The Matchup

by Alice Ward

She took another long sip. “I’m not about to quit. I put too much of myself into this job. I love it.” She met my gaze straight on. “Is that going to be a deal breaker for you? If it is, I’d like to know now.”

  And there it was. Sloane wasn’t going to quit. Not for me, anyway. She was a strong woman, with firm commitments to her career, a thing that was respectable.

  Which meant I’d have to get over my qualms about her being in danger.

  Could I do that?

  I couldn’t force her to let me take care of her. I had to let her do what she wanted. No matter how unsafe it was.

  “Okay, so you’ll be staying on with the FBI. Where do I stand in all that?”

  “Anywhere you want.”

  As easy as it was for her to say that, it wasn’t exactly easy for me to understand. “So, am I to stay in Queens or—”

  “I don’t live in Queens. My parents do. I have a one-bedroom apartment in Washington, D.C. I also spend time in Virginia at Quantico as often as they let me. When I’m there, I tend to stay in the dorms.”

  “You sound kind of busy.” It was all beginning to settle. She wouldn’t have time for me.

  She took another long sip. “I am. I have little time off. My life is always a bit hectic. And I can be called into action at any time. I know it’s daunting to think about life with me.” She licked her lips. “I understand that, and I won’t blame you if you want to call it off once this is over, which will be very soon.”

  Sloane was hard. I’d never done hard before. I’d never put this much of myself into another person. But I wasn’t afraid of trying.

  Taking the drink out of her hand, I set it down and pushed her shoulders onto the bed, hovering over her. “You know… this entire conversation is a buzzkill. We could spend the next day or two talking about all kinds of serious shit, or we could spend it having fun and making love.” I kissed her. “And then, once all this is over, I’m going to show you why you’ll want to work every bit as hard as I will to make sure we stay together. I hope you’re ready for me.”

  The blue of her eyes went dark. “Zane, I think I’ve been ready for you my entire life.”

  My fingers grazed a path up her inner thigh, moving under the hem of her shorts. With the flat of my palm, I pressed it against her warm mound. “I’m going to show you who owns this.”

  But instead of pulling her shorts off and fucking her again, I rolled onto my back, linking my hands under my head.

  She cocked her head. “Um… what are you doing?”

  “Do you know the movie True Lies?”

  She blinked at me. “Yes. The spy movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis that was released about a year or so after I was born.”

  Ouch.

  I ignored her smirk. “Yeah, it’s one of my all-time favorites.”

  She pulled an Arnold accent. “It’s not a tuuumah.”

  “Wrong movie. Anyway, there’s this scene that—”

  She rolled her eyes and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Let me guess. It’s the scene where Jamie pole dances on the bed.” She snorted. “Typical.”

  “Hey now, typical or not, that scene is classic.”

  “Yeah, it stars in every boy’s wet dream.” She picked up her wine. “And what exactly does that have to do with you…” she slapped a hand on her crotch, “owning this?”

  I laughed. God, she was freaking adorable.

  I waved my hand. “Don’t change the subject.”

  She raised a pale brow. “And what exactly is the subject?”

  I sucked at French in high school, but I had the accent pretty much down pat. “Dance for me. Dance sexy.”

  She batted her lashes at me. “Let my hands be my lover’s hands?”

  I clapped. “Exactly.”

  “No.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “No?”

  She took a sip of her drink. “Exactly.”

  I wasn’t ashamed to beg. “Please.”

  She laughed. “No. Talking about a buzzkill. Your buzz will forever be killed if you witness my attempt at dancing.”

  I linked my hands behind my head again. “I think I should be the judge of that.”

  “You know. I don’t have to strip for you.” She batted those long lashes again. “I’m a sure thing.”

  “Strip.”

  She looked around. “There’s no music.”

  I pulled my phone for my pocket and tapped a few times, grinning as “Alone In The Dark” by John Hiatt & The Goners began to play.

  “Seriously?” She looked at me, incredulous. “You are a True Lies fan.”

  “Strip.”

  She looked around again, searching for an excuse. “But I’ll ruin it for you. Don’t you want Jamie to live forever in your mind for this?”

  “Strip.”

  She pouted and gulped the rest of her wine. Then she took mine from the nightstand and gulped it. “What do I get if I do?”

  I dropped a hand to my crotch, gave my cock a good shake.

  She laughed. “Like I’m not going to get that anyway.” Her eyes widened. “I know. If I strip for you, you’ll…” she tapped her lips in thought, “let me tie you up.”

  I grinned. I was down with that.

  She grinned too. “Ever had a vibrator up your ass?”

  I jerked upright, my butt cheeks squeezed to the max. “No!”

  “I’ve heard some guys like it that way? I’m sure I brought mine with me.”

  I was off the bed. “No!”

  She laughed. A full belly laugh that caused tears to squirt from her eyes. My sphincter relaxed, and I sank back down on the bed, eyeing her closely.

  “Come on, Zane…” She unfastened the top button of her blouse, swaying to the music. “Don’t you think it’s a fair trade?” The second button was next. “I’ll be gentle.”

  All thoughts of vibrators and asses fled my mind as she slid one side of the blouse off one shoulder.

  “Slower.”

  Pulling her lip between her teeth, she went slower, her eyes on me as she swayed like a cobra, entrancing me with her movements. The blouse slid off the other shoulder, then fell slowly to the floor.

  My cock pulsed. “Take the bra off first.”

  Her eyes still locked on mine, she reached back and unhooked it, letting it drop just enough to show the top curve of her breast. I groaned, and she let the bra fall away, only to raise and squeeze her breasts with her hands.

  Unzipping my shorts, I took my cock in my hand and stroked down the length. She smiled and moved to the bedpost at the foot of the bed. Pulling a Jamie, she licked it, and I nearly came in my hand.

  This woman was going to end me.

  The music shifted to “Earned It” by The Weekend, and Sloane’s nostrils flared, her hands sliding over her body as I masturbated to her. The shorts slid down her legs, leaving her naked except for the white lace panties covering only part of her ass.

  She was wet. Part from where I’d fucked her earlier, and part from her excitement now.

  “Touch yourself.”

  Her chest heaved as she squeezed her breasts, then one hand trailed down her stomach to cover her center. She cried out as she touched her clit through the wet material.

  “Take off your panties.”

  Slowly, she did as I said, and her hand went back to her center, one finger moving through her folds. God, she was sexy. My cock was like steel in my hand. I wanted to stop this game. I wanted to drive into her. But I also didn’t want this to end.

  Sloane’s thighs shook as she circled her clit, her gaze dropping to my hand. She licked her lips, and it was my greatest desire to slide my cock between them, but I held back, wanting to watch the beautiful goddess in front of me explode.

  My balls clenched with need, but I gripped the base hard to stop from coming too soon. This was too good, too quietly intimate. I was a voyeur and a participant. And so was she.

  “God, Zane.” The words were light and barely audible in
the still air, whispered just as a rumble of thunder disrupted the quiet outside.

  I stroked harder too, my hand moving in time with hers. I was certain the expression on my face was just as urgent. The need just as great. As was the sense of raw intimacy I felt having sex with a woman I wasn’t touching.

  Sloane exploded first, her legs trembling, her face a picture of beautiful agony. She fell forward on the bed, and I pulled her to me, up me, replacing my hand with her body.

  She screamed as I impaled her down on me, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her breath harsh pants in my face.

  “Use me, Sloane,” I said as she began to grind down onto me, taking what I had to give. “That’s right. Make yourself feel good. Ride me, grind me. It doesn’t matter.”

  What I said was the truth. I’d take Sloane Anderson any way she’d let me.

  The storm outside began in earnest, almost in competition to the storm occurring in our room.

  She moved up and down, her walls stretching to accommodate me, sheathing me with warmth. I could feel every little movement she made.

  When she arched her hips, she became even tighter. When she moved her legs, I felt the difference too. Slight changes in the way she held her body affected the way she felt inside.

  I’d never cared enough to take the time to notice all the details of lovemaking.

  As she came, and I followed, I noticed everything, then seared it into my mind so I’d never forget. A huge blast of lightning lit up the room just as the lights went out. We’d most likely be left in darkness for the rest of the storm.

  For some reason, that didn’t bother me one bit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sloane

  “We’ve lost electricity.”

  Zane was still inside me, our bodies curled together, his dick pulsing. “Is that it? I thought that last climax caused me to go blind.”

  I laughed and snuggled into his warmth. I didn’t want to say anything to disrupt our postcoital bliss, but the loss of power caused me to worry. “Marcus said the water will still work, didn’t he?”

  He held me even tighter. “He did. It won’t be heated, but it will be wet. If you need to shower, I’d do it now while any heat in it lasts.”

  I absolutely needed a shower. “I think I’ll do that.” Grabbing one of the battery-operated candles, I slid off Zane and padded into the bathroom.

  “Bring a wet washcloth back for me, would you?”

  I looked at the man still laid out on the bed, hands under his head, looking handsome as hell. “Sure, I’ll come back and clean you all up.”

  “I can’t wait.” His smile went from one ear to the other.

  Going to the bathroom, the candle’s glow filled the small room with a yellow hue that made shadows dance in every corner. Alone, I could hear the storm screaming on the other side of the wall, and for the first time, fear curdled in my stomach.

  Not fear, exactly. Just worry. Concern.

  For the briefest of moments, nagging doubt filled my mind.

  Would I make it out of this alive?

  I thought of all the people who’d lived through a real hurricane, and how horrifying that experience must’ve been, and told myself to not get overly dramatic. But I knew it wasn’t the storm outside I feared.

  Jumping into the shower, I washed quickly, being gentle between my legs. I was getting sore. I toweled off and pulled on the complimentary robe, then brushed my teeth as I relived every beautiful moment with Zane.

  Not forgetting his washcloth, I wet one for him, using the last of the warm water. His eyes were closed when I padded back to the bed. He stirred, smiling at me as I washed him off, enjoying the simple, caring task.

  Looking at his body, I felt a sense of ownership I’d never felt with any other man. He belonged to me, and I wanted to take care of him the same way he wanted to take care of me. Doing something so simple helped me understand him a bit more.

  My gaze ran up his body then to his face, his eyes closed again. He was so handsome it made tears spring up in my eyes. Everything about the man was gorgeous to me. Could he really be mine?

  It almost seemed too good to be true.

  Leaving him, I went to peek out the window and shuddered as the rain and wind tore at the beautiful island. Tightening the belt of my robe, I let the curtain fall closed and went in search of something to eat, settling on a fresh glass of wine and some cubes of cheese, crackers, and fruit then went back to the window and faced my fear of the storm.

  When I was young, I was deathly afraid of spiders. All of them, even the harmless ones. I’d run, screaming like my tail was on fire the moment one appeared. After years of my overly dramatic behavior, my father decided I needed to face my fears.

  He picked up a daddy longlegs one afternoon and told me to come to him. He promised it wouldn’t bite me. I didn’t care. I was scared, and I wasn’t about to come close to him and the thing he held in the palm of his hand.

  After much coaxing, he got me to come to him and placed that spider in my hand. I nearly jumped out of my skin at first, but then I felt how the legs tickled my palm and saw how it was kind of like a work of art. Long, multi-jointed legs and a small round body at the apex. And Daddy was right. It didn’t hurt me. It didn’t do anything to me.

  Dad showed me pictures of the spiders that were harmless and the ones that were not. I began to find them beautiful, and the fear faded after a while. Not so much that I ever wanted one as a pet but enough that I didn’t embarrass myself if one crept into sight.

  Maybe I could find the beauty in the fierce storm too.

  The wind whipped the rain in all kinds of directions, even straight up as it moved up the building at times. The lightning looked like long fingers as it branched out both across the sky and down to the ground.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I turned to find Zane up on an elbow. My lips curved into a smile at just the sight of him. “I think so.”

  “Kind of scary too, huh?”

  I nodded then sipped the wine. Taking the platter of food, I went to him, placing it on the bed between us. Picking up the bottle of wine, I filled his glass. He sat up, facing me. Running his hands under the robe, he pushed it apart, making the belt come untied. He pulled the belt all the way out of the loops. “Uh, oh, did I accidently get dressed?”

  “It appears so.” But he left the robe where it was after strategically opening it enough to see a nipple. Yeah, he was sexy as all hell, but he was still a man.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him.

  He smiled and linked his fingers through mine. “Very. It just amazes me how beautiful you are. No makeup. Wet hair. You seem to just glow with perfection. It’s hard for me to remember a time I haven’t loved you. It’s as if you’ve always been there, lingering just beneath the surface.”

  We took turns feeding each other grapes then drinking the wine we’d forgotten about earlier. And it may as well have been the first time for me. With Zane, things felt different. I didn’t know exactly what to call our type of sex. Making love seemed too sweet, fucking seemed too harsh. Somehow, we managed to mix it all up and make it our own.

  It was only six in the evening, but the sun had been completely obliterated by the dark storm clouds, making it dark as night. Back before technology came along, one would think the apocalypse was upon us. We were lucky, we knew the storm would end. Only I didn’t want it to end.

  I wanted us to stay right where we were, safe from the world and all that was trying to destroy us. Like a kid who never wanted to grow up, I never wanted the fantasy I’d found with Zane to end.

  In our little room, we could play with each other, live out all kinds of sexual fantasies, and pretend we were the only two people in the world. In a twist of nature, it was the storm outside keeping us safe from harm.

  Zane grew quiet again, and I grew concerned. “What’s wrong?” I asked him, stroking his face with my finger.

  “I’ve just been trying to think about how t
o make all this work between us. I mean, you already have your career going and you love your job. I never cared for anything that much. But I like the whole idea of being an agent.” He glanced up at me, as if measuring my reaction. “Maybe working with you.”

  I smiled. “Really?”

  He looked surprised that I hadn’t laughed at him, so he went on. “How does one become an FBI agent?”

  I watched the wine swirl in my glass. “Well, it all starts with a college degree, at least a Bachelor’s, but it’s better if you have even higher degrees than that. I had a Bachelor’s in Criminology when I began the application process. While I was in school, I also did my internship at the local police station. I was just a dispatcher, but I learned a lot.”

  “You knew you wanted a career with the FBI for a long time, didn’t you?”

  I nodded, smiling at the memory. “My father’s hometown was Fort Worth, Texas. His father was the sheriff there. I have all sorts of pictures with them both when they were in the Mounted Posse. I didn’t get to know my granddad until I was twelve. That was the first time Dad took us back to the place he grew up. I never got to see my grandfather in action, he was retired by then. But he had lots of stories, and my father had some good ones too from when he was a deputy.”

  “Is your father still in law enforcement?”

  “No. My mother is from Queens, but she and her family were on vacation, traveling across the country to take in some of the big cities. Fort Worth was one of their stops. They fell in love the weekend she spent there. They did the long-distance thing for a while, writing letters before he finally moved to New York. She begged him not to be in law enforcement. She thought it was too dangerous.”

  He chuckled. “How’d she take you getting into the FBI then?”

  That wasn’t a memory I wanted to recall — ever.

  “Badly, of course, but I couldn’t let Mom's fear detour my dream. I made the best grades I could in school and applied to the University of Texas, a college where many applicants of the FBI attend. That’s what my grandfather had told me to do. He’s the one who got me on the path I needed to be on.”

  He pushed my hair back from my face, looking at me with genuine admiration. “You’re amazing, Sloane Anderson. Being a woman, I bet you came up against a lot of asshole men who thought you should do something else with your life.”