The Agent

by Herkness, Nancy

  She whistled. “Well, that’s quite a sight.” His massive shoulders were sculpted with muscle that flexed and jumped as she touched the warm skin.

  There were scars too, but nothing shocking, as though he’d managed to dodge the worst of whatever came at him. “I won’t ask,” she said as she ran her finger over a two-inch-long line that slashed across two ribs, surprised at how much the thought of his pain bothered her.

  “As long as you keep touching, I’ll tell you anything you want.”

  She rolled onto her side and kissed the scar. When she ran her tongue along the raised skin of the old wound, he sucked in a harsh breath. “What about the ones under your jeans?” she asked against his skin.

  His laugh was part groan. “You have a unique way of getting a man to undress.”

  “It’s working, isn’t it?”

  She reached for his belt buckle but he dodged her hands and stood to pull off his boots and strip away his jeans and briefs. His erection stood high and proud above the carved stretch of his powerful thighs.

  The longing to have him inside her surged like a tidal wave. She pushed upright to slide off her blouse and unhook her bra.

  As the lacy fabric fell away, he curved his palms under her breasts to lift them. “I could spend hours just enjoying these,” he said, his gaze locked on them. The bruises Matt had left on her confidence faded under his obvious admiration.

  “I’m hoping you can enjoy two things at once.” She grabbed his biceps to pull herself to her feet and unbuttoned her jeans.

  “Sweetheart, let me have the pleasure.” He drew down her zipper and peeled the denim down her hips and legs, leaving her pink-lace panties in place. She kicked off her flats so she could step out of the jeans he held for her. Then he knelt in front of her so he was at eye level with her navel.

  She held her breath as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slowly dragged them down her thighs, her calves, and her ankles to pool on the floor, his fingers leaving a trail of phantom fire over her skin.

  He brushed his palms up her legs to her butt, which he cupped hard to bring her closer so he could kiss one hip bone before he moved his mouth lower. When he kissed her just above her mound, his touch seemed to spiral down to the craving within her.

  “Sit on the bed,” he said, his breath whispering over her skin. “I want to taste you.”

  She sat and leaned back on her hands. He pushed her knees apart so he could find her clit with his tongue, flicking it and then sucking on it before he slipped the tip of his tongue inside her. The pleasure of it sent fireworks bursting through her. “Oh, God, Tully!” she moaned as she fell backward onto the bed because her arms wouldn’t hold her up any longer. “Please, yes!”

  He huffed a warm gust of air against her before he pulled at her clit again, making her spine arch upward. She had just climaxed, yet here was a new one building.

  She sat up and reached down to pull his head away from her. “I want you inside me when I come.”

  “I love a demanding woman,” he said, looking up at her with a glaze of lust over his face even as he grinned. He reached for his jeans and fished a condom out of his wallet.

  She held out her hand. He ripped the envelope open with his teeth and handed it to her before he rose to his impressive height. His cock tempted her into licking the salty little bead of semen off the tip and then putting her mouth over the head to flick her tongue against it.

  When she sucked at him, he inhaled sharply before he pulled out of her mouth. “You might want to put that condom on now,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She smiled to herself as she rolled the condom down the length of him. He wasn’t as patient as he claimed to be. She gave him an extra stroke as proof.

  Before she realized what was happening, he had seized her waist and moved her toward the center of the bed as though she weighed nothing. He followed her, driving one knee between her thighs and then using the other to spread them so he could fit his hips in their V. He laced his fingers with hers beside her head and braced himself over her on his forearms, his chest just grazing the hard tips of her nipples so the hair tickled deliciously.

  He eased his cock inside her, her wetness allowing him to slide deeper. He was big, and she hadn’t had sex in three years, so she felt the stretch and reveled in it. The hollowness was filled and her nerve endings danced with electric delight.

  “Are you good?” he asked.

  “So good!” She rocked her hips to prove it.

  He began to move slowly, pulling nearly all the way out before plunging back in. The hard length of him felt so perfect within her she felt tears filling her eyes. She blinked them back because she knew he would stop if he thought he was hurting her. And she did not want him to stop. A light, wonderful feeling was blooming inside her.

  Except he did stop, driving into her and then curling himself down enough to find her nipple with his lips. When he sucked it into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it, she felt like a pinball machine being lit up by a ball careening in every direction. “Yes! Like that!”

  He shifted to her other breast, pulling hard on it so her muscles spasmed around his cock.

  That drew a groan from him that vibrated right through her. He released her nipple and locked his eyes on her face while he began to thrust again, this time faster and harder.

  The motion ratcheted her arousal higher and higher.

  “Come for me, baby,” he commanded. “I want to watch you come.”

  She wrapped her legs around his hips to tilt her pelvis against him. When he drove in, he hit her clit and she shrieked as every molecule of her body contracted and then blew apart, her muscles pulsing around him.

  “Oh yeah, Nat!” he shouted as he pumped inside her, the tendons of his neck taut with exertion.

  They arched and shuddered in unison, their bodies locked together as they propelled each other to climax and then melted back onto the bed, lax with release. Tully’s full weight came down on her for a second before he rolled to the side, bringing her with him to rest on top of his rock-hard body. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his chest, the bang of his heartbeat loud against her ear.

  “That was really something, sweetheart,” he said, blowing out a long breath and stroking one hand down the length of her back to rest on her buttock, his palm warm against her bare skin.

  “Define ‘something.’” She smiled without opening her eyes.

  “The hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life,” he said without missing a beat.

  She found that hard to believe, but it was gentlemanly of him to say so. “Ditto.”

  He pretended to be insulted. “Ditto?! That’s the best you can do?”

  “Brain fried. Can’t form sentences.”

  His chuckle rumbled through her. “Good recovery.”

  It felt so good to be skin to skin with this man, the angles and curves of his body pressing against hers in interesting ways. She grazed her fingers over the hair sprinkled across his chest, the texture uniquely masculine somehow. Or maybe that was just because the hair was attached to an overwhelmingly male body. The outside of his thigh lay against the inside of hers so she could feel the hard bulge of muscle there. And he radiated a delicious heat that made her nestle into him.

  His other arm wrapped across her back. “You cold, sweetheart?”

  “Not with you under me,” she said.

  He chuckled. “I run a little hot.”

  “It feels good. You feel good.” She wanted to lie there—her body sated and relaxed—for as long as she could.

  His stomach growled.

  “Ignore that,” he said.

  “You’re hungry.”

  “Only for you.” He gave her butt a squeeze.

  She propped her hands on his chest and lifted her head to look at him. “Did you have lunch?”

  He squinted in thought. “I don’t remember.”

  “That’s a no. Let’s get you something to eat.” She tried to
sit up but he didn’t release her.

  “Give it a few minutes,” he said. “I like having a blanket of satisfied woman draped over me.”

  “You need to keep your strength up so we can do, er, this again.” But she settled back down onto his chest.

  “I don’t need food to do this again.” He kissed the top of her head. “You inspire me to superhuman efforts.”

  “Superhuman? You think highly of your skills,” she teased.

  “Only when combined with yours.” He was silent a moment before he said, “It makes me real happy that you want to do this again.”

  “Did you think I was a one-hit wonder?”

  “No, ma’am. Just that I’m one lucky cowboy.”

  She laughed and let herself relax into him again. When was the last time she’d felt this good in a man’s arms? Matt had stopped holding her after sex years ago. He would finish and roll to his side of the bed, leaving her to bring herself to orgasm. He told her it was her fault that he found her so sexually uninteresting that he couldn’t be bothered with her pleasure.

  The insidious sense of failure began to creep through her again, twining its ugly black tentacles through her mind and soul, so she shoved Matt back into the box she’d built for him. The black tentacles weren’t as easy to remove. Except when Tully was looking at her like she was the best thing since sliced bread.

  Bread. Tully needed to eat. “Okay, cowboy, let’s get you fed.”

  He sat up, hauling her with him. “I can cook for myself.”

  “We’ll make it a joint effort.” She leaned off the bed to scoop up her panties and jeans from the floor.

  “Nothing could taste as good as you,” he rumbled against her skin before he kissed her shoulder.

  “And I’m low cal too,” she joked, but pleasure swooped through her. He chuckled and bent to pick up his clothes. She admired the expanse of skin that rippled over the flexing muscles in his back. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to leave off the shirt.”

  “As long as I don’t have to stand over a frying pan.”

  “I promise to do all the frying.” She skimmed her panties up her legs and stood to put on her jeans. She looked around for her bra.

  “Can I make the same deal with you?” he asked with an interested gleam in his eyes.

  She laughed. “Not if I’m cooking.”

  He stood up behind her and snaked his arms around her rib cage to cup her breasts, sending another shot of pleasure sparkling into her core. “I could protect your bare skin from splatter like this.”

  “Nice try, but you just wanted to cop a feel.” She brushed his hands away with a certain reluctance.

  “Busted.” True to his word, he dressed in just his briefs and jeans, not even bothering with his boots.

  He leaned one shoulder on her doorjamb, his gaze appreciative as she finished dressing. She could feel the weight of it like a brush over her skin. After she ran a comb through her hair, she turned and let her eyes take in the sight of him. Sex-tousled hair. Gray eyes lit with residual lust. Door-filling shoulders roped with muscle under bare skin. Ridged abs under the soft dusting of brown hair. Long denim-wrapped legs crossed at the ankles. Wide, strong bare feet.

  “I’m putting you on the menu,” she said.

  He pushed away from the door and prowled over to her to hook his fingers in her belt loops. “I was thinking that you would be dessert. On the counter. Legs open while I lick you.”

  His words tickled over her, setting little fires everywhere.

  “But first the main course.” He used one hand to spin her into his side so he could hustle her toward the bedroom door.

  Tully sat on a stool at the counter, slicing and dicing the various vegetables Natalie put in front of him. It felt strange to cook half-naked but worth it for the admiring heat in her eyes. Everything else about the situation felt good. Maybe too good.

  But watching Nat move around her kitchen, throwing together a chicken dish of some sort, made him happy. It could be the way her blonde hair swung against her cheek, reminding him of its silky texture when she rested her head on his shoulder. Or maybe the glimpse of her delicate little feet with their pink-polished nails. She’d disappointed him by putting on a bra, but her T-shirt still outlined those beautiful breasts that he’d sucked to hard points while she arched into him. His cock began to stir, so he brought his focus back to the tomato he was slicing for the salad.

  “You’ve gotten quiet,” Nat said, looking up from the sink as she washed more vegetables.

  “Basking in the afterglow, sweetheart,” he said. “And enjoying the sight of you.”

  “Oh, I understand enjoying the sights.” She gave him a sexy slant of a smile.

  “Am I being objectified?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m fine with that.”

  “Let’s just say that I would cook a lot more if you were always my sous-chef.”

  He chuckled, feeling that dangerous sense of rightness again. He usually avoided this kind of domestic scene. It made him want things he couldn’t have. He needed to remind himself that he was here to protect her.

  “After we eat, I’ll get the cameras installed,” he said.

  She went still, staring down at the water running over her hands. “I’d actually forgotten about the stalker.” She shook her head. “Did you make love to me to distract me?”

  “I made love to you because I’ve wanted to for weeks.” He realized he sounded pissed off, so he softened his tone. “And it was worth the wait.”

  “That was a joke,” she said with a wry look. “Mostly.”

  He wanted to drop the knife and put his arms around her, but she started messing with the raw chicken.

  He hated that she was afraid of the stalker but he felt confident he would catch the culprit soon. What he couldn’t fix was her lack of confidence. Here was this beautiful, passionate woman who believed he would take her to bed as some sort of professional kindness. And he’d caught that same undercurrent of self-doubt in other comments she’d made.

  Her SOB of an ex-husband must have really done a number on her. His grip on the knife tightened until his knuckles went white. Yeah, he would have to pay a visit to Matt the Dirtbag. Maybe scare him just a little as payback. Of course, if he turned out to be the stalker, Tully would do a lot more than scare him.

  He whacked the hell out of the tomato and piled the slices on a plate. “Got something else I can hack up?”

  She tossed him a green pepper before she braced her hands on the counter and said, “I don’t get it. You’re rich, successful, fantastic in bed, and you chop vegetables. Why aren’t you married?”

  He placed the pepper carefully on the cutting board, even as her words expanded in his chest. “Is that a proposal?”

  “You’re a great guy but I have no intention of ever marrying again.” Her voice rang with conviction before she smiled. “So no need to panic.”

  “I’m not the marrying kind.” His standard brush-off. Then he realized he wanted to be partially honest with her. “When I was in the FBI, I gravitated toward the more, er, exciting assignments. That wasn’t conducive to family life.”

  “I’m guessing that ‘exciting’ is code for dangerous.” She threw a bunch of ingredients in with the chicken. “But now your job is less hazardous.”

  He shrugged. “I got out of the habit of thinking about marriage.” Again, partially correct. The real truth was that he refused to have children. He’d seen his parents pass on their problems to his siblings and, in a way, to himself. Not a chance that he was going to do that to another generation.

  She gave him a sideways smile. “It only takes two months to form a new habit. You’d make such a wonderful, overprotective dad.”

  A sense of loss jabbed at him. He liked kids but he would make do with being a Big Brother. “Emphasis on the ‘overprotective,’” he said with a wry grimace. “It’s a tough world to raise kids in.”

  “Is that why you shy away from it? You’ve seen too much of
the underbelly of life?”

  “I’m an adrenaline junkie. That’s not a good way to be, if you’re a father.” He’d admitted his addiction to her and that was enough on the topic. He scraped the chopped peppers into his hand. “Where do you want these?”

  She slid a small glass bowl across the counter. “Sorry. That was a personal question.”

  “It’s fine, but I’m curious about why you asked,” he admitted.

  “Seeing you there at my kitchen counter, with a knife in one hand and a pepper in the other, made me look at you in a different way, I guess. I’d never imagined you at home before. You seem as comfortable here as you are with a gun in your hand.”

  She was way too right about that. “You make me comfortable.” Nope, that was the wrong thing to say because he didn’t want to acknowledge the truth of it. “Besides, I figure the faster I chop, the faster I’ll eat.”

  She laughed, a low musical sound. “The chicken is going in the oven now. Let me add some shrimp to the salad so you can dig right into that.”

  While she plated the salads—one large, one tiny—he admired her slim, elegant fingers, remembering how they felt on his skin. It struck him that she felt free to prod him about marriage because she meant it when she said she would never marry again. That gave her the freedom to discuss his marital status because she had no interest in his answers for herself. Anger at her ex-husband roiled up again. Natalie shouldn’t be alone for the rest of her life because of that asshat.

  Natalie laid her hand on Tully’s solid shoulder—regrettably, now covered by his T-shirt—and leaned over to peer at her laptop. The screen was split into four quadrants, one for each side of her house. “Wow! You covered everything.”

  He shook his head. “I need to adjust camera three. There’s still a small blind spot just below it. If your stalker is tech savvy enough to use a key-fob reader, he could figure out the blind spot.”

  Natalie’s stomach lurched. Tully had made sure she had the number for the local police dispatcher on speed dial. He’d also followed up her call to the police chief to make sure the cop took her stalker seriously.