Stilettos, Inc.

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Stilettos, Inc. Page 13

by Lexi Ryan


  She could already feel the figure’s irritation. Irritation? Really? She didn’t even inspire the littlest bit of fear? She thumped him—too broad to be a woman—against the wall again. She was tempted to whack him upside the head with her gun, but she might accidentally knock him out, and then they couldn’t find out what the fuck he was here about.

  Chrissie and Josie appeared, and a minute later a man’s voice said, “Fuck it,” and Wiley appeared before them.

  Paige released an annoyed sigh and let him go. “I should have known.”

  “So that’s your power,” Chrissie said.

  Josie looked him up and down with an unimpressed snort.

  “SIA isn’t worried about us,” Chrissie muttered. “They don’t trust us.”

  “Yeah,” Paige whispered. Was that why Darian had been spending so much time with her? He’d been on a case? “It appears so.” She ignored the stab of betrayal. She’d known this was coming, hadn’t she? What had Darian asked her in the club? What they knew about Collin’s involvement with the assassination attempt? She’d written off what she’d sensed as normal SIA agent distrust and skepticism, but she’d known on some level there was more.

  Or maybe she lived her whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Wiley set his jaw. “Just following orders, ladies. You know how it is.”

  “Actually,” Josie said. “We don’t. That’s the perk of working for yourself. You don’t have to follow orders that distract you from the real problem when there’s serious shit brewing.”

  Paige smiled at Wiley’s emotional reaction. “Isn’t that interesting? He’s a little jealous that we get to work on the real case while he’s stuck babysitting.”

  “Must stink,” Josie said, smug.

  “Get out,” Paige said, shoving him toward the door with her gun. “Before I sic my girls on you.”

  Wiley straightened and headed for the door, but didn’t get far before Josie’s hand was wrapped around his arm.

  He shrugged. “Look all you want.”

  She cocked her head and stared into space for a long minute. She frowned, only to release him as quickly as she’d reached out to touch. “Go.”

  * * * *

  “Can’t we ditch them?” Chrissie scoffed, eyeing the three men from the top of their shit list. “Seriously? We could take a chopper to the island.”

  Paige rolled her eyes and adjusted her carry-on over her shoulder. “Quit being a spoiled brat. Taking a helicopter onto the island would call attention to us, and that’s exactly what we don’t want right now.”

  Fernandez glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “Yeah, like you three need a chopper to call attention to yourselves,” he muttered.

  Chrissie grinned and cocked her head. She turned to Paige. “Was that a compliment?”

  “I think so,” Paige said.

  “Seriously? The hard-ass Latino just gave us a compliment? Well, at least he sees our beauty, if not our mad fighting skills.”

  “At least I don’t have to worry about it going to your head,” Fernandez muttered.

  They stood in the security line, Josie twirling a lock of hair nervously, Chrissie harassing Fernandez.

  Darian and Paige were separated by the other four, but that didn’t keep her from watching him. She’d never met a man who could make a polo shirt look that sexy, but stretched across his broad chest, his biceps tugging at the sleeves, a polo on Darian was like whipped cream on hot chocolate.

  Darian kept stealing glances at Paige that she couldn’t interpret. Part heat, part tenderness, part—guilt? Well, good. He should feel guilty.

  She hadn’t talked to him since they’d discovered Wiley at Headquarters, and she wanted to put it off until she’d be able to handle it with a little more composure. She needed to come to terms with a few key points first. Like maybe everything between them was about the case for him, and not about her. Like maybe she overestimated her ability to read him when he could throw ten kinds of bullshit her way.

  When there were only two people ahead of them, he dropped his bag and came back to her in the line.

  “Not here, Horndog.” Did he have to look so serious? She couldn’t do serious right now. When she wasn’t looking, she’d slipped into something much deeper than lust with an SIA beefcake. A fact that was too fucking terrifying on a good day. Today, it was worse than that. It was unacceptable.

  He wasn’t fazed by her mockery. He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her hard on the lips. Instinctively, she opened under him, sweeping her tongue inside his mouth, putting as much ferocity into the kiss as he was. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she reveled in the taste of him, not wanting to let go, not wanting to believe that their time together had only held meaning for her.

  When he pulled away, her breath came fast and her hands were fisted in his shirt. His eyes were hot—on her mouth first, then slowly moving up to her eyes.

  “What was that abou—”

  He cut her off, placing his thumb over her lips. “Just listen for a minute.”

  “Next!” The security woman called from the front of the line.

  Darian didn’t spare her a glance. “I need you to know something.”

  “Sir, you need to move forward,” the guard behind Paige warned.

  Darian nodded but didn’t take his eyes from Paige’s face. “I love you, Paige. And I know you’re still hurting over what that bastard did to you, but I need you to know. It makes me jealous at hell that we were at his apartment yesterday morning, but I trust you. I love you.”

  “Oh, shit,” Chrissie muttered.

  “Sir,” the guard behind Paige repeated again.

  Darian looked up. “Yeah. Okay.” Then he turned on his heel and proceeded through security.

  “Well, well,” Chrissie whispered as Josie took her turn to load her carry-on into the X-ray machine. “That was awkward.”

  Paige nodded. “Yeah.” But it hadn’t felt awkward to her at all. It had felt good. She couldn’t remember the last time love had left her feeling good instead of sucked bone dry.

  “Ma’am, could you step aside, please?” the man behind the X-ray machine asked Josie.

  Josie shot them a look, brows drawn together.

  Paige shrugged. “Don’t worry. We’ll wait.”

  Chrissie loaded her bag and the man frowned again. “We’ve got another one,” he said, motioning to another guard to look at his screen.

  The man looked at Paige. “Are you with them, too?”

  “Yes. What’s the problem?” She resisted the urge to look at her watch. They were pushing it as it was. Too much of a hold-up in security and they’d miss their flight.

  “Might as well look at her bag too,” said the security guard standing with her friends.

  Paige stuck it on the conveyor and the man behind the machine just shook his head. “I’m going to need you ladies to come with me.”

  “Is this going to take long?” Chrissie asked, glancing at her watch.

  “It will take as long as it needs to take,” the security guard answered.

  * * * *

  As Paige slipped deeper into sleep, the dream cradled her like a down comforter. The jungle’s thick steam rolled off the dense foliage and spiraled into the dark green canopy of trees. Paige followed the narrow path, pushing through the weeds around her. They didn’t scratch her bare arms like they should have. Instead, they caressed her skin like a patient lover’s touch—soothing, just like the soft hum of insects and occasional croaking frog.

  Ahead, she could see it. A cabin, nestled in the thick of the forest and protected from the chaos of the outside world, it waited. They’d relax here. They’d forget about the threat against the president, about the Specials who were going missing. They’d pretend these things weren’t keeping them up at night. She’d pretend that Specials vanishing didn’t scare the hell out of her. Then they’d make love until their skin was slick with sweat, their hearts were thunderi
ng, and their bodies were jelly in each other’s arms.

  She picked up her pace, running now, anxious to step into the cabin and retreat from the outside world.

  The door’s hinges groaned as she pulled it open. Her stomach fluttered, reminding her of the first time she’d gone to him.

  She slipped inside, expecting to launch herself into his arms, but he wasn’t there. Instead, lying on the bed that consumed most of the small space were scraps of black lace—a bra, a thong, thigh-high fishnet stockings, and a garter belt. She scoffed at the get-up. If he thought she was wearing that, he had another—

  But even as she thought it, she watched her dream self pull off her clothes and replace her cotton bra and underwear with the black lace. The bra rubbed against her already tight nipples, a rough lover’s touch. She slid into the panties next, then slid the stockings up her legs one at a time, imagining his breath catching when he saw her, imagining his cock, hard and pulsing, ready to slide into her. She’d be ready for him.

  As she hooked the last garter clip into place, she heard the door groan behind her. She swung around and eyed him warily.

  His beauty was as alarming as the first time she’d seen him—short, dark hair, darker eyes that knew too many of her insecurities, and a body that would make gods weep. He was bare-chested, exposing a smattering of hair that tapered to a thin trail across the hard, flat ridges of his stomach and down into his low-slung jeans.

  She felt the rush in her blood as she crossed the room to greet him. The lace rubbed her, teasing the sensitive skin between her legs, and she caught herself wondering what it would be like to have his mouth against it, dampening the lace and her already pulsing clit.

  He smiled as if he knew her thoughts—he probably did. She’d put on the outfit, hadn’t she?

  When she reached him, he plunged his hands in her hair.

  His mouth came down hard on hers, melding and demanding even as it soothed and welcomed home. Their kiss tasted of longing, passion, and regret. She kissed him back, rubbing her tongue against his and willing her body to melt into him.

  His hand cupped her breast and his thumb circled her nipple through the lace. She pressed into him, her body aching, demanding. When his thumb ended its slow torture and rolled her nipple, she gasped. Wet heat pooled between her legs.

  He broke their kiss, trailing kisses down her neck and across her shoulders.

  “Please!” she murmured.

  “Anything,” he replied, tasting her with his tongue and making her near wild as he made a slow path down her body. At her breast, he stopped. He flicked his tongue across the lace where her nipple puckered—again, and again, small crazy licks that had her pressing into him. Finally, he drew her into his mouth and she cried out, arched into the delicious sensation.

  She fumbled for the button on his jeans, thinking of nothing but the feel of his hard cock in her hands. He helped her, and he was free, hard and thick and in her hands. She stroked him, squeezed. Then dropped to her knees so she could take him into her mouth.

  She tasted the pre-come on the head of his penis. The flavor of arousal, tangy and salty on her tongue. She squeezed the base of his shaft with her hand and stroked his head with her tongue. She wasn’t on her knees long before he pulled her up from under her arms and pressed her against the wall. He tugged her panties aside and lowered her body onto his cock, pumping into her with all the aggression that filled the air between them.

  His mouth was on her neck, his hands on her breasts.

  “More,” she whispered in his ear. “I need more.”

  He lifted one of her legs, opening her wider so he could press deeper. But she wanted more, she wanted all of him. She wanted to feel him. Why couldn’t she feel him?

  She opened her eyes and instead of Darian’s milk chocolate eyes, Collin’s ice blue eyes were staring into hers. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t trust either of you.”

  * * * *

  “Paige! We’re here.”

  Paige woke to Josie squeezing her shoulder. “Are you okay? You were sleeping really fitfully.”

  Paige blinked. The dull roar of the cabin was gone and everyone stood in a half-crouched position waiting to exit the plane. A glance out the window showed they’d touched down in Jamaica. From here, they’d have to take an hour-long private boat ride to Eden.

  She’d been dreaming, about Collin and Darian. Paige tucked the dream to the back of her mind. She’d wait until later to worry about what it meant that Darian and Collin had switched places in her mind.

  Paige felt Josie squeeze her shoulder, and the contact sent a succession of emotions through her. “You’re tired, Jo,” she said, turning to look into her friend’s blue eyes. “Don’t worry too much yet, okay?”

  Josie gave a humorless laugh. “Anybody else and I’d lie through my teeth and say I’m not worried, not tired.” She smiled, but it didn’t light up her face the way her smiles usually did. “I’m tired and I’m pissed about whatever the guys did to get us held up in security.”

  Paige nodded. “Yeah, me too.” But Paige was more than pissed. She was hurt. “Have you seen anything else?”

  Josie shook her head, but she wasn’t touching Paige anymore, so Paige didn’t have the advantage of knowing whether or not her friend was lying.

  The pilot came on the overhead speakers, letting them know they had been cleared to exit. Even inside the terminal, the sticky wetness of the island air greeted them, clinging to their skin like an unwanted extra layer of clothing.

  Chrissie excused herself when they hit baggage claim.

  “Darian’s here,” Josie said.

  Paige raised a brow. He would dare show his face after what they’d done?

  Josie shrugged. “I saw him in your head.” She didn’t elaborate. She was studying Paige now, as if she’d just been given a piece of a puzzle and was trying to figure out how she fit. What else had she seen?

  “Don’t tell me,” Paige muttered. “If the look on your face is any indication, I don’t want to know.” She especially didn’t want to know if it had anything to do with the dream she’d just had about Darian. She was no psychoanalyst, but it didn’t take an expert to understand why her subconscious might confuse Darian with the ex-boyfriend who had lost her trust.

  Josie shrugged again. “I don’t know about that.”

  Paige’s phone beeped, and she pulled it out of her purse.

  “Hey, ladies, where’s the third Musketeer?”

  Paige spun around to see Darian strolling toward them. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Josie’s lips twitch.

  Oh, hell.

  Josie answered, “She had to use the ladies’ room, but I’d think you would know that, given how seriously you’ve taken on the task of babysitting us. What? Didn’t Wiley follow her in there?”

  Paige narrowed her gaze. God, he was sexy. And that just pissed her off more. Men who delivered speeches about trusting you right before they turned around and proved they didn’t shouldn’t be sexy. It just wasn’t fair.

  Josie tapped Paige’s shoulder. She was smirking. “I’ll leave you two alone. I need to grab my bags.”

  “We don’t need to be alone!” Paige protested.

  Josie just shrugged, backing away from them. “Do your thing,” she mouthed.

  Darian chuckled. “I always did like her.”

  “Most men do,” Paige muttered under her breath.

  Apparently, not quietly enough. A smile curved Darian’s lips. “Jealous?”

  She threw back her shoulders and grabbed her bags. No one was making her do this. “I have to get going.”

  “Let me help.” He reached to take a bag from her hand but lingered too long.

  Her eyes flashed to his. Oh, yeah, he knew what he was doing. He was abusing her power for his own nefarious intentions. She didn’t want to feel it. She didn’t want to know how much he wanted her, didn’t want to feel how his
heart rate accelerated just from seeing her face, or know he was already hard and already thinking about what it would be like to sink inside her again. But more than any of those things, she didn’t want to feel how much he cared for her. The tenderness was real. No one could fake that to an empath.

  She dropped the bag and snatched her hand away.

  He exhaled, as if the single touch had given him a rush, and he was coming down from his high. A smug smile curved his ridiculously sensuous lips, lips that once suckled the inside of her thigh—

  “Stay out of my head,” she said.

  He studied her face, and if she didn’t know better, she may have fallen for the sweet-boy look. He brushed his thumb over Paige’s cheekbone. “Selfishly, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Selfishly?”

  He shook his head. “There was some intelligence that indicated some trouble on Eden. Lots of bodies. I didn’t want—”

  “Darian, please stop trying to protect me.”

  “I protect what I love,” he murmured.

  She raised a brow. “Oh? Do you also follow what you love because you think she might be involved in some anti-government conspiracy?”

  He winced. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “Paige.” Her name was a whispered plea on his lips before her lowered his mouth to hers.

  A chill rushed through her—but the good, let’s-play-with-ice-in-the-bedroom kind, not the this-guy-is-a-creep-and-I-should-stay-away-from-him kind. Which stank because when it came to guys who put undisclosed substances on her and her friends’ carry-ons so they’d miss their flight, she’d be more comfortable with the second kind of chill.

  His phone rang and he broke the kiss.

  “Hold that thought?” he whispered.

  “You don’t even know what I’m thinking. Isn’t that a dangerous request?”

  His grin was as cocksure as ever. “I’m counting on it,” he said before turning away.

  She was not falling in love. Not with the man who—when he wasn’t accusing her of conspiring against the president—wanted to ride in to the rescue and keep her out of harm’s way.

 

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