Behind the Veil

by Kathryn Nolan

  “He sounded mad,” I said.

  “There’s nothing we can do about it now,” she said. On instinct, I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I think he’s mostly happy. No damage was actually done. The book’s back. We’ll get paid. Abe will be very happy about that.” Delilah held up my hand. “Good as new.”

  But she didn’t move from my seat. Her cheeks were flushed, pupils dilated. I wondered if she felt it too—that unbelievable urge to tear something in half. The sight of her joy, her throaty laughter, had my heart spiraling. I wanted making Delilah laugh to become my next vocation.

  My palm landed back on her thigh. The gold of my wedding ring stood stark against the pale satin of her dress.

  “There’s only one thing I’m sad about,” I admitted.

  “What’s that?”

  We were hurtling back toward Codex—the reality of the case, the reality of being coworkers. How much time did we have left in this limo? Thirty minutes? Forty?

  I intended to make the most of them.

  “As soon as we get back, I won’t be your fake husband anymore.” I reached beneath the gauzy layers of her skirt, smoothed my hand from her ankle, up her knee, along her inner thigh. We watched my hand together—out in the open, not in some dark closet. “Which means I won’t be able to touch you like this.”

  My fingers reached the lacy garter belt. I slipped two fingers beneath it, caressing the soft skin. Delilah’s lips parted on a shaky breath.

  Then her legs parted.

  “Every night that we’ve played this game,” I said, stroking higher, “I’ve gone home and been jealous of Henry Thornhill.”

  “Wh-why?” she asked.

  My hand slid so high it was hidden by layers of her skirt, bunched at the waist. I traced the outline of her underwear, which was already wet.

  “Because he got to strip this dress from your body and enjoy every single inch of your nakedness.” I slipped inside, growling like an animal when my fingers touched slick, hot flesh. My thumb found her clit, teased it with light circles. “He got to tie you to the bed you shared. Fuck you for days.”

  “Henry,” she whispered.

  She tilted her hips up, knee sliding off the side of the seat to spread herself farther for me. My thumb caressed harder and her lids grew heavy.

  “Can’t a husband fuck his wife in the back of a limo?” she asked.

  My arm shot out, wrapped around her waist. Dragged her onto my lap and wrenched her knees wide.

  I watched her nipples grow into hard, tight peaks through her dress. I slid my hands up her hips, her rib cage, her stomach—palming her breasts as she ground herself against me. My breath was coming hot, furious, frustrated. I thrust my hips up—just once—and her head fell back with a sigh.

  “Do you feel that, beautiful?” I said, ghosting my lips along her jaw, her ear. I gripped her ass beneath her dress, dragged her against my straining erection. “It doesn’t matter how much pressure we were under on this case. I was hard for you the entire fucking time.”

  That seemed to snap something inside of her. Her mouth landed on mine in a kiss that shook my body, stole my breath. Her fingers were opening my belt as I bit her lower lip, groaning when she released my cock. Our foreheads came together, breath shuddering, as her hand slicked up, gripped the head. I tangled my fingers in her short curls. Twisted and trapped her. Pulled her head back until we could stare at each other with swollen lips.

  “You want me to fuck you in this limo, Delilah?” My voice was a taunt. Hers was a sob. “You want me to make our fantasies real?”

  “Yes,” she said, panting but firm. “Please, for the love of God, take me right here.”

  Adrenaline, nerves, fear—I wanted to fuck her like this. Wanted to unleash every predatory instinct she elicited in me. But even if it was only this one night, only this one moment, I already knew there’d be consequences. I softened my voice.

  “Are you sure?”

  Delilah kissed me again with sublime passion; a luscious press of her lips against mine. Her mouth opened the way she was opening for me—her tongue, her breath, her fingers in my hair. The fantasy slid away, revealing the full force of my feelings for this woman, a woman whose lips moving against mine brought me a pleasure I’d never experienced before.

  I knew full well what the consequences of these moments would be.

  “More than anything,” she whispered.

  Walls down, heart open, grinning with flushed cheeks—the warrior goddess in front of me had never been more perfect, more alive, more real.

  “I brought a condom in my purse.” She reached for it with one hand, eyes never leaving mine.

  I had her on her back in a second. In the next, I’d reached beneath her skirt and torn her underwear clear from her body. I let myself enjoy one indulgent second of Delilah’s naked, glistening pussy—the dark thatch of hair, the flexing muscles of her inner thighs.

  Then I grabbed the condom from her shaking fingers.

  “You had this the entire time?” I growled.

  “A woman has to have her secrets,” she taunted.

  I grabbed her hips, yanked her down the seat. Her head fell back, knees pushed wide. She watched me sheath myself with hungry eyes. I dropped my hips against her sex, sliding my cock along her clit.

  “How soundproof do you think that window is?” I whispered at her ear, stopping to bite the side of it.

  She shuddered, grabbed my ass. “It’s not soundproof at all.”

  “Good thing you’ve already shown me you know how to stay quiet.”

  My cock was right where we both wanted it. Her pussy was wet and so hot I almost lost it right there. “Once I’m inside you, I won’t be able to control myself.”

  It was a warning as much for her as it was for me. And like that day she’d taught me how to fight, she propped herself up on her elbows and gave me a dangerous smile.

  “You think I can’t handle it, newbie?”

  With a barely contained groan, I reached beneath her body, lifted up her hips. And pushed inside her inch by delicious inch. She muffled a moan against my throat, grasping my hair. I let her adjust to the size of me, went slowly, carefully, until I bottomed out inside of her.

  We were sharing one ragged breath, finally joined together; Delilah was wet and tight and hot and as I gave a tiny, experimental thrust, she raked her nails down my chest. Closed her teeth around my jaw.

  “Harder, newbie.”

  Delilah fell back onto the seat, and I pressed a hand over her mouth as I punched my hips forward the way she’d asked. There was no point in going slowly now—Delilah and I were well past that, driven mad by lust and adrenaline.

  Her hands ripped beneath my shirt, fingernails clawing up the muscles of my back. She was moaning softly beneath my hand, brilliant eyes trained on mine, and I was analyzing every single response to my movements.

  Even a quick fuck in a limo should be transcendent for the powerful woman I had beneath me. I surged forward, tilted my hips slightly, and her eyelids fluttered.

  I wanted us closer, glued together, so I replaced my palm with my mouth. Kissed her hungrily, messily—teeth, tongue, and my cock fucking her with deliberate speed. Our cries of pleasure were muted only by the intensity of our kiss. She sucked my fingers between her lips, bit at me, cut her nails into my ribcage.

  Our hands collided as I thrust us forward across the seat, so I wrenched them up and over her head. The position brought us nose-to-nose—and let me grind my pelvis against her clit every time I fucked into her. We were kissing each other with intertwined fingers and slick, grinding bodies. Delilah met me thrust for thrust, every nerve in my body screaming for more more more.

  And then I was flying—off the side of the seat and onto the bottom of the limo, landing hard on my back.

  Delilah had bested me yet again.

  Just like in my fantasies, she straddled my cock and rode me with a fury. I gripped her hips and pistoned her savagely, up and down, reac
hing up and placing my hand over her lips again to keep her quiet. But the sounds that escaped were passionate, real, and so fucking raw a voice in the back of my head whispered a warning I didn’t want to heed. Not that what we were doing was wrong—unprofessional and complicated and breaking the rules.

  No—the warning was shouting that every shared kiss, every caress, every touch was right.

  I sat up, rolling my hips and dragging a sound from her throat she hadn’t made before. “Did you really think you were going to win this fight?” I teased, kissing my way up her neck as she fucked me.

  “You like it,” she gasped, mouth sliding into a smile.

  I twisted her around, slapped her palms on the seat in front of her, and pushed up to my knees. Flipped up her gauzy skirt and slid back inside her with a ferocity I didn’t know I possessed. She had to drop her mouth to the seat and scream.

  I gripped her hair, twisted the tendrils, and fucked Delilah so deep I lost any remaining scraps of my self-control. I only existed to give Delilah the pleasure she deserved—and even as I was balancing on the precipice of orgasm, nothing else mattered except Delilah. I curved my chest over her back, hovered my lips at her ear.

  “Feel how much I want you, Delilah,” I said. My fingers slid against her clit, and she whimpered. “I have meant every single word I’ve said to you as your husband. Every single word. All of it is true.”

  She was shaking so much I worried she might fall over. I was hitting some angle inside of her that had her delirious, muttering nonsense words. My thumb worked her clit in purposeful circles until her internal walls clenched so hard that I closed my mouth around her shoulder to bite.

  With my last remaining seconds of control, I took her mouth in a ravishing kiss as she orgasmed. I climaxed at the exact same time, our bodies chasing the same pleasure, the same heights. My mind went entirely blank, vision dark; I was crushing pressure and ecstatic release and then perfect stillness.

  Delilah’s head fell back against my shoulder, and she let out that same adorable laugh from earlier. I kissed her on the cheek.

  “I actually think,” she said, still breathless, “that was newlywed sex.”

  I gave an open-mouthed chuckle against her shoulder blade. “That sex was for a woman who trusted her instincts. And led us right where we needed to be.”

  She turned around and wrapped her entire body around mine—clinging to me on the floor of this limo. From the speed we were going, I sensed we were close to the quiet, historic streets of Old City.

  Our time was almost up.

  “That sex was for a man who is stronger and smarter than his past,” she whispered.

  And I let her see how honest I was being when I said, “So are you.”

  Delilah kissed my temple, clung to me tighter. How had this happened? This outpouring of emotion, the tender way she clung to me. But it was the same after the closet—a moment I imagined would be deviously filthy had ended sweetly.

  “You know, I think we both won,” she finally said, giving me a small smile.

  “I think you’re right.”

  The limo slowed down. Her eyes were a storm of emotions that probably mirrored my own. Because I was turned on by our shared fantasy—but utterly captivated by the feelings that existed beneath.

  The limo stopped, engine idling. My eyes cast toward the corner, where I’d secured the glass case protecting our bounty. Part of me knew Abe might be angry with us—but what could honestly go wrong? We’d had a successful recovery, against odds that were heavily stacked against us. I felt happy, indulgent, ready to take on the world with the woman sitting next to me.

  I hadn’t felt this way since before Bernard had ruined everything.

  I held Delilah’s hand to my mouth, kissed it.

  “Are you ready?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, eyes bright. “I think I am.”

  43

  Delilah

  Freya was a blur of limbs when Henry and I walked through the doors at Codex. As Henry left to place the Copernicus in our secure storage room, she leapt into my arms and squealed.

  “I knew you could do it,” she whispered. She was dressed head-to-toe in the Harry Potter flannel pajamas she kept in her desk drawer just for nights like this. I felt a sharp pang when I recalled our conversation from earlier:

  Strange things can happen when you go undercover.

  Like having adrenaline-fueled sex on the floor of a limo with a man who made you feel as filthy as he did cherished?

  I meant every single word. His honest confession had soared me to climax as intensely as the raw and passionate fucking I’d just received. His perfect cock, his dirty mouth, his throaty, ragged groans—the deep, glorious angle, the bruises, the scrapes, the screaming.

  Followed by Henry’s fervent, whispered praise; his sweet and beautiful vulnerability.

  As I stood there with Freya clutching me tightly, the awareness of what Henry and I had done fully sunk in. And if I’d somehow believed I could keep my feelings for him locked away, I now knew that to be a fool’s errand.

  “I want to see the book,” Abe said tightly. He avoided looking at me but appeared exhausted and almost rumpled in his suit.

  “Okay,” I said, exchanging a brow lift with Freya.

  I’d picked up on his I’m pissed signals over the phone, but I was distracted by sheer lust. Now, anger was obvious in the way he stalked across the office toward the book.

  “Cameras, please,” Freya said, miming grabby hands.

  “Right,” I said, snapping off my bracelet. “Listen, Henry has the background on this, but I think we actually got a picture of a stolen text besides the Copernicus. A page from an Isaac Newton manuscript. Plus, I got photos of the Copernicus in its case.”

  Freya shoved a lock of hair from her forehead. “Incredible. Francisco directed us to send everything to the FBI agents they’ve been working with. It looks like our kooky heiress might actually get in trouble. She can’t claim innocence when the book came from the museum where she’s president of the board.”

  “I wonder how she got it,” I mused. “She must have hired someone, right?”

  “I’m sure. Victoria’s got contacts for days.”

  I tried to tamp down the peculiar sensation that rose in me at the thought of Victoria being led away in handcuffs, serving real time in prison. I’d never become so intimately involved in a suspect’s life as a police officer—there wasn’t time and it wasn’t appropriate. This—this deep dive into Victoria’s vulnerabilities to gain her trust—had me feeling itchy.

  “Do you think she realizes that Henry and Delilah Thornhill swindled her yet?”

  I thought of watching her through the concealed portrait window, the way her fingers had trembled when she thought no one was looking.

  “Yes, I think she does,” I admitted.

  Freya eyed me for a second. “Empathy is a complicating emotion when you’re undercover. It’s very, very normal to feel confused.”

  I gave her a grateful side-hug but still felt unsettled. We followed Abe into the storage room and watched Henry carefully place the portable glass case into our larger, temperature-controlled safe. Without a word, he stepped back so Abe could drop down to his heels and examine it.

  “You’ll do an analysis? I’ve already called Francisco.”

  Henry beamed at him like an eager student. “Absolutely. I can confirm authenticity.”

  But his smile faltered when he finally had time to read Abe’s obvious displeasure. Henry dared a glance in my direction, but I shook my head discreetly.

  “I’d like to speak to both of you in my office now.”

  “And me?” Freya asked brightly.

  “Go home.”

  Her face fell. Call me, she mouthed, before grabbing her things to go.

  Henry and I stepped into Abe’s office like bad kids about to be reprimanded by the principal. Abe closed the door, cleared his throat briskly. Leaned against his desk with legs crossed in front
of him.

  “What were your orders this evening?”

  So this was how it was going to be.

  “Abe, we just returned a book worth five million dollars—”

  “What were your orders this evening?”

  I let out a long exhale. Disobeying orders wasn’t my forte, but I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been convinced it was the right thing to do. “Case the property. Take pictures. Do not identify ourselves as Codex agents. Do not put ourselves at risk. Call the police.”

  “And what did you do instead?”

  I crossed my arms. “Henry and I, as partners, made the call to go after it. Henry had recalled this memory, from Bernard, that led us to these secret hallways. And I had this feeling it was there the entire time. We both worried that if we didn’t take quick action the book would have been lost forever.”

  I tilted my chin—keenly aware that, as a former police officer and now private detective—I was arguing that a flimsy memory and a feeling was the reason why I disobeyed express orders.

  Abe knew it too. He glared at me until I shifted noisily in my chair.

  “I run Codex like a tight ship because I’ve seen firsthand what happens when a small team doesn’t respect one another, doesn’t respect each other’s safety. Disregards professional boundaries or goes off-script. Of course I’m thrilled and…” Abe’s throat worked. “And proud that you recovered the Copernicus.”

  My chest pinched at his rare show of emotion.

  “But I was also worried.” Abe smoothed his tie down, avoiding our eyes. “Very fucking worried.”

  I deflated like a popped beach ball. “Oh, Abe.”

  “Your plan only seems flawless now because the recovery was successful. But if it hadn’t been, or either of you had gotten hurt in the process, you would understand how reckless it was.” Abe leaned forward—and this next part was directed at me. “The rules are different for private detectives, Delilah. We’re not FBI or police anymore. If we do the things we used to, it’s illegal. And even if you and I struggle with that, it’s the goddamn truth.”