by Vicki Tharp
There was a way to talk to Spinks without Bradley knowing? She scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side. A little hope crept in, making the anchor in her stomach seem lighter. “Get the word out? How?”
“Spinks and I set up a code for cases like this.”
“You going to text him now?”
“I think it’s best to wait until morning. We all need a good night’s sleep. I don’t want to send something out and be worrying all night that Martin might figure it out and take it out on you or Jack. At least I’ll be in the house in the morning and be able to keep an eye on Martin in case he decides to do something stupid.”
Even though Gil had a point, Tessa deflated. She wasn’t cut out for the watch and wait, the lies, the constant cat and mouse, the looking over your shoulder non-stop.
“Come here.” The warm compassion in his voice made her want to climb into his lap and let him wrap her in his arms, her own personal Gil cocoon to protect her from reality. That bitch.
She took his outstretched hand, and let him pull her onto his lap, as she tucked her head under his chin. Beneath the faded scent of his cologne, she smelled the tangy mix of gunpowder and dried sweat on his skin. It wasn’t unpleasant. It reminded her of the kind of man he was. The kind who acted. The kind of man who did whatever it took to get a dangerous job done.
He held her tight and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, one of his thumbs tracing a lazy circle at the angle of her hip. She touched a kiss to his neck, the pulse bumping against her lips. Her tongue sneaking out, a touch, a taste.
She didn’t know when the line was crossed, when the soft contented sighs turned to moans, when chaste kisses turned hot and opened mouthed, and his lightest touch morphed into a tantalizing caress.
Gil shifted, gathering her in his arms, and laid her back on the bed. He shucked his boots and knelt between her legs, taking his weight on his arms. “I should go.” The kiss that followed made her back arch and her nerves short circuit.
Inside, something elemental shifted as Gil busted through the last of her defenses.
Was what they shared real? She wanted him. Not just now. Not just for the relief, for the sex. They were good at using their bodies for pleasure, but now she wanted more from him than to scratch an itch.
This was a forever kind of feeling—breakfasts in bed on a lazy Sunday, sex in the sun, spats about who left the car on empty, Legos underfoot, apologies when you weren’t at fault, a warm leg thrown over yours at in the middle of the night, loud snores…
The everyday. The mundane.
But from day one, nothing about their relationship had been ordinary, and it sure as hell hadn’t been mundane. Crisis was a brittle glue that often brought people together.
It wasn’t strong.
It wasn’t pliable.
It couldn’t be trusted.
He said he loved you.
That, for whatever reason, she trusted.
15
The house was quiet. A smart man would get his ass back to the apartment before someone found out he wasn’t in his room. But he’d be lying if he said that the element of danger, the threat of getting caught, didn’t flare within him like lighter fluid on hot coals.
As much as he wanted to stay, he said, “I should go.” Which was a dick move because what he really should do was get off that bed and climb down the drainpipe, and not give Tessa the option.
His heart thumped in his chest, counting out the seconds, waiting for her response.
“Stay.” The surprise on Tessa’s face had to match his own. “I didn’t expect to say that.”
“I’m glad you did. And as much as I enjoyed having sex in the back of the helo and the loft of the barn, I must admit, my knees are looking forward to making love to you in a real bed.”
“The eight hundred thread count sheets are a plus.”
“I may have to splurge and buy us a set when we get back.” Which kind of implied they would still be together. Which he knew would kind of freak her out.
Before that slip of the tongue registered in her brain, and she could say something along the lines of ‘I like you…but’ he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She came to rest in the V of his legs, his erection already strength testing the limits of his zipper.
She ground her hips against him, and he swallowed the rising groan. Reaching for the hem of her shirt, he stripped it over her head and tossed it toward the balcony. Her panties followed. His clothes landed with a soft fruuumph on the floor.
As they resettled on the bed, she straddled him. Gil slid his hands up her muscular thighs, skimmed them over the flat of her abdomen, and up, up to the soft curve of her breasts. In the past, he’d always preferred big breasts, but the handful Tessa had was more than enough. A cup size larger and they’d unbalance her lithe, athletic body.
Her nipples were sensitive, the slightest tug of his thumb and forefinger and she arched, digging her pelvis into his. She reached between them and in one smooth movement, sheathed him.
So tight, so right.
Their eyes locked. They didn’t have a condom.
“We could stop,” he offered, however insincere it may have sounded.
She shook her head.
“I could pull out.”
In answer, she started moving, and his eyes wanted to roll into the back of his head. He gripped her hips and stilled her. Gritting his teeth and blowing out several harsh pants as he tried to coax his control back from the brink.
“Out of breath already, special agent?” Tessa teased as she leaned in and nipped at his bottom lip. “We haven’t even gotten started.”
He wanted to wrap his arms around her shoulders and hug her against him, but she had that naughty, wicked look in her eyes and he knew if he let go of her hips, it would be all over. “Gotta give me a sec.”
He swallowed hard, and those luscious lips of hers curved into a grin. “I don’t have a sec. I haven’t had sex in eight days.”
“It had been years before that, and you survived.”
“I’d forgotten how good it can be.” She started moving again, breaking the hold he had on her. “Thanks to you, now I remember.”
Oh, hell. Why was he fighting? If he’d worn tighty-whities, he’d wave them in surrender.
Upping the pace, her hair went flying, her breasts bouncing as he met her stroke for deep stroke. She made that little moan in the back of her throat that he already knew meant she was close.
With an arm around her waist, he reversed their positions and linked their fingers beside her head. Sweat dampened hair stuck to her forehead and he couldn’t remember when he’d ever seen her look so ravishing.
He kissed her, stroking her tongue with his in a steady, sensuous rhythm. Then came that little moan again, and Gil lifted his head and smiled. Tessa giggled.
His heart stuttered for a beat. “What’s funny?”
“You,” she said. “You look mighty smug.”
“That’s because I’m about to make you come.”
“Oh, ye…” By the way her voice rose, he knew it was going to come out as a question, like ‘oh, yeah?’ but he changed the angle and upped the pace and the word caught in her throat. She swallowed hard and arched against him. “Oh, yeah. Right… right… there.”
He felt the tingle at the base of his balls as she locked her ankles behind his ass driving him hard and deep. Her breaths huffed in and out in short, little pants, and her internal muscles started to squeeze around him.
He covered her mouth with his and swallowed the sound of her soft cries. She was on the verge, but he couldn’t hold out any longer. He was amazed he’d been able to last as long as he had. Gil reached a hand between them to grab his cock, and pull out, but Tessa locked her legs even tighter.
If he didn’t pull out now—
When he reached a hand back to unlock her ankles, she said, “No, don’t.”
He stilled, her eyes were half-mast when their eyes locked, but even in the
dim light he could tell they were clear, focused.
“Come with me.” She thrust against him.
His forehead dropped to her chest. She hadn’t said she loved him, but with those three little words, she might as well have. They both knew the potential consequences. Her far more than him.
For her to accept that, to accept him, made his throat tight and heat bloom behind his sternum.
Raising a kid alone had to be a challenge. But if she did get pregnant, she wouldn’t be raising his kid alone, or even raising Jack alone if he had his say.
He wrapped his arms around her, their skin slick as his strokes became quick and erratic. Her muscles clamped down around him, her mouth opened to cry out as the scuffle of boots on rocks beneath the balcony drifted through the ajar balcony door.
She must have heard it too, because at the last second, her teeth latched onto his shoulder, muffling her cry, but sending him over that jagged edge. He grunted into the crook of her neck as his balls squeezed, and his cock pulsed.
She relaxed beneath him as she came back to herself and brought a hand to cover her mouth and quiet her breathing. He breathed through his nose, but the way his lungs burned and his chest bellowed, he might as well be breathing through a straw.
More rocks shifted and ground beneath someone’s boots. Gil didn’t dare move. The smell of cigarettes drifted up. Menthol. One of the security guys must be catching a smoke.
As Gil went soft within her, the smell of smoke dissipated and the only sounds that came from outside were the far-off yips of coyotes on the hunt.
“That was close.” Gil didn’t dare talk above a whisper. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rolled onto his back. “You okay?”
She turned her head, her eyes searching his face, for what he didn’t know. Her features were soft, but there was a severity in her eyes that told him the gears were already grinding in her head. “Am I okay? Are you asking about Bradley, almost getting caught in flagrante delicto, or the unprotected sex?”
How could he not love this woman? After spending all that time undercover, he found her directness refreshing. Her unflinching ability to go straight to the heart of the matter, her unwillingness to waste time and play head games was refreshing—like a sprint through the sprinklers under a scorching summer sun.
He cupped her cheek and brushed a kiss against her lips as he poured himself into that briefest of touches. This wasn’t about turning her on, this was about much more than that.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. If that was the case, if that flutter of a camera’s shutter can tell a short story, then an intimate touch, no matter how brief, could speak volumes for his heart.
“What was that for?”
“To let you know I’m here. That whatever this world throws at us, I’m not going anywhere.” She covered his hand with hers, her eyes drifting closed as if she were absorbing his truth. “But to answer your question, yes. I mean all three. Or more if you have them.”
“I think those three are enough to deal with right now. About Bradley, I like to think that good conquers evil and that he won’t win, but this isn’t a Marvel movie. In real life, the bad guys get away. All. The. Time. About almost getting caught, I’m not sure I’ve been that scared and aroused at the same time. I don’t know how I feel about that. Still processing. About the unprotected sex…”
Her gaze slipped from his and focused somewhere behind him. His chest hitched as the air backed up in his lungs. He’d forgotten to breathe. Now he was afraid to. Afraid he might find out the reason she hadn’t told him she loved him was that she didn’t.
“I think…” She started, then stopped, then started again. “If I made a social media post about having unprotected sex, one side would be all #itsyourbody, and the other side would be all #irresponsible. It would get ugly. Name calling would ensue, threats would be made, and I would have to shut off the comments.”
“You’re not the type to let your private life go streaking through social media. I want to know what you think?”
She locked her eyes on his. The edge, and more noteworthy, the worry, was gone. “It’s… it’s more what I know. If we made a kid, no matter what happens between us, I know he—”
“Or she.”
Tessa’s lips curve up. “Or she will be loved beyond measure. I know that it may not always be easy. I know that we could be judged or ridiculed or whatever people think when they are on the outside looking in. The most important thing is, I know I made that decision with my eyes and my heart wide open, and I know, I know, that you’d never let me do this alone.”
Gil smiled. “You bet your ass.” He didn’t dare hope that she became pregnant, but on some level he still did. He brushed the hair away from her face. “As much as I hate to say this, I really should go.”
“You’ve said that already.” She nodded, but then said, “Stay.”
He couldn’t risk staying the night, they both knew it, though neither one voiced it. They got cleaned up, and dressed and ended up back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, Gil’s booted feet hanging over the side, Tessa curled up against him, his arm around her waist. His eyes drifted closed, but his body was buzzing from the sex, the adrenaline, from the lazy way her hand traced the tattoo on his forearm.
“When did you get this?”
“A while ago. Soon after I got out of the Corps.”
“Is it some kind of memorial?”
His usual flip response, ‘I thought it was badass,’ didn’t make it past his lips. He didn’t want to push Tessa away, he wanted to bring her closer. The only way to do that was to let her in. “You know, I was at Healing Horses for a reason, right? It helps treat—”
“I know how they help veterans. I’m not trying to pry, I—”
“I know. It’s okay. The Marines. My deployments. They changed me. Not all for the worse. Not all for the better. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need the help the program offered. This…” He wiggled is forearm indicating the tattoo, “…was my primitive way of dealing with all that. I guess deep down I’d hoped it would keep the demons at bay.”
“Does it work?” If she was skeptical or thought he was a complete nutter, her tone didn’t show it.
“Better than I’d thought.” He blew out a breath, and a soft, rueful chuckle escaped with it. “Not as much as I’d like.”
She didn’t offer any empty platitudes. She was a veteran herself with shit of her own she had to deal with, Gil had no doubt. In her peaceful silence, he heard her acceptance. His past was a part of him. It always would be. He would never forget, he didn’t want to, but with Healing Horses, he’d come to learn that he could live with it.
Sloan showed Tessa into Bradley’s office early the next morning. She gripped the extra-large cup of coffee in her hand and took a fortifying sip. If she was going to have to deal with Bradley while sleep deprived, then she was going to need a mega jolt of caffeine.
Bradley leaned against the front of his desk in a pair of dark slacks and a white dress shirt. The top button was undone, with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He hadn’t even shaved that morning. Practically slovenly for him. It was the first time since he’d been back in her life that he hadn’t worn a suit or been impeccably groomed.
They were alone in his office. Tessa glanced at the open door of the empty safe. When she glanced back at Bradley, he had a smile on his face, heavy on the irony, even heavier on the smug asshole.
“How’s Jack?” she asked.
“I have a job for you. A way for you to start earning my trust.”
Trust. Hah. Tessa wanted to throw her head back and laugh. Bradley wouldn’t know trust if it came up and bit him on the balls. “Answer my question. How’s Jack?” She had no leverage, but that didn’t stop her. Not where her son was concerned.
“He’s fine. I’m sure.” I’m sure. As in he hasn’t even seen Jack with his own eyes to be positive.
“I want to see him.”
“No problem. A
s soon as you complete the job.”
“If I refuse?”
Bradley’s eyes went dark, and his grin turned ugly as he teetered on the narrow edge between practiced civility and vicious bastard. “You seem to forget who’s in charge here. You finish the job like a good girl, and I’ll make sure you see your son.”
His words fell miles short of reassuring. Something lurked beneath his words. She didn’t know if it was insincerity or deceit or plain evil that she detected, but she didn’t trust one word that he said, but for now, she had to play her part in the charade. Her and Gil’s only advantage, was that Bradley didn’t know she’d told Gil everything.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Tessa said, “What do you want me to do?”
A knock came at the door. “Come,” Bradley said.
Tessa turned as Gil came in. With her back to Bradley, she raised her brows at him, asking the un-askable question—had he been able to contact Spinks?
Gil gave her a curt nod to answer her question. “Ms. Sterling.”
He came to a stop a few feet away, his stance wide, clasping a wrist in front of him. “You asked to see me, sir?”
As good as Gil looked all decked out in a suit, with his jaw smooth and his hair short, she much preferred the brawny, bearded, badass version.
“I have a last-minute investor. Someone I couldn’t refuse.” Bradley looked at Tessa when he said, “I need you to fly to Montana to get the money.” Then he looked at Gil and said, “And I need you to ensure the money gets back to me safely.”
“Montana? Are you kidding me?” The pitch of Tessa’s voice jumped an octave, maybe two.
Bradley raised a brow. It was no joke.
“You got a Blackhawk stashed away up here that I don’t know about?” Somehow it wouldn’t surprise her if he did.
“No. A Robinson 44.”
Tessa laughed and didn’t bother to hide her incredulity or her frustration. “I’ve never flown a Robinson. All helos aren’t the same. You can’t just switch from one to the other. It’s not like going from a monster truck to a subcompact.”