now.”
Grabbing his earbud from the desk, he heard Parker speaking before he even got it inserted. “… all clear. Video from the kitchen shows no poison added to the food or drink. No cameras on the cart.”
“Thank goodness,” Mia said and she hustled toward the door. “I'm starving.”
Ryker grabbed her arm to stop her and held up a finger. She startled and gave him a what look. “Why don't you get dressed? I'll bring you coffee and we can eat as soon as you're ready.”
She sighed, shoulders drooping, but then she pasted on a fake smile. “Perfect.” She whirled, pulling her arm from his grasp. “Don’t forget I like cream.”
Marching off, she gave him a scowl over her shoulder. As he watched all those curves moving under the silk, he smiled. He could've sworn she was intentionally swinging her hips, taunting him once more.
Chapter Seven
A different kind of asset
* * *
Mia hustled to the bathroom, grabbing her outfit on the way. The microfiber pants and tunic were soft in her hands, the deep purple of the blouse perfect for her skin and hair. The pants were a bright gold with matching gold embellishments along the plunging neckline on the tunic.
Inside the bathroom, she stripped the nightgown and hung it on the door hook. She did her business and then checked her hair in the mirror, nearly shocking herself. Her natural wave defied most of her usual attempts to tame it and after sleeping on the floor, one side was curling in all directions, the other flattened against her head.
Normally, she showered first thing, but after her long bath last night she saw no point, especially since they'd slept in and were behind on their schedule.
She'd woken around three am to find herself in an unfamiliar bed. Everything had come rushing back to her, but the room had been too quiet, her brain slipping into its normal mode of over analyzing. She thought of Chloe and their future together. Of all the couples who’d stayed in this room, slept in the bed on their honeymoons. People who were in love, starting a new chapter in their lives.
Even though the bed was comfortable, she couldn't stand it and had gotten up. She'd expected Ryker to be asleep on the couch in the sitting area, but he wasn't there. She’d had a brief moment of panic. Had he left her to go sneak into Kaiser's office? In the dark of the suite, she’d gone searching for him.
Afraid she would trip and fall and bring down his anger if he were hiding in the shadows, she’d used her cell’s flashlight to illuminate the room. She’d found him asleep on the floor, shirt off, gun in hand.
No blankets, no pillow, but he had placed a chair under the door handle and laid down to face it, as if expecting trouble. She supposed she couldn't blame him—they were inside the enemy’s walls. This was Karl’s place, they were on an unsanctioned mission the United States government would deny sending them on, and all it
would take was one little slip to end up dead.
Mia had made sure not to shine the flashlight directly on Ryker and wake him, but she couldn't help getting close enough to examine the scars on his back. Where had they come from? Who had given them to him? Had he received them during his time in the SEALs or in the CIA?
He was protecting them both, and it had made her heart squeeze. Was this normal for him, lying on the floor with a gun in his hand, waiting for someone to try and kill him? She knew little of his past experiences, but he’d spent time in an off-the-books prison after an early CIA mission, no doubt enduring physical torture.
He’d started talking in his sleep, murmuring, grunting, cursing and yelling no. She thought he’d wake up, and when he didn’t, she’d wanted to do it herself, bring him out of whatever nightmare he was caught in, but she knew better. She might end up with a gun in her face.
So she’d grabbed the blanket off the bed, along with her gun, and carefully slid in next to him, gently putting her back to his. Like a miracle, he stopped jerking and cursing. She’d thought she’d woken him, but in the next few moments, she heard the sound of his breath deepening.
Sleeping on the floor sucked in general, but somehow she’d managed to get a solid eight hours. Waking up in Ryker’s arms was no hardship. The female in her had wanted to turn and kiss him silly. When he'd slid away, she'd almost begged him not to.
What the hell is the matter with me? It couldn’t only be the recent celibacy making her horny as hell. She’d been warned about the adrenaline rush that came with a mission, but was that truly it? Her first undercover job at the fundraiser, when her Agency boss had been testing her skills, had been totally different. It had been stressful and not at all exciting.
This mission, however…
She bent at the waist, flipping her hair over and combing her fingers through it, trying to tame the wayward kinks while also loosening up the flat side.