Dangerous Games (Aegis Group, #3)

by Sidney Bristol

  Andrea gasped and her eyes fluttered close at the touch of his cock to her pussy. She held the breath, anticipation curling her toes. He pressed against her, his entrance eased by her arousal. She pressed her nails into her palms, feeling every bit of him as he stretched her.

  Last night she’d wondered if she was too tense, now she realized he was just big.

  He moved inside of her, his thrusts gentle, working more of his length into her. His fingers squeezed her hip, the short nails grazing her skin. At long last, she felt the press of his body against her, his hips pinning her to the vanity and the scrape of the zipper on her ass.

  They both gasped, breathing in time.

  She peered at the mirror and caught him staring at her, his gaze dark. Sexy. Lusting.

  Andrea wanted the words to tell him what she saw. To express how he made her feel. But her brain had shut off. Everything went dark, except for the concert of sensation he was conducting. Her head resonated with it. She was drunk on it. Her mouth didn’t work.

  Zain reached around, cupping her mound, his fingers sliding through and around her folds. She groaned and arched her hips, wiggling her feet a little wider so all of him would fit between her legs.

  He moved, sliding out of her and back in. A smooth glide of flesh and latex. It felt as though he stroked into the core of her body, right to her center, and every bit of it stirred up pleasurable feelings.

  More.

  She wanted it all.

  Every inch of him.

  His thrusts grew harder, rougher. And she didn’t mind one bit.

  Andrea leaned forward, going to her elbows. Her breasts brushed the marble, the coolness intensifying the heat inside of her. She couldn’t look away from his reflection staring at her, as though he were deep inside her soul and not just her body.

  His fingers stroked her clit in time with his thrusts. She moaned, a sound totally foreign to her.

  She pushed back, meeting his movements, the slick sound of their bodies joining the only other noise besides her. Over and over again he thrust, his hand between her legs guiding her, this thumb pressing her clit, his cock deep inside.

  Andrea dropped her head to the counter. Her breasts ached. She cupped them, pressing her palms over her nipples, seeking some sort of relief. Zain growled something deep in his throat and shoved forward until she was braced against the counter top, up on her toes, at his mercy.

  He moved in and out of her, relentless, fast, hard until everything blurred together. The spiral of pleasure, the counterpoint of pain where the counter cut into her and the intensity of it coalesced into a euphoric explosion deep in her belly.

  She shouted—completely out of control and unlike herself—as the orgasm crested. Her eyes squeezed shut and her toes, now totally off the ground, curled in on themselves. She pressed her hands over her breasts, as though she could hold herself together.

  Zain said something that was lost in the sounds of their joining. His fingers dug into her hips as he continued to thrust, each one harder, rougher than the last, until he froze.

  She panted, too spent to do more than lie helplessly on the counter, more than half her body on top of the vanity now. Was this why they made them so wide? She’d always wondered why it appeared a Thanksgiving meal could be served on hotel bathrooms. Not that she’d want to eat right here, but she was thankful of someone’s forethought. Without the nice, flat surface, she’d have been on the floor right now, and that would just be awkward.

  Zain leaned over her, his warmth seeping into her skin, and kissed her shoulder. She reached blindly for his hand and found it next to her.

  “Andrea?”

  “No talking.” She wasn’t ready for that.

  Instead, she hugged his hand to her chest, content to be sheltered by his body for a few more moments.

  He kissed her neck, her cheek and the corner of her mouth, dredging up a smile she didn’t think she had strength to sustain.

  “Now I really need a shower,” she mumbled.

  “Me, too.” He chuckled.

  “Mm.”

  He squeezed her to him, neither speaking. What else needed to be said that their bodies hadn’t already communicated?

  They stayed like that for several moments, until the chill cooled her heated skin.

  Zain moved first, pushing them both to their feet, still clutching her tightly to his chest. She felt him slip from inside her and saw the wince on his face. Still, he didn’t let go of her.

  There was something new in the way he looked at her. Something deeper, more meaningful, but she didn’t have the words for it.

  “Mind if I join you for that shower?” he asked.

  “Not at all.”

  She turned in his embrace.

  “I’m sorry about—”

  “Hold on.” She flattened her hand against his chest. “Whatever you’re about to apologize for, don’t. Okay, so I lied. I’m telling you what to do, but only because I have no idea what there would be to apologize for. Okay?”

  Zain stared at her for a moment, a curious tilt to his head, as though he’d just discovered something new. He flattened his hand over hers, pressing it closer to his heart and ducked his head, his lips skating across hers so fast she might have imagined it.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  He was human. It was hard to see that past the super-hero-like skills, but he was. And just like her, he had insecurities. He might be the stuff that inspired the stories behind her favorite characters, but deep down, he was just like her. And she’d spent long enough crippled by her own shortcomings to recognize the freedom that came with crashing through a barrier like that. Now, if only she could listen to her own advice.

  “I’ll get the water going, Captain.” She grinned and stepped away, into the shower.

  He turned and she felt his gaze on her for a few moments longer.

  Andrea held herself together until he turned his back, and only then did she allow herself to lean against the tile as the tidal wave of self-doubt crashed into her.

  She didn’t know what this was between them. What to call it or where it was going, but it was too good to question or pass up. And maybe that was a cause for concern. She might be in danger from unseen forces who wanted revenge over a silly game, but she was beginning to think that the real threat was right here.

  From Zain.

  Her stomach knotted up and her knees went a little weak. The age-old anxiety gnawed at her. She liked him. A lot. It’d happened so fast she wasn’t ready to face what came next. The crippling doubt, the eventual break-up because she wasn’t enough. Because that’s how things ended. Either guys realized she wasn’t what they wanted—or they liked her. Really liked her. And she didn’t know how to handle that.

  Zain liked her. They’d had an honest moment there. And that meant eventually she’d sabotage this if he didn’t walk away first.

  He had a straight shot to her heart if this kept going. From the moment he’d said he liked her game, she’d dropped any defenses she might have had against him. Not only was he interested in her—and no one else—but it’d happened so fast.

  He’d protect her body, but when this was over, what would be left of her heart?

  11.

  Zain squeezed Andrea’s hand, the weight and feel of her palm a strange, new sensation. The oddity of it wasn’t her—it was how normal this seemed. As though he’d been made to hold her hand. Her fingers were smaller, more delicate than his, and yet they needed to be so they fit between his. The match was perfect.

  They strolled with no urgency toward the elevators.

  He wanted to look at her, study her features, but that was weird, right? It’d been so long since he’d done more than fall into bed with someone that he couldn’t remember what was normal. Mason was right, he’d become married to his work to the point where he wasn’t living. He’d known it in the back of his mind, but it wasn’t something he’d wanted to admit, because how could he change that? In the end, it wasn’t he who
’d done anything. It was her.

  Andrea.

  His will wasn’t strong enough. He glanced at her, still a little in shock that Andrea Clancy was holding his hand. That she was...that they were...well...they were something. Calling her his client was bogus. As soon as Admiral Crawford got in on Monday, he’d call Zain on his bullshit and want a proper accounting of what was going on. They weren’t fuck buddies. This wasn’t a relationship. But it was something.

  Andrea pulled out her phone and frowned at the screen.

  “Something happen?” He was waiting for more bad news, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

  “One of the booth guys just wondering where I’m at. If I’m coming.”

  “Any reason?”

  “He said people have been asking about me.” The frown lines deepened.

  “Is that unusual?”

  “Yeah. Most of the time, I show up and sort of wallflower it. This whole con is so strange.” She shoved her phone back into her pocket. Without replying, he noted.

  “We’ll get through this.” He squeezed her hand again.

  She glanced up at him and sort-of smiled. It was fast, and just for him.

  “I’m kind of dreading this, to be honest, but there’s a small list of people who do booth time, and if I back out, that leaves someone there alone, and I can’t do that. Plus, I promised to have WGC stuff.”

  He disagreed. Considering this morning, the fliers last night...she was more than justified in going home.

  “WGC?”

  “Weird Girl Club? It’s this thing, a sort of wallflower con club that started up some years ago. You wear this button,” she gestured to a pin on her lanyard, “and it signals you’re part of the club. The idea is, if you’re somewhere by yourself, and you see another person wearing the pin, you can band together.”

  “Nice. So it’s an all-girl sort of thing?”

  “It started that way, but there are a lot of guys who wear the pin, too.”

  “You’ll have to give me one. You tell Miranda you’re going home?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I think she was relieved, but she pretended to be sad.”

  “When’d that happen?” He frowned, trying to recall more than a few moments they’d been apart since the shower.

  “I texted her.”

  “Ah.”

  “You know you don’t have to come home with me, right?” They reached the small elevator and Andrea jabbed the button.

  “Trying to get rid of me?” He’d made the decision after the episode in the bathroom that he was accompanying her. If only for his peace of mind.

  “No, don’t do that.” She glared at him. “I’m just saying—a quarter does not cover this.”

  “When I’m satisfied you’re safe, we can talk about when the contract ends.” Admiral Crawford would likely nullify it first thing Monday morning, but Zain would worry about that when the time came.

  The elevator doors slid open and Zain stared into a mostly-full elevator car.

  Well, it was too much to hope they’d get the lift to themselves all the time.

  People shuffled around, making room for them.

  Andrea stepped in first, pulling him to her. He slid his hands around her waist, conscious of how their bodies fit together. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, her hair lose, the strands tickling the back of his wrist.

  Plenty of guys fucked around on the job, falling into bed with the very women they were paid to protect. Probably even some of the men, if Zain was being honest. There was a logical explanation behind the psychology of it. The perception of danger created a perfect situation for crossing the boundary. They had plenty of guys with a hero complex and too many women ready to play the damsel in distress. And that was what he’d done. Though, at the time it had been all about who he was with, not the circumstances that had thrown them together.

  He studied a wavy lock of her hair lying against his arm.

  What if that was what it was for her?

  It was a reality he hadn’t considered. Just because his interest in her wellbeing went beyond what happened here—it didn’t mean hers did. What if he was a thrill fuck? If that was all he was to her, he doubted she even knew it yet. Andrea was...innocent in her honesty. He didn’t doubt that here and now she was interested in him, but once the danger was gone and they went back to their normal lives—what then?

  Plenty of relationships died that way. He’d been around since the beginning of Aegis and had seen it happen countless times. Even when it wasn’t a client one of the guys fell for. Maybe it was another bodyguard or someone they met along the way. Once real life factored in...

  Zain had to stop worrying about what was going to be.

  Andrea needed him now. If things changed, if they went their separate ways, that was how it happened. Not everything was permanent. He drew in a deep breath, but he wasn’t ready for the pang of disappointment. She mattered too much for him to pretend like this was him getting his rocks of.

  The elevator stopped at the main floor of the convention center, and they poured out with the rest. He stepped in front of Andrea, her hand finding his as they threaded their way through the people and toward the exhibit hall. He remained alert, watching for anyone too interested in her, where they were going, or holding a flier, but no one seemed to care about them. They were just two more people in a sea of faces. In the scope of things, that was perfect, as far as he was concerned.

  They wound their way toward the booth.

  “Holy crap.” He blinked a few times.

  They slowed to a stop, Andrea clutching his hand tightly.

  “What the hell?” she muttered.

  Andrea knew her mouth was hanging open—but what the hell?

  A line of people stood at the edge of the booth. At least three-quarters were female or dressed as the sisters from D7. Not the original brothers, but the gender-bent version of the game. They were all there. And in groups. She was pretty sure the second set in line was guys—cosplaying as girls. It was...unbelievable. She could not wrap her head around it.

  People hated the game.

  So why were these people there?

  “There you are!” Miranda seemed to materialize out of nowhere and grabbed Andrea by the arm, hauling her forward.

  Zain let go of her hand. She turned, or tried to, but Miranda’s grip was way too tight. The woman was far stronger than she appeared.

  A few of the waiting crowd caught sight of them and began to clap. Several clutched copies of the game or swag from the booth to their chests. Piper and Tamara were busy clearing off the front table, dumping things into boxes and whatnot. A whole bowl of Weird Girl Club buttons were front and center.

  “What is going on?” Andrea glanced behind them at Zain, hoping for an answer. Instead, her big, badass bodyguard smiled. Like this was the best thing ever.

  “We just found out,” Miranda whispered.

  “What did you just find out?”

  “The guys—people were asking when you’d be here so they told them today and never mentioned it to me until half an hour ago when the line started.” Miranda sounded positively giddy.

  “Why is there a line?” And why were they staring at her like she was dinner? Or was that excitement? She wasn’t used to being the center of attention.

  “Because they want to meet you.” Miranda hauled her around, turning Andrea to face the bulk of the line. “Here she is! Hang on one minute and we’ll get started.”

  Andrea hoped it looked like she was smiling. She was trying. It was probably more of a cringe.

  So much for wasting away an hour in the booth checking Facebook...

  “What am I supposed to do?” she whispered to Miranda.

  Zain appeared with a chair and set it down at the table.

  Both Piper and Tamara were wearing D7 shirts with the sleeves hacked off.

  They were booth babes.

  Two, no—three, because there was Rashae—three of the most talented women in geekdom were booth babe
s. It was wrong. And yet, Andrea was pretty sure the only reason they were decked out like this was in a show of support for her, Miranda and Crystal.

  “You good?” Piper handed Andrea three markers in black, gold and silver.

  “No.” Andrea shook her head.

  Rashae leaned in close and whispered through her teeth. How did she do that? And look like she was smiling? “Sit there. Smile. Sign your name. Maybe take some pictures. That’s all they want.”

  “But...why me?” It wasn’t like Andrea was solely responsible for the game. They’d had a team of people. Men and women. So why her? What was so special about her?

  “Hey.” Piper snapped her fingers.

  “What?” Andrea shook her head.

  Piper’s stare was serious, pull-no-punches. It was a strange glimpse behind the bubbly front Andrea was used to. “You got this. These are your fans. They’re excited about the chance to meet you. Whatever you feel doesn’t matter. It’s not about you. It’s about them.”

  “Okay.” Andrea nodded. That she could wrap her head around. She took the markers and glanced at Zain, a quiet presence in this sea of crazy.

  Tamara pulled out the chair for her and clapped, spurring the crowd to join in.

  It was surreal. This kind of thing didn’t happen to Andrea, but it was. And it wasn’t. Piper was right when she said it wasn’t about Andrea at all. This was more about what people got out of playing it. If they played with friends. What set the Drudge games apart in the beginning was the family and team feel of the design, coupled with the chose-your-own-adventure storyline.

  Her hands shook through the first few signatures. The fans’ stammered statements sounded a lot like she felt. The pictures were the worst. She never knew where to look, but thankfully, Tamara took over and directed not only Andrea, but the fans as well.

  “You doing okay?” Miranda asked after a few moments.

  “I can’t believe Crystal isn’t here for this.”

  “I texted her and she is so excited you’re getting to do this!” Miranda squeezed her arm before stepping back.