Midnight Games

by Elle Kennedy

  She kissed him back on autopilot, making little sounds of delight, digging her fingers into the nape of his neck, sinking into his chest as if she could no longer support her own weight.

  When Meiro’s cell phone buzzed, relief soared inside her like a cluster of helium balloons. She’d been about to break the kiss herself, but this interruption was much better.

  She quickly straightened up and inched away from the table, as if needing the time to recover from that mind-blowing kiss.

  Meiro glanced at his phone display. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice still raspy from desire. “I have to take this.”

  “It’s all right,” she said softly.

  Rather than take the call down below, he drifted to the other end of the railing. Another stroke of luck—because every word he murmured carried on the night breeze and wafted right into Isabel’s ear. She could hear only Meiro’s side of the conversation, but it was still enough to make her inner alarms go off.

  “You did . . . where? Where was the son of a bitch hiding?” There was a long pause, then a chuckle. “How badly injured? . . . Good . . . deserves to suffer . . . spent more than a year hunting him down . . . What about the woman?” Another pregnant pause. “I see. A falling-out? Perhaps that will work in our favor . . .”

  Isabel went on the alert. Her brain worked overtime to sift through the new information, but several details stood out like fireworks in the night sky. The man Meiro was seeking had been found—and he was injured, if she’d heard correctly.

  And it also sounded like Meiro was looking for a woman. A woman who’d had a falling-out with the captive man . . .

  If said man was Morgan, then who was the woman?

  Noelle.

  Isabel banished the thought. She couldn’t try to make sense of this now. She still had a role to play, and she couldn’t afford to let these crazy ideas distract her from her job.

  When Meiro stalked back in her direction a minute later, she didn’t let him see exactly how shaken up she was. However, she did convey some uneasiness.

  “Tomas . . . you’re married,” she murmured, making a point of avoiding his eyes. “We shouldn’t have done that just now. In fact, I’m grateful for the interruption. It gave me a moment to collect myself, and now I see what a mistake this was.”

  “Was it?” he said huskily. “Was it really a mistake?”

  He moved closer and touched her lips, eliciting a sigh from her throat. Slowly, she stepped out of range of his touch.

  “You’re married,” she repeated, firmer this time. “I refuse to come between a man and his wife, no matter what the state of their marriage.”

  Frustration darkened his gaze. “What are you saying, Valerie?”

  She adopted a sorrow-filled expression. “I’m saying I’d like you to take me back to the hotel now.”

  • • •

  “He kissed her again. Tongue this time.”

  Trevor didn’t appreciate Macgregor’s updates in the slightest, especially since he knew Liam was only doing it to piss him off. For the past three hours, Trevor had been holed up in the hotel suite while everyone else watched the West Egg mansion, the Crystal Palace, or in Liam and Sullivan’s case, the marina where Isabel was having her first date with Meiro.

  “Yo? Did you hear me?”

  Trevor gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I heard you.”

  A laugh floated over the extension. “Cool. Just making sure. Anyway, the date’s over. They got into a limo and left the marina.”

  “You and Sully are tailing them?”

  “Of course. Looks like they’re heading back to the Palace.” There was a pause. “Oooh, I wonder if she’ll invite him up to her room for a nightcap. I’ll keep you posted, bro.”

  Liam hung up, leaving Trevor to glower at his cell phone. His brain was assaulted by the image of Isabel’s mouth pressed against Meiro’s.

  It took every ounce of self-discipline not to slam his fist into the wall.

  Get a grip, man. She’s playing a part.

  He inhaled a calming breath and went to find Noelle. He and the blond assassin had been alone all evening, yet they hadn’t exchanged a single word.

  She was on the terrace, her long hair blown around by the wind, which was picking up as the clouds overhead grew thicker and the temperature grew cooler.

  Trevor opened the sliding door and cleared his throat. “Liam just checked in. Isabel and Meiro are on their way back to the Palace.”

  Noelle didn’t even turn around. “Good.” She paused. “D and the kid are covering the mansion?”

  “Yep. And Juliet’s off doing whatever mysterious errand you sent her on . . .”

  He waited, giving her the chance to fill in the blanks, but she didn’t offer any explanations. Instead, she threw him a curveball, as always.

  “You’re in love with her.”

  “Juliet? Nope, can’t say I am.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Callaghan. You know who I’m talking about.”

  He didn’t answer. Just walked over to the railing and admired the view. He could feel Noelle’s shrewd gaze on him, and sure enough, when he turned his head, those blue eyes were probing, seeking.

  He expected her to bring up the dreaded L-word again, but she simply threw him for another loop.

  “You can’t change her,” she said emphatically.

  He bristled. “I don’t want to change her.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m sure,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Christ, sometimes it was incredibly hard to refrain from strangling this woman.

  “I disagree.” Noelle laughed. “I think you want what you used to have. The sweet, supportive woman who patiently and obediently waited at home while you were fighting wars and saving the world with Jim. What was her name again? Jenny?”

  Red-hot fury burned a path through his veins. “Her name is Gina, and I won’t discuss her with you. You didn’t know her, and you don’t know a goddamn thing about our relationship.”

  “I know you’re trying to replace her with Isabel.”

  He faltered for a moment. His first instinct was to tell Noelle she was dead wrong, but the twinge of guilt he experienced stopped him. Was that really what he was doing? Replacing Gina?

  “No,” he said slowly.

  Noelle raised her eyebrows. “No?”

  “I’m not trying to replace her. Gina . . . she can’t be replaced.”

  Clarity sliced into him out of nowhere, and he suddenly recognized the truth of his own statement. All this time he’d felt so guilty about his feelings for Isabel, as if falling in love with another woman was a betrayal of Gina’s memory, but it didn’t have to be that way. Isabel and Gina couldn’t be more different, and so was the way he felt about each woman. Loving Isabel didn’t take away from what he’d had with Gina. How could it? Gina had given him ten incredible years, and he’d cherished every moment with her.

  But it was time to let her go. To start a new chapter of his life.

  Conviction resonated in his voice as he met Noelle’s eyes and said, “Isabel isn’t a replacement. I get that she isn’t Gina, and I have no intention of trying to change her.”

  “Given the chance, you’ll do everything in your power to persuade her to abandon her work.”

  “That’s not true,” he protested.

  Noelle moved away from the railing. The wind lifted her hair, and the sweetest scent he’d ever smelled flooded his nostrils. A garden in full bloom, the ocean, vanilla cupcakes . . . random, contradictory scents, yet somehow they made perfect sense in relation to this woman, who was a walking contradiction herself.

  “Your fiancée died.”

  Those harsh words, spoken in such a blasé tone, split his heart in two.

  “You don’t have to remind me,” he muttered.

  “Yes, I think I do. Your fiancée died and the guilt eats at you, doesn’t it, Callaghan? You couldn’t protect her, so now you’re going out of your way to protect
Isabel—a woman who doesn’t need your protection.”

  He didn’t respond. Wouldn’t have been able to anyway; his jaw was so tight he couldn’t unhinge it to open his mouth.

  “I know she comes off as vulnerable sometimes, but she’s tougher than you think,” Noelle went on. “She was trained by the Feds, and then by me. Believe me, she can take care of herself.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?” Noelle suddenly appeared very, very tired. “She needs her work. You can’t take it from her.”

  “You just don’t want to lose another operative,” he said contemptuously.

  “That’s not what this is about. It’s about Isabel. She needs the escape. It’s how she functions.”

  “And you think that’s healthy?”

  “Why not? Who the hell are you to judge how people deal with their shit?” Now she looked pissed off. “Be careful, Callaghan. Isabel doesn’t need a bodyguard, or a man to define her.”

  “Yeah, then what does she need?”

  He was rewarded with a husky laugh. “Lord, I’m surrounded by the densest people. Or maybe you’re all in denial.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you know exactly what Isabel needs. And if you don’t, then, tough shit, Callaghan, I’m not telling you. Figure it out for yourself.”

  • • •

  Isabel found herself in Trevor’s hotel room for the second night in a row, once again being glared at by a pair of sexy brown eyes.

  Heaving a frustrated breath, she flopped down on the edge of the mattress and glared right back. “Seriously, can we discuss the one thing we should be concerned about and not the most unimportant detail of the evening?”

  “Unimportant?” Trevor loomed over her with his arms crossed. “That son of a bitch kissed you again.”

  Despite herself, a smile rose to the surface. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Trevor.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Like it? I loved it. Oh, Lordy, it got me so hot I almost had an orgasm.”

  Those whiskey eyes flashed. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “That’s what you get for asking stupid questions.” She crossed her arms too, mimicking his aggressive pose. “Now sit the fuck down and tell me what you make of this new development.”

  After a beat, Trevor’s handsome face broke out in a grin.

  In response, her heart did a wild somersault before pounding louder and faster than the rain beyond the window. The storm had made an appearance shortly after Meiro delivered her back to the Crystal Palace, but the downpour had actually made it easier for her to slip away. Shielded by a black umbrella, she’d ducked into the White Sands to meet the others without a single snag.

  It was the first time she’d seen Trevor since they’d slept together, and her traitorous body had reacted the moment she’d laid eyes on him. The memory of his naked body, his strong arms, his powerful hips thrusting as he moved inside her . . . she’d nearly melted into a puddle on the floor, and it had nothing to do with the rain dripping down the length of her black trench coat.

  Oh no. Trevor Callaghan had a scary, debilitating effect on her. He clouded her judgment, heated her body, drugged her senses.

  She’d been trying so hard not to think about the sex and focus solely on this mission, but it was an impossible feat. Her body—and her heart—refused to let her forget.

  As Trevor sat down beside her, she put an end to her wayward thoughts and directed the discussion where it needed to go.

  “Do you think Morgan’s disappearance has something to do with Noelle?” she asked, feeling uneasy.

  Trevor rubbed his jaw, which was dotted with dark stubble. The sight of his strong fingers traveling over that sexy beard growth made Isabel’s own fingers tingle in response.

  Snap out of it.

  Right. She needed to focus.

  “Well, the way Meiro phrased it—assuming you heard right—does imply that he’s hunting down a man and a woman. Is that woman Noelle, though? Who the fuck knows?”

  “Noelle said that as far as she knows, she and Morgan don’t share a common enemy,” Isabel reminded him.

  But her boss’s assertion still didn’t sit right with her, in the same way it hadn’t sat right twenty minutes ago during the briefing. Noelle hadn’t seemed at all concerned to hear that Meiro might also be searching for a woman, nor had she reacted to the news that Morgan might be injured if he was the captive Meiro had spoken of.

  “She could be lying,” Trevor answered. “Or she could be telling the truth.”

  “Gee, way to state the obvious.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You know, you’re a lot more sarcastic than I realized. I think I might have liked it better when you hid that side of yourself from me.”

  Isabel grinned. “Once you open Pandora’s box . . .”

  He leaned in to nuzzle the crook of her neck. Immediately, warmth spread through her body, pulsing in her nipples, tingling in her core.

  God, he smelled good. She ought to bottle up that intoxicating scent, package it, and put it in stores. She’d be a billionaire in no time.

  “I change my mind.” His breath tickled her ear. “I don’t want you hiding any part of yourself from me. I want to see all of you.” His hands slid down to her waist, gripping it lightly. “I want you wide open.”

  She suddenly found herself on her back with Trevor’s hands beneath her dress, his fingers circling her thighs as he parted her legs.

  Leaving her wide open indeed.

  The hungry look in his eyes robbed her of breath. “What are you doing?” she murmured. “We’re in the middle of a briefing.”

  Those wicked hands traveled to her inner thighs, teasing the edges of her panties. “I need to be briefed on other matters first.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, hmmm, how your pussy’s going to taste when I lap at it with my tongue.”

  Oh sweet Jesus.

  Never in her wildest dreams would she have pegged this man as a dirty talker. Just went to show that you should never underestimate the quiet ones—and never let your guard down around them either.

  Yet as he shoved aside the crotch of her panties and lowered his head, any resistance she might have mustered faded away.

  Oh, fine, who was she kidding? Resistance? The word played no part in this equation.

  Isabel’s hips lifted off the bed the second Trevor’s mouth connected with her slick folds. She hadn’t been a fan of oral sex in the past, never received much pleasure from it. But with Trevor it was a whole other story.

  As his skillful tongue licked and probed, and his lips closed over her clit with just the right amount of pressure, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the pleasure. She moaned when he pushed a finger inside her. So wet she ought to be embarrassed, but Trevor’s groan of approval as he moved his finger in and out of her slick channel erased any awkwardness.

  Soon she was bumping her hips to meet his thrusting finger and eager tongue. A knot of pleasure formed between her legs. Hot, achy, unbearable. Trevor’s tongue flicked over her clit, greedy and persistent, and that knot wound tighter and tighter, tormenting her, making every muscle in her body plead for relief.

  “Come for me, Iz.”

  His raspy command, along with the second finger he pushed deep inside her, was the catalyst for an orgasm that left her gasping for air. She exploded like a radiator cap under pressure, crying out as her body convulsed in sheer rapture. She didn’t even get a chance to recover from the all-consuming high, because Trevor ripped her dress off and suddenly he was on top of her, his erection heavy against her belly. She moaned, reached down to bring him inside her, and then she was soaring even higher, her inner muscles contracting over the hard length of him.

  A husky groan left his throat, his tongue filling her mouth as thoroughly and possessively as his cock filled her body.

  After several long, rough strokes, he wrenched his mouth away.

  “R
ide me, sweetheart.”

  No sooner had his words registered than she was being flipped over, her breasts colliding with his chest as he rolled onto his back.

  A familiar pang of self-consciousness tugged at her. She didn’t usually enjoy being on top. It was easier to avoid her partner’s eyes if she was lying beneath him, simpler to just turn her head to the side and squeeze her eyes shut.

  This position didn’t allow her the luxury. Astride him, she was acutely aware of Trevor’s heavy-lidded eyes staring up at her, and yet for the life of her, she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t close her eyes and shut him out.

  She was mesmerized by him. By his chiseled features, stretched tight with pleasure. His sensual lips, parted with excitement. His spectacular chest, heaving with each ragged breath. The tight abs that sucked in the moment her fingers moved over them.

  At that moment, she realized she affected him as much as he did her, maybe more so, and with the thought, her insecurities and fear of feeling exposed floated away like a feather in the wind.

  She started to move, sighing in pleasure when his big hands reached up to cup her breasts. He pinched her nipples, teased them, got them so impossibly stiff that the tight buds began to ache uncontrollably.

  Trevor’s gaze locked with hers. “Are you going to come for me again?”

  “Maybe,” she teased.

  “Maybe? Wrong answer, Iz.” He promptly lowered one hand to the place where they were joined and idly rubbed her clit.

  A bolt of heat sizzled up her spine, making her body arch with delight.

  God, why did he know exactly how to touch her?

  She could no longer control her movements. Rather than lifting herself up and down on his cock, she began grinding against him, desperately craving release.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Let go for me. Surrender.”

  Let go. Surrender.

  She hated thinking of it in those terms, but there was no other description for what happened next. For the way she locked her gaze with Trevor’s, took a breath, and . . . surrendered to him.

  This climax was stronger, sweeter, better—because Trevor was experiencing it too. The second she let go, she felt him do the same. His hardness pulsed inside her, his release heating her channel and bringing notice to the lack of barrier between them.