Her Spy to Hold (Spy Games Book 2) (16 page)

And if he no longer believed her work on the weapons systems design was the reason behind those pop-ups and the botnet, how long would it be before he took his investigation elsewhere and was gone from her life?

Maybe she should take his advice and stop analyzing everything.

He was slouched on her sofa with his bare feet on the coffee table, the remote in his hand and his wrist resting on his thigh. His eyes were on the television, but she suspected, by the slight frown on his face, that his mind was elsewhere. He’d unfastened and combed out his hair. It touched his wide shoulders in blond waves that she itched to dip her fingers into. His shirt was untucked from his jeans.

He could be a centerfold for hot guys at leisure.

The room was lit by the screen and one lamp. She flicked the lamp off. When he looked up, she reached down and plucked the remote from his grasp. She dangled it from her fingertips. “I believe this is mine.”

She hit the off button on the remote and the television went silent. The curtains were open, filling the room with a feeble light that leached all the color.

He didn’t move. “You have no idea how much I want to peel off every piece of your clothes and lick every inch of your skin, but I promised I’d keep my attention on my job, not my dick.”

She tried hard to sound casual. “So keep your attention on your job. I’ll keep mine on your…” She swallowed, forcing the word past her lips. “Dick.”

His soft chuckle rolled over her. He swung his feet to the floor and stood. “Stripteases. Talking dirty. I feel like I’ve corrupted a Catholic schoolgirl.”

“I’m older than you are.” He was thirty. She was thirty-two.

“That’s even worse. I’ve corrupted Mother Teresa. I’m going straight to hell.” He took her arms in his hands, his thumbs brushing the soft inner flesh. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I was. I am.” She bit her lip. “So make me change my mind.”

He slid his palms up and down her bare skin, his touch light and his palms scratchy. She tipped her head back so she could see his face. It was a blur in the shadows. She couldn’t read his expression.

He half laughed, half sighed. “You have no idea how much I’d love to, babe. But believe it or not, my work is important to me. I’ve already made one mistake. I don’t need to make any more.”

“Sleeping with me was a mistake?”

“No, I meant…” He reconsidered whatever he’d been about to say. “It’s hard to be objective when all I can think about is how things might affect you. Take tonight for instance. I know you didn’t want to give me that list of names, and it was so tempting to give in to what you want rather than go after the information I need. I actually asked myself how else I might get it so that it wouldn’t affect you. I can’t make decisions that way. My work has to come first.”

He was lying to her. She didn’t have that kind of importance to him. When they’d woken up in the same bed he’d been about to give her the morning after,
Let’s keep things casual
speech, so she’d beaten him to it. He had no problem in getting her to do things she didn’t want to either. She’d had fun tonight, yes. Did she like bowling any better now? Not in the least. And all evening long she’d watched him charm other women. He’d manipulated them to get information and shown not a hint of remorse.

So he was lying. He was good at it too. She didn’t care why, not really, although it was nice to know where she stood. He could tell his boss whatever story he liked. It wasn’t as if she’d contradict him.

“You aren’t working right now. I’m not working either. I came to CSIS, not the other way around. I’m not about to do anything to interfere with your investigation.” She inched her fingers under the tail of his shirt. The waistband of his jeans was unfastened. She nudged the tab on his zipper down a few teeth, her knuckle grazing the sensitive skin of his pelvis. His stomach muscles contracted. “I’m no Mother Teresa.”

“Really? Tell me how you’d like to suck my cock without using anatomically correct language,” he challenged her. She could hear amusement, as well as an underlying curiosity. As long as she didn’t back down he wasn’t going to either. He was pushing to see how far she’d go.

She’d already gone pretty far. A little farther wouldn’t hurt her.

“I want to suck your—” She rolled the word around on her tongue but couldn’t make it come out of her mouth. Talking straight up dirty was going to take her more time. “I’d rather show you,” she said. She eased the zipper on his jeans all the way down, then slid her palms into the open flap. Inside his jockey briefs he was already hard. She went to her knees.

“Wait.” His voice was thick. He lifted her to her feet. “Not here.”

* * *

If they were going to do this, then this time, he was doing things right. She wasn’t giving him a blowjob in front of a window with the curtains drawn back that had a camera aimed at it.

And as hot as he found it to hear Dr. Babe say things that would make a men’s rugby team blush, sex didn’t always have to be down and dirty. He liked hearing her cry out his name. He wouldn’t mind finding out how it sounded coming on a soft, panting moan either.

She didn’t ask questions as to why the change of heart—and location—which was a relief, although in the back of his head he did have to wonder why, when it was so obvious she knew he was lying to her, she didn’t call him on it. That was a puzzle he’d have to figure out later—the same as he’d have to decide how he’d play this with Dan. Lying to his team leader was all kinds of wrong.

He backed Irina into the hall leading to the bedrooms at the back of the house. As soon as they rounded the corner he had her against the wall. He linked his fingers with hers and stretched her arms over her head. He thrust one knee between her thighs. He’d been thinking about this all week. How he’d like to touch her. How he’d like to take her. He’d fantasized the details each time she’d bent over to retrieve her bowling ball from the return in those tight yoga pants tonight too. He’d been dying to discover why those panty lines were missing. Dear God, please let it be a thong. He loved thongs.

Maybe down and dirty wasn’t off the table just yet after all.

He dropped his mouth to her throat, slowly licking the tip of his tongue to her ear. She tasted as good as he remembered—a little salt and all kinds of sweet. He took the lobe in his teeth, then sucked on it. She caught her breath, arching her body, her crotch on his knee, her breasts pressing against his pounding ribs. His jeans were hanging off his hips, his erection straining the front of his briefs.

“I want to fuck you right here,” he panted.

Definitely not off the table.

He fought for control. What the hell was wrong with him that he couldn’t wait the time it took to walk twenty more paces to get to a bed?

Irina ground against his thigh. “I’m not stopping you.”

She turned her head so her lips were on his. She thrust her tongue into his mouth.

He let go of her hands to seize the top of her stretchy pants. Just as he’d suspected, his fingers caught on the lacy strings of a thong, trailing it to the single thread that disappeared between two round, firm cheeks. He let out a groan, half tortured, half disappointed. He was going to be so sorry he’d missed seeing this later. Right now, he wanted it gone. He tugged her pants and her panties as far as her knees. He freed his erection from his briefs. He grabbed both of those cheeks in his hands and lifted her higher, cradling her in position against the wall, and with a hard thrust and bend of his knees, slid deep inside her.

She had her arms around his neck, holding him tight. He rested his forehead against hers, trying to regain self-control. He was banging her against a wall. This should be good for them both, not just him.

“Tell me how you like it,” he said. “What you want me to do to you. Where you want me to do it.” If she said she wanted a bed it was going to kill him.

“Here. Right now. I like it this way, slow and deep. I like having you inside me.” He could feel each shallow breath she couldn’t quite catch. Each little quiver of excitement as her tight inner muscles began squeezing around him. Quiet, pretty, brainy little Dr. Babe was closer to coming than he was.

And that was
so
freaking hot.

He drove his hips upward, forcing himself deeper inside her, taking it as slow as he could. He lifted her slightly, then lowered her again, repeating the pattern over and over. Her fists curled in his hair. His arms started shaking, but from the coming orgasm, not the minimal effort it took to support her slight frame. She hooked her heels around the backs of his thighs. Somehow, she’d managed to get free of her pants. He buried his face against the side of her throat, nipping and sucking the skin, feeling her whole body tense as she came.

“Oh, my God,” she cried out.

His own orgasm rocked him to the soles of his feet.

That, he thought dimly as he leaned one shoulder against the wall for support, holding her with him still inside her, had been well worth the wait. He’d had an entire week of frustration. He’d have plenty of time for remorse later. Right now, he had much better plans that involved getting his hands—and his mouth—on the two soft breasts still contained by a bra beneath her shirt.

He hiked her hips higher so her legs were wrapped around his waist. Her arms clutched his neck, her head limp on his shoulder, her face pressed into the collar of his half-undone shirt. Her cheek was damp with a fine layer of perspiration that had him semi-hard with satisfaction. He’d done that to her.

He stepped out of the jeans puddled around his ankles and kicked them aside. They’d gotten down and dirty out of the way. He had plenty more moves to show her. They were just getting started. “Your bed or mine?”

“Yours.”

She said it without hesitation, confirming his suspicion that she didn’t want him in her bedroom. There was no point in being insulted by it. He had a world he didn’t want her to be part of. She was entitled to keep him out of hers. The difference was that he wanted to keep her out for her own good. He came in contact with the sleaziest of people. Extreme Sports Guy was the tip of the iceberg. A few pop-ups and botnets were nothing compared to the things he’d seen.

That made his reasons better than hers.

Maybe he couldn’t help being a little insulted after all.

* * *

Hours later, when they were both too tired to move but neither was ready to fall asleep, Kale rolled to his stomach and draped an arm around Irina’s waist so she couldn’t ease out of bed and escape as he suspected she’d like.

She was pretty open to experimentation. He’d pushed her, but he’d been very careful to make sure she could say no any time she liked. She hadn’t, even though he’d had to talk her through a few things because she hadn’t been familiar with the mechanics involved. He wasn’t sure what her willingness indicated—whether she thought he was just all that—or if she figured after a few weeks she’d never see him again and could pretend nothing outside of her normal comfort zone had taken place. What happened in Vegas…

They’d see about that.

“How do you feel about bondage?” he asked.

She looked at him, all wide, wary eyes and tangled hair on the pillow they shared. “You don’t need to tie me up. I don’t think I could move if I tried.”

He had to smile. “I didn’t mean this very second. I was asking for future reference. You know. For next time.”

A sudden stillness spread through her. “Is there going to be a next time?”

“Well, sure,” he said. “Why stop now?” She’d initiated this evening. She’d been on board with everything they’d done. And it had been outstanding. Hadn’t it? “Don’t tell me you’ve lost interest already.”

“Last time you were the one who had second thoughts.”

He propped his head on his hand so he could see her more clearly. The room was warm despite the slight breeze from the open window above the bed. Shadows spilled into the corners, but there was enough light for him to be able to read her expression. Any second now she was going to launch into a discussion about boundaries between them that he did not want to have. Not until he found out how far those boundaries could be stretched to his advantage.

“Let’s get something clear,” he said. “I did not, in any way, shape or form, have second thoughts. The situation got complicated. That’s all.”

“Is it any less complicated now?”

She had him there. “No. But I didn’t know bondage might be part of the deal. So…is it?”

“I’m not saying no. We can talk about it.” Her cheeks dimpled. “It depends on how
you
feel about toys?”

He’d love to ask her to name a sex toy. He didn’t believe she could do it. He did, however, believe she was willing to try them. And that fried a few more of his brain cells where she was concerned. “Babe. Please don’t mess with me. You’re raising expectations I’m not sure I can fulfill. At least not tonight.”

She wriggled under the weight of his arm, trying to lift it off her. “Then I should be going.”

He tightened his hold. He didn’t want her to leave. He liked having her here, in his bed. It was a double and he took up most of the space, which meant full-body contact was unavoidable.

“Stay. Talk to me for a bit.” With any luck she’d fall asleep, although he’d been pretty lucky already tonight. “Tell me more about your family,” he coaxed her. “What was it like growing up with a Russian father and a Canadian mother?”