The Agent's Covert Affair

by Karen Anders

  Instinctively she eased away from him, pushed on his shoulders. It wasn’t a shove; she wasn’t strong enough for that, still wanting—craving—what he was giving her, but knowing she hadn’t the control needed to protect herself. And she wasn’t ready to surrender. Not fully.

  She wore her independence like armor.

  How much would she have to give up? Compromise? How vulnerable would he make her?

  He allowed her to shift back, then framed her hips in his wide palms when she stepped back unsteadily. He balanced her, kept his hands there firmly, but nothing more.

  He did balance her, in so many ways, she thought, struggling for clarity of mind she so desperately needed.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she breathed, willing her head to stop spinning, her legs to stop trembling and her heart to stop pounding. “But if I don’t have you, all of you, I might just lose my mind.”

  He took her mouth this time like a man starved. There was nothing tender about it and it was what she needed. She could only let herself feel...whatever he made her feel. Then deal with it later.

  Even as he started walking her backward, even as the back of her knees hit the bed, she was aware this was the biggest mistake she’d ever made. And the point was moot. She was making it with her eyes wide open. Because he made her feel so good, and telling herself she was strong enough to resist him was laughable.

  “Emma,” he murmured, his voice huskier, his body already harder. “Protection.”

  “I’m safe on birth control.”

  He spun her around, held her close with one arm. He kissed the nape of her neck, sending sensation quivering down to her breasts and into the aching tips of her nipples. His free hand slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts and the panel of her silky underwear, delving to her core. The arm around her waist moved upward until his warm hand pushed aside her bra and cupped her breast, pinching her throbbing nipple at the same time he stroked over her.

  She arched into his hand, gasping. She was lost. Lost to the hunger. Lost to the sensations pumping through her. Lost to the urgency of his questing fingers. She moved her hips involuntarily to the pressure of his fingers. An explosion detonated inside her, and a chain of convulsions ripped through her as she came apart.

  She was still shuddering, still jerking against his hand and the oh-so-clever fingers he’d slid inside her, when he was already slipping them out and shifting her around so she faced him, taking her mouth with his, even as he slid his hand between them to unbuckle and unzip.

  She craved him, needed him filling her up, as she’d never craved anything before. She would have pushed his hands away and torn at his pants herself if she’d thought it would get him inside her any faster.

  He was freeing her, getting his shorts off, and just as he bared her, he was pushing her back onto the bed. He pushed inside and she pushed back, grinding on him, glorying in the long groan of satisfaction she wrenched from him as she clenched her still-twitching muscles tightly around him and accepted him into her body, needing so much more.

  He was on his knees, his arm around her back, his mouth on hers, his tongue deep inside, thrusting. She took both as fast and deep as she could. She felt him gather as his climax built. She bit his bottom lip, causing him to growl and his hips bucked higher, which compelled her to cry out as he found a sweet spot that almost made her mindless with pleasure.

  His masterful movement shot sparks everywhere, and she arched beneath him, trying to release the building electricity between them. Her movement took him over the edge, groaning, growling, as he pistoned inside her while coming in a shuddering fury. She clung to him tightly, clutching him to her, even as she struggled to breathe around the sheer mind-blowing pleasure.

  Fighting for breath, she cradled his head against the curve of her neck, a fierce, almost frantic protectiveness welling up in her. She was sure the only thing holding her together was the savage strength of his arms.

  It took a while for her to get her bearings, for the storm of emotion to ease, but when she could at last collect her senses, she hugged him and stroked his hair, profoundly moved by the care he’d taken with her.

  His expression was more serious than she’d ever seen it, his gaze locked on hers so intently it was as physical a connection as his warm body on hers. There was a stunned silence between them, the power and essence of which she saw reflected in the depth of those striking eyes.

  It was nice to know she wasn’t alone in discovering the intensity of what she’d felt had happened just now, even if she couldn’t define it, and common sense just completely deserted her. This had been life-altering. She just wasn’t sure how much it would hurt, change her life or affect her heart. She could barely think straight.

  Closing her eyes against the feelings he invoked, she stroked his head, needing to give him comfort, so full of feeling for him that she could barely stand it.

  Derrick stirred in her arms, and she lifted her head and found his mouth, kissing him with infinite gentleness and desire.

  Brushing the hair back from her temple with his thumb, he released an uneven sigh and kissed her back, his mouth warm and moist and seductive still.

  He exhaled raggedly, then tucked her face against the curve of his shoulder. Emma rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he was totally naked against her. Derrick tightened his hold on her, his chest expanding as he took a deep, unsteady breath. Fingering the soft silk of his hair, she kissed his temple, tenderness filling her. “Now things are complicated,” she whispered unevenly against his cheek. “Boy, are they ever.”

  Bracing his weight on one arm, he lifted his head, his touch leaving her breathless as he kissed her mouth again. “I’m thinking it was worth it,” he said, his tone husky and intimate. “Boy, was it ever.”

  Suppressing a grin, she parted her lips and kissed him, the caress gentle and searching. Inhaling unevenly, Derrick slid his arms around her in a warm embrace, deepening the kiss as she smoothed her hand up the center of his back.

  It was as if he couldn’t get enough of that soft, caressing intimacy and it was a long time later when he reluctantly eased away. Brushing back her hair with his knuckles, he lifted her chin and gave her another light kiss, then released his breath in an unsteady sigh. “Let’s get some real sleep,” he whispered gruffly.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw. He turned his face and found her lips as he slid his hand up the back of her head, deepening the contact, molding her against him with the weight of his body. Finally, he eased away and gave her one final kiss, then rolled free. His profile was outlined by the bright sunlight coming through the wide window; she watched him shed his shirt, longing to caress every inch of his muscled body. He turned toward the window and pulled the drapes against the bright day. Back at the bed he lifted her into a sitting position and pulled off her shirt and undid her bra. “Beautiful,” he whispered, running his hands over her breasts, kissing and tonguing her nipples as he pushed her onto her back.

  “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

  “I’m a little busy right now,” he said, sucking her hard nipple. She sent her hands into his hair as he switched to the other, his hands molding over her waist and hips. “Derrick,” she whispered and he moaned as he moved down her body—making her come again with his mouth, then his hands and his mouth again, until she was mindless.

  Then he snuggled up against her as Emma turned into his embrace, his kiss intensifying when her naked breasts grazed his chest. Slipping his hand up her hip and across her back, he separated his legs and settled her between his thighs, and Emma’s breath caught at the feel of his naked body molded fully against hers. Raking her hair back, Derrick drew away from the kiss, then firmly nestled her head again in the curve of his shoulder. “Now go to sleep, babe,” he whispered gruffly.

  Emma closed her eyes, loving the feel of his arms around he
r, feeling again safe and secure for the first time in a very long time.

  * * *

  The room was dark when Emma woke up, the silence only broken by Derrick’s even breathing. She glanced at the clock to see it was late evening. They’d slept for a long time, refilling their wells. It had been a trying two days fighting for their lives.

  She was suddenly starving again. When she moved, a strong, muscled arm snagged her around the waist and drew her against him. “What time is it?”

  “Nine,” she whispered against his silky jaw.

  “I’m—”

  “Starving?”

  He chuckled.

  “Yeah, me, too.” He rose and scooped her up and headed for the bathroom, where they enjoyed touching and caressing each other in the shower while the warm water washed away their lovemaking. Once they were dry and back out into the room, Emma dressed in a pair of gray shorts and a soft, shapeless top that did nothing to hide her full breasts, while Derrick donned a pair of black shorts, leaving his chest bare. Emma couldn’t protest that. They ordered room service, then after their meal went for a quick walk around the grounds.

  In a lighted courtyard, they settled onto a bench. A nighttime stillness had settled outside, and a breeze rustled through the fronds on the palms, filling the air with a soft whispering sound. They were holding hands, not something Emma usually did with a man she’d first met and, in this case, something as unexpected as getting involved with someone she was working with, not to mention someone with his alpha tendencies. Her independent nature balked at it, but with Derrick, it just seemed to work. “What we’re doing here...” Derrick said.

  “Is crazy,” Emma added.

  He looked away. “To say the least. I was drawn to you from the get-go. You took me by surprise. The way you hold yourself, the way you stood up to your grandmother, your confidence, your ease with yourself and everyone else. You’re a natural and draw attention just by being yourself.” He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then very lightly ran his fingertip along her cheekbone and down along her chin.

  The brief contact made her shiver, but in a damn good way. He talked about commanding attention. He had no idea.

  “I could say the same thing about you,” she said, which caused his gaze to intensify, so many shades of Derrick.

  “I was against bringing you and my reasons were sound. The emotional attachment was only the tip of the iceberg.”

  “You thought we’d end up in bed together? That’s pretty presumptuous.”

  He shrugged, looking rugged and unapologetic. She rather liked that. “I don’t waste energy fighting against the inevitable. That’s not exactly true. I wasted some energy wrestling with it.”

  She smiled and shook her head.

  “What?” She raised a brow and he huffed out a short laugh. “Oh, that sounded so arrogant. Okay, maybe I’m sure of myself, too.”

  “Ya think?” She nudged him and he laughed again.

  “I don’t know where we’re going or how this is going to pan out, but my life has been different, Emma. Maybe too different for me to be in any kind of a relationship. I’m a loner.”

  “Maybe that’s because you’ve always been alone. Engineered it that way?”

  He swallowed and looked away. “Talking about my past isn’t something I normally do. To anyone.”

  She nodded. It was no surprise this man had some scars. It was there in his eyes and in his voice. Curiosity and a deep-seated need to know fueled her craving for more details. If Derrick couldn’t share with her, that was something she could accept, understood even. Hell, her childhood and adult life were also rife with scars. It wasn’t lost on her that she was also very good at deflecting interest and keeping things on a superficial level, but she found with Derrick that was nigh impossible. She wanted more. That thought scared her more than anything had in her life. She was the one who dictated how a relationship would go. She was the one who called the shots. Was that because she needed to call the shots to keep herself on top in a relationship, to keep herself from getting hurt?

  She craved an equal partnership, but was always demanding control. How would that work with a man who had the same kind of need for control as she did?

  “Derrick, you don’t have to—”

  “I want to, that’s the crazy thing about all this. The strength of the attraction between us isn’t something to be easily dismissed. I’m certain what we shared goes both ways. If I’m wrong, let me know and we’ll just keep this simple.”

  “I think simple went out the window from the moment I pointed my gun at your impossibly broad shoulders and you blindsided me with those cobalt blue eyes.”

  “Yeah, helluva way to meet.”

  She laughed. “That’s a good story. Mommy pointed a gun at Daddy—”

  His sharp intake of air wiped the smile off her face. “Derrick, it was just a joke.”

  He closed his eyes, resting his head on her shoulder. Moved beyond measure, she slipped her hand into his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know you didn’t, Emma. It’s my own stuff.” He took a deep breath.

  She cupped his face and raised his head. Kissing him softly on the mouth, she said, “Talk to me if you want to. But if you’re not ready...”

  “I’ve never had a family.” He leaned back against the bench seat, the breeze ruffling his hair so dark against his forehead. He looked down, more pensive than she’d ever seen him. “My parents either died a long time ago, when I was a baby, or something else happened. I didn’t even know them. I don’t remember them at all. I lost all ties to the people who do remember. No one tells a kid anything, so the circumstances are just...lost.”

  She closed her eyes and took a breath of her own. Boy, did she know exactly what he was talking about. “When I lost my parents, everyone acted like it was okay. Part of it, I’m sure, was to lessen the trauma. But there’s no minimizing that kind of pain.”

  He turned tormented eyes toward her with a look she was sure he’d never shown to another living soul. If he hadn’t stolen her heart, this would have done her in. “Oh, Derrick. You don’t have to do this—”

  Derrick stiffened. “No... I need to tell you. I want to tell you.” His voice was strained. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. You do that to me.”

  She waited until he gathered his composure. “I was in the foster system and in and out of homes until I was about ten. I knew the score even then. I wasn’t some lost boy pickpocket, but I was a thief. It made me feel good to slip inside a home and take something personal. I’d never been caught until Jerome Thompson III caught me. But instead of turning me over to the police, he adopted me.”

  He shifted to look at her. “I thought it was cool to be taken in by this rich guy. But adopting me had nothing to do with me at all. It had to do with him preserving his legacy and his money. He groomed me to take over from the minute I stepped foot in that house. He liked that I was a thief.”

  She smoothed her hand over his warm forearm, and he entwined his fingers with hers. “I’ve always been good about blending in, taking on roles because they amused me or by necessity. It was the same with Thompson. He was cold, cruel, and indifferent to my needs. The moment he kicked, I liquidated everything down to the last nail. Gave half to charity and banked the other half. The only thing I kept was some property.”

  He stopped speaking and Emma slipped her arms around him and they sat in silence. It was a long, long time before Emma could ease her hold. Her heart was crushed by the memories that flooded her and the empathy she felt for Derrick. They did have that in common.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, she turned her face against his. “If things had been different, you wouldn’t have turned out to be this amazing guy that you are.”

  His chest expanded sharply; t
hen he hugged her so hard she couldn’t breathe, and she hugged him back. She’d like to think that, in this moment, he didn’t feel alone.

  Letting down barriers took a lot of courage. She wasn’t sure she had the same kind of courage he did.

  Back in the room, Derrick booted up his tablet and they pored over information about Caliche, the cartels in power there. When it got late, they curled up together and fell back to sleep in each other’s arms.

  It felt so natural. So right. So real.

  But Emma never took anything for granted. They still had a job to do, their budding relationship aside. Sleeping with him was something she couldn’t seem to resist. But was she ready to release her secrets?

  Only time would tell.

  Chapter 10

  Derrick woke at dawn with Emma tucked into the curve of his body, his arm secure around her waist, her breath warm against his neck.

  His eyes drifted shut, loving the feel of waking up with her in his arms. He couldn’t have had more than three hours’ sleep, but he was feeling surprisingly rested. They had ended up talking into the night—not about his childhood or what had happened to him afterward, things he was still holding back because he didn’t want to...scare her off.

  But now it was morning, and the sun was coming up. Softly rubbing her arm, Derrick shifted and looked at the clock. Deciding it was too risky to stay this way any longer, he lifted his arm and eased away from her. As soon as he moved, Emma rolled over on her stomach. Smiling down at her, he pulled the sheet up to cover her.

  They were going to have company soon, and it was time to resume the pursuit of her nephew now that they had fully recovered from the desert. He was under no illusions that going to Caliche, their base of operations to comb the Los Equis infested area and find Matthew, would give them any sense of safety. They were going to the devil’s door and Derrick was ready for any kind of hell he unleashed. He was getting Emma’s Matty back.