Assassin Games

by Sidney Bristol

“Earlier I had you.” She chuckled. “You put off a hundred million degrees.”

  “Trade places.” He hadn’t realized about the draft, though he should have. The lodge had been old the first time he’d been here years ago.

  Carol scooted over, and he crawled around the foot to lie between her and the wall. Sure enough, he could feel the thin, icy gust of a breeze. Once he got the blankets pulled up, it wasn’t so bad.

  Tomorrow he’d have to fix that.

  “Come here. Sleep a while longer.” He pulled Carol toward him, tamping down on the more than friendly thoughts swirling in his head.

  She wasn’t for him, no matter where they were now or who they could be.

  Unlike before, she lay facing him, her breath tickling his chest, her hands on his ribs. It was a far more intimate embrace than strictly necessary. In all his time working for the CIA, they’d never had him rescue someone. Maybe it was because of his track record. He’d been a killer for the SEALs, now he was a government guy. This was new territory for him and while he knew he could do it, he hadn’t anticipated liking Carol. Not like this.

  “What happens to you after this?” she asked.

  “Nothing. As far as the Company is concerned, I was doing my job. They’ll spin this as an op gone bad, sweep it under the rug, and move on.”

  “They won’t put you back in jail?”

  “The first rule about working under contract, get insurance.”

  “What?”

  “Stockpile your own leverage. The Company uses contractors so they don’t get their hands dirty. It’d be easy for them to clean up after me if they wanted to be done. No one’s looking for me. No one cares. So the first thing you do is get dirt.”

  “Don’t say that.” Carol splayed her hand on his chest.

  “It’s the truth.” He covered her hand with his.

  “I’d miss you.”

  He pressed his lips together and stared into her eyes, darker than his soul, sucking him in. If he wasn’t careful, those eyes could consume him.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” She ducked her chin. “If we survive this, I’m always going to wonder about you, if you’re okay.”

  “You should forget I exist.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. Just try.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “What purpose would remembering me serve? Does it help you do your job? Would it give you peace of mind? Hm?”

  “No…”

  “Then do me a favor, when this is over…forget me.”

  The people he cared about were safer the farther away from him they were. His brothers. His aunt. And now, Carol. He’d thought he was impervious to her, that she’d be a job, a thing to transport, but he’d been wrong. She’d blindsided him by virtue of being completely out of place in his life. Normal even. And he didn’t know what to tell her.

  Andy lifted his hand and cupped her face. He traced her lips with his thumb, remembering all too well the taste of wine on her lips. How she’d thrown down that icy wall between them and demanded answers. She’d been soft and wild, sweet and tempting.

  But she wasn’t for him.

  Even if she couldn’t go back to her old life and needed somewhere to run, she couldn’t be his. It was too dangerous.

  Maybe he’d find her a husband, someone who would pamper and adore her.

  Right.

  And then Andy would fend off murderous thoughts about the man for the rest of his natural life.

  “Andy?” Her lips moved against the pad of his thumb, so soft and smooth.

  “No more questions.” Because very soon she’d ask him a dangerous one, and he wasn’t sure that he could put her to bed and walk away tonight. Not when they’d cheated death by such a narrow margin.

  Chapter Ten

  Carol was playing with fire. She had her hand over the proverbial candle, could feel its too-warm flame, and she wasn’t budging. She was going to get burned, there was no question about that, but it was her choice.

  Andy didn’t want to talk? Fine. Neither did she.

  She’d lain awake these last few hours, listening to him, the wind, thinking about her life, and for what? To die tomorrow?

  Carol tipped her head back and stretched her neck.

  Andy watched her, his stillness turning predatory.

  If she kissed him again she doubted he’d push her away.

  Last night had been…crazy. Ill-conceived. Stupid.

  Today…she wanted to live. A desire she saw reflected back to her in every deep line in Andy’s face.

  Carol pressed her mouth to the hard line of Andy’s lips. She didn’t expect this tightly wound, always-controlled man to give an inch, but that was okay. She’d been hiding behind her own walls for ages. She knew a thing or two about battening down the hatches and not letting anyone in. She also knew what that did to a person deep down.

  Andy’s body might not be a prisoner, but his mind was. She couldn’t break the bars down, but she could open the door. Let him chose.

  She tilted her head, sliding her skin over his, tasting his flesh, but he was as unmoved as a mountain. Whatever fire she’d glimpsed last night was snuffed out. Gone.

  Maybe this was wrong?

  She sighed, closing her eyes to his rejection. It wasn’t like Carol to put herself out there, and now to do it twice? It was uncharacteristic of her.

  His hand at her hip tightened, bringing their bodies together. She sucked in a breath and his tongue swept between her lips. She stopped thinking, stopped breathing.

  Andy slid his hand down to her knee, hiking her thigh up over his hip and sliding his leg between hers, twining their bodies together. She felt his heat in every cell of her body.

  He nipped her lower lip, startling her out of her shock.

  She pressed closer, seeking more of his kiss. While he held her body with an unyielding strength, his mouth was softer, gentler. As though that one part of him was saved. Maybe not for her, but the world hadn’t hardened his mouth, not to her.

  Carol wrapped her arm around his waist, seeking to get closer, needing more of his kiss. He rocked against her, his thigh pressing against her core, stroking her pussy. She groaned into his mouth. Andy wasn’t all bad, he wasn’t just this person he pretended to be. He smiled, he cared, he was deeper than he allowed most to see. Deep down, parts of him were Mark. She knew him, even the parts he didn’t want to. She might not know his list of jobs, all the sins he’d committed in the name of being a patriot, but she didn’t have to.

  He slid his palm up her side, cupping her breast. His shirt was bunched up under her ribs, the thin bra no barrier at all to his million-degree body heat.

  He bumped her shoulder—the bad arm—sending pain stabbing down to her fingers.

  Carol hissed.

  “Shit. Are you okay?” Andy froze, his hands still on her, mouth so close.

  “I’m fine.” The pitch of her voice betrayed her.

  “Let me see.”

  The wound was too high to simply roll the sleeve up. She swallowed down her nerves and wiggled her left arm out of the confines of his shirt.

  Andy propped himself up on his elbow and peered at her arm, gently prodding the ends of the Steri-Strips still safely stuck to her skin.

  “Fine, see?” She smiled despite the heat clinging to her cheeks.

  “I’ll be the judge of that. We have to be careful this doesn’t get infected. There’s only so many antibiotics.” He slid his hand down her arm, then to her waist.

  He’d bumped her. That was it. If she was going to get an infection from that, they were in a worse place than she realized.

  Andy’s gaze remained on her face. He watched her in that completely still way of his. She could feel him thinking, making decisions, testing them out and discarding for another one. What conclusion would he come to? Would he roll over and pretend the world didn’t feel as though it were on the brink of exploding when they kissed? Could he?

  His hand s
lid slowly up her side, as though he were testing the waters, taking their temperature.

  She hardly dared to breathe. His fingers skimmed her ribs, the underside of her bra.

  He cupped her breast, his head inclining the slightest fraction.

  She covered his hand with hers, pressing him nearer. It wasn’t enough.

  Carol grasped the front of her bra, pulling it down until there was no barrier. He palmed her, his gaze never once leaving her face.

  What did he see? What did his touch do to her?

  From the way he was staring, it at least had to be interesting.

  Andy growled something under his breath and tore his hand away from her grasp. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him, then rolled until she was under him, his weight pinning her to the bed.

  “Carol, you shouldn’t have kissed me.” His roughened tone was more a plea than a scolding.

  “Why not?” She slid her hands down his chest. “We could have died today. We could die tomorrow. I don’t want to be mad at you or pretend I don’t want you.”

  He kissed her neck, nipping the tendon at the juncture of her shoulder.

  “Don’t tell me things like that,” he said.

  “What? That I think about you? Talking to you?”

  “You’re thinking about him, not me.”

  “Who?”

  “Mark.” He pushed the shirt up, exposing her chest. The cool air snaking under the blankets was a welcome change.

  “You are Mark, and you’re Andy.” She arched her back.

  “No, I’m not.” He lowered to his elbows and cupped both breasts.

  “If that’s what you want to believe, fine. Go ahead.” He could deny it all he wanted. She saw more than just the act he put on in the name of his work.

  “Tell me to stop,” he begged.

  “I don’t take orders from you. You don’t have that kind of security clearance.” She snickered.

  Andy pulled her bra down, until the cups pushed her breasts up and together, plumping them for his perusal. He bent his head, licking one while he teased the other with his fingers. She arched her back, closing her eyes, and surrendered to the sensual magic of his touch.

  She’d imagined kissing him and things progressing with more need. Instead, he treated her body like a sensual buffet. And that was with her pants still on and panties in place.

  He cupped her ass, grinding her pelvis to him as he suckled the other breast, fingers playing with the damp flesh of the other. She panted, shifting, seeking something that would relieve the pressure slowly building inside her.

  “Carol?” Andy said against her sternum.

  “What?” She didn’t mean to snap like a harpy, but why were they talking?

  “We have to stop.”

  “Why?” She gaped at him.

  “Because—we’re not prepared for sex.”

  “Prepared?” Was he kidding? She could feel his erection pressing against her. If that wasn’t ready, she didn’t know what was.

  “Condoms.” He chuckled, but it was a pained sound.

  Shit.

  That was a pickle.

  “When was your last panel?” she asked. Even the contractors got tested for everything under the sun on a regular basis. They couldn’t risk one being infected with some bioengineered pathogen and spreading it.

  “Panel?”

  “Blood test? STI? STD? What else do they test you for?”

  “After every op, and—everything.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. I’ve never so much as had the clap, but—Carol.”

  “The only thing I’m religious about is my IUD.” She’d had hers changed days before Andy abducted her, an odd stroke of luck.

  Andy’s cheeks sunk in. His features seemed sharper, but not in a dangerous way. At least not to her life. Her body might scream at her all too soon, but she doubted she’d regret it.

  She reached between them, fumbling with the catch on Andy’s belt. She couldn’t grasp the leather and he wasn’t helping her.

  “Carol…”

  “What?” Since she couldn’t get in his pants, she slid her hand along the line of his erection.

  “Fuck.” He closed his eyes and flexed his hips.

  He never finished his sentence.

  Andy pushed up to his forearm and reached down. In a matter of moments she heard the jangle of his belt, the whisper of the zipper. She swallowed, anticipation making her head swim.

  He slid up her body, leaving the jeans behind. Before he could get his hands on the waistband of her yoga pants, she wrapped her hand around his cock, pumping the smooth skin. He muttered curses, eyes closed, as though he were praying.

  It wasn’t just her.

  Even if this was sex—plain and simple—they both wanted it. What came after, they’d deal with it then. Right now she didn’t want to stay in her nice, neat corner. She wanted to grab life, or maybe just Andy, by the balls.

  He thrust into her hold, his eyes flickering open. Desire stared back at her.

  Andy wrapped his hand around her wrist, pulling her away from his cock.

  He scooted down, disappearing under the blankets.

  She swallowed. Was he—?

  He pulled her pants and panties down in one go. She lifted her hips, helping him strip her of the impeding clothing, but he didn’t reappear. His breath heated her already too-warm skin. His lips caressed her mound, the crease of her thigh and then—

  “Andy!” she said his name on a wail.

  His fingers stroked her pussy, dipping into her channel while his lips made love to that bundle of nerves. She gripped the sheets, sucking down breath while her vision hazed. He thrust and twisted his fingers in time to the strokes of his tongue. She lifted her hips, moving with him, losing all sense of time or place.

  She hooked her thigh over his shoulder, the better to leverage herself, moving with him. She felt more than heard the sounds he made.

  Carol reached down, grasping a handful of his hair, needing to hold onto something.

  “A-Andy!”

  Her insides quivered once, twice, and then she seemed to break apart, her whole body dissolving under the onslaught of pleasure.

  It wasn’t until several moments later that she opened her eyes.

  Andy loomed over her, watching. Waiting for the right moment.

  They weren’t done yet.

  …

  Andy had wrestled with this beast, this need, and he’d thought he’d won, that he’d locked up this wayward desire for Carol. But now, looking down at her body flushed from orgasm, he knew this was his undoing.

  He wanted her.

  She stretched her arm up over his shoulder. Her finger skimmed his stomach before finding his cock. He loved her touch, how she did so without hesitation. The woman Carol presented to the world might not always know what she wanted, but this one? The one he’d uncovered? She damn well knew what she liked.

  He let her guide his cock.

  Andy couldn’t remember the last time he’d foregone a condom. He shouldn’t do this, but she insisted, and he wasn’t strong enough to resist. Besides, she wasn’t lying about the IUD. He’d read that much about her.

  Her wet heat kissed his skin. He groaned and dropped down to his forearms, pressing into her. She hooked her thigh over his hip, pulling him down.

  Carol cried out. He froze.

  “No…no. Keep going.” She panted between words. “Still sensitive.”

  Good, because he’d like to see her come again, but after that little performance he might not last.

  He grasped her hands, twining their fingers together. He kissed her lips, her cheek, the place where her pulse fluttered in her throat.

  Damn this woman for making him care.

  He was ruined, but no one could know that.

  If they did, it would spell both their deaths.

  He rocked into her, drawing his knees up under ass, her legs around his waist.

  “Look at me,”
he whispered.

  She opened her eyes, and he fell into them, losing himself in her.

  Her pussy hugged him so tight, so perfect.

  He rocked into her, doing his best to hold off the orgasm, to experience this joining for as long as he could. But a hitch in her breathing, the caress of her breasts, they kept bringing him back, rooting him in the moment.

  “Carol…”

  She groaned.

  Her whimper was his only warning this time.

  Her pussy tightened, orgasm rippling around him.

  “Fuck,” he roared.

  His vision blurred, losing sight of her as her orgasm spurred his. The slick, tight vise of her pussy pulled him impossibly deeper with each thrust. He pumped into her, burying his face in her neck, wishing this could go on forever. But even this one moment was perfect.

  He sank deep, her legs and arms wrapped so tight around him they were nearly one person. He gathered her to him, holding onto her.

  The lies slid through his brain.

  It’s just sex.

  This is about the post-danger high.

  Adrenaline and near-death experiences make for great sex.

  It’s not you, it’s Mark.

  Yeah, they’d gone so far past that it wasn’t funny.

  Sex with Carol was more than scratching an itch or a convenience. He’d spent a week crawling into her life, learning her inside and out. He knew her, he knew what kind of woman she was, what made her tick, and he liked her. The people he watched were never good, but she was. Yes, nearly losing her in the storm had pushed him toward an edge, but they’d survived. Perhaps the intensity was greater, the urgency higher, but this would still be something that mattered to him. And if he discounted her feelings for a second, he was lying to himself.

  He’d felt her gentle, caring spirit in the way she held him after his dream, the way she’d comforted him. This? What had just happened? It was more than that. Infinitely more and deeper.

  He was so fucked.

  They’d reached a point, a dangerous one, where they could not so easily be parted. What happened if they couldn’t fix things with the CIA? What then? He was a contracted CIA employee falling for a woman who could very well become the next most-wanted person. If they did get her reinstated with the Company, it wasn’t like they could do dinner at six and movies on Tuesday. His life didn’t work like that.