by Cole, Aja
I wonder what keeps her up at night. I hope one day she’ll share it with me.
I do some of my usual morning routine and she’s still not stirring, so I decide I’m going to make her breakfast in bed. Partly because I’m starving, and also because I want to show a little gesture of my appreciation that she gave herself to me last night in a way I didn’t expect.
I thought for sure that she would be stubborn for longer, be more dismissive. Instead, she managed to keep the fire that I like about her while opening up. I knew she would be that way; I just didn’t think she would let herself be that way so soon.
It humbled me, and it gave me more hope that I can get her to come around to not seeing our connection as so temporary after all. Having her in my arms, being inside her…it’s like nothing else I’ve ever felt before. With Naja, it doesn’t feel the way anyone else has felt before.
That’s a hard thing for a man like me to let go. I know what temporary feels like. I was used to moving around before I was ready, and trying to make the best of the time I had with people because I didn’t know when we were leaving.
She isn’t temporary. The feeling that I get around her isn’t temporary.
I just have to convince her of that, and hope she doesn’t walk away from me in the end. I’m going to try my damnedest to make sure she stays.
Last night was very light play. I don’t want to push her too hard or too fast, because I have limited time to drive my points home, but I am going to push her to a degree. If I’d met her at the same kink club I used to frequent, she would’ve already slept tied in my bed for the night until I decided to release her this morning.
One step at a time. Tiny steps.
Putting our plates on a tray with two mugs of coffee and silverware, I carry it back to bed, where she’s sprawled on her stomach, cheek pressed against the pillow and sheet just barely covering her curves. Setting it down on the side table, I gently crawl onto the bed and prop myself up on an arm, stroking my hand over the line of her body.
From her shoulders, down the dip of her back and over the luscious curve of her ass then back again. Brushing her hair away from her face, I lightly caress her cheek. Eventually, her lashes flutter and sleepy hazel brown eyes peer at me when she turns.
“I smell coffee.” She closes her eyes again, nuzzling her cheek into the pillow. “You better be waking me up for coffee.” Her voice is raspy with sleep, and I like hearing her like this in the morning. She’s not the trained operative; she’s just…pure, soft, warm woman.
I appreciate and respect both sides, and I’m sure there are more to uncover.
“What if I told you that I made breakfast, too?” One eye peeks open again at that.
“Bacon?” she mumbles.
“Mhm.” I smile when she pushes herself up, yawning, but a lot more awake just at the mention of food.
“Extra toothbrush?” she questions.
“Everything’s in the bathroom. We’ll eat and talk when you finish.”
She’s like a sleepy kitten, and she makes it to the bathroom with only a few disoriented steps. I set the tray on the bed and turn on the news, leaving the volume low. When she appears again, she’s a little bit more alert, and a little more guarded.
I expected that, so it doesn’t bother me. She has to know as well as I do that last night was just the beginning.
Soon, she won’t have anywhere to else to hide from me, and I’m willing to wait her out.
“What time is it?” Wrapping the sheet around her, she leans against the headboard, and moves the tray between us.
“Eight. I’ve got you for another ten hours.”
“Oh joy,” she deadpans, taking her coffee mug to her lips. I noticed she takes it black, with one sugar. “Surely last night was enough, and we can end things early.”
“No, that wasn’t the deal.”
“Deals are made to be negotiated.”
“This one is signed and sealed.” I spear some of the pancakes, amused at her backpedaling. That’s how I know she felt what I felt. If last night didn’t faze her at all, I would be questioning everything.
“Well, unseal it.” She lowers her cup, and her gaze. “I don’t think this is the best idea.”
“So don’t think.” I raise a brow, “Just feel. When we’re like this, take the day off. Let me worry about everything else.”
“I’m not in the habit of being passive.”
“Oh, I know. You felt very active to me last night.” She lifts her eyes to mine and we clash in a battle of wills. “Or do I need to remind you this morning?”
Lust flares in her eyes, right before defiance. Brat tendencies are making themselves clear.
“Eat. When you’re done, come to my office and I’ll finish what we started.”
She doesn’t acknowledge my demand, just drags the tray closer and picks up the remote, turning up the news.
Shaking my head with a small smile that seems to rarely leave when she’s around, I leave and go to my office to go through a few files.
Fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour passes. I wonder if she’s going to walk out instead of coming here. It wouldn’t surprise me. She’s fighting the boundaries she’s put up, and what she’s discovering she might want when she’s with me.
“Didn’t know you wore glasses.” She’s grabbed one of my t-shirts and it hits her a little before mid-thigh. Her dark hair is loose around her shoulders and her face is unreadable.
“I’m getting old.” I sit back in my chair, closing my work laptop.
“You’re only a few years older than me, right?”
“Mhm. I’m turning thirty-five this year.”
“Six years.” She leans against the door frame, legs crossed at the ankles.
“Are you stalling?”
“Depends. What do you have planned?”
“I’m implementing a rule.”
Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit, but she waits to hear what I’m going to say.
“When you step into this house, clothing isn’t allowed unless I say otherwise.” I watch her carefully because I’m coming to the realization that Naja is probably an alpha personality submissive. Warrior Princess submissive, or whatever label fits best to some people.
Some things that might work on a more run-of-the-mill submissive would most likely piss her off and end up with me having some bodily injury. With alpha types, you have to engage them more, and if you’re not just as in control as they are or more—there’s not a chance in hell that they’ll let their walls drop.
I have to prove to her that I can handle taking some of the weight off her shoulders, that I’m just as strong as she’s chosen to be and more.
It’s a good thing that I’m more than up to that challenge, and I know a perfect way to drive that home and set a little more foundation.
“But for right now, I want you to put more clothes on.” I stand, moving around the desk.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to fight me.” I lift her chin with a finger, holding her eyes. “And I want you to win.”
13
Naja
I feel the familiar fire building in my veins, facing off with Elias like this.
I’m pretty damn confident in my hand-to-hand skills, and I wonder how much training the FBI has them do outside of their guns.
“And I want you to win.” Just thinking of his words amuses me, because that’s not even a question. It doesn’t matter how much more he weighs or how tall he is, I know how to incapacitate someone.
This is going to be another one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.
His basement has workout equipment and a thick wrestling mat that tells me he might spar a bit, but I’m still not worried. It’s time to get him back for making me feel the way he does.
I’ll call this my revenge, his penance for whatever voodoo he’s been spinning. I woke up this morning, and I didn’t immediately think about the fact that Cameron wasn’t beside me.
&
nbsp; Not only does that make me feel guilty, but it scares me because I promised that I would never forget about him. I vowed to myself that I would always love him, and to forget that…I’m betraying his memory. I’m betraying him.
Every time I see Elias, it feels like I lose a little bit more of Cameron. He’ll never be completely gone from my life, that’s impossible…but something about Elias Samir is making me act in ways I haven’t before.
It’s unacceptable.
I can’t play the victim, because everything I’ve done with him has been with my consent. He didn’t make me sleep with him that first night, he didn’t make me sleep with him last night, and he hasn’t forced me to do anything against my will.
I can still be pissed off about it, though. When I’m with him, I lose the person that I’ve made myself into, almost like I’m watching another woman in my place.
I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to feel about that, and I’m going to fight it as long as I can.
The only woman that can get revenge for our team being thrown out to the wolves and slaughtered is ruthless. She does what needs to be done and she wouldn’t let one man stray her from the mission.
I need to be that woman again. I need to separate her from the three days left that I’ve agreed to, so that when the time comes—I can make the calls that need to be made. There are already things I have to do that Elias won’t like, but I can’t worry about that. Whatever this is…it can’t get in the way of my brand of justice.
Maybe getting a little fight in, no holds barred, will help with that.
I hope.
We circle each other, and I watch for the signs of a hit coming, but he’s at least not enough of an amateur to give off blatant tells. Usually it’s in the way someone shifts or they’ll look in the same direction. It’s minuscule, but it’s enough to counter accurately if you know what you’re looking for.
He throws a light punch at my chin, but it’s weak enough that I dodge it, smacking him in the face with my open palm. I don’t hit him hard enough to do any damage, though.
I kind of like his face.
He just laughs, brown eyes flashing with that annoying arrogance.
“Don’t insult me like that,” I scoff, because he wasn’t aiming that punch to hit me. It was offensive.
“Was just checking on your reflexes.”
“My reflexes are fine.” To prove it, I use the benefit of me being a little lower to the ground and sweep my leg out, making his knee buckle. When he reaches out for stability, I yank it from under him, sending him to the mat.
The quick second that I take to revel in my triumph is enough for him to bring me to my knees with a well-placed jab to my side. I can tell he’s blunting his strength so neither of us should bruise, but it knocks the wind out of me for sure.
We grapple on the mat for what seems like hours, sweat dripping from both our bodies because this isn’t some form of foreplay. Maybe on some level, it is, but not completely. This is a fight for control, and I’ve got something to prove.
He blocks my blows and I throw more. I deflect his well-timed jabs just barely, begrudgingly respecting the fact that maybe he’s not as inexperienced as I thought.
My lungs burn and I can taste the salt from our skin, but I’m not giving up a damn thing until he does. I flip around, putting my full weight on his chest but he dislodges me easily, and I don’t give him the satisfaction of being able to keep my legs subdued.
I manage to get behind him and wrap my legs tight around his body. Knowing I’m running out of steam, I go for a sleeper hold and I’m almost successful, but he gets a grip on a sensitive area just under my knee and turns his chin, loosening my grip.
Because of how tired I am, I make a mistake. I let him get the upper hand because I’m not paying attention and I’m so damn tired.
He’s above me like a warrior, sweaty but determined, pinning my wrists and keeping his weight on my body.
“I guess you win,” I pant, my chest heaving and every breath feeling like fire.
“I think we both win.” It’s a small consolation to see and hear that he’s just as exhausted as I am. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I think I underestimated him.
I know I underestimated him.
“How do you figure?”
“What did you take from this?”
“FBI agents might eat less donuts than cops.” I quirk an eyebrow, and he leans down further, blanketing me with his body. I’m already hot and sweaty from our fighting, but my temperature ratchets up a little higher with his lips so close.
“What else?” He switches my arms to one hand, and I don’t struggle. Mostly because the fight that I had before is gone, and in its place is…I don’t know.
“You’re pretty decent at holding your own,” I admit warily. “I honestly thought this would be over quickly.”
“Is this you admitting that you’re not the only badass here?” he asks, mock surprise on his face.
I roll my eyes, my breath coming easier. “Is that what you need to hear for your ego?”
“Nah, I think it’s what you need.” He trails a finger down my chest and hooks a finger at the top of my sports bra, pulling at it and revealing my cleavage. “I had something to prove.”
“Did you prove it?” I watch his mouth lower to my breast, almost holding my breath waiting to feel his lips on my skin.
He raises his eyes to mine as he presses a single kiss to the swell of my chest.
“Did I?”
Somehow, I know what he’s asking without him saying the words. It clicks for me, what this was. What he meant by saying he had something to prove.
He matches me in strength. I already knew he was intelligent and driven, and he’s clearly capable of thinking ahead of me in some things.
He’s asking how I see him now. If I think he’s man enough, equal enough, for me to give into him even more.
I relax against the mat, making my decision. When he feels me soften in his hold, he gets that look in his eyes, the primal one that makes me ache all over.
“I think it’s time we make up for that wasted shower before.” The words float across my lips just before he kisses me, and when we finally make it to the shower…well, let’s just say the water isn’t the only thing dripping.
14
Elias
I pull up at the safe house where we have the senator, turning my lights off. At this point, she’s under the belief that we’re saving her from an attempt on her life and that we’re her allies.
At Naja’s suggestion, we went with making it look like someone close to her is setting her up. We falsified documents, photos, texts…did whatever had to be done. Is it the most honest thing I’ve ever done? Not at all.
Is it necessary? Absolutely.
She trusts us; she’s talking, and unbeknownst to her—she’s giving us everything we need to take her down.
Oh, she’s given us her reasons. Tried to make herself seem like a victim who just got caught up and has been looking for a way out, but it’s bullshit.
We’re monitoring her calls and messages, and so far—she’s stayed true to her promise that she would tell people she decided to take a last-minute extended vacation. That gives us a little over a week to nail everything down before we let her go with the promise of not saying anything to anyone until we give the green light.
In her mind, we’re protecting her. That’s how it needs to stay.
I told the guys I would check on our friendly senator tonight, and to not worry about it. The drive is about an hour away, in a secluded area, and Lightwell apparently likes the solitude. We’ve gotten her books, limited internet, and she requested some knitting and cooking supplies. Her willingness to just trust us lets me know she’s not the puppet master here. She’s a pawn too, but that still doesn’t make her crimes okay.
She’s more comfortable than the people she hung out to dry and the people whose lives she’s helped fuck over. It’s the most actin
g I’ve ever done, being cordial to her and acting like we’re on her side.
I want to ask her about Shadi each time I come here, but I know I can’t; not yet. For all I know, she doesn’t even know her name. The focus is on getting the big picture, and then everything else will fall into place. Lightwell is the connection.
She’s the key piece to getting to everyone else, and that’s what I drill into my head. There’s surveillance inside the house and it’s armed with a top-of-the-line security system. August, Will, Hayes, and I get movement alerts to our phones and surveillance feeds to our encrypted computers.
Putting in the code to the door, I enter. “Senator Lightwell?” The lights are off and I wonder if I’ve interrupted her calling it an early night.
It only takes me seconds to realize that something is off. I draw my gun, moving through the house and checking the rooms, even though I know they’ll all be empty. I got played.
Fucking hell.
While I was busy trying to get Naja and I on an equal playing field, her team was probably fucking with all of our surveillance and setting this shit up.
Dialing Hayes, I slam out of the house, pissed off beyond belief. We talked about how important it was to keep this aboveboard, to stay to plan and not do anything stupid.
I should’ve known they wouldn’t be able to hold up their end of the bargain.
“Pull up Lightwell’s security feed right now,” I grit out, starting my car after I connect my phone to hands-free. Backing out of the winding driveway, I listen to the click of his laptop keys.
“She’s in the living room, hanging out and doing some reading.”
“You got a time stamp on that?”
“Uh…yeah? The same time as what’s on my clock right now. Are you okay?”
“I’m just leaving the safe house.” I floor my accelerator, watching the road for any surprise animals. The roads aren’t well lit back here and I don’t have time for an accident.