by Raine Miller
Jason followed her inside with Dexter at his heels. Zoe flicked on a Tiffany lamp on an end table, placing the room in a soft glow. The place was spotless, with simple traditional furnishings, hardwood floors, and lots of stained woodwork.
“Can I get you something to drink?” She opened the back door and let the dog out.
“I’m good.” He examined the fireplace in the living room. “Does it work?”
“Yes, wood-burning.”
“Great.” He took a breath. This was probably a bad time for spilling guts. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”
“For tonight?”
He shrugged. “That and for why I left Langley without telling you.”
She sat on the sofa and put her feet up on her coffee table. For a neat freak, that was an odd thing to do. “At first I thought you went on a mission that ran into some complications, then I heard you left or were reassigned. Later, Big D said you left but gave no details. Typical. I figured you lost interest.”
He sat next to her on the sofa and took her hand. “That wasn’t quite right. I did get reassigned. But I should’ve contacted you. I wanted to. I got involved in a complicated project and was sent overseas right away.”
“It’s late. Let’s talk about this another time.” She got up and let Dexter inside. He got a drink of water from his bowl, then curled up on his doggy pillow in the living room.
“Okay. We’ll talk about it later.” Jason patted her thigh.
She got up and walked into the other room, her bedroom, he assumed, and closed the door.
Crap. That was that. He deserved it. What did he expect? That she’d forgive him and jump right in the sack? At least the sofa felt comfortable. He took off his shirt, pulled a throw blanket from the back of the sofa, and stretched out. Dexter hopped onto the couch and curled around his legs. He considered pushing him off, but the dog looked at him with soulful brown eyes. “Okay, I don’t know the rules, so just this once.” The dog gave a loud sigh.
Zoe dug through her dresser drawer, looking for her sexy lingerie, the black lace shift with red ribbons running through it. The cups barely covered her breasts and made her look two cup sizes larger, thanks to a little padding and underwire. She left her scarf on the dresser. Jason was the one person who understood and either didn’t see the scar, or ignored it. She loved him for that.
Was she a fool getting involved with him again? Feeling his body and his response in the hidden passageway was more than she could resist. There always had been amazing heat between them, and for what was going on in that secret passage, she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Details could come later. They were adults. They could enjoy each other’s company if they wanted. If a relationship was meant to be, they could work it out.
She knew he cared, had really cared for her once. They’d worked on a few dangerous missions. You learn a lot about a person during a crisis, even someone who was trained to deal with crisis situations.
The first one had been in Israel. They’d been gathering intel on arms dealers. One of the dealers left his grandmother sitting in a chair near a flower vendor as a lookout. Zoe was to take photos of the people coming and going from the building, not approach. The building was under renovation and empty except for construction workers. But when a contractor’s truck blocked her view, she decided to go inside. When the grandmother noticed Zoe enter a building, she alerted her grandson. Jason almost blew his cover, and the mission, to rescue her before the men got to her.
He shouldn’t have returned to the scene. He’d had the intel he needed even without her photos. The information was too important and the risk too great, but he risked his life anyway.
The incident in Turkey had been even worse. That nightmare she’d rather forget. Months later, he’d left Langley without a word. All this time, he was working Secret Service.
Had another woman stepped in? Or another mission? Or had he lost interest? If that was the case, she would walk away. Either way, she’d survive and put it behind her. Right now, she wanted him. Every cell in her body was hot for him. She didn’t care what he did or who he’d been with. Her pussy was soaked, her nipples hard and sensitive. In those secret passages, he’d worked her up, and now she needed a release.
Leaving her bedroom, she walked into the living room where Jason lay on the sofa, asleep, snoring softly. Months ago, that hard body had made love to her in the most exotic places. Dexter was also asleep at his feet. He wasn’t supposed to be on the couch, but she didn’t want to disturb Jason. Her body reacted to Jason’s nearness, but she didn’t have the heart to wake him. Fuck.
She drew the throw blanket over his chest, turned out the lights, went back into her room and went to bed.
The next morning she woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Rolling over, she glanced at her clock. 8:55 a.m. They’d gotten to bed after three. She climbed out of bed and made a quick stop in her bathroom. As she suspected, makeup had left dark smudges under her eyes, and her hair looked and felt like a bale of hay stomped on by a horse.
After running a comb through her hair and quickly brushing her teeth, she wrapped herself in a silk robe and headed for the kitchen. “Something smells good.”
He stood at the stove, barefoot, shirtless and wearing only his trousers. Dexter sat on the floor munching on something. She assumed a slice of bacon. Jason knew how to win him over.
“Morning,” he said over his shoulder as he continued cooking the eggs.
Her insides thrummed, ached for him all over again. She marched straight for the coffeepot and poured two mugs.
“I can’t remember the last time you cooked breakfast for me.”
“It was at my condo. It’s been awhile.” He brought the plates of food to her dining table in the next room.
They sat down and began to eat. She sipped her coffee. “I assume you still live in the same condo in Chevy Chase?”
He shook his head. “I have a place in McLean Gardens now.”
Of course, McLean Gardens was pretty close to the White House, so maybe that was where he moved to be closer.
The silence grew awkward between them. Then he reached across the table and touched the sleeve of her robe. He rubbed the peach silk between his fingers. “This is pretty. Were you wearing this last night?”
She nodded. “You crashed. I didn’t want to wake you.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “You should’ve.”
“The eggs are good. Thanks.” She munched on the buttered toast. “We can shower quick, then go get my things. Are you working today?”
“No, I’m off.”
“Odd that we’re working together again.” She hadn’t thought about it much, considering all that had happened. But now that she did think of it, wasn’t it a bizarre coincidence?
“I suppose,” he said. “Are we showering together?”
“Maybe.” She leaned back in her chair and waited for his response. He didn’t say a word. “One good thing about not working at Langley anymore, we can tell each other where we’re going and talk about our jobs.”
“To a degree. I’m not authorized to chat about certain aspects of my job.”
Zoe stood up and got more coffee and more cream. She huffed. “I know that.” She topped off his mug with more coffee, splashing a little onto the table. She resisted the urge to clean it up. He used to tease her about her compulsive cleaning.
After a minute she couldn’t stand the drips of coffee and grabbed napkins and soaked up the spill.
She was sure he noticed, but he didn’t mention it. Dexter stood by the back door, his signal to be let out. Zoe opened the door for him.
“Did I ruin your plans last night?” Jason asked.
“My research project in the basement?” She sat back down and sipped at her coffee, unable to finish the rest of her breakfast.
Her robe slid off one shoulder. He reached over and slid a finger beneath the lacy strap of her chemise. “Not what I meant. Did you have plans
to make love?”
“Perhaps. It was awfully late.”
“We can manage now.” He smiled, and his gaze turned dark and sultry. The look was intoxicating, and her stomach gave a flutter. “I have a lot to make up to you.”
She felt all hot and horny inside. Yes, she wanted him, and she probably could have him right there, but then what? He’d walk away again? “Promises, promises.” She smiled, but it was a bittersweet smile. She stood up and carried the dishes into the kitchen. Starting over brought up the uncertainty and fear of what would happen later.
He followed. “It was damn hard leaving you,” he said. “I was afraid that if I didn’t, you’d be killed or tortured, or we both would.”
“You don’t think I was a good agent?” She glared at him, arms crossed, wrapping the robe tightly around her.
“You’re an excellent agent. Maybe a little too fearless at times, but smart, and you have nerves of steel.”
“I think we worked well together. We had a couple of bad missions.” She touched his hand.
“Don’t you want this?” The pain in his voice ripped a hole inside her.
“I want you so damn much.” Her words choked in her throat. She forced a laugh to keep from crying. “Hell, we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other.”
“Should we try?” He stepped closer, opening her robe and putting his arms around her waist. The heat of his touch blazed through the silky material. Her robe dropped to the floor as he pulled down one strap of her chemise and kissed her shoulder, his hot tongue drawing a slow circle to make her shiver.
“I doubt it would do any good.” She explored his chest, feeling every muscle and curve. Forgoing the idea of going slow, she slipped her hand down his trousers and wrapped her fingers around his cock. He moaned and cupped her breasts. “I have condoms in my bedroom.”
He shifted and dug into his pants and slammed a packet on the kitchen counter. “No need.”
“Why am I not surprised?” She laughed.
“Zoe, tell me what you want,” he said in a hoarse tone. He kissed her throat. She tensed, wanting to hide the scar, but he distracted her by rolling her nipple between his fingers. “Here, or the couch, your bed, or the shower?”
With each new suggestion, his mouth moved from her throat to her breasts, her stomach. Then he drew down her panties and licked her cleft. The deeply intimate touch electrified all her senses and directed a rush of pleasure to her core.
“I want it all.” She moaned and grabbed the counter behind her. His tongue rasped across her swollen bud, drawing exquisite shivers through her body. When he thrust his finger inside her channel, she cried out and thought she’d collapse. “God, Jason. Slow down or I’ll come.”
He stood, licking his lips, and she reached for his zipper and yanked down his pants. His cock sprang free. Cupping his balls with one hand, she tightened her grip around his shaft with the other, then worked it up and down, tightening and releasing the pressure.
“This was what I wanted to do to you in that closet.” She knelt down and took him into her mouth. He groaned and raised his hips, pumping them to match her rhythm.
“Zoe, fuck, that’s good.” He grabbed her shoulders and lifted her up. “As much as I’d like you to continue, I have to get inside you.”
Leaning into him, she kissed his arm. “The bedroom?”
He opened the condom and slipped it on. “Do you think we can wait that long?”
“No.”
He lifted her up on the counter, spread her legs wide. Pressing the crown of his cock at her entrance, he tested her slick, hot opening. “Fuck me, Jason. Now.”
He drove deep in one thrust to his root. She relished the melty sensation spinning within her core, her womb as he slid back and pumped into her again. “God, yes,” she cried out. Her legs hooked around his hips, urging him to pump faster, harder.
One hand on the cabinet, Jason thrust his cock deep. Zoe’s ass kept bumping into the microwave, but she barely noticed. When he raised her legs, he found the perfect position. Immediately, she let go of the counter and grasped his arms. The coil of pleasure rose up deep inside her, and the most intense orgasm slammed into her. “Ahhhh.”
Before the last spasm of sensation rushed through her, Jason groaned. “Ah fuck, I’m coming.” He threw back his head and closed his eyes. After his body and breathing calmed down, and she felt reality returning, they collapsed into each other’s arms. “That was amazing.”
“Yes, very.” She rested her head on his shoulder, not wanting him to see her face. Yes, how quickly they fell back into their hot and heavy sex routine.
Dexter scratched and whimpered at the back door.
“Guess he wants in.” He stepped away from her and opened the door. Dexter rushed in and ran straight for his food dish.
Jason got quiet, kept his eyes averted. Was it from making love or did he have something else on his mind? The distance grew between them, and she had no idea why.
“Something wrong?” She tried keeping the edge out of her voice as she pulled the robe around herself and crossed her arms over her breasts.
He smiled, a weak one at that. “No.” But he petted Dexter while he said it. “Ready for that shower? I have more to talk to you about once we get to the White House.”
CHAPTER 8
Morning sunlight streamed through the massive Palladian window of the East Sitting Hall, filling the room with blinding white splendor. Melissa’s escort brought her to the entrance, announced her presence, and waited for the first lady to call Melissa inside.
The escort, a middle-aged gentleman, gave her a nod to enter then left. Melissa stepped over the threshold. Her heart always quickened when entering this portion of the White House. It seemed intimate, private, as if she was intruding.
“Please have a seat, Melissa,” Faith said. “Charlotte and I were just finishing some tea and scones. We’re planning the reception for next week. It will be a small event, just a few UN officials and the foreign delegates who’ll be in town that week. Small.” Faith gave Charlotte a pointed look.
When Melissa’s eyes adjusted to the bright lighting, she froze as she realized “Charlotte” was Charlotte Ellison, first lady from the previous administration. Her husband had lost his re-election bid. Mrs. Ellison was now working at the United Nations.
Melissa sat on a chair across from the two women everyone in the nation thought were enemies having a friendly cup of tea. At any moment, Melissa expected to see the gracious women, wearing perfectly pressed designer suits and exquisitely applied makeup and styled hair, attack each other like a couple of rabid poodles. Where was her whip when she needed it?
“Would you like some tea?” Faith picked up the silver teapot and smiled.
“Yes, please.” Melissa held up a dainty china teacup and saucer while Faith poured.
Faith’s hand was steady, she noticed. She was accustomed to her new role as the head of the FLC, the First Lady’s Club.
“This is a last-minute reception, and we want a friendly and warm atmosphere for these most”—she hesitated, searching for the proper or politically correct word—“cautious delegates when it comes to signing the peace treaty.”
“Small reception,” Charlotte moaned in her stuffy Southern accent, as if Faith had no idea how to be a proper hostess. “Is there ever such a thing as a small reception in the White House?”
“I know how you love a party, Charlotte, especially in big houses, but tensions are high, and I think it would be in poor taste to have a large gala.” Somehow, Melissa thought Faith was getting a dig in there. She sipped her tea, averting her gaze to the scones that looked heavenly.
“Help yourself to a scone or tea sandwich, dear,” Charlotte offered.
Faith shot her a look, then quickly ignored the woman’s overstep in playing hostess. “I think we have everything covered. I’ll contact the caterers and give them a head count. No media will be allowed either.” When Charlotte opened her mouth to protest, Faith ca
lmly glanced at her, daring her to argue.
The woman had enough sense to know how far to push. “I understand. Small, low-key, warm, friendly and boring reception.” She sighed then smiled in a kind manner. “Anything to put the delegates at ease and get them to sign.” She stood up to leave.
Faith also stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
“No, no, I know my way.” She smiled. “Have your meeting with your assistant.”
The edge in her voice made Melissa wonder if Charlotte had guessed what type of assistant she was.
After Charlotte left, Faith walked across the room and gazed out the window. She took in a deep breath. “I do believe the East Sitting Hall is my favorite room in the White House.”
“It is a beautiful room,” Melissa agreed. “The lighting is perfect for the Monet.” She picked up her teacup, took a sip and frowned. The tea was cold.
“Since the last administration didn’t utilize the FLC, we have a lot of work to do,” Faith said.
“Mrs. Ellison was opposed to the FLC?”
“She didn’t agree with its philosophy,” Faith stated. “If we succeed with the treaty, we can move on to other projects. This reception might allow us to line up a few more targets. The intel has been gathered. We need to make the offers.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
“You’ll be attending the reception.”
“Of course.” Melissa bit down on a scone and washed it down with some cold tea. “Do you think the tapes were acceptable?”
“That was nice work last night.”
Melissa sighed. “I’m glad to hear. When will we know?”
“He’s having his key meeting this morning. The president was happy with the results of last night.” Faith smiled. Clearly, she enjoyed going over the details of the Red Tape Room’s presentation with her husband.
Melissa had heard the sex tapes were an aphrodisiac between Faith and the president. An added benefit of the FLC. She hadn’t expected to make porno flicks for the president. She so didn’t want to go there. If her encounters were successful for manipulating foreign policy, that’s what mattered.