by Eve Langlais
Very well. She grabbed his cheeks and yanked him down. He didn’t resist, and she kissed him. He kissed her back. Hands soon tugged clothing free, a zipper and button for him, her panties to her ankles for her. The passion, quick and furious, had her screaming in moments and him grunting right after.
How could this be wrong?
This isn’t what I should be doing.
Their hearts had barely slowed when she was off the bed, angry energy coursing through her veins. She began cursing, a ranting in a mix of Russian, English, French, and some Italian, wearing her hot temper and nothing else.
Being a man, Darren stared. “You’re gorgeous.”
“I know.”
“And athletic, too. I don’t know how I didn’t recognize that before. You’re not just toned. That’s real muscle. The kind that comes from more than regular workouts.”
“I am a finely tuned fighting machine.” She posed and flexed. “A weak agent can’t defend themselves or their clients.”
“How did I ever believe you were a soft-spoken French model?” He didn’t say it with any heated anger. Just a half-smile and a shake of his head.
“You made assumptions. Most people do. You look at the face and the body”—she gestured to her frame—“but never past it. You liked being flattered. And the sex was good.”
“The sex is incredible.” The vehemence with which he said it almost made her blush.
“Now it is. Before, it was okay.” Because she had to hide her hot-blooded passion behind a meek mask.
“Your idea of okay was still mind-blowing, which is why I blame you for not spotting the clues. Because of you, my poor brain rarely had enough blood to function.”
The backwards compliment had her blinking.
He laughed. “Want to hear something crazy?”
Crazier than his admission?
“I like Marina more than Fran.”
“You’re lying.” Even if she didn’t see why he’d do so.
“I’m actually really glad you ditched me the way you did. I mean, let’s be serious. The meek and mild-mannered model I fell for was never going to last. You were right; we never got to know each other outside the bedroom. Once the passion fizzled, I would have been bored with Fran. We had nothing in common.”
“We still don’t.”
“Don’t we?” He arched a brow. “We both lead double lives.”
“You run a school. I run special operations.”
“I understand your world, and you understand mine.”
“Is this where you say it’s a small world and start singing?”
“Just that fate is strange sometimes. I mean, look at the fact that we never even met.”
“Why would we?”
“Because I keep tabs on some of the more active players in the mercenary world.”
“Why? You have your own group to use.”
“I do. BBI is my agency of choice; however, who do you think trains the students? I like keeping my finger in the pie because you never know when you’ll want to recruit a new teacher. Yet, with all my intel, I’ve never heard of your Sergei or seen even a hint of you.”
“Because we know how to hide our tracks.”
“Is this your way of saying if I dig I won’t find anything?”
Why would he dig? What was Darren up to with this conversation? “I don’t understand your interest.”
“I want to know more about you.”
“There is no need for that. We’re not dating.”
“Is the idea of sharing something personal that hard for you to grasp?”
“What have you shared?” she retorted. “I’ve yet to hear you talk much about your childhood and secrets.”
“I was an only child. My mother died young. Super young. Murdered, actually. She was the catalyst for my father starting the academy. Did you know,” he said leaning forward, his expression intent, “I used to hate the school. I blamed it for so much when I was a kid.”
“How can you blame a school for anything?”
He shrugged. “I was grieving. I’d lost my mother, and my father wallowed in his depression. When he finally got past his grief, he became consumed with the academy and getting his revenge.”
“Is this a story of a poor little rich boy ignored by his daddy?”
“Who found his balls and got over it. I came to realize over the years that everyone handles grief differently.”
“If you grieve, it’s because you let someone get too close.”
“Are you going to tell me they don’t allow you to care for anyone?”
She didn’t need to feel Sergei’s ghostly breath to reply, “The job comes first.”
“Speaking of job, since both our offices failed the trust litmus test, we need to try something new.”
“I still don’t believe Sergei betrayed me.”
“Just like I don’t think Harry did. What if it’s not them? What if we’re still dealing with the mastermind from the island? Think about it. We weren’t attacked at the hotel.”
“Because we told no one where we were.”
“Exactly. The only thing kind of public was our probable destination.”
“You think our offices have a hack?”
“It would make sense. I know Declan is a whiz when it comes to cracking shit.”
“Let’s say you’re right and someone is playing us both because they’ve managed to infiltrate our networks. How do we stop it? Short of crushing the computers and starting from scratch, which we both know isn’t feasible.”
“Declan might be able to find the hole.”
“Isn’t Declan the same one who hasn’t found it yet?”
“Only because he wasn’t looking.”
“Your hacker was hacked.”
“So was yours.”
“Which means, whoever we’re dealing with is slick. We have to be careful.”
“Which is why I think we should call in to our respective offices and tell them where we are.”
She whirled on him, planting her hands on her hips. “Call them when they both might be compromised? Are you suicidal?”
“No, but at the same time, if we don’t call in, then we won’t know what they’re doing.”
“Exactly, and it goes the other way, which keeps us alive.”
“Or Mastermind hasn’t been ready to kill us.”
“We’ve only survived because we’ve been wily.”
“I would have said lucky, and it’s going to run out at some point,” Darren said, rolling his shoulders, which caused a ripple effect on his chest. The blanket slid down, and her gaze got caught on admiring the delineated muscles of his pecs.
The sheet tented. Her eyebrow rose.
“We won’t need luck if they can’t find us,” she said, taking a step toward him. His eyes caught the sway of her breasts and stayed locked. Because she felt ornery, she grabbed her shirt and slipped it on.
“What will we do in the meantime? Bounce around from hotel to hotel, fucking our brains out on as many continents as we can? Until when? When do we know it’s safe?”
“Run?” Her lips pursed. “That sounds like a cowardly plan. I was thinking more of hunting down the members of our respective teams and questioning them until we discover the truth. Then we kill them.”
“You’re talking about murdering friends.”
“Torturing, actually. We would only kill those responsible.”
“What if they had a reason for their actions?” he asked. “Maybe a family member is being threatened.”
“Their excuses aren’t my problem. If they plot against me, then they are the enemy.”
“So you’d kill even those you love?”
At that question, she bit her lip. “You are trying to question my morals again.”
“Just attempting to figure out your line.”
“I am the line. Cross me, and you’re done.” Said with all the confidence of a cold-blooded killer, yet when she had the chance, she’d spared him.
&
nbsp; Would she do it again?
She didn’t know, and it made her mentally itch, the way he carefully poked at her, questioning the life choices she’d made. She’d not had the same opportunities as he had. Easy for him to speak. He’d been raised with certain freedoms.
I wasn’t.
She also wasn’t about to debate her way of thinking. They had more important things to figure out than the supposed moral decay of her character. “We need a plan.”
“I agree, but I’d like one that doesn’t involve killing and torturing people right off the bat.”
“It would be faster, but since you insist,” she uttered with a deep sigh. “If we were to call them, and I mean if, what would we say? ‘Hello, here I am, come kill me?’”
“We could try for a little more subtlety. Right now, they don’t know we suspect them.”
“Then they are stupid.”
“No, not stupid, and quite possibly innocent. Even if there isn’t a hack, I highly doubt there’s more than one person involved in this. It’s figuring out who that person is that’s the problem.”
“We need a way to flush them out. How long until this wedding you’re planning?” The one he insisted on bringing her to as his plus one.
“Too long. Reaper isn’t supposed to get hitched for a few more weeks.”
“Move up the date.”
At that, Darren grimaced. “All the plans have been made. Invites, reservations, everything.”
“Why would anyone want such a big and fancy wedding?” Her nose wrinkled. “They should have eloped.”
“Which negates the whole idea of throwing a big party to tempt any spies out of hiding.”
“Given the current interest in harassing us, I don’t think we need a big wedding to draw out the culprit. So long as we make a public appearance, I think someone will show.”
“If we make ourselves bait too publicly, though, civilians will be harmed.”
“So?”
“Again, can we keep the casualties to a minimum?”
A noise escaped her. “You and your delicate sensibilities. Fine. You and I will be bait. Somewhere not too public. Which means we will be sitting rabbits. Might as well shoot me now since you have no common sense when it comes to making plans.”
The smile he gave her, sweet and intense, would have melted her panties if she wore any. “What if we had another wedding? A quick one. Right here. In this city. Call in a few of our friends who are in Europe.”
“Are you suggesting we get married?” She immediately shook her head. “No. I am not ready for that kind of commitment.”
“A fake wedding.”
“Because you think whoever is spying on us is dumb enough to fall for a false priest? It won’t work. It has to look real, or they’ll know it’s a trap.”
“So we do it in a real church, with a real priest. The fact that we have a history together and have gone through some intense shit lately will make it believable.”
“Except I don’t want to be wed.”
“It would only be temporary. We could get it annulled after.”
Or not. She found herself torn on that matter.
“We have no idea if that will work. And it is extreme. Why not just rent a restaurant for dinner for two?”
“Because that looks like a trap. Think of it. A hitman wedding with a whole bunch of targets?” Darren gave her that smile again, the one that had her knees hitting the bed so she could crawl up his body and cover him.
“It is devious. Fraught with problems,” she muttered, rubbing her cheek against his chest, loving the friction.
“Are you saying you can’t handle it?”
She paused and eyed him. “Do you really think you can prick my pride into doing it?”
“Yes.”
She nipped him. “You might be right.”
“Switch that might with always and—hey.”
The twist of his nipple had him arching, yelling and laughing at the same time.
“Your plan isn’t completely without merit, but it is dangerous, could fail—”
“Or succeed, and you’ll owe me an apology.”
“I am assuming any oral apology will do?” She eyed him as she dragged the sheet down his body.
“So long as it’s sincere.”
“What if I make sure it’s wet?” She grabbed hold of him. “And satisfying.”
“Perhaps if you gave me a sample, I could let you know.”
What am I doing? She was supposed to be making smart decisions. Not…oh to hell with it. Where Darren was concerned, she couldn’t keep her head straight—or her clothes on.
She leaned up and stripped off her shirt, denuding herself before him, preening before his ardent gaze. She wiggled back a bit on the bed and then bent over, exaggerating the movement, sticking her ass in the air, bringing her face level with his groin. He already stood at attention.
She took her time, grabbing him, loving how his cock always pulsed when she first wrapped her fingers around it. A little Hello, and thanks for touching me.
A quick peek upwards showed him watching. He always liked to watch as she poked her tongue out and ran it over the tip of his cock.
“Lick me.”
“Don’t give me orders.”
“Don’t lick me.”
“I’ll do what I like,” she said with a grin before she ran her tongue from the tip all the way down his shaft and back.
A heavy sigh rushed out of him, and his body trembled.
So, she did it again, a humming sound escaping her when the fingers on his left hand gripped her hair. He didn’t guide her or do anything at all with his grip, just held her as she bobbed. Marina managed to swallow his cock, every inch, all the way. She sucked at his flesh, and it expanded. She hollowed her cheeks and pulled harder. He got even bigger. As she took him in and out, the flat edges of her teeth dragged along his tender skin. Back and forth, she gave him the moistness of her mouth while her hand fondled his sac, kneading his balls, feeling them pull tight.
He was close to the edge, and she increased her pace, hands flat on the bed so she could lean over him and bounce up and down on his cock, sucking while he trembled.
“Enough!” he finally gasped, yanking his shaft from her mouth. It let go with a loud, wet pop. She crawled up his body, and he grabbed her, pulling her roughly onto his chest so that he might kiss her passionately. He swirled his tongue into her mouth, and she moaned. He knew how she loved kissing.
She went to poise herself over him, but he surprised her. He flipped her off him onto her stomach. When she would have reared up, he placed a palm in the middle of her back to push her down while his arm wrapped around her thighs and pulled her ass up.
She couldn’t help but gasp when his fingers slid between her thighs. He had no trouble stroking her, the slickness of her cleft wetting his digits, making it easy for him to rub. He used her own honey against her as he stroked her clit, teasing her nub until she couldn’t help but rock against him, uttering soft cries.
“Now,” she begged.
“Tell me you want me,” he whispered, his body covering hers but his cock teasing by sliding along her cleft instead of inside it.
“I want you.”
“Again,” he said more harshly against her ear, the hot breath making her shiver as his dick continued its sensuous slide against her swollen flesh.
“I want you. Dammit. Fuck me.”
He uttered a loud, growling groan and thrust his cock into her, sheathing it in one swift stroke.
She almost came, especially because he went deep, so deep he hit the spot. Her special spot.
“Again,” she begged.
Out. In. Thrust. Yes. Her sex squeezed him as he worked himself in and out of her. His fingers dug into her thighs as he thrust.
Harder.
Deep.
Hard again.
Oh, yes.
She kept gasping and making noises as he slammed himself into her welcoming flesh. His fingers clutche
d her almost painfully as he came, thrusting one last time, pulsing inside her, drawing her own climax.
A scream erupted from her as she orgasmed, her channel fisting his cock, drawing every last ounce of pleasure that it could.
He collapsed atop her. Heavy, sweaty, and breathing hard.
She’d never been happier.
He, of course, had to ruin it. “I’m going to make some calls and see if I can find a place to have the ceremony tomorrow.”
Ah, yes, the fake wedding. “So soon?”
“Why wait?”
Because she wanted more alone time with him. For once, she didn’t want her time with him to be about a mission. Why couldn’t it just be them, in a bed, making love like normal people?
She could almost hear Kristoff bark, “You are not normal people. You are soldiers of the state.” And soldiers never let pleasure come before duty.
Chapter Eighteen
Darren lost count of how many times they had sex that night. He knew it was only once the next morning, though, mostly because they had plans to make—and they were both getting a little chafed.
But, dammit, it was as if they both feared the future and wanted to cram as much pleasure in as they could.
Unlike the last time, they actually talked. Exchanged tidbits about their youths—hers sad compared to his. Yet she didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that most children didn’t actually walk five miles to school in the snow and rain.
In between the serious moments, there was the more playful stuff, such as “I dropped the soap,” and “Where’s my croissant?” Which, he might add, he did go out and fetch.
As the time for their execution of the plan neared, the words became harder to find. There wasn’t much to say while, at the same time, too much to be said, which made no sense.
Darren had come to realize that he cared too much for Marina. Despite her lies. Despite what and who she was. He’d fallen in love all over again, and this time, it was proving much more intense than before. He didn’t just glow with the thought of her; he burned. However, she was right about one thing: they couldn’t hide or run forever. They needed to do something to draw out their enemy. Or was it only his enemy?