by Judy Jarvie
“Bastard. You and me—as likely as me volunteering for rabies.”
Ivan turns in his seat, but I know damn well his gun is still pressed against Zante, ready to blow big holes in his body. Another weapon is glinting in the streetlight flicker as my prize of the day. Ivan growls, “You’ll be breathing and we won’t be on the wrong sides for much longer. Figure we might have time for some squeeze of our own before I deliver the package as agreed to your dad.”
“Package?”
“You’re my payday, honey. Hadn’t you twigged I’ve been trying to get you out of Troika since you arrived? Dad is mighty pissed you’ve got yourself involved in all this. Katsaros would have his balls if he didn’t agree to get you out and finish you off. He wants that particular treat for himself.”
“Forgive me if I pass on giving a shit what he wants.” I talk a good bluff, but inside I’m screaming. Fear, anger, panic, it’s all there.
Ivan’s smile widens before there’s an impact, the car shudders and rolls. We’re going so fast I can’t see, and there’s gunshot firing and shouting. Tires scream like crazy at the crescendo.
The car rattles from what must be full on impact with some other car or object, and I’m shaken to teeth-rattle point. The smell of smoke and blood taint the air, and the windscreen has rained glass, and how I’ve missed that slash fest I’ll never know.
Somehow I’m hanging upside-down, but I’m still breathing. While Ivan and Zante aren’t moving. Even in darkness, I can see that blood decorates the cream interior of the car.
* * * *
“We’ll have you out of there soon, Miss.”
Two agents cut me out of our car. That’s crazy in itself. But it’s also crazy I know they’re agents—I’ve developed some agent detector instinct. I still can’t believe I’m unharmed. I feel no pain.
“What the hell?” I’m shaking now. There’s a burning smell and I’m not sure from where. “What happened?”
“Ran you off the road. We’ll get you back to safety, ma’am. Under orders.”
“What about Ivan?”
“I can’t confirm that at this stage.”
I think they’re dead. I’m really sure they’re dead. They’re not moving. Damn, but there’s so much blood.
“What about Gonzales? What about Donaldson and his men? Was it all for nothing?”
I know I’m gabbling and my teeth are castanet chattering despite the heat.
“Mission successful. Let’s get you checked over.”
Not knowing what’s gone on anywhere on this whole affair fills me with a tension and angst like I’ve never known. Are they captured? Is Dan okay? Did Gonzales prevail, or was Ivan right? “What about Katsaros? How is Agent Draven?”
They stare me down. No clues beyond a flick of clenched jaw. Damn these bloody automaton agent types and their waxwork facial training.
“Just tell me it’s gone okay? Tell me yes or no?”
“More info to follow, ma’am. We’re not at liberty to discuss further at present.”
Call it instinct but I just know that means the news isn’t good and whether it’s Katsaros or Dan I’m just not sure.
* * * *
‘Not at liberty to say’ equals shit’s gone down, and you’ll find out when you’re calmer. I now know this is agent code for chill the fuck out. Not that any woman has ever calmed down just because some man told her to do so.
I watch Dan lying in Troika’s clinic room. Too many hours spent pacing the floor before they let me in. Apparently, assisting in Havana’s op doesn’t qualify me to stand in on Dan’s bullet removal surgery. Though I seem to remember Rocco was ousted from watching Havana’s. It’s probably best, given my blood aversion issues.
When I’m finally allowed in, he’s on the bed in a white gown, so pale. Deathly white. I struggle to breathe and gather myself as he lies there as if in state. The machine beside him beeps. He’s getting fluids through an IV, and being monitored with lots of wires. So many wires. There are almost too many medical trappings, including a nurse who discreetly left the room when I arrived.
I feel my breath come out in shuddery exhalations, such is my level of distress to see that Dan Draven is back, but in pretty bad shape.
His face is beaten. His chest is covered in bandaging. He’s too still. Dan Draven—the guy who brought me here under such false pretenses. Only now I don’t feel selfish ambivalence. He’s risked his life and been shot. Nearly died.
And he’s always vowed to take care of me.
Inside, I feel like I’ve undergone bombing and laceration. I want to take what ails him and make it stop—help him heal.
As if reading my thoughts, he turns his head and blinks. Bandages hang around his shoulder and blood smears and antiseptic stains are still visible on his flesh. It makes my heart wobble and words almost fail me. I opt for, “Hi.”
He doesn’t say a word. But his eyes say it all. Until he whispers, “You’re safe.”
“The things you’ll do to get my attention,” I say softly. “Don’t speak. Keep your strength,” I tell him.
Again, he stares. Gray eyes so solemn they keep me hostage, and he reaches out. He encircles my wrist with his cold hand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. The grip is surprisingly hard.
His eyes plead again, boring into mine. Before I know it, I’m totally letting the side down—tears fill my eyes and fall—drop after betraying drop.
“Now see what you’ve done, Sir?”
“Don’t,” he says so softly I struggle to hear. “Don’t.”
I sniff the tears back and still the sobs. “It’s the blood stains—makes me itch to get to work on laundry. OCD in that way.”
“Just kiss me,” he orders.
“But I could hurt you.”
“If you don’t do it these monitors will go beep-crazy anyway. I’ll rip off the tubes…”
So I obey my Sir. I gently kiss those lips I’ve missed and crave so much.
I give him a questioning stare then lean forward. “You only had to ask me nicely, Sir.”
“I don’t do nice, remember?”
“Oh yeah. That’s what I like about you, and how. We were only beginning to get started with exploring that. Thing is—I think you think you’re way worse than you are. I happen to know you have a secret soft side.”
We kiss. Long and deep. For a man as pale as hotel sheets, he’s hiding the latent passion, because the kiss explodes between us.
He caresses the back of my head. I groan in appreciation at the back of my throat. “You scared me. Thought he’d got you.”
“Scared us both. But no chance—trained by the best and they got Donaldson, though Gonzales took the honors, I believe. He tried to take a hostage, but no dice. Team were stronger and his guards are in custody. He’s back behind bars where he belongs.”
Dan opens his gray eyes wide. “This thing that I feel. I thought I might never see you again.”
I eyeball him, my heart so full to brimming I can’t hide or evade or pretend. He matters. “Everything about all this has scared me. Except you. You’re the part I just can’t kick.”
Dan smiles. “So you may just like me? You might let me stick around?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I reach forward and grab his fingers. “I like you plenty. More than like. But I can’t prove it until you’re way better.”
“Heart monitor can go hang,” he says and goes to pull his cables off, but I stop his haste with a firm restraining grab.
“There will be time soon enough, Die Hard.”
“Patched up and ready for action in a few hours I’d say.” He winks. “Doctor will bow to my orders. Take my word for it.”
I laugh, then falter as tears run down my face all over again. Tears of relief mixed with frustration and anger at what has happened since all this began. But foremost, tears of joy and elation and, yes, fear, raw and primal and life-affirming—that I want this man so badly. Katsaros has finally been captu
red. Donaldson too. After too many years of heartache for too many people.
Yet, if it hadn’t been for that treacherous bastard, Dan and I might never have met. Dan wants me, really wants me. Which makes me completely lucky.
I sit on the bed and link fingers into his. He is warm, and alive. Time to confide, “I think I might love you.”
“When a man has a near miss with death—he kinda wants to prove he’s alive. Love you too, Katiepie. If the job scares you we’ll work something out. Stay in Santorini for a while with me?”
I answer. “You’ll have to clear it with my boss—to quote Havana’s lingo—Mel can be a Mother. Think it’s a boss thing.”
Dan raises his eyes. “Holy hell. What has she started?”
I carefully kiss him and show him gently how much he really means to me.
* * * *
Only two days later, Dan is so much improved that he’s moved from the clinic to his room. It’s a move that he’s been crankily nagging for.
I lock the door and return to his side on the bed. He pulls me to him with fierce hunger. His tongue slides inside my mouth and heat bolts spark through my veins. I feel them crackle and zip a lightning track around my body that leads directly to the places that matter. My nipples specifically, which are peaking immediately. Another achy destination that needs his touch is my groin, which is most insistent of all. My juices flow quickly from the impact of this man.
“I want you,” I tell him.
“Me too.”
“Early days. You’re still in recovery.”
“I’m more than recovered for what I have in mind.”
“But we can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
I sigh. Letting his tongue explore my mouth and tempt me afresh. “Won’t.”
I curl my hand roughly in his hair and around his neck to pull him close, and he revels in it. This is what it means to be alive. Dan nibbles my neck and slowly traces his tongue up to my earlobe, where he lingers.
But I know he’s trying to change my mind and lure me. I pull back. “Wounded man—excitement isn’t a good idea. You’re in no fit condition.”
“Fit enough to kiss you and make you come if you’ll let me.”
“But how about we make this show about you?”
I slide my hand beneath the utility medical gown he wears and find his hard shaft standing proud. He’s as long and wide as I remember him to be, and a droplet of cum makes me salivate to claim him.
“Wish I could tie you—see your tattoo, baby. Do the things we never got the chance to try.”
“We’ll have time.”
I flick my fingers up and over the length of him, concentrating on working the tip and I revel in the sharp gasps he makes in response, then his hips grind with the impact of my hand.
“You temptress.”
“You hero,” I tell him. Then claim his mouth with mine. Still letting my hand flick and work, and show him I mean business. It may only be a hand job, but right now all I care about is making him come.
My pace turns fast, and I can tell from his strained face and thrusting hips and low growls he’s near to closure.
“Come for me, baby,” I tell him. Feeling like a horny saucepot and wanting to be one. I wish so much we could be alone—uninterrupted, naked and full of wild, wanton adventure, inhibitions thrown to the winds.
“Promise me you’ll show me the stuff you enjoy when we get out of here. I like the sound of leather…and whips. I want to use them all over you, and do you as hard as you can let me.”
“Christ…”
He comes in my hand. His dick weeping his desire all across his abdomen. Glistening on my fingers like magic juice. Vital and alive.
“Any way you want me, honey,” he answers in a croaky whisper, and we both stare into one another’s eyes. “I’m hoping you’ll say yes to me taking you Stateside?”
I don’t know what to say. Or think. Me and a cop? In America? Seriously?
Can I do this? Or am I kidding myself and dreaming? More to the point, is he?
“We’ll see,” I answer.
And blow me if he isn’t ready for more of my intimate attentions.
* * * *
Next morning, after a long, long sleep worthy of the dead I go to Dan’s side, then I kiss him, parting his lips so deliciously it sends a ripple of thrill through my entire body.
“Good morning, handsome.”
“Well, hi there, Katie.”
He quickly resurrects the raw, hot need of yesterday. His hand roams to cup the curve of my breast, and he finger-strokes my nipple. I discern his steely arousal beneath the sheets, and the impact I have on him sends excitement levels to incendiary. Even though I know making out on the bed after injury is not a prudent action—it feels all the more enticing, because it’s off limits.
He dips his finger inside my robe, and he smiles when I quiver at his touch. Squeezing my nipple causes it to pucker and makes me suck in a breath. White hot need thrums inside me. He mutters when I moan my appreciation and let out a curse. He bends his head to kiss me from collarbone to breast. Sensing his discomfort and limited range I move towards him, allowing him full breast access. I’m wearing no bra—a turn on in itself even just for me—and I let him uncover me fully, so my breasts swing free when he widens the robe. I move so that Dan can taste my nipple, and I let him suck, and I gasp at the pleasure it incites.
There is only one act that can placate the need now. He wants me and I’m crazy with lust for him. I want him full inside me, thrusting to my sacred spot. Taking me higher as he widens and fills me. I’ve never been more certain of anything. I arch to him and let my own hands explore the hard planes of his body. I want to kiss and be kissed so thoroughly I will never want another man again. We’re both so close to abandoning all constraints I can almost taste it.
I straddle him, glad that I locked the door myself as a precaution. I give a tiny moan that betrays my need and love that his eyes widen when he realizes I’m commando in readiness for this. I deal with a condom with urgency and straddle him then let his dick play against my pussy. I’m hot and creaming for him, and when I splay wide for him he curses as I pulse onto his cock. Then I bear down, slow, steady and sure. All the time, my eyes are on his as I take him deep and fill my own need for his cock inside me. I run a fingernail up his throat and watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs in response.
“I like to think I have good bedside manners.”
“Shit, honey.”
“My honey is sweet and ripe for you, don’t you agree?”
“Knew you were an up-front kind of girl when we met—just didn’t realize how much.”
“All I ever needed was a live for the moment man ready to give me what I need, and this really is dangerous.”
I’m turning Dan on—the rigid evidence is there, and I glide up and down on him with steady thrusts. Soon, I’m grinding hard, my tits jutting in my efforts to make him come. I’m getting off wildly. I love the feel of him beneath me and that he likes it when I touch him at the base of his cock with my fingers and his breathing becomes raspy. His hand skims the side of my body in one deft sensual move.
“If we ever get out of here I won’t take no for an answer. We so won’t surface for days,” he tells me with raw lust in his voice. “This is some reward for being injured in the line of duty though.”
“I’m…cutting you…a…little slack,” I say. Then I shatter, coming again and again as I pump up and down his hard length, that’s taking me prisoner with its fulfilling prowess. “The thing about us OCD particular types is—we love taking charge,” I whisper to him once we’re both resurfacing. “Maybe just let me care for you like you deserve, huh?”
With a smile he nods and doesn’t say a word. Then produces his retro handcuffs from under the bed.
With an inviting smile, Dan draws me down and ‘mmms’ into my kiss.
I click the cuffs shut on him. So glad that at last we are properly reconciled and alone.
* * * *
Dan
Placing my hands at either side of her face, I draw Kate to me to kiss her.
She causes me an instant semi-erection in the way she kisses me back like a parched woman in the desert finding her first lake. I can’t get enough of her fervor.
I tongue her mouth with naked hunger. Deft, raw strokes, but gentle. She’s breathless in seconds and her mouth claims mine—out to prove it can shimmy, and makes me want to buckle with need.
She arches to me, pushing her curves against me. Her breasts are flush with me. I’m a goner. No hope of reprieve.
She gasps when I lick and nibble her lips. She bites my earlobe and runs the tip of her nose along my lower lip, before diving back into my mouth with her tongue. If this is a kiss, what will Princess Vanilla be like if given full freedom?
“Kate?” I tell her between kisses. “There’s more about me you should know.”
As much as I want to ignore it, my conscience is drumming its fingers on my dick’s good time.
I fix her with a hard stare. “My crops and cuffs and whips thing came from a place that isn’t good.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m here—I want you. I want you again and again until we can’t see straight. I want it every which way you can give me it. But most importantly I want you inside me now.” As if to prove it she takes my hand and pushes it to cup her pussy. She’s hot and ready. Man, her wet heat fries my brain cells in an instant insanity barbeque.
“Jeez,” I hiss. My erection is straining like a wild beast in heat. “I so need to explain.”
“Stop talking.”
Quickly, my hands are in her hair and my mouth is doing sinful things to the skin around her collarbone, and she isn’t complaining a bit. Her strident style is highly erotic. Because she’s sweet, professional, uptight Katie and yet she’s been sinful, commanding me like I usually prefer with the women who treat me bad. Only there’s no leather, or whips. Or masks or implements here. So much for the theories about not getting it up without it.