Dance With Me

by Kristin Leigh

  “Like spies and the CIA?” Rebecca stared at him, her eyes wide and her mind racing.

  “No. The CIA is restricted to international intelligence. They can’t operate within the borders of the US. And these guys don’t gather intel to report back to someone the way spies do. They gather it and take action. They call in reinforcements only when they have to. They’re not like us, because the government will deny any association with them if they’re caught. We call them Black Ops. They go into it expecting to die. That’s why we call them that.” Chris looked back up at Rebecca and continued, his voice firm. “The only reason I’m telling you this is so you will understand why you should stay away from Rick Jones. In twelve years of active duty in the intelligence field, I have never met someone in Black Ops. It can’t be good that he’s here, and it can’t be good that he’s showing an interest in you. Please, Rebecca, stay away from him.”

  Rebecca nodded, unable to speak. She would never have guessed any of it. It seemed so…deceitful and malicious. Military spies? Rebecca didn’t have a lot of faith in the government itself, and even had a few conspiracy theories of her own, but…this? “A-all right,” she stuttered. “I’ll keep my distance. Thank you.” She stopped, unsure what she should say next.

  Callie came into the room and sat down in Chris’s lap. Chris wrapped his huge beefy arms around her and buried his face against her neck. Callie took his hand and watched Rebecca carefully.

  Rebecca grew uncomfortable beneath her friend’s knowing gaze and stood quickly. “I’m gonna go now. Thanks again.” She fled, her mind racing too fast to process anything else.

  She drove home on autopilot, barely noticing the storm gathering around her. Chris had never actually said, "Rick Jones isn’t Rick Jones, he’s Black Ops, and he could get you killed," but the implication had been made. Rebecca turned the idea over and over in her mind until she pulled into her driveway and cut the ignition.

  As though by magnetic force, her head turned in the direction of Rick’s duplex. There were no lights on, but the car was parked in the driveway. Is he in there? What’s he doing? Spy stuff?

  She watched his house, barely aware of the flashes of lightning amid the downpour. What kind of person can watch two people being tortured for that long? Rebecca knew, though. It took a Uniform, a special kind of dark soul. And a liar. Rick Jones, or whatever his name was, was just one more person in a long line of people who had abused her trust.

  Suddenly angry, Rebecca opened the door and got out of her car. He’d made her like him, with his good looks and sad smiles. She’d felt a stirring of a long-dead female need to heal a broken man. But Rick Jones was not a broken man. He was evil, pure and simple—and a liar. And Rebecca had already had enough evil and lies in her life. She clenched her fists by her sides and narrowed her eyes. With quick, angry strides she crossed the street and banged on his door.

  Chapter 5

  Dammit. Someone was knocking at the door. Rick leaned his head against the wall and looked down at his engorged penis clenched in his fist. He slowed his hand and stopped. Fuck! He was so close he could almost taste it. He was sitting on the floor of the bedroom, his pants undone, stroking himself to the type of orgasm he’d almost forgotten about.

  It had been so long, so damn long, since jerking off had been anything more than part of a morning routine. Get up, brush his teeth, shave, shower, and jerk off. He’d gotten no real pleasure from the act in years. Even the quick lay in Thailand had been mediocre at best. But that redhead, Rebecca, had left Rick with mental pictures he couldn’t shake, and a longing he hadn’t felt since…well, he didn’t remember when.

  Rick considered finishing himself off before opening the door, or maybe ignoring whoever it was altogether. But the banging continued, and, with a grimace, he tucked himself back into his slacks and stood. There was a painfully obvious tent in the front of the pants, and Rick made a few adjustments so his dick didn’t greet the guest before he could.

  The pounding on the door was relentless, almost nonstop and Rick shouted, “I’m coming!” as he headed in that direction. Or I would have been, anyway.

  When he reached the door, Rick pasted his happy-to-see-you-neighbor smile on his face and jerked it open. Shit. Rebecca. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could she smiled at him and started talking.

  “Hi there! Just thought I’d stop by and see how you were after our little coffee date ended so quickly.” Rebecca pushed her way inside and Rick closed the door and turned to her, wary. “Oh, I see you don’t have your furniture moved in yet. Funny, I would have thought you would at least have a television. Or a couch. Or anything that might seem, oh I don’t know, normal. Like you actually plan on staying around. Strange, huh neighbor?”

  Rick eyed her suspiciously. Something was off. Her voice was heavily laced with sarcasm, and despite the wide smile on her face, Rebecca was shooting fire from her eyes.

  “Uh, my furniture isn’t going to be delivered until…”

  “Save it,” she bit out. “Don’t lie to me. Not one more lie, do you hear me? I understand you’ve got to ‘keep your cover’ or whatever,” she used little quotations in the air and continued, “But you don’t get to take me on a date, be supernice and understanding, and still get to lie to me. Get it?”

  Paulson. Fuck. It didn’t take two seconds to figure out how she knew. Somehow Paulson had heard about that little coffee date and warned her away. Damn that son of a bitch! His cover was shot to hell because he couldn’t resist having coffee with a spitfire redhead. He considered keeping up the ruse of Rick Jones for a split second before deciding it would be best to cut his losses. The longer he denied it, the harder Paulson, Rebecca—and God knew who else—would look.

  Rick gave Rebecca a hard look and said, “Wait here.” He stalked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. The way he saw it, Rick could send her on her way and disappear. Or—and for some reason this was the option he liked—he could show her who he was before he left. Show her the major. Because it’s not like she’d ever see him again.

  He’d been planning to do the right thing…leave her alone and continue his mission as though he’d never seen her. But she’d come here, dripping with rain and bristling with offended indignation. And so damn beautiful he couldn’t see his mission past her.

  Fuck it. Let her see. Rick sighed and pulled out the contacts. Once he’d disposed of the silicon nose and chin, he pulled the cotton from his cheeks. Rick Jones was officially dead now. The major would have to start over.

  With a curse, the major marched back into the entryway, wiping the glue and concealing paint from his face with a wet cloth. Rebecca froze when she saw him, her eyes widening and her mouth opening. He snorted softly. Figured. He’d been attractive enough as Rick Jones, but when the major showed up…well it shouldn’t matter. She was a liability.

  The major didn’t bother trying to slouch or disguise his voice. Rick Jones had a smooth voice and lousy posture. The major spoke in rough, clipped syllables and stood tall. “You realize, don’t you, that you have caused me no end of trouble.” He shook his head at her. “Now I have a shit-ton of work to do.”

  “Rick?” she squeaked out and took a step back.

  He cursed softly. She’d picked the wrong damn time to be afraid. “Rick Jones is fiction. He’s not real.”

  “So who are you?” Her voice was soft, low, and the fear he heard there made his gut clench. She had nothing to fear from him, but there’s no way she could know that.

  “The major. Or just Major.” Why did I tell her that? He never told anyone…anything.

  She lifted one eyebrow. “The major? Seriously? Come on, you can do better than that. What’s your name?” The fear was still present in her voice, but that fire was returning. Good. He liked the fire. The fear roused instincts in him he had no business acting on.

  “I don’t have one. Not anymore. The few people that know me call me Major.” Or Borg. But he wasn’t going to let anyone outside
of the team call him Borg. That was ridiculous.

  Rebecca nodded slowly, licked her lips and looked away. “Okay, Major, then.” She looked back at him and swallowed before asking, “Why me? What possible reason could you have to take me out for coffee? I don’t understand.”

  The major hung his head, unable to meet her gaze. “That was a serious lapse in judgment. I’m sorry.” He looked back up at her just in time to see the hurt look in her eyes before her expression became shuttered. He clenched his fists by his side and tensed against the urge to tell her more.

  “I see,” she murmured. “I’m a ‘lapse in judgment.’ How very flattering.” Rebecca’s soft voice, so calm and cool, was a direct contradiction to the brimstone shooting from her eyes. But at least she wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

  Rebecca pivoted to walk away and the major knew he should let her go. She’d be better off nursing her hurt feelings at home. In a few days this whole fiasco would be nothing but a memory and Rebecca would carry on as if he’d never even been here.

  Something about that last thought made the major angry enough to scream and he couldn’t stand it. Eleven fucking years, and not one person knows me. Not one goddamn person.

  The door had barely closed behind her before he jerked it open. Rebecca had darted off and was almost out of his yard before the major spurred himself into action. He ran across his yard and the street before catching up to her in front of her duplex.

  In eleven years the major had never even had the urge to tell anyone about himself, and all of a sudden a hell-on-wheels redhead changed that.

  Rebecca had almost made it to her driveway when the major caught her by the arm.

  “Wait just a damn minute!” He had to yell over the heavy torrent of rain. Lightning flashed nearby and a deep, growling thunder nearly drowned out his words.

  Rebecca turned to him, swinging. Out of instinct he caught her small fist in his hand and twisted her arm behind her back until she was pressed against him. The major loosened his grip, wary of hurting her, but kept her restrained against his body.

  “I didn’t ask you out for coffee so I could get information from you.” He needed her to know that, if nothing else.

  “Oh yeah?” She spat out at him. “Then why did you?”

  Uncontrollable anger built and bubbled inside him until it threatened to spill over. He’d given his entire fucking life for his country. Surely he was entitled to coffee with a knockout redhead now and then. She couldn’t possibly understand the deep ache that had been growing inside of him, or how it had faded in her presence. She didn’t know how it confused him, this need he felt to be near her. The major glared at her, struggling to find the words. But there were no words.

  “Because I want you,” he finally whispered as the anger drained out of him as quickly as it had come. Rebecca’s eyes widened and she sputtered for a moment. The major didn’t give her time to complete the thought before he lowered his lips to hers. His dick, so close to orgasm less than fifteen minutes earlier, stood up and saluted.

  He knew she felt it. She had to, as tightly as he held her. The major released her wrist and slid his hands up her back. She felt so soft and warm that he couldn’t resist framing her face with his hands and deepening the kiss.

  He stroked his tongue into her mouth, caressing every corner with deep, long licks. The major pulled away slightly and nibbled at the softest, fullest lips he’d ever felt. Rebecca whimpered and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Taking that as an invitation, the major pulled her tightly to him, his arms circling her waist. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and the major groaned at the sensation.

  Suddenly, without warning, Rebecca jerked her lips from his and looked at him, her eyes hazy and soft. A deep sense of satisfaction filled the major at the sight of those brown eyes yielding to him. He tried to shake the feeling before it got out of control.

  “Tell me your name,” Rebecca whispered and placed her hands on his shoulders.

  “I told you. Just call me Major. That’s my name.”

  “No,” Rebecca shook her head back and forth, her eyes squeezed closed. “Tell me what your mother called you.”

  The major tensed. He couldn’t tell her that name. If he heard it come from Rebecca’s full lips, he would be lost. And there was far too much left to do for the major to be lost. He pursed his lips and responded, “No.”

  She stepped away and the major reluctantly dropped his arms from her waist. The rain was cold against his body without Rebecca’s warmth pressed against him. His clothes were soaked and droplets of water dripped from his hair and nose.

  Rebecca was amazing standing there in the rain, just as the major had known she would be. Her shirt was plastered to every line of her body, and the hard points of her nipples told him she was either aroused, cold, or both. Suddenly desperate to see the deep red curls of her hair dripping, the major stepped forward, grasped Rebecca’s neck to hold her still and pulled the elastic band from her hair.

  Rebecca gasped and scowled at him while trying to tame her hair back into order. The major wanted to smile, tried to, but was afraid it came across as menacing.

  “Why did you do that?” Rebecca reached for the rubber band, still clutched in the major’s hand. He shoved it in his pocket before she could grab it. Let her go after it. Please go after it. Instead of chasing it with her hand, Rebecca glared at the pocket. Then she stopped glaring and just stared.

  The major looked down. The front of his khakis was bulging again with his arousal. Good. Let her look. Let her see how turned on he was by a curvy redhead that had the balls to call him out when grown men wouldn’t do it.

  The major was going to have to walk away and never see her again. He wanted Rebecca to at least have the memory that he’d wanted her with a desperation he couldn’t communicate with words.

  Never taking her eyes from his crotch, Rebecca slowly reached her hand toward the erection that strained to get closer to her. The major held his breath and closed his eyes. But when her fingertips grazed the fabric of the slacks, his hand shot out to stop her and his eyes flew open.

  “Don’t. Not if you’re just teasing me.” His voice was harsh, gravelly. He watched her face, ready to turn and walk away at the first sign of indifference or denial.

  But there was none of that showing in the velvety eyes that looked up at him. “There are a lot of men I would tease. But you’re not one of them.”

  The major nodded jerkily at her and released her wrist. Rebecca caressed him softly, her touch so light he could barely feel it through the thick fabric of the pants. Then suddenly the strokes grew firmer and more rhythmic until his testicles tightened and he had to stop her again.

  The major couldn’t speak, was unable to form a coherent thought as he pulled Rebecca’s hand away reluctantly. “Inside,” he whispered gruffly before wrapping his arm around her waist and rushing them both to her door.

  * * * *

  The door closed with a soft click and Rebecca turned to Rick—Major—to watch him. He was so much better-looking without the Rick Jones disguise. He was harder, leaner somehow, and she didn’t have to struggle to see the man beneath the clothes. Whereas Rick had been a little soft, Major was a powerful presence, his face stern and almost angry. But not handsome. By no stretch of the imagination could he be called handsome, but he appealed to her, was exactly her taste. And his eyes—oh God, those eyes—held a dark desolation nearly as deep as her own.

  He was a Uniform, but so far removed from the others she knew. He’d whispered that he wanted her and for a split second Rebecca had seen a raw misery she’d only ever seen in the mirror. She could comfort him, take comfort in him for just a little while. And when she never saw him again, Rebecca would have the memory of a man who’d ignited her passion with anger and her compassion with despair. She’d have a memory of a man whose soul corresponded with hers on a basic level.

  So, Uniform or not…she wanted him too. And Rebecca wasn’t going to den
y herself because she would never get another chance and she knew it.

  Major made a move toward her but Rebecca stopped him. “Take off your shoes.” She pointed to the sandals that squished with each step as she slipped her own loafers off.

  “My shoes?” Major looked down at his feet, then back up at Rebecca.

  “Yes, your shoes. You’ll ruin my carpet.” Rebecca pulled the soggy shirt over her head and dropped it with a wet plop onto the tiled entryway. She unsnapped her pants and shed them too.

  Major watched her, his eyes hot and urgent. He toed off the sandals in record time and reached for her.

  Rebecca shivered as her fevered skin came in contact with the cold wet clothes he had yet to get rid of. But before she could tell him to remove his drenched clothes, Major was kissing her again.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he can kiss. Rebecca threw her arms around his neck and curled her fingers into his short hair. Major grunted against her lips and began to walk her backward, never breaking the kiss.

  Rebecca was barely aware of where they were going. Her sole focus was the hot tongue that stroked into her mouth and the firm lips that bruised hers. She sucked his tongue between her teeth and held it, despite the frustrated growl that rumbled against her lips. She didn’t do this, didn’t sleep with men she’d just met. But this was different. She wouldn’t get another chance and she was taking this one while she could.