Desired by a Dangerous Man

by Cleo Peitsche

  “Fuuuuuck,” he said in a long, slow growl that made me shiver. “That was amazing.” He kissed me again, then began to pull out.

  I tightened my thighs around him, dug my nails into his skin, but I couldn’t make him stay anywhere he didn’t want to be. His hands lowered my ankles, then slid up to grip my bent knees, keeping me open.

  When his cock slipped free, my pussy tightened, and wet warmth gushed out, flooding over my pucker and buttocks.

  His hands still on my knees, Corbin leaned back to watch. He always watched, always had to see my pussy over-filled with his come.

  “Oh, baby,” he said with a sigh. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

  I started to scoff, but Corbin swirled his thumb over my slit, then up toward my nub. My entire body trembled.

  Pressing my feet onto the edge of the counter, I arched toward him.

  It wasn’t necessary, though. Nothing was going to stop him from giving me an orgasm while my pussy quivered and gushed. Nothing.

  Cream pies had never been a kink I understood, at least, not before Corbin. That had changed, and the thought of him leaking out of me while my pussy quivered now turned me on. The lust in his eyes became the center of my world as the orgasm roared through me, gripping me so tightly that I could barely breathe between the body-shaking spasms.

  When I came back to myself, Corbin was still holding me open, still intently staring at my sex, which I was sure was red and swollen and sticky with his come.

  “Perfect,” he murmured, and he dipped down to kiss my inner thighs.

  “Don’t,” I panted.

  “Don’t what?” He kissed my throat, my chin, my gasping lips, then pulled away to stare down at me. His eyes drilled into mine. “Don’t what?”

  I shook my head.

  “Don’t lick your wet pussy?”

  Somehow I managed a little nod, and Corbin raised his eyebrows.

  Then he kissed and bit a scorching path down my body, not stopping until he reached the trail of dark hair leading to my clit. I couldn’t close my legs, couldn’t stop him from licking my clit.

  And after a moment, my embarrassment fell away, and I didn’t want him to stop.

  Corbin Lagos. Former assassin, master of disguises, man with too many secrets. But also my lover, my best friend, my hero, my savior.

  Chapter 7

  I stayed in the bathroom to clean up. Not just because I was sticky from sex, but because Corbin had gotten my hair wet when we were in the shower. If I didn’t run some conditioner through my curls, they would bloom into a frizzy halo.

  I couldn’t wait until the weather turned cooler.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Corbin called out as I came from the bedroom, buck naked and a white cotton dress in my hands.

  He was sitting in the living room, at the end of the long hallway. Corbin’s light green T-shirt stretched over his thick muscles. He wore camouflage cargo pants. They’d probably come from some designer’s fall line, but the outfit made him look more like an assassin than he ever had when he actually was one.

  “In this heat?” I asked, thinking he wanted to go to the mall or something. The dress was light enough that I would need a bra if he wanted to go anywhere with air conditioning.

  “Around the pond.”

  I glanced toward the window, at the painfully bright afternoon. Even though going outside didn’t appeal to me, I knew the temperature would be much cooler under the trees, and a walk would do me good. I was revived after the orgasms, and relieved that the problems with the office were fixed, or soon would be. But my body was still tense, still stressed.

  “A walk sounds nice.” I pulled the dress on over my head and finger-combed my damp curls into a ponytail.

  My phone rang. “It’s still work hours,” I said with an apologetic shrug. “Maybe we can take the walk in twenty minutes? Or thirty… I should check in with Neil and see how he’s doing.”

  Corbin grunted.

  I retrieved my phone. The incoming number was unfamiliar.

  Once upon a time that would have been reason enough to ignore it, and given everything that was going on at the moment, I had to assume it was a fresh headache heading my way.

  However, ignoring problems didn’t make them go away. I knew that from cold, hard experience.

  The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, and I knew who she was even before she identified herself.

  “This is Sara. JD’s sister.” Her voice rose like it was a question, like she wasn’t sure who she was.

  I thought that was fitting because I was wondering who the hell she was, too. On the surface, she was a quiet housewife and mother of two who owned a knitting store that was likely subsidized by her successful husband. But she’d alerted me to the fact that Massimo wasn’t supposed to survive being captured. Corbin had confirmed it, but he hadn’t been able to figure out how she’d come by the knowledge.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked. I heard Corbin get up, walking away, maybe. I didn’t turn around.

  There was the briefest hesitation before Sara said, “You’re still planning to fly out to LA, right? JD’s apartment is being emptied even as we speak.”

  “Why?” As far as I knew, Sara was JD’s next of kin, so she should have been the one handling his affairs.

  “Management says his lease ended a week ago,” Sara said, “and there’s a new tenant waiting. It was news to me. I don’t have time to deal with it, so I told them to handle it and send me the bill. If you plan on using the key I left you, I suppose you need to get out there now.”

  That was going to be tricky. I shot a nervous glance toward where Corbin had been, but he was gone. I thought I heard him in the kitchen.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said. “Sara, have you heard anything new about Massimo?”

  “No,” she said hesitantly.

  “He’s been captured safely.”

  “Oh, yeah, that I know. One of Neil’s friends texted me. Is there more?”

  “No,” I said. I didn’t see the use in tipping my hand, in showing everything I knew.

  “Do you think I should come down to LA and meet you?” Now her voice had become less certain.

  “Yes,” I said. “Absolutely. Will you bring your family?”

  “No,” she said softly.

  Too bad. I was curious to get her husband’s opinion on JD’s married boyfriend. Congressman Bowlst was a rising star, a politician who could do no wrong… Though news about a secret gay boyfriend who was also a part-time drug dealer and prostitute would likely pierce his armor. For that reason, Bowlst was my top suspect, but I couldn’t figure out a way to get close to him.

  “I’ll try to come out tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll keep you updated.” We said our goodbyes and hung up.

  The question then became, how would it work?

  With bounty hunting, expenses were covered by the bounty received. If I had to spend a few hundred bucks to bribe someone, that was just the cost of doing business.

  With PI work, I knew it was customary to charge expenses to the client, but Sara hadn’t hired me. My contract was with Neil, so I needed his approval before flying somewhere on short notice.

  In that case, I hoped he was awake and no longer drugged.

  Corbin came out of the kitchen, a canvas shopping bag in his hand. “Is there anything you want me to pick up at the store?” he asked in his deep, rumbling voice. “A bottle of strawberry lemonade? Strawberry shortcake? Or maybe strawberry shaving gel?”

  That should have earned him a flirty reaction, but my mind was elsewhere. “No,” I said. “I have to fly to LA tomorrow. Will you come?”

  Slowly, Corbin moved toward me. “Tomorrow is what I wanted to discuss during the walk,” he said. “I need to go to DC for a few days.”

  “Oh.” It slipped out, but I tried to keep the disappointment off my face.

  “It’s better than having to fly back to Europe or Africa.”

  “Did I argue?” It came out grumpi
ly.

  Corbin rarely brought up the situation with his ex. However, it was always in the back of my mind… and actively discussing her never failed to send my blood pressure through the roof.

  “No, you didn’t argue,” he said gently. “Let’s go talk.”

  “I need to book my ticket,” I said, frustration simmering. “And maybe one for Rob.”

  “I’ll have my travel agent take care of it.” He tilted my chin up. “I love you, baby.”

  “You don’t have to reassure me all the time, Corbin,” I said.

  He could have responded in any of a million different ways. He could have pointed out that I did need reassurance sometimes. He could have called me out for my abrupt tone. He could have told me to go fuck myself, and I would have deserved it.

  Instead, he said, “I like telling you that I love you. Do you know how close we came to never meeting? You should be glad I’m not saying it every fifteen seconds. I’m showing restraint, baby.” He grinned, his blue-green eyes sparkling, and I melted.

  Yeah, I really was the world’s worst girlfriend. “Ok, from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.”

  “Baby, it’s fine.”

  I shook my head. “If you want to get a second girlfriend, one who’s more sane, you have my blessing.”

  “Never. I don’t want anyone but you. And you are sane. What we’re going through is stressful, but we’re doing just fine.”

  He’d reduced me to a puddle of goo. “I swear I’m not usually like this. I’m so sorry—”

  He cut off my apology with a kiss. His lips were soft, but he wrapped his arms around me as if to say that he would never let me go, never give up on us.

  Twenty minutes later, I’d talked to Rob and had given the necessary information to Corbin’s travel agent, who had an Australian accent, might have been sitting in Australia for all I knew.

  Corbin slipped an arm around my shoulder as we strolled along the paved walkway from the condo to the pond. Just off the path, the summer grasses were high, tawny as a field of wheat. Insects chirped. It would have been pleasant if the sun didn’t seem intent on frying my skin to a crisp.

  There was a newer path, the grass trampled from our feet. We veered down it. Corbin went first, holding my hand.

  It wasn’t until we were under the shade of the leafy oak trees that Corbin began speaking. “They haven’t found him.”

  Massimo?

  I stared at Corbin in confusion, then realized who he meant. “The man who was locked up with her?” I asked.

  Her being his ex. The other Audrey.

  Corbin nodded. “The whole thing felt like a setup. I’m glad I wasn’t there when it happened.”

  I shivered, remembering how our hotel room had been searched by the French authorities. “Where do you think he is? And I want to know what you think. Don’t give me the official theory.”

  “Is it that obvious?” he asked, frowning lightly.

  “What can I say? I know you.”

  A smile touched his lips, then disappeared. “I think Audrey wasn’t kidnapped.”

  “What?” I abruptly stopped walking.

  Corbin steadied me even though I wasn’t in danger of falling. His blue-green eyes were a little distant, and worry sharpened his features. “There’s something suspicious about the whole thing. Double agents. Triple agents… At some point, people are just traitors.” His face tightened further into a humorless smile. “We have a saying. A double agent is just a defector with a good story.”

  I tried to puzzle it out but gave up. “Meaning?”

  “I think Audrey was playing both sides.”

  I stared at him. “This is some kind of joke, right?” I asked, even though Corbin wouldn’t joke about something like that.

  Slowly, he shook his head, and his mask slipped. For a moment, I saw worry in his expression. And regret, though I couldn’t make sense of that. “For whatever reason, she wants to come back or is being sent back. But of course she can’t show up like nothing happened. With a good excuse, she becomes a double agent. A hero instead of a disloyal spy.”

  “You don’t really believe that. You said she was close to her father, that nothing would have kept her from his funeral,” I said.

  “The context was different. I was explaining how I knew… how I knew she hadn’t just gotten tired of me, of our marriage, and ran away rather than admit it.” He shrugged. Corbin never shrugged, at least not like that, like he was defeated.

  And then I understood.

  If she’d faked the whole thing, then he’d wasted five years of his life. It would mean he’d killed people in an attempt to avenge the abduction and death of someone who had never been abducted in the first place.

  “That’s…” A bad feeling was sweeping through me, making me dizzy. “Why do you think she faked it?” And how long have you thought so? I wanted to add but didn’t.

  “It was too easy,” he said. “Too many coincidences. Why would she still have had her wedding ring after all these years? It was valuable. They wouldn’t have let her keep it. How did this man get away? He said he smuggled himself out with the trash, but that didn’t ring true to me. He was too healthy. For example, his teeth.”

  “Teeth?”

  “Abductees who’ve been held for several years tend to have health problems. Muscle and joint issues because of malnutrition and lack of exercise. Living in a constant state of fear wears on people.” He ran his fingers through his hair, which looked even darker in the shade of the trees. “I could give you all the little details, but the fact is that the moment I heard about this man and his crazy story, I knew something was wrong.”

  “I remember. You thought he was lying about her being alive.”

  “Which distracted me from thinking as critically as I should have.” There was a finality to his tone.

  I studied his features, searching for insight. It would have been callous to ask, but I selfishly wondered if his theory about his ex had something to do with his certainty that he wanted to be with me, not her. A traitor to the country was easier to walk away from than an innocent victim.

  A gust of wind swept across the field, disturbing the trees. Sunlight sprayed through the leaves. Corbin’s eyes were impossibly blue, impossibly green.

  Impossibly sad, too, though he hid it well.

  Corbin swatted at a bee that was circling too close. “In Paris, I accidentally knocked over my chair,” he said. “He jumped, exactly like you or I would jump. Not like someone who’d been cowering in a dirt hut, terrified of his captors. That reaction is what sealed it for me.”

  My heart stuttered. “Damn, Corbin. I had no idea. You could have told me.”

  “Not there,” he said. “It would have been unreasonable to think the hotel room was properly secured.”

  “Because you’re the only one who thinks something’s off?”

  “Officially, I don’t even think it. What if I’m wrong? Unofficially, I’m sure I’m not the only one to assemble the pieces in a way that differs from the accepted story. I guess I’ll find out in DC. The rumors Jennifer heard were right. The head of France’s external security bureau is flying in. Preparations are underway to free Audrey. It’s a joint mission with the US, and I’m… involved. It’s minor, but I have to keep playing my role.”

  “But why?” I asked, feeling stubborn.

  “Because I have to know. And if I’m wrong… then I have to be there for her.”

  Even though he’d always been up front on that point, hearing it still made my chest tighten uncomfortably. “I guess you’ve got a hell of a week coming up,” I said softly.

  He shook his head. “I’ll be back in two days. The rescue mission is still in the planning stage. This is classified, mind you.”

  I nodded.

  “I wish it were happening tomorrow. Strike that. I wish it were over. I’ve already spent enough years of my life being a piece on a chess board.” He shook his head and looked off a bit in the distance.

  I t
hought he was maybe struggling—he’s stoic, not a robot—and I was about to touch his arm when he said, “There’s a black swan in the pond. Come on.”

  “What?”

  He took my hand and led me back to the trail, which would eventually loop toward the water. I had to practically run to keep up.

  Sometimes I thought Corbin was unknowable, too perfectly composed. He never doubted himself, and he was always right.

  What would it do to him if he’d been wrong about the single biggest decision of his life? What about the flourishing career as a chef, the success and normalcy he’d left behind to rent himself to governments as an assassin?

  Corbin abruptly stopped walking. He pointed at the water, but he needn’t have bothered.

  The black swan floated at the edge of the pond, its plumage gleaming and almost painfully reflective in the bright sunlight.

  “What do you know about black swans?” Corbin asked.

  “They’re always appropriately dressed for a formal dinner?”

  He glanced at me. “Was that a joke?”

  “No?”

  He turned his attention back to the water. “They’re not indigenous. They were introduced as a novelty at zoos and as tourist attractions, but some escaped. I’ve seen them a couple of times in Florida, but never this far west. I wouldn’t be surprised if they became common in the next few decades. They’re beautiful but aggressive.”

  The swan looked calm enough to me. I watched Corbin watching the bird. Corbin probably understood the swan better than I understood Corbin in that moment.

  Chapter 8

  The short flight to LA was still long enough for me to fall into a deep sleep. I didn’t wake until the plane’s wheels touched the ground again. Even that might not have been enough to rouse me, but Rob’s sharp elbow stabbing into my ribs certainly did the trick.

  I rubbed my side. “Was that necessary?”

  Rob bounced to his feet and opened the overhead bin. “We’ve got four hours before Sara shows up. The more we know before then, the better. If she’s holding back, that’s our best chance to shake something loose.”