by Rosa, A.
"You don't believe me?" I ask, annoyed.
He lets out a chuckle as he reaches out to squeeze my knee, and there is that electrical spark he elicits.
"Um ... kind of," he says as we pull forward. A part of me is tempted to remind him of our first encounter, but I refrain and huff instead. How mature of you.
"Not only are you beautiful, but adorable when you're angry."
I feign anger. "Trust me, Jeremy. You do not want to see me angry." I notice his hand is still on my knee. I petulantly lift it off my leg. He twists his lips in protest to express his distaste. "You said you wouldn't touch me. You need to keep your promise, and your distance."
"Why do you keep saying things like that?" His frustration shows as we pull into an underground parking garage.
I sound like a broken record. "I wish I could tell you. Consider it for your safety."
Again, there is this pang of regret as I hear the words come out of my mouth. I am already breaking so many rules. How can I fix any of this anymore? Suddenly, it hits me. Maybe I could somehow convince Derek to let Jeremy in on this case. He could help us. Derek will think I am crazy, but maybe it could work. Hell, even I know it sounds crazy.
JEREMY HUNT
Why is she still pushing me away? This still can't be about Marcus. I mean, she chose to be here with me. Why all these warnings? She talks a lot of talk, but her actions have me confused. I've known her for such a short period and already I have moments where I'd rather broker a multimillion-dollar deal than figure out what this damned girl is telling me. Are women literal creatures? I have to admit this is not my forte.
She drags behind me, but with a hint of a smile playing on her lips that easily keeps me interested. Dammit, Hunt, you have it bad.
The older gentleman, who sits behind the security counter, clears my entrance into the building. "Good day, Mr. Hunt."
"Hello, Mitchell."
The man is in his mid-seventies and can't hide his judgments even if he tried. He eyes the way I hold Alex's somewhat reluctant hand and pull her to the elevators. Yeah, yeah, Mitchell, think whatever you want, you old coot.
Alex begins another plea. "Jeremy, please listen to me. I don't know if this is such a good idea right now." She bobs on her heels.
"Stop telling me things like that. Don't you get it? I don't care." I am getting frustrated.
Her teeth reach out and grab her bottom lip yet again, and I practically ache to taste that lip. Did I mention all sorts of frustrated?
The door pings open, and she manages to free her hand from mine as she scoots inside. Well, at least she isn't running.
This is such a new phenomenon to me. I have never doubted myself so much in my life, but I also have never wanted anything so badly either.
I step inside, right in front of her, looking into her hazel eyes. They practically twinkle with electricity in the fluorescent light as it catches their gold color. The doors shut behind me, and the air in the small space becomes thick. The temperature rises from the heat of our bodies in the confines of the ascending metal box.
She is trying her hardest to look anywhere but at me, and it makes me grin.
Still looking away, she huffs, "I think you may be the most frustrating man I have ever met too."
I analyze her features, completely in awe of her, and I still don't know why. Maybe because you always want what you can't have. My reasons most definitely include her button nose, high, rosy cheekbones, wide puppy eyes, and waves of black locks that beg to be played with.
As if losing patience with the silence, she peers up at me. Her eyes widen at the eye contact, and her playful smirk is back, causing the corner of my mouth to rise too. The attraction is there, I can sense it. Our stare is like a tractor beam neither of us can break. I want to kiss her.
"Don't even think about it, Jeremy." Did she just read my mind? "Yeah, it's that obvious, and I am telling you, don't do it."
My eyebrows shoot up in wry amusement, but it's as if she is daring me. I lean toward her. She doesn't take a step back, but instead raises her hand and places it on my chest in a haphazard attempt to stop me.
"Will you ever listen to a damn word I say?" She nearly growls, but oddly lets her lips slip into a smile.
It is all a game and I never lose. Her persistence only makes it seem more like a challenge that I can't ignore, and I know all I want is to kiss that wonderful mouth.
She's smiling as I get closer. "Jeremy, please."
With her hand languidly resting on my chest, our lips finally touch. I can feel her wonderfully rewarding grin against my mouth. I don't want to stop, and she doesn't resist. If anything, she eggs me on as she lets her hand drag over my chest, sending delicious goose bumps all over my body. The kiss is gentle and passionate as her lips command mine.
Her hand climbs up my neck, and she tangles her fingers into my hair, anchoring me to her. Carnal hunger takes over as she lets me part her lips, tasting her sinful flavor, and our tongues twist around each other. My skin burns as if it's on fire.
I bring my hand up to cup her face as I back her up against the wall, pinning her with my hips, and she lets out a quiet moan. My pants strain at the sound. I have never felt such an explosion of need for another human being.
There is no sign of us wanting to stop as my free hand hungrily glides down her waist to her thigh, forcing her to wrap her legs around me as I press harder against her.
Ping. The elevator doors open.
For the first time in my life, I think I might have actually met my match, because we don't bother to look, stop, or even fidget. Not in the slightest.
"Excuse me! I said, 'Excuse me,'" someone shouts from the hallway.
Ping. The doors shut.
Who was it? I don't know and don't care. All I know is they didn't bother stepping inside, and I finally get to take that wonderful lip between my teeth and tug.
She roughly pulls me into another passionate kiss, and all I can think is I want more, so much more.
Ping. The elevator doors open again. This must be my floor now.
Before I can form some plan of action, she pushes me away with an amount of strength that surprises me.
We are out of breath. The rush from whatever just happened has me feeling as if I ran a marathon. I can't wipe the stupid grin off my face. She shakes her head, as if trying to shake the situation from her mind, and continues to push me off her as she reclaims her body and its limbs.
She takes in one final fill of oxygen, and says with force, "You get one free pass, Jeremy, one, and that was it."
This time, she is the one grabbing my hand as she pulls me out of the elevator. As if this is my fault.
I don't know much, but I do know it takes two to tango.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Breaking All the Rules
ALEX TURNER
We make it into his apartment in one horny piece, and I know I should be angry with myself for what I allowed to happen.
You wonder why the boys at the office won't give you respect when you can barely keep your pants on!
Shut up, subconscious. I have the best damn aim in our department, and can hack a security system in record time. I deserve the respect. I am just human, susceptible to human emotions ... unfortunately.
I can tell Jeremy is as frustrated as I am, and he is visibly peeved. Before we entered his apartment, I explained to him that this is all wrong, but the stubborn man that he is, he completely disagrees. Always defiant. The thought makes me smile, and it shouldn't.
I watch him walk around the kitchen. Is he pouting? Is he throwing a tantrum? I wish I could tell him the truth. He doesn't understand this is all so much harder for me than it is for him, but I can't mention why. At least not yet. Not until I confer with Derek.
The thought makes my heart sink. He won't want to hear this. What a mess I have gotten myself into! For a moment, I get mad at Derek because I know the real reason he won't want to hear this, and I know he will be territorial. But he ha
s no right to be. As my boss? Maybe. As my ex-boyfriend? He had better think again.
I don't want to sit here and watch Jeremy be upset with me. I may not be able to say anything, but I can't have him thinking that I don't want him, because let's face it, I want him more than I thought possible.
Who is doing the thinking? Your brain or your libido, Agent Turner?
The thought puts a bad taste in my mouth. The grin I have on my face, the constant butterflies in my stomach, and my racing heartbeat are not caused by my libido. It's his persistence and domineering attitude that has me desperate for more. I want someone to lead me rather than the other way around. It's a foreign sensation, but there is something alluring about it. I want someone to want me, and he sure as hell does.
He opens the pantry, looks inside, and sighs. Is it because he can't find what he's looking for, or is it because of me?
He closes the cabinet and walks passed me without giving me a glance, and I know it’s on purpose. As he tries to make his way back, I reach out and grab his shirt. I don't know what's come over me.
He gasps at the pull, and looks at me blankly, confused.
I know, Jeremy, I am bipolar when it comes to wanting you ... no, yes, no, yes ... I get it!
I do the only thing I want to do. He needs to know how I feel. I don't want him doubting me, because I think that maybe we have potential together.
Did I just think that? Oh, man.
I drag him so close to me that he's standing between my legs. I smile, as if it is an apology for my erratic behavior.
"Please don't be mad at me." I pull him into a kiss, gripping his shirt, tugging him toward me.
He welcomes my lips to his as he lets his hands rest on my thighs, tightening his grip as the kiss persists. Between kisses, he says, "But. You. Make. Me. So. Mad."
Pulling an inch away from his face, I examine him for a moment, analyzing his strikingly handsome features.
"I know, and soon I'll be able to tell you everything. But right now, I need you to know—and remember—that whatever happens, I want you, no matter what comes up."
For the first time, this overbearing man looks at me with fear in his eyes, searching mine for some sort of hint. I can't help but shake my head as a response.
His adoring, wary expression is so new to witness. This foreign feeling growing in my gut overtakes me, and I grab for his shirt, aching to have more of him.
His lips gladly accept mine as they pick up fervor. Every time his lips meet mine, my whole body begins a slow tingle that starts from within my chest, and spreads like a wildfire. I can tell immediately that it is dangerously addictive, but it does not stop me.
Logic seems to have dropped on my priority list as I focus on his tightening grip on my thighs in unison with his skilled mouth coaxing mine open, and I yearn for another sinfully sweet taste, driven by the carnal explosion beginning in my core. I can’t fathom how things are escalating so quickly, but I don’t think I want to.
As if the fates have it in for me—and surely, they are not going to let me forget who I am—a sound erupts from my bag on his kitchen counter only a few feet from us. It's quiet and slight, but significant. My cell phone. It rings for only one reason. Work. My heart aches in response, and that tingling sensation turns icy.
I lose my breath for a moment. My body is confused as Jeremy's hands move up and over my hips. It is his way of telling me he is begging for more and not to stop, but my training is overriding the system as my lips halt against his. No!
"Don't." It's a domineering plea.
I close my eyes, trying to listen to him, but now all I can think about is: will this compromise my team? Will this put Jeremy in danger? The last thought is staggering, and horribly enlightening. I push at Jeremy, signaling him to stop.
He places one more kiss on my lips, leaving me breathless. "What's wrong?" he asks.
I stare over his shoulder at my bag, thinking of my phone inside it, wondering what work would want, and then back to Jeremy’s bottomless eyes that are dissecting me with each passing second. The two worlds collide in a way I never expected they would, let alone expected Jeremy at all. My face falls at the thought.
I get lost in the moment, and Jeremy’s hands come up to my face, cupping my jaw and drawing my full attention. The mood has shifted from lustful longing, to sincere concern in a nanosecond.
"What's wrong, Alex? Is something going on?"
How is it that, as a special agent, you can mask your emotions, and even pass polygraph tests, but with this man, you become silly putty?
You got it bad, Agent Turner.
I lean into his tender embrace. Why am I reacting like such a needy child?
"It's all just a lot," is all I can muster.
"Talk to me," he demands.
I exhale and close my eyes. If only it were that simple.
When I open them, I know that I don’t want to listen to my brain, but with a muscle I have never had any reason to use, my heart. What the hell is happening?
"I don't want to talk."
He smirks when he understands, and that warm tingling feeling returns with a vengeance. The hairs on my arms prickle with anticipation as I squirm on the inside, but stay contained on the outside, thinking that Jeremy, the most stubborn man I have ever encountered, has the terrifying ability of making me want to throw out the rule book.
"Why aren't you kissing me?" I ask, knowing I need someone to make the decision for me, someone who will make the first move without giving me a choice. I know Jeremy would only be too happy to be that person.
He laughs. "You told me not to."
"I know, but since when do you listen?" I lean into his grasp, even more like a puppy who wants more attention.
He grins as he pulls my face to his without hesitation. At first, the kisses are light and affectionate. His gentle embrace is so ... new.
"Please be patient with me," I breathe out between his sensual kisses. Now it's my turn to beg.
As if regaining his prowess, he stops kissing me, putting our faces nose to nose. It’s almost too intimate. His gray eyes storm with determination, and his hands tighten their grip at my waist. His touch and stare have me trapped.
"Just know, I don't want to be patient with you. I want you now, and I know you want me." He's demanding now, angry and frustrated. And I like it.
I don't know what else to say. He is right, but this whole thing is wrong, for now.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
The wicked smile that reveals itself is totally worth the emotional turmoil. He wastes no time crashing his lips to mine, and that is when the frenzy ensues. Two people who want each other, and they can’t seem to figure out why. It teeters on insanity, but I think that is half the fun.
I grab for his broad shoulders, clawing at his muscles over the thin material of his shirt, and my blood pressure spikes at the contact, knowing that there’s no stopping this now.
He drags his skilled hands up my torso, and to my chest with unfiltered determination. He moves his lips to my neck and kisses down to my collarbone, which is peeking out of the opening of my shirt, nipping and sucking as he goes.
I slide my hands down his back, pulling him closer to me. He grinds his hips against mine as I wrap my legs around him more tightly, wanting him as close as possible. He sighs against my lips. It's the most satisfying sound I have ever heard.
He slips his hand under my shirt. His touch on my bare skin leaves a fiery path in the wake of his fingertips, and I can feel his body tense with need for mine.
He moves to my jawline, dragging his teeth up and nipping at my earlobe. My hands move to his chest, clawing at his shirt. I want it off.
Between kisses, he says, "I don't care what you aren't telling me. Just let me love you, Alex. I've never wanted anyone as badly as I want you. Just. Let. Go. For me."
His words undo me. I push him away, just far enough to give me better access to his lips.
We are grinning against e
ach other like two school kids. When was the last time I felt young, and my age?
Giving in, letting my guard down—it's all new, yet wonderfully enlightening.
As if he is afraid that I will change my mind, he begins on the buttons of my flannel shirt. I grasp at the edge of his black T-shirt. As he peels my shirt over my shoulders, he allows me to lift his over his head. He is distractingly beautiful shirtless. A sun-kissed Greek statue of human perfection. I can't help but lick my lips at the sight.
"Do you have any idea how hot you are?" he says as I appreciate his physique.
He kisses down my shoulders to the top of my breasts, and I close my eyes, relishing his touch. He lets his hands run over my smooth abdomen, appreciating every curve and sinew.
He moves back to my lips, kissing them with fervor. I tug at his lower lip with my teeth, and he groans another incredibly satisfying sound, causing everything below my waist to clench in delicious anticipation.
I'm putting everything on the line for this, and I don't care.
He sighs. "Alex, I want you so badly."
I move my lips to his neck, and run my hands down his naked torso. I grab his jeans. "I think you should take me to your room."
As if that was the green light he was waiting for, he pulls away, lifts me off the counter, and swings me over his shoulder, causing me to yelp as I surrender to him.
Jeremy owns me at this moment. It's a revelation.
“Jeremy!” I blurt between my unrecognizable giggles.
He slaps me playfully on the behind as he walks down the hall to his bedroom, and soon lets me slide down his hard body so we are facing each other.
The sun is high in the sky, casting delightful shadows over the firm ridges of his body, and I know he catches me staring when I recognize that secret smile again. His bed brushes against the back of my knees.
"You look quite smug, Jeremy." I cannot help my goading tone now, proud of how we got here, and always ready to antagonize him.