Under Cover

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “I don’t think I can do this if you talk through it,” she said.

  “Well, hell, don’t I get a vote? What, you’re just going to sexually molest me so you can get something out of your system?”

  “Exactly.” They were in her bedroom now. He was amused to see a giant poster of Albert Einstein, the famous picture where the elderly genius was sticking out his tongue at the camera. The double bed was a sleigh bed, the wood of the frame dark cherry; the pillows and quilt were light blue and looked exceedingly comfy. The plush gray carpet looked like it had been swept, then vacuumed twice. Interestingly, there was no dresser; instead there were neatly stacked clear plastic boxes against the far wall. She could see the clothes at a glance and get dressed fairly quickly. Efficient, and neat as a pin… big surprise.

  He cleared his throat. “Look, Thea, I’m sorry—”

  “It’s all right. I have several condoms.”

  Several?!? “—but I need to be wooed.” While he babbled, she rapidly unbuttoned his shirt. He wondered if this was some glorious dream, then dismissed the thought If it was a dream, she’d have come to the door wearing only the lipstick. “You can’t just use me and then throw me out. Oh, who am I kidding, of course you can. But you have to admit, this is very weird.”

  His belt was unbuckled, whipped free of the loops, and went flying across the room. Then her hands were on his zipper. “I didn’t think you even liked me!” he exclaimed. He grabbed her wrists. “Do I get to undress you now?”

  “Only if you don’t talk,” she said firmly.

  He mimed locking his lips and throwing the key over his shoulder. Then he put his hands on her shoulders, gently turned her around, and unzipped her dress. He noticed with pure joy that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  The dress puddled around her ankles and she stepped out of it, then kicked it in the direction of the hamper in the far corner.

  She slowly turned around.

  He knew he was staring at her like a lack-witted virgin, but he couldn’t help it. She was just so… luminous and perfect. Her breasts were small and cream-colored, her nipples the color of not-quite-ripe strawberries. Her waist was also small, but her legs were amazingly long. Nude, she was all creamy skin and long legs and flowing dark hair and great dark eyes. It was like gazing upon a wood goddess, a woman whose beauty was so terrible, it might kill you.

  “Should I get dressed?” she asked quietly, standing before him with her hands at her sides.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  She smiled for the first time that night. “Your pants are falling down.”

  “Small wonder. You tore off my belt. Well, shoot, I don’t think you should be the only naked one in the room.”

  “A good rule of thumb,” she said gravely, and then laughed.

  He nearly fell; he’d been standing on one leg and pulling his socks off. “God, what a great laugh. You should do that all the time.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind. You have one black sock and one navy sock.”

  “Well, I didn’t think you’d notice,” he whined. “Who could have predicted a dinner date where we’d be naked in sixty seconds?” He shucked off his pants and turned to put them on one of her dresser-cube things, when he heard her draw a short, surprised breath, almost a gasp.

  Shit.

  He didn’t turn back around; he didn’t want her to see he was blushing with embarrassment. Just for a minute, he’d forgotten…

  Jimmy took a ridiculously long time arranging his pants and socks, and didn’t bother slipping off his shorts. He was pretty sure she’d be telling him to get dressed any second now.

  He hadn’t heard her move—those bare feet in that deep carpet were wicked quiet—but started in surprise as he felt her soft touch.

  “What happened?” she asked in a voice that was only curious, not pitying. “These are burns. Quite a lot of them, in fact.”

  “House fire,” he replied shortly. “I jumped on my little sister to put her fire out, and a couple of burning roof tiles fell on me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have—perhaps you wouldn’t have seemed quite such a—”

  “Gaping pain in your ass?” She was still touching his burns, going from one to the other, exploring, wondering, so he kept his back to her. “It wasn’t any of your business.”

  She turned him around and kissed him on the chin. “It isn’t now, either. Come to bed.”

  “Right I’ll be out of here in just a second.”

  She took his hands and stepped backward. “You’re not listening. Come to bed.”

  “Uh…”

  “Jimmy Scrye, Boy Genius, not quite tracking tonight” She made an impatient sound. “Do you think I care if you have a few scars? Everyone does. You just carry yours on the outside.”

  “Stop it,” he said. “I’m getting misty.”

  Chapter Eight

  Thea was on her knees, gripping the headboard with her hands, and she had time to think, Good Lord, I’m robbing the cradle. He’s four years younger than I am, and then she felt his mouth on her, trailing kisses down her spine.

  His hands were big and strong and warm, and they cupped and caressed and fondled with a young man’s pure enthusiasm. He hummed as he touched, a jaunty tune, and she grinned; she couldn’t help it. He was just so happy to be here, with her, nude in the dark, exploring her. He made no effort to hide it.

  She said, “I suppose you think that because you’re the boss, you get to do all the work?”

  “Actually, I was thinking the HR department might want to have a word with me after tonight.”

  She laughed, then gasped as he kneaded the soft white globes of her buttocks.

  “God, you have the greatest ass. Why do you hide it beneath those awful suits?”

  “Because when I go to work bottomless, the team gets distracted.”

  “I’ll bet! Remind me to put out a new memo.”

  “Heh-heh. You said put out.” She chortled this in a nasally deep voice, her flawless Butthead impersonation. Only one person on her team knew she could do it. Two, if she considered Jimmy on her team. After tonight, she had better.

  “Thea Foster! You’re just brimming with talent.” He was laughing against the backs of her thighs. It tickled, but it also made her ache in an odd way. “The things we find out when we get naked… by the way, you smell fantastic. What is that, rose oil?”

  “Guilty.”

  “Mmmmm.” She could feel him nuzzling her, and the ache intensified, forcing her to shift her weight and spread her legs a bit. Then he was licking her, long soft licks that parted her flesh, that brought a gush of wetness he must have tasted.

  She felt his thumbs on her, parting her further, and then his tongue was darting and sliding and tickling, and she groaned and pushed back against his face. She looked over her shoulder and saw his lean, muscular form crouched behind her, his fingers and tongue busy, busy, and the sight of him pleasuring her was almost enough to push her over into orgasm.

  He tongued her clit—Jesus, is he part anteater?

  —while he slipped a finger inside her, and she shoved against him, harder. “Do not—” She gulped a breath. “Do not stop doing that, please.”

  “Like I want to?” Now there were two fingers working busily inside her, getting slick, getting slippery with her arousal, and she moaned softly and rocked against him. “Oh, God, you’re sweet, so sweet…”

  She gasped something in reply, and gasped again when she felt his lips settle over her clit, felt his tongue jabbing right in her very center, while at the same time his fingers were busy, busy between her legs. She rocked harder, but he kept her in place, and now a third finger was slipping into her.

  A final slick stroke of his tongue did it; she nearly staggered as her orgasm tore through her, as her uterus contracted in delightful sobbing spasms. Her knees gave way and he rode her gently to the bed, then surged inside her so quickly, the tops of his thighs slapped against the backs of hers.

  She
moaned into the pillow; this wasn’t love-making, this was being taken. And she didn’t want him to ever stop. He was pinning her to the bed with his weight, and one of his hands was on the small of her back, keeping her in place while he stroked and took and thrust. She couldn’t even thrust back; she had no leverage. So she sprawled on her stomach and took him, all of him, and felt the vibrations of another orgasm take root in her belly.

  He groaned into the back of her neck when her uterus contracted, when the delicious spasms radiated outward. He can feel me coming, she thought, and the idea held back excitement of such magnitude it was nearly unbearable.

  “Thea,” he husked, “You’re so slick… so sweet… and I’m about done.”

  “Try reciting the periodic table,” she suggested.

  He groaned laughter. “Greedy.”

  She reached down, down, and cupped his scrotum in her hand, testing the heavy, warm weight She squeezed, very very gently, savoring the texture, and he shivered, his hips jerking helplessly, and then he was done.

  He rolled off her, and they dozed.

  Chapter Nine

  “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?” she replied.

  “You’re thinking too much. My spider sense is tingling.”

  “I’m paid to think too much,” she pointed out.

  “You’re analyzing this and what it means and what we’ll do about work tomorrow.” He stretched, momentarily taking up the entire bed—she had to cling to the edge or she would have fallen off—and then relaxed. “But here it is: This was your idea. So you call the shots.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  About twenty minutes had passed, long enough for her to begin to recover from their amazing encounter. She’d had her share of physical love, but Jimmy was so exuberant and skilled and hungry, it had literally left her breathless.

  But he was wrong. She wasn’t overanalyzing what had happened. She was wondering when they could do it again. And that was very bad. She should be pondering the next cell cycle for Faskin, not thinking about getting the mouthwash out of the bathroom and showing Dr. Scrye a very interesting chemical reaction.

  Aren’t you entitled to a personal life?

  Well, no.

  No, not at all. Too many people were depending on her. Every burn victim in the world was depending on her, not to mention countless future victims. Just like every person with heart trouble had depended on her for PaceIC.

  Don’t be a martyr, you silly cow.

  She would if she pleased, thank you very much. She could succeed only under immense pressure. And who knew more about her pressure points than she herself?

  “Uh, Thea? D’you think I could horn in on whatever conversation you’re having with yourself?”

  “No, it’s private,” she replied solemnly, and then laughed.

  “Do Butthead again.”

  “Heh-heh. I said private.”

  He put his hands on his stomach and chortled, actually kicking his feet in glee. “God, that is the best! I wouldn’t have guessed you could do that—I wouldn’t have guessed you even knew who Butthead was.”

  “I get MTV.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed you watched it!”

  “Well,” she said comfortably, rolling over and resting her chin on his stomach. “I guess we aren’t so terribly smart, are we?”

  “Hey, it works out,” he replied, running his fingers through her thick dark strands. “You’re the smartest person in this bed—by sixteen whole IQ points, I looked it up—and I’m the richest.”

  “Synergy has been achieved,” she said dryly. “About work… I would prefer if we kept this between us.”

  “And I agree, on the condition that we have another date tomorrow night.”

  “Now who’s greedy?” She arched her neck; his strong fingers moving through her hair felt marvelous.

  “Guilty,” he said, and pulled her up for a deep, sweet kiss.

  Thea was pleasantly sore the next morning. It had been an extraordinary night. The man could do things with soap on a rope that were unbelievable. And they never had gotten around to ordering pizza.

  She sailed past all the security measures and practically jumped off the elevator into the lab. She had several ideas about the new cell cycle and meant to get to work on them immediately.

  Thea forced herself to slow. Was this her normal eagerness to start a new day in the lab, or something more? Did she have renewed urgency about Faskin so she could fix Jimmy’s scars?

  She thought about it all that morning, and finally decided her sin was pride, not squeamishness. His scars hadn’t bothered her—she had seen much, much worse since tackling Faskin. But the fact that they bothered him did bother her. He had been prepared to leave last night. Had actually assumed she would throw him out after seeing the scars. Ludicrous!

  No, Thea didn’t want to fix them for her. But she surely did like the idea of fixing them and pleasing Jimmy. Intellectual pride… and the satisfaction of a job well done.

  She got to work.

  Chapter Ten

  “How’d last night go?” Jessica asked. They were dictating notes for the team secretary to transcribe the next morning, and it was getting late. “Did you have fun?”

  Indeed, and I came screaming, too.

  “It was all right.”

  “Is he as big a goofball in a social setting?”

  Yes, and he has a tremendous cock. Simply huge, and when he shoves it hurts just right.

  “I suppose.”

  “You should see him again,” she announced. Thea had always found the young scientist absurdly protective. “You guys complement each other. You’re ice, he’s fire. You’re designer shoes, he’s flip-flops. You’re—”

  “—vegetables and he’s fruit, yes, I see the pattern you’re subtly drawing, thank you. As a matter of fact, we are getting together again tonight. We came to several satisfactory conclusions last night, and are interested in achieving more.”

  Just then, Jimmy poked his head into the room. “Hi, Jess. Hi, Dr. Foster. You ready to go?”

  “Another twenty minutes, please.”

  “Sure. I’ll see you then. Bye. Bye, Jess.”

  Thea hid her relief. She’d been half afraid he’d come to work wearing an I BAGGED DOC THEA T-shirt. Instead, he’d been the soul of discretion.

  “Let’s finish here,” she said to Jessica, who was staring at her with eyes gone huge.

  “You fucked him, didn’t you?”

  “Jessica!”

  “Oh my God, you did! I can’t believe it! What was it like? Did he crack jokes the whole time? He did, didn’t he?”

  Thea hid her eyes with her hands. “What are you, a witch?”

  “Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “He drives you nuts from day one, comes by the lab just to bug you, but today he’s all polite and nice and just as respectful as you please. You might as well have written it on the back of your lab coat.”

  “Don’t tell anyone,” she begged.

  “I won’t if you won’t.” Jessica smiled so widely her eyes went to half-mast. “Good for you, boss. I mean it. You deserve some personal success, too, you know.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, but she certainly had a lot to think about. More so than usual, even.

  “Dr. Foster, I had to restrain myself from jumping your delectable bones all damn day.”

  “I’m relieved you managed.”

  “So should we strip, or have something to eat first?”

  She tossed her car keys on the hall table, put a hand on his shoulder, leaned in, and murmured in his ear, “Can’t we do both?”

  Jimmy fell to his knees, right there in the hallway. He clasped his hands and looked up at the ceiling. “Lord, thank you for this woman. This incredibly sexy woman. This goddess in spectacles. I owe you huge.”

  “Get up, you look silly,” she scolded, but inwardly, she was pleased. She’d never heard a man thank the Almighty for her before. “Come along, then. What do you want to eat?”
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  “Ummm…”

  “Besides me,” she added.

  “Well, if I have to wait, then I guess I’ll settle for pasta. Where’s your kitchen? I never got around to seeing it last night…”

  “You saw plenty last night; don’t imply I was a poor hostess.” He followed her down the hall. “I haven’t been grocery shopping in a while—”

  “Leave it to me. I’m used to whipping up a seven course meal out of Spagettios and Ritz crackers.”

  “Yech!”

  He’d brought wine, which she deftly opened and poured. Then she sat on a stool by the counter and watched him work. He rooted through her cupboards and fridge, and pulled out a box of fusilli pasta, a stick of butter, a can of tuna, and salt and pepper. Within ten minutes she was eating hot, buttery pasta flavored with the ocean tang of Chicken of the Sea.

  “Good,” she said with her mouth full, not quite hiding her surprise.

  “I’m a man of many talents,” he bragged, sitting across from her with his brimming bowl. “When I’m not seducing employees, I’m whipping up gourmet pasta with substandard ingredients.”

  She nearly choked. “I seduced you, big boy. Let’s keep it in mind.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said humbly, and wolfed down more noodles.

  “For heaven’s sake. Slow down, you’ll make yourself ill.”

  “A. fat chance. I have an indefatigable appetite. B. I forgot to eat today. And—”

  She snorted. “Some genius.”

  “—C. the sooner we finish eating, the sooner I can find out if you taste as good as you smell.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him and took a sip of wine. He grinned at her so good-naturedly she had to smile back. He was just so refreshingly… refreshing. “Did you know when you smile your eyes look even greener?”

  “You should see what happens when my dick swells.”

  “Damn it! Now I’ve spit wine all over my shirt.”

  “So lose the shirt.”

  “Har-har.”

  “Do Butthead again,” he begged.