Regardless, Jaime matches my intensity, our fucking hard and jarring. She urges me to go harder, and I whisper filthy comments in her ear.
When she comes undone, it’s with a buck of her body and a cry of release as she calls my name.
“Cage!”
It’s enough to throw me over the edge with her, and I have a soul-crushing orgasm that leaves spots in my eyes and too much curiosity, wondering again what it would feel like if I were sober.
CHAPTER 2
Cage
Despite the alcohol and the late-night shenanigans with Jaime—we had sex two more times, and I’d never been so happy I’d stocked my wallet appropriately—I come out of sleep completely and fully alert.
That’s purely my military training—thank you, Navy SEALS.
The recall is immediate. I’m in Jaime’s apartment, in her bed, and I can feel the side of her body touching mine. Even though her shades are pulled, I can tell it’s bright outside as plenty of light filters in between the slats. Jaime is absolutely still, and I can hear her breathing deeply.
Still asleep.
I roll on my side to face her, tucking my arm under the pillow. Normally, I’d be making a hasty exit from a woman’s place right now, but I choose to study her instead. Last night, I’d only seen her in a dimly lit bar and through beer goggles.
But I’m not surprised in the slightest that she’s even more beautiful in the bright light of day. Her red hair is cut in long layers, some of it spilling over her shoulder as she slumbers. Face slack and full lips slightly parted, she’s almost angelic. I resist the urge to lean in to kiss her awake.
I should be going.
Yet, I continue to stare, wishing the sheet weren’t pulled up and tucked under her arm, hiding the perfectness of her lush body from my view. Fuck if it hadn’t been bliss being inside her.
Thinking on last night, yes, the fucking had been marvelous and everything I’d hope to get from a one-night stand, but the times in between… I’m surprised at just how effortless it was to hang with her. The conversations were easy, and I hadn’t felt like I was filling in awkward silences with meaningless drivel. I easily glossed over my career when she asked about my life as a car salesman, but, past that, our conversation was stimulating, and there were a lot of laughs.
If I had to describe Jaime in one word, it would be easygoing, and that was refreshing.
I really should get up and leave. I have so much stuff to do before heading back to work tomorrow.
And yet… Jaime is so damn pretty. I’m content to just lay right here and stare at her. I feel my lips curl upward into a satisfied smile as Jaime slumbers deeply.
Except… she lets out a huge huff that sounds distinctly like a sigh of frustration, then her eyes pop open to stare right back at me. They’re clear and not befuddled by the sound sleep I thought her to be in.
“You’re awake,” I mutter in surprise.
“For a while now,” she replies with a smirk. “I was pretending to be asleep so you could slink out.”
“I don’t slink,” I reply, offended. “I saunter.”
“You look like a slinker.” She pretends to study me carefully, nodding with surety. “Definitely a slinker.”
Christ, she’s cute and funny. Now that she’s talking and looking all sexy, there’s only one thing to do. I roll on top of her, settling in between those legs and bringing my lips to her neck. “I’m not a slinker. But I am definitely a morning sex kind of guy.”
Jaime laughs, bringing her arms around my neck and pulling me down to her mouth for a short kiss. “I’m not averse to morning sex at all, but I actually have to get ready for work.”
Once again, I blink in surprise. Fuck… it’s a weekday, yet it never occurred to me that she might have to be somewhere at a certain time.
Now would be the time for me to slink—I mean, saunter—out of her apartment and her life. That’s what I would do in every other instance if I’d had a one-night stand.
Instead, I find myself asking, “Can I have your number to call you sometime?”
Her eyes soften as she shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“No, but I want to.”
“Let’s just call it a one-night stand and be happy with it,” she replies firmly. “That’s what we agreed on last night. You’re the one who brought it up, so it must have been important to you.”
I’m at a loss. I don’t date. Don’t do more than one-night stands. I most certainly don’t ask for phone numbers. But now I desperately want hers.
“It’s because I’m a used-car salesman, isn’t it?” I ask, feeling jaded. I should have come up with something a bit more attractive as an occupation. “I’m not sexy enough for you.”
“You’re plenty sexy,” she says with a laugh. “I’m sure it’s a noble profession. People need transportation.”
“It’s because I didn’t play hard to get then?” I venture.
She lowers her gaze, peeking at me coyly from beneath her lashes. “You could have made me work for it a little more.”
I bust out laughing, then give her a hard kiss before rolling off her. “Okay, you’ve got to go to work, but I’m not leaving until you give me your number.”
Searching around for my clothes, I start to get dressed while Jaime watches me from the bed with an appreciative smile. I grab my phone out of my jeans pocket after I pull them on, looking pointedly at Jaime. “Number. Now.”
She rattles off her digits, and I type them in my phone. All the while, she smiles at me with an amused expression. She doesn’t believe I’ll call her.
I pocket the phone, slip my shirt on, and sit on the edge of the bed to put my shoes on. Jaime just silently watches, hand tucked under her pillow.
“I’m going to call you,” I say over my shoulder. “Just you wait and see.”
“Uh-huh.” Nothing but doubt in her tone.
I need to get out of here before I feel the urge to strip back down and make her late for work. After giving her a swift kiss, I make my way through her apartment and let myself out. Right before I close the door, I yell, “Make sure you lock up.”
“Got it,” she answers.
“And I’ll call you.” I hear her laughing in response.
I’m smiling the entire way down to the street, where I plan to order an Uber to take me to Jameson Headquarters. But before I do, I stop just outside the lobby door and pull up her number.
I tap it with confidence.
It rings twice before she answers, “Hello?”
“Told you I’d call,” I reply.
She laughs huskily. “I was just getting ready to step into the shower.”
“You’re trying to tempt me to come back up, aren’t you?” I tease.
“I wish, but I am running a bit late. So thanks for calling.”
“Wait,” I exclaim, chuckling. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Will you go to dinner with me tonight?”
She’s silent for so long, I actually think she’s going to decline the invitation. Part of me wants her to, because this is something I don’t do.
Date.
Yet, it’s relief that hits my belly when she says, “I think that would be nice.”
“Pick you up at seven?”
“Can’t wait,” she murmurs, then she hangs up without saying goodbye.
Fascinating woman. I can’t wait either. Now I just have to figure out where to take her. I’ll probably hit Kynan up once I get into work. He knows all the great places in Pittsburgh.
♦
My return to Jameson headquarters is met with great enthusiasm. I’m not the only hero who rescued Malik from his abductors, but I’m the one walking through the main floor right now. I’m greeted with backslaps, high fives, fist bumps, and one huge hug from Anna.
Anna is Kynan’s assistant. She’s only been working at Jameson for a few months. Her situation is wholly unique in that her husband was on the same mission as Malik.
He’d been killed when Malik was captured. Anna’s had a tough road, but her journey led her to work here at Jameson. She feels a bond with all of us, and she’s been so invested in Malik’s rescue. She’d taken it to heart as much as the rest of us. Even though she lost Jimmy, she considers it a balm to bring Malik home alive. It was important that something good come out of this experience.
“I’m so proud of you,” Anna exclaims as she releases me from her stranglehold.
I give her an extra squeeze before we break apart. It’s been weird, but over the last few months since Anna’s been working at Jameson, she and I have become pretty tight. I know some around the company probably think something’s going on between us, but that’s not the case. We’re friends—nothing more.
Really good friends. I’d say probably my closest in the Pittsburgh headquarters. My absolute best friend, Bodie Wright, works in the Vegas office where his wife, Rachel, runs the operations as Kynan’s second in command.
“How is he?” Anna demands, meaning Malik. “What kind of shape is he in? Is he going to be okay? What can we do for him?”
She peppers me with questions without pausing for a breath. I have to clap my hand over her mouth to get her to be quiet. Leaning in, I say, “I have to go debrief with Kynan. How about you and I grab some lunch together today, and I’ll fill you in on what I’m allowed to share. Okay?”
Her eyes crinkle, and she nods. I can feel her smile under my hand.
When I remove it, she murmurs, “All right.”
“And I missed you, too,” I reply affectionately.
Blushing, she rushes to assure me that she missed me as well. “I’m just so excited Malik was rescued, that’s all.”
I laugh. “I get it. We’ll talk at lunch.”
I move off from Anna, waving in at Corinne Ellery, our staff psychiatrist. Part of my debrief this week will be to talk to her. Kynan requires his staff to get mental health evaluations and therapy after difficult missions to cope with the stressors of the job. I’m quite sure we’ll be discussing my sense of pride and accomplishment when I put a bullet in the brain of the man who had been tormenting Malik, as well as that small part of my conscience that feels blackened by the same action.
Kynan sits in his office, head bowed over something on his desk. Since taking over Jameson Force Security, he rides desk more than he goes out on actual missions. I’m not quite sure how he does it… giving up the thrill and the adrenaline rush, especially since Kynan is known as the biggest adrenaline junkie in the entire company.
I knock on his open door before entering. His head comes up, and he gives me a welcoming smile. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him since Malik’s rescue. He met us in New York when our commercial flight landed on the last leg of our journey back from Syria. First and foremost, he was there to see Malik and welcome him back on home soil. He had not a single bit of embarrassment over the emotion he showed as the two men hugged. I’ll admit to being a bit misty-eyed myself, but I’d quickly blinked it back.
“Ready to debrief?” I ask.
It’s part of Kynan’s job to meet individually with each team member to get a rundown of exactly what happened on the mission from start to finish. He’ll be meeting with the other guys today and tomorrow, but, since I’m team leader, he’ll start with me.
“Sure thing,” he replies, pushing slightly away from his desk and leaning back casually in his office chair. I take a seat opposite his desk, settling into it.
Kynan doesn’t hold a pen or pad before him. He’s clearly not going to type notes on his laptop as I speak. All he’s doing is listening, and I expect he’ll write a report from memory later.
I also expect it will be bare on the details because while Kynan manages to get away with a lot of things under the nose of our government, his company was specifically prohibited from mounting a rescue mission in Syria. Relations are just too tenuous to go in without the cooperation of the Syrian government, but that was something Kynan had no intention of doing. It’s one of the reasons I admire him so much—he does whatever it takes to ensure his team’s safety and return home.
It takes me about an hour to lay it all out. We infiltrated the area where we were told Malik was being held. That cost Kynan twenty-grand to an informant, but the man had provided actual coordinates in the desert, which saved us a lot of time and energy. We dropped in a few clicks from where Malik was being held and snuck over land in the dead of night, using the glow of moonlight to lead the way.
We were lucky to find a small ridge made of sand and stone fifty yards from the hole in the ground where Malik was. We waited for hours to see what would happen while his captors joked, laughed, and ate roasted goat around a small fire they’d built.
And then, our break came. One of the men brought Malik out. I confirmed it was him using night goggles, and he’d looked awful.
“I’ll take the one who has Malik,” I had whispered to Merrit, who was positioned on his stomach, the same as me. We both had our Barrett M82 rifles resting on tripods. “You take the other.”
We put eyes to scopes, centering in on our targets. My crosshairs were on Malik’s captor’s head, dead center of his forehead. I knew Merritt—who was also a Navy SEAL like me—would be the same.
“On the count of three,” I whispered, then counted backward.
Three… two… one.
My bullet hit first, and I remember seeing the confusion on Malik’s face as the man’s head exploded next to him. A millisecond later, the other man was dead, too.
Kynan interrupts my accounting. “See Corinne today.”
“Got it,” I replied with a nod.
And that was all that needed to be said to have my mental health checked out. I know some guys balk at such a thing, but not me. I’m a big believer in keeping my mind as healthy as my body, particularly since I’m making a career out of this line of work.
Kynan has some follow-up questions. When we’re done, we shoot the shit about irrelevant stuff, and I know he’s happy to have me back.
Until the next mission.
Before I leave his office, I ask, “Got any recommendations for a nice restaurant where I could score dinner reservations tonight?”
Kynan’s eyebrows shoot high. Not only have I never asked such a question, because I’m a fast-food kind of guy, but it also implies I’m going on a date, which is shocking.
His expression smooths out, and he makes a few suggestions. Enough to get me started on planning this date. He never asks me for details, which is good… I hadn’t planned on sharing as I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
But I do know I’m looking forward to seeing Jaime again tonight.
CHAPTER 3
Jaime
I texted my boss that I’d be late for work before I even got in the shower. It’s not a big deal as I tend to work way more hours in a week than required, and I never claim overtime. It’s not that I’m being altruistic; I just love what I do so much that time seems to get away from me.
My shower goes on a little longer than expected because my mind wanders over the short time I’d spent with Cage. I go over every minute we’d spent at that bar, and I linger a little too long on every second we spent in my apartment.
It was so out of character for me to bring him to my place. It takes me a long time to get to know a man well enough to share my body with him. It’s not that I’m old fashioned or a prude, but I’m not one for instant gratification. More importantly, sexual attraction is more than just physical looks. It’s that element that can’t be seen with your eyes… how well personalities mesh and if the other person is trustworthy. While I could make no judgment on Cage’s trustworthiness in that short amount of time, I had a good gut feeling about him.
And… both of us were egged on by my friends, who kept shamelessly dropping hints that we made a hot couple, and we’d have an even hotter night if we left together. Alcohol helped make the decision easier. As I think back over it, I don’t have an ounce of regr
et for doing something so out of my norm.
Easy to say since I’m safe in my apartment and he didn’t murder me, but, again, I never thought that was a possibility. I’m a pretty good judge of character. I have to be in my line of work with domestic violence victims because I have to make important safety decisions all the time for women based solely on the history they give me.
When the water starts to cool, I give a final rinse of my hair to ensure the conditioner is out before exiting the shower. I wrap my hair in a towel, then slip into a fleecy robe I grab off the back of my door. My stomach is rumbling, and it needs to be fed. I know it’s certainly at a calorie deficit after the workout Cage gave me last night.
I smile at the memory… even as I acknowledge the slight soreness between my legs. It’s like a badge of honor.
Snickering, I head through my small living room into the kitchen.
“What’s so funny?” I hear a male voice say from the direction of my couch.
I shriek in fear, jumping about two feet off the ground, before my brain connects the voice with a name and I realize it’s my brother.
“Jesus,” I yell at Brian, who is casually lounging on my couch with the full carton of orange juice from my fridge. I’m suddenly regretting giving each of my immediate family members a key to my place in case of an emergency. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Brian merely lifts the carton to his mouth, proceeding to drink straight out of it. Grimacing, I stomp over to him and snatch it away, causing juice to spill on his chest.
“What did you do that for?” he growls, sitting up to wipe at the stain on his t-shirt.
I give him my back, snarling over my shoulder. “Mom and Dad might let you get away with that shit, but in my home, use a glass.”
God, my brother pisses me off more often than not. I just don’t understand him. Our parents are hard workers. Dad has a career in the steel mills where he continues to work, and Mom was a cashier in a grocery store. Growing up, they were good role models for needing to strive for success. They impacted me. I applied my energy to college, then to a fulfilling career. My younger sister, Laney, is in her final year of college at Pitt and will be moving on to a master’s program after.
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