by Cari Z
“She thinks you need to try it again,” Alex said, not quite smiling, but I knew that particular tilt to his mouth meant he was barely holding one back.
“I gathered that much, thank you,” I replied, without the acid I thought I might muster. The drink was cool, the shirt it had stained was disposable, and I was standing in the sunshine with a ridiculously handsome man in a place I’d never been before and likely would never be again. It was a bit like being in a waking dream. “I think I agree,” I said at last. Alex handed over another fifty-franc coin, and I managed to get the second sachet down without making a further mess of myself.
He also bought two small loaves of pure white bread—one sucré, one salé—and several of the skewers of soja, which I learned were tofu. They were bloody delicious.
“Tofu never tastes this good,” I said around a mouthful. “This food is magical.”
“You also haven’t eaten in over twelve hours,” he pointed out. “But yeah, they do it well here.”
Koffi and Mr. Klein came back, and Alex pushed one of the loaves of bread and some water at the security officer before he climbed into the back again. “Fuck off,” Klein grumbled, but he ate the bread and downed the water in less than a minute. He sat up front next to Koffi this time—“I’m gonna get sick with all the bumping back there”—and before I knew it, it was time to move on.
I glanced around at this tiny rotunda in the road, with a simple, elegant statue of two stylized people holding hands in the center of the roundabout, and all the color and noise and life going on beyond it. Then I looked at the lady who’d sold us the drinks. “Merci, madame.”
“Bonne journée, monsieur,” she replied, then closed her cooler and put it back on top of her head on one smooth lift. I got back into the car, and a moment later we headed down the road again.
“You’re kind of a mess,” Alex said quietly. That look was back in his eye—or, not quite the same look. This one was a little warmer, a little more… intimate. “Do you want to stop on the side up here, rinse off and change shirts?”
I shook my head. “I can wait until we reach Kara, I think. The sooner the better, right?”
“Yeah.” He relaxed a little in his seat, then tore the remaining loaf of bread in half and handed a section to me. I took it and ate, and we passed the time in pleasant silence for a while, only broken by Klein’s constant muttering from the front seat and the occasional buzz of Alex’s phone. He glanced at it each time but never answered it.
By the fifth buzz, I asked, “Who is that?” as he put the phone away, a look of irritation on his face.
“It’s Gerard.”
Wait, what? “Really?” But I thought… “I thought Robert was going to handle him.”
“Clearly he’s found a workaround, or else Robert is too busy to field all his calls.”
“And… you don’t want to give him an update?”
Alex snorted. “From what I’ve seen of him, and from everything you’ve told me, the moment we break the silence, he’s going to be asking even more. I don’t have time to check in with him every five minutes, and neither do you.”
“We rather do, actually. At least, at the moment.”
Alex looked at me, something like curiosity and something deeper, more guarded, in his face. “Do you want to talk to him?”
“Lord, no,” I said immediately. Alex smiled. “But he might not stop bothering us until we do.”
“I’ll block his number before that happens.”
I grinned. “He would hate that. Nothing bothers him more than being ignored. He likes to feel as though he’s at the center of the world.”
Alex shook his head. “And somehow he managed to convince you to date him.”
“Well, he is quite good in bed,” I said jokingly.
Alex’s eyes focused in on me like laser beams. “Oh yeah?”
“I mean, not… I was fairly young when we met, and fairly inexperienced. Gerard was far more worldly, and he can be quite charming when he wants to be. Things between us were quite good, for a time, but honestly, they were falling apart long before the scandal at the museum. I realized after a while that… let’s just say, one of the reasons he was so good in bed was because he got so much practice, and not all of it with me.”
“He cheated on you?”
“He wouldn’t call it that.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he would call it, since he’s obviously a moron.” The way Alex looked at me was enough to make my heart erupt with longing. It was ridiculous. This just wasn’t something we could do, not now. He’d intimated as much himself. He didn’t fool around on a job. But his look was not the look of a friend, something kind and platonic. It was a look of heat and desire, and it was all I could do not to lunge across the center seat at him.
No. I had more dignity and self-control than that. And I wasn’t about to open myself up for potential heartache in front of Klein, who seemed to be on the verge of throwing up.
We reached Kara by seven that evening and stopped at the Hôtel Étoile just north of town. The hotel itself was nice, on par with what we’d seen in Ouagadougou, but this one had a restaurant as well as a bar. Alex offered to treat Mr. Klein and Koffi to dinner, but Mr. Klein appeared to be going straight to bed, and Koffi said he was eating with friends that evening.
“In that case, we’ll see you at six in the morning tomorrow,” Alex said.
“Are you kidding me?” Klein scoffed. “I’m not dragging my ass up until noon if I can help it.”
Alex got noticeably chillier. “You told Carter that you could get us to Lomé by noon tomorrow.”
“Plans change,” he snapped. “I didn’t feel like I was on the verge of dying when I talked to Carter. You don’t like my schedule, you can take a bush taxi instead.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Alex had his hands in his pockets, but the way he leaned in toward Klein made me want to recoil, never mind the man himself. “We have our own schedule to keep, and we made a deal with you to keep it. We’re paying more than enough for this ‘favor’ too, so either you stick to the schedule you agreed to, or you and I are going to have a personal problem.” He raised one eyebrow. “You want a personal problem with me, Klein?”
Mr. Klein swallowed hard. “No, but look… look, it’s just not—I don’t want trouble, you understand? I’ve got a steady job, I don’t want anything you do to fuck it up—”
“You’re fucking it up yourself just fine without my help,” Alex said. “And trust me, your job will be absolutely sunk if you don’t get us to the capital on time. Once we’re there, we’ll get out of your hair, and you’ll probably never see us again. Sound good?” Klein nodded. “Great! Then we’ll see you at six in the morning, like I said. Sleep well, buddy.” He turned and walked toward our room, and I followed with one last look at Mr. Klein. He was quaking like a blancmange, looking after us like he was wondering what he’d gotten into.
“Do you think he might try to leave without us?” I asked as we entered our room. It was a good size, with white tile floors and two double beds. The chairs in the corner were upholstered in red velvet, and there was an old television with a lace doily on top of it set against the wall.
“Nah, probably not. He knows I know where he lives. Besides, Koffi likes us, he’s not gonna try to stiff us on this trip.” Alex removed the gun from the small of his back and set it on the bedside table, then did the same with the one at his ankle. He was moving easier today—you almost wouldn’t know he’d had the snot beaten out of him not forty-eight hours ago. My hands itched vaguely at the sight of the bared skin at his collar. “So.” He looked at me, then looked away. “I should—are you hungry? I’ll get us something from the restaurant, and we can eat in, make it an early night….”
Screw it. I stepped forward and grabbed one of his hands, then reached up and lightly wrapped the other around the back of his neck. “Please tell me if I’ve got this wrong,” I murmured, then leaned in and gently pressed my lips to his.
Chapter Eleven
EVERY VOICE in my head that was telling me no, nope, bad idea went silent as Mal kissed me. A kiss was such a simple touch—mouths joining for just a moment, nothing else holding us together but the strength of his hands. I could break away with ease. I didn’t have to let him touch me, hold me—but fuck, I wanted it. I wanted him desperately, and I’d done such a shit job of hiding it that it was no wonder he felt free to try.
His lips trembled against mine, and he began to pull back, already drawing in a stuttering breath to—what, apologize? No. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him in closer before he could escape, initiated another kiss, then another. God, he felt good—warm and firm against my palms and chest, even better when I drew him in closer and felt him getting hard. Good.
Mal finally pulled away to suck in a breath. “I’m—I should shower, I’m still sticky.”
“You’re going to be even stickier soon,” I promised.
He laughed. “That’s—what, meant to be alluring?”
“Yeah.” I started to unbutton his shirt with one hand, pulling it off his shoulders as soon as I could. His skin was a little bit red from the juice, but mostly pale and smooth, with a little smattering of coarse blond chest hair. I scraped my thumbnail over a nipple, enjoying his tiny gasp. “Is it working?”
“Shockingly, yes.” He moved his hands to my back and tucked his fingertips beneath the edge of my pants. “Is this?”
“Everything about you works for me, Mal.” It was the truth too. From the way he spoke—I was as much of a sucker as any American for a hot accent—to his intrinsic toughness, to the way he looked at me; it all turned me on. I kissed him again, swallowing every tiny noise he made and giving up my own, because fuck it, he should know. I wanted him to hear and see and feel how much I wanted him, because he deserved that honesty, and also because screw his goddamn ex, that asshole didn’t know what he’d had.
He sure as fuck didn’t have Mal now.
I guided us back toward one of the beds—the coverlet was a cheap, scratchy polyester, so I pulled it off and laid Mal down on soft cotton sheets instead. He looked up at me, kiss-swollen and dark-eyed and happy, and that was it. My self-control fractured as I pulled back just long enough to whip my own shirt over my head and unbutton the top of my pants, then kick them off as I settled back on top of him.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Mal murmured against my mouth. His hands skated over my body, eager but light.
“Harder,” I told him.
“You’re injured, I don’t want to hurt you.”
If he’d been someone like Carter, I would have assumed he was mocking me. But Mal meant it, was actually worried about making my superficial cuts and bruises worse. It was sweet, but unnecessary. “Just don’t hit me in the nose and I think we’ll be okay,” I said, then bit down on his lower lip—not too hard, just to see what he did with it. He hissed, but instead of pulling away arched up into me, grinding his groin against mine.
Okay, then.
I kissed him harder, then scraped down his chin and the side of his neck with my teeth as I pressed down against him, rolling my rigid cock from side to side over his. He shuddered, his hands tightening on my shoulders. The pressure against my scar made me groan, but it was good, a release—the kind of release I’d gone for so long without. “Let me get you naked,” I said before tugging at his earlobe. “Let me get my hands on you.”
“Fuck.” He blinked up at me, then nodded quickly. “Yes, do that.”
“Yessir.” I pulled back far enough to work a hand between us, undo the top button and zipper on his pants, then pull the whole mess down until he was bare. I still had briefs on, but Mal’s hands wandered down to my ass, where he grabbed the fabric and tugged it away before palming each cheek.
I groaned again, burying my face in his shoulder and baring my teeth against his skin. Our cocks brushed against each other, and I saw stars swirl across the black of my eyelids. “Jesus Christ,” I gritted out before reaching down and taking him in my hand.
His skin was dry, a little tacky here and there from sweat, but warm and hard and velvety soft all at once. I stroked him, ran my palm over the head of his penis and stroked again, a little smoother this time. Mal shut his eyes and bit his lower lip. I leaned in close to his ear.
“How do you like it? How do you want to come, huh? You want me to stroke you like this until you make a mess?” A bead of precome oozed from the tip of his cock, and I captured it on my thumb and rubbed it down his length. “You want me to find some lube and finger you while I blow you? Do you want my dick inside of you?”
“What—what do you—like—”
“I like everything,” I said. “I want to try everything with you.” Fuck, I did—all the stuff I loved and then the things I’d never really tried, too unsure to ask for them with a new partner. “I could come just from this.” I rubbed myself against Mal’s abdomen, over his cock again—he whined, and I knew I had a winner. “Just fuck against you until we both come, like this.” I moved my hand away and pressed down harder, so there was nothing between us, then used one hand to grab his ass. “Push back, c’mon.” He eagerly complied, planting his feet and thrusting up against me, one hand buried in my hair, the other clenching against my lower back as he found a rhythm he liked.
“Fuck, that’s it.” This was simple sex, high-school sex, but it felt goddamn amazing. Mal’s eyes were closed, a furrow of pleasure and concentration between his eyebrows as he rutted up against me, chasing his orgasm. I moved with him, pushing us toward the edge, reveling in the feel of his dick pressed to mine, slipping and sliding over my groin and stomach. “Come on, c’mon,” I whispered, then leaned down and captured his lips again before biting the arch of his neck.
“Fuck, Alex, fuck—” He thrust up one last time and came, holding me so tight that I could barely move against him. It felt amazing, and as soon as he relaxed a bit, I reached down and jerked myself off, slicking my hand with his come to ease the way. I clenched my jaw shut to stifle my groan, the pleasure so intense I folded in the middle like a cheap paper napkin. I fell onto the mattress beside Mal, panting, and stared dazedly at the ceiling. Mal’s hand found its way into mine, and despite the fact that I was sticky and gross, I held on tight.
“That,” Mal said after a few minutes of mutual afterglow, “was astonishingly good, but I really feel the need for a shower now.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. Same.” I turned my head to look at him. His golden hair was just long enough to look tousled, and his eyes and mouth seemed soft and content. I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand. “You can go first.”
“I think, actually—” My phone buzzed from somewhere over the edge of the bed, and Mal huffed.
“You say that’s Gerard?”
“It was the last twelve times.”
“Let’s put a stop to it then, shall we?” He let go of me and leaned over the bottom of the bed, fishing around in my pants until he came back with my phone, swiping to answer. “Hello?” he said languidly.
“Malcolm?” God, the man had a loud voice—I could hear him clear as a bell even though we weren’t on speaker. “What are you doing with—never mind, it doesn’t matter. What’s the status of the scepter? How soon will you have it back? I don’t need to remind you that the opening of the exhibit is drawing close. If you want even a shred of a chance of regaining your professional credibility, you’ll see to it that—”
“Yes, yes, let’s skip the part where you pretend to have any concern at all for my professional credibility and aren’t solely concerned for your own skin,” Mal interjected. “We’re making progress, but you calling Alex every five minutes isn’t helping matters any. Turn your phone off for a while, go have some drinks, and bang some wide-eyed intern who pretends not to care that you’re a self-absorbed berk. We’ll contact you when we’ve got our hands on the scepter and not before.” I had to laugh, loud enough to hear, apparently.
“I—you�
�wait, what the hell are you doing with that man?” Gerard demanded. “Are you together right now? Did you—did you have sex with him? With that ape in a suit? Are you off your head?”
“Harsh words for the man saving your arse,” Mal said calmly. “I think we’re done here. If you have any questions about the status of the retrieval, contact Mr. Kensington. Good night, Gerard.”
“I’m not done with you, Malcolm—”
Mal ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. It started ringing immediately. “He’s really quite insufferable, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he is.” I grabbed the phone and blocked his number, then sent a quick text to Robert letting him know he might want to do some damage control with Lord Thorburn. “But he’s not our problem now.”
Mal looked a bit sheepish. “I probably didn’t help things all that much, did I?”
“You didn’t hurt them,” I assured him. “We really don’t owe him anything. He’s not the client, after all. It’s not his name on the contract. He should have to go through Mr. Ashad for any information. I’m sure Robert will remind him of all that.” I grabbed Mal’s hands and pulled him over into a kiss. He came eagerly but closed the final distance with care to avoid touching my tender nose. Jesus. I worked my fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss. I had never been so comfortable so fast with another man, happy just to touch him, to kiss him—kissing hadn’t featured large in a lot of my lightning-fast relationships.
“How about we share the shower?” I asked once we separated a few inches, both of us breathing hard.
“Sounds perfect.”
I DECIDED not to worry about what was happening between me and Mal. I didn’t have the bandwidth for more worry right now, not when I was already losing sleep over the job. What happened had happened, and if it happened again, I’d count myself fucking lucky, because Mal was… something else. He was something special. I hadn’t even known him a week and I could see that, clear as day. I never thought I’d find someone who could distract me from the work in front of me, but Mal managed it as easy as breathing.