The Spy Who Wants Me

by Lucy Monroe

  “I won’t leave again. I won’t.” He leaned down and kissed her, nothing overtly sexual, just a brush of his lips over hers. A promise.

  She went completely still in his arms.

  “I am claiming you.” He kissed her again, this time allowing his tongue to trace the contours of her lips. “I do want you for a lifetime.” Another kiss, this one with the barest nibble on her bottom lip. “I’m not playing. Not now. Not ever again.”

  “Non. Vous pas…you don’t…. It’s not love.” The disjointed words revealed her inner confusion. Her French accent was so thick, you’d never know she’d spent close to half her life in the States.

  “Ten years ago I believed that lie. I’ve gotten wiser since. I know love when I hold it in my arms, and you are it for me, Chantal.”

  She vehemently shook her head.

  Words weren’t working. It was time for something else. A decade ago not only had this woman given him her virginity, but she had given him a night filled with unbound passion. Mat meant to have that now too.

  He swung her up in his arms.

  She made the cutest squeaking sound and he smiled. He leaned down and pressed their mouths together again. Then he whispered, “Shh…Elle will hear you. Do you want her to come running?”

  Chantal’s cheeks turned bright red. “Non,” she said in a vehement whisper.

  “Me neither.”

  He pushed against the swinging door with his back and stepped into the hall. The sound of Elle’s fingers clicking away on the computer’s keys came from the living room. Making very little noise (skills a man learned as the oldest of five children never disappeared), he carried Chantal upstairs while she sent worried looks behind him. Now see, if she didn’t want him, she wouldn’t be so quiet. She’d be calling for Elle, or telling him to put her down, not looking to make sure Elle wasn’t going to discover them heading up the stairs together.

  Chantal gasped as they came into the master bedroom and Mat smiled. Maybe he had more than useless words and hopefully not nearly so ineffective lovemaking with which to convince her of his sincerity.

  “You like?” he asked.

  She was looking around with an expression of awe. “It’s my fantasy bedroom.”

  “You told me about it. That night. How the only thing that could make our intimacy more perfect would be to have been in a room like this.” He’d forgotten that until recently, but her description of her ideal boudoir had made an impact on his subconscious.

  She’d blushed, the tendency just as endearing then as it was now, while describing a room that could have doubled for a Turkish harem. She’d spoken in detail about an oversize bed with lots of pillows and a wood canopy that had richly colored silks hanging from it—fabric that would create a barrier of sensuous walls when the ties around the four posts were undone. She’d rhapsodized over furniture made of darkly stained wood and rattan with a Middle Eastern feel and silks that matched those on the bed hanging over windows covered by metalwork. The final detail in her dream room had been a fireplace, in front of which there would be a long Roman couch.

  Mat had bought the house because of the fireplace in the master bedroom. The Roman couch looked good, but it was damn comfortable for a six-foot-two scientist as well. “I didn’t know it, but I created this room for you.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Damn it, Chantal, the sheets are even silk. I slid right off them twice before I got the hang of sleeping on something so slippery. If not for you, then why?”

  “You didn’t know you would see me again.”

  Now that was one argument he could refute absolutely. “I made a call to my brother Mykola a few days before coming out here for my new job. I asked him to look into your whereabouts.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “But…”

  “If you don’t believe me, you can ask him. Only, not right now.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Mykola is an INS agent. He’s on a deep-cover assignment.”

  “Oh.” She did that lip-biting thing. “What about Elle?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is she an INS agent too?”

  “No.”

  “But she’s more than a security consultant, or you wouldn’t believe she was going to find the people threatening me.”

  “She’s a federal agent, but I don’t know whom she works for. Apparently, she’s in black ops.”

  “That’s heavy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, how did you end up a scientist?”

  “Elle could be one too. She’s got a degree and she’s incredibly smart.”

  “But she took a different direction.”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “It used to bother me, but I realize she needs to do what makes her happy, not what our parents want.”

  “Your parents wanted you to be a scientist?”

  “Yes. Lucky for all of us, I agreed. It could have been an emotional bloodbath otherwise. I would never have tolerated the kind of flack Elle’s gotten for her choices.”

  “Wow.”

  “My brother Roman went into the military, but he’s in research, not warfare. Or at least that’s how my parents see it.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I don’t know; he’s a private man. I think he’s probably worked on more than one top-secret project.”

  “The projects at ETRD are supposed to be top secret.”

  “Yep. Elle’s going to make sure in the future they stay that way.”

  “You really are proud of her.”

  “I am. I wish I’d told her sooner.”

  “Why?”

  “Her husband died four years ago. He was killed after being taken hostage by bank robbers. Since then, she’s stayed away from the family for the most part. Everyone thought it was the grief, but maybe part of it was that she didn’t want to deal with the disapproval for who she chooses to be.”

  “She’s so beautiful, but she’s dangerous too. Really dangerous.”

  “Yes.”

  “You look scary sometimes, but I feel safe with you.”

  “I’m glad. I plan to spend a lot of time with you.”

  Chantal’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Mat. “I want to believe you.”

  “Then do.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “I’ll make it that easy.” With that, he kissed her. Full-on, passionate you’re-mine lips devouring lips, like he’d warned her he’d do.

  Her hands fluttered against him for a couple of seconds and then latched on to his shirt in a death grip while she reached up on her tiptoes to push into the kiss. Her small body pressed against his, and wild little sounds from her were muffled between their lips. They kissed like that for several long moments until she started scrabbling with the buttons on his shirt. She made a noise of frustration against his lips and then yanked at his shirt. Buttons went flying.

  She was strong for a little thing.

  Mat carried Chantal to the bed and laid her down, but she didn’t let go of him. One hand was still holding tightly to his shirt. The other one was inside it, touching his hairy chest and rubbing against one of his nipples.

  Oh, damn, that was good.

  He tore his mouth from hers. “Let me lock the door.”

  Chantal reached up and her lips latched on to his again. He’d about given up on the door when she broke the kiss.

  “Lock it.” She looked so intent, so filled with desire that his knees about buckled.

  He stumbled backward to lock the door, his gaze never leaving her. Once the door was secured, he rushed back to her, not caring if he was acting with less finesse than a horny teenager. He might be thirty-four, but he was damn horny and somehow he didn’t think she minded knowing that. Not with the way she was undulating on the bed, her tight T-shirt riding up to expose smooth, golden skin.

  He ripped his own shirt off over his head, i
gnoring the few buttons remaining. The khakis went next and then his boxers. He’d been barefoot since about five minutes after getting home, so no shoes or socks to worry about. Thankfully.

  They might not have made it off.

  Chantal was giving him a look that was three parts lust and one part niggling concern.

  “Something wrong, little one?”

  “I know it fits. I mean, it fit really well ten years ago.” She fanned herself. “I mean, ooh la la…But you’re not exactly petite anywhere on your body, are you?”

  “Nope. Big feet.” His toes dug into the hardwood floor. He stretched and then curled his fingers. “Big hands.”

  “Really big um…”

  “I think the word you’re looking for here is penis.”

  “I was going to say cock.” Butter would not melt in her mouth.

  He burst out laughing. “You were not.”

  She smiled. “Maybe not.”

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  “This I know.” Memories heated her gaze.

  His knees giving up the fight, he sank onto the side of the bed. “I guess Eddie wasn’t anything to be jealous about?”

  “He was a lackluster lover, and no, not so big. In fact, not big at all, but I thought men did not like to hear about other lovers.”

  “Depends on what you say.”

  She smiled. “If I say no one could ever hold a candle to you, you would like that, yes?”

  “Yes, but I would also have to agree. Ten years, Chantal, and no woman has ever come close to you.”

  Chapter 12

  “I like hearing that as well,” Chantal admitted.

  Could this really be happening? All of her secret fantasies come to life. Matej Chernichenko wanted her; he implied he loved her. He’d said walking away ten years ago was a mistake. Just like in her dreams—only better. And scarier. Could she believe him? Could she trust him with her heart?

  If she didn’t, would she be able to live with the loneliness of her life made colder by regrets of what might have been? No. She didn’t want to be alone any longer. There had been only one time in her life since the death of her parents that she had not felt isolated by the connections she saw all around her. That had been when she and Matej were friends.

  The one night they had spent together had been the happiest moments of her adult life, but the pain of losing him the next morning had easily rivaled the loss of her parents. A coward might fear the pain more than the loss of an opportunity to know that happiness again.

  She might be a geek. She was usually too shy for her own good. She definitely understood scientific theory better than she did psychology, but she was no coward. She would take a risk on this man—the only one she had ever loved. With that decision made, an amazing happiness poured over her.

  Maybe, just maybe, she would not be alone anymore.

  Mat laid a hand on her stomach. “It looks so big against you.”

  Chantal looked down to where his spread fingers spanned her hip bone to hip bone. “What can I say? You’re a giant, but I don’t mind.”

  “I think you like it.”

  She did love his size. She’d never felt overwhelmed by it, just sort of awed and definitely aroused. “Maybe I do.”

  “That’s good to hear since I’m not about to shrink.”

  “I’m not going to grow either.” The worry tingeing her voice surprised her, but maybe she knew where it was coming from. He could have anyone, not just a shrimpy science geek.

  “I like you just the way you are.”

  “Do you?”

  “Oh, yes.” He leaned forward, sharing his body heat, his big body dwarfing her, and that felt so very good. So right. “Very much.”

  “Elle is so tall. She looks like a cover model.”

  “She’s my sister. Trust me when I tell you she’s not what turns me on.”

  That made Chantal giggle. “I should hope not.”

  “I know not. I find petite blondes with more brains than fashion sense extremely appealing.” He nuzzled the hollow of her ear.

  She shivered. “You don’t think I have any fashion sense?”

  “I said more brains, not that you didn’t have any fashion sense. You’re beautiful.” He kissed her softly, right there behind her ear. “Smart.” He flicked his tongue out and tasted her earlobe. “So damn sweet you’ve got a choke hold on my heart.” He nibbled, making her body shake with desire. “And exactly perfect for me.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Me too.” He continued nuzzling along her neck.

  It was so hard to think, but she had to get something straight. “I promised myself after…that night that I would never have casual sex again.” And she hadn’t. She’d had bad sex, boring sex, unfulfilling sex, but she’d never again had casual sex.

  Mat lifted his head so their gazes met and locked. “You didn’t think you were having it then.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She’d discovered otherwise the next morning.

  “I thought I was.” He frowned and shook his head. “It turns out that you were right and I was wrong. There’s nothing casual about how I feel about you.”

  “You walked away.” Somehow, if this was going to work between them, Chantal was going to have to let that part of the past go.

  “Because I was an idiot. Every man has to make at least one mistake in his life, or he’s not human.”

  “Are you trying to say that was your only one?”

  “No.” His molten silver eyes were oh so serious. “Every day I didn’t go looking for you was a mistake. That makes three thousand six hundred and twenty-two marks in my only human register.”

  “Depending on when the leap years fall, there are three thousand six hundred and fifty-one or fifty-two days in ten years.”

  “But it has been three thousand six hundred and twenty-two days since I walked away the morning after.” He rattled the words off as if it was perfectly natural to know exactly how many days had gone by since that painful morning.

  “Almost ten years.”

  “Do I get points for figuring it out before a decade passed?”

  “You get points for keeping track. Lots and lots of them.” Oh, wow, did he get points. Maybe everything he had claimed had been the truth. Chantal hoped so because she wasn’t sure she’d survive otherwise.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I need all the points I can get.” His mouth was covering hers in one of the sweetest kisses imaginable before she had a chance to reply.

  But no matter how gentle the pressure of his lips against hers, it ignited a passion in her hotter than magnesium fire. This man was the only one who had ever tapped into this feeling. The voracious desire screaming through her at this moment had lain dormant for ten years.

  His touch had awakened it, and her memories told her that that same touch would sate it and, in fact, was the only touch that could.

  Big hands skimmed off her clothing, caressing her as they did so. Heat emanated off her, her skin so sensitive that each brush of his big fingers left a trail of fiery passion in their wake. All the while his mouth claimed hers in that gentle, amazing kiss. Her own hands were all over his torso, touching the big body that had inspired numerous fantasies before and after their single night together.

  When she was completely naked, he finally broke the kiss so he could sit up and look at her. She remembered this from the first time they’d made love. He’d spent what she’d considered an inordinate amount of time just looking at her then too. This time he did more than look. He trailed his fingertips over her again, the caresses methodical and thorough—as if he was memorizing her by feel as well as sight.

  It was extremely erotic.

  Mat rested his hand on Chantal’s stomach again, like he had done earlier—only now there was no barrier between their skin. “Vrodlývyy…you are so incredibly beautiful.”

  Ten years ago, he’d said the same thing. And she’d told him she was a science geek. This time, she merely smiled. For him? She was b
eautiful. Just as for her, he was perfect among men. Others saw him as a cranky man whose brilliance barely made up for his gruff manner.

  She saw the man inside. The man who would spend time secretly tutoring a struggling undergrad so he wouldn’t get kicked out of the program. The man who had an almost childlike enthusiasm for his research. The man who helped when other people ignored someone in need. The man who would take on a position he didn’t want because someone had to do it. The man who loved his family with an abiding loyalty worthy of envy. That man had always fascinated her.

  He saw the woman inside her, the one who burned with a passion only he could ignite, the one who was more woman than scientist.

  The hand the size of a dinner plate trembled against her tummy. “I want you so much.”

  “I can tell and I’m glad.” Chantal reached out and curled her fingers around his hard-on. Her fingertips didn’t quite meet, but she didn’t let that scare her. He had fit ten years ago and that night she’d been a virgin. She wasn’t one any longer.

  Mat’s body jerked at her touch and she smiled, loving the power she felt over this giant of a man. Stroking him up and down, she nearly purred with the pleasure of holding him in her hand like this. He was so hard and yet so smooth. The skin so incredibly soft. He was so very vulnerable to her touch, every movement of her hand eliciting groans and jerky movement from him.

  She cupped his low-hanging scrotum. The skin here was soft too, but wrinkled with anticipation. His pulsing erection jumped in her hand and pearly fluid condensed on the tip. She leaned forward, her lips a mere breath from the end of his shaft. “Is it safe?”

  Would she be able to stop herself from tasting if he said no?

  “Yes.”

  She gave in to the urge to flick her tongue out and lap up a bit of that masculine cream. She had quickly discovered she didn’t like the taste of other men and had not made it a habit to put her mouth on them this intimately, latex or no. Only just as in everything else, with Matej, this was different. He tasted both sweet and salty, addictive.

  She took the head of him into her mouth, her lips closing on the other side of his corona. She had to stretch her jaw wide, but she didn’t mind. She knew he wouldn’t try to shove himself in farther. And he didn’t. He made noises filled with need, begged her to taste him and told her how wonderful she was as she swirled her tongue around the spongy flesh in her mouth.