His Spy at Night (Spy Games Book 3) (19 page)

“Exactly like that.”

“Is this why you brought me here? So you could take me from behind against your sofa?”

A muscle in his jaw jerked. “Yes.”

The tightly-leashed arousal in his tone served to increase her boldness. “When I put this dress on, do you know what I thought you might like even more?” She arched her spine, pushing her hips upward in an invitation that wasn’t meant to be subtle. “What I’m wearing underneath it. Do you want to find out what that is?”

She tracked his movements as he crossed the room. He looked so staid. Refined. Until she took in the intentness of purpose in the set of his mouth. Anticipation had her damp and ready for him.

He stopped directly behind her. He skimmed a palm up the back of her thigh and under her skirt, then over one bare cheek. “My God. You aren’t wearing any underwear.” He sounded as if he were strangling on a mixture of fascination and shock. “You walked around all evening like this?”

“You could have had me on the boat if you’d bothered to try.”

“Hold still.”

He dipped a finger inside her, then a second, and began to work her into such a complete state of arousal that obeying his command to remain still soon became impossible. She rocked against the heel of his hand.

“Do you like that?” he demanded. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” she cried.

He pushed her skirt around her waist, exposing her bottom half to the air. She felt something warm and damp replace his fingers and she gasped. Harry was licking her, thrusting his tongue in and out of her, and it felt so good she was shaking. She lifted her hips, thrusting against his mouth and his tongue, and within seconds, she came. She collapsed against the back of the sofa, a quivering mass of boneless satisfaction.

He gave her no time to recover. The soft rasp of a zipper reached her ears.

“Turn around,” he said. “Kneel in front of me.”

She did as he told her. He had his pants around his ankles, his erection jutting toward her face. He put both hands on her head, his fingers knotting in her curls. “Take me in your mouth. Suck me. Do the things to me you talked about doing last night. And what you were thinking about doing.”

Her whole body throbbed with an eagerness to please him the way he had her. She traced the vein on the underside of his erection with the tip of her tongue. He hissed in a breath. His fingers tightened. She cupped his sac with one hand, then guided him into her mouth with the other. She worked her lips around his rim, sucking gently, her fingers stroking his length lightly.

“Stop. I’m going to come if you don’t.”

She ignored that command, instead working him harder, taking him deeper into her throat until he was groaning with pleasure. His hips jerked and his legs stiffened as he exploded. “
God
, Lies.”

She had her hands on his thighs and she sat back on her heels, satisfied with herself in a way she couldn’t begin to explain. She’d never let a man come in her mouth before.

His legs were trembling. He tipped her face upward and stooped to kiss her, his mouth hot and fierce. “I can’t believe you let me do that.”

“I already gave you permission to do what you want. If it’s something I won’t enjoy or I’m not comfortable with, you’ll be the first to know.”

They were both only half undressed. Lies’s skirt was bunched around her waist. Harry’s pants and boxer briefs had been kicked aside and his shirttail hung around his naked thighs. His tie was askew and he was breathing hard. The refrigerator kicked in, its quiet hum the only other sound in the room.

He took her by the elbows and lifted her to her feet.

“That was to take the edge off,” he said. “We’re just beginning. Take off your clothes.”

All she had on was her dress. It unzipped at the side. She peeled the tight sleeves off her arms and dropped the dress to the floor. She stepped out of it.

She loved that Harry was getting into this. He’d seemed somewhat hesitant at first. Not any longer. He eyed her with complete self-assurance, his bold gaze skimming over her nakedness in the semi-darkness, the slight smile on his lips suggesting he liked what he saw. “Now undress me.”

He had nothing on but his shirt and tie. She unfastened the buttons slowly, one by one, pressing one of her knees between his thighs so she could stand close and rub catlike against him. She had no inhibitions about her body. She had less about his. He was beautiful, solidly built without too much muscle, and perfectly proportioned. He wasn’t short, but he wasn’t tall either. And his feet… She ran a toe over the high arch of his instep. There was nothing so sexy as well-shaped feet on a man.

“Lean over the back of the sofa and spread your legs for me.” His voice alone had her ready for him.

He dragged the tip of his finger up and down her cleft, occasionally dipping into her dampness until she was begging for him. “Not yet.” He took her cheeks in his palms, spreading her wide with his thumbs. He placed himself at her entrance and slid the smooth head of his erection inside her, to the rim, then withdrew. He did it again. And again.

“
Please
, Harry.”

He stopped. His voice was harsh. “The next time you decide to try phone sex with me, you’re going to know how I’d be touching you.”

He ran his hands up and down her back, his thumbs grazing her spine, his fingers trailing along the edges of her ribs and skimming the sides of her breasts, pebbling her skin. He eased his hands underneath her to cradle them. He squeezed his erection between her buttocks as he leaned over her, hard and insistent. His knees parted her thighs. He reached down and positioned himself, then drove his entire length deeply inside her with one hard thrust.

“
Again,
” she cried out.

Needing no more encouragement than that single plea, he took control in an unrestrained manner that she found unbearably exciting. She lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts. The legs of the sofa lifted beneath them to thump rhythmically against the hardwood floor. He had his hands on her hips, his knees between hers, and he buried himself inside her again and again until tiny ripples of glorious sensation began in her belly, spreading down to her cleft, her body quivering with joy at her release. Her hands clutched at the cushions on the sofa, desperate for something to hold onto as she raised her hips to take Harry’s length deeper. He swore as he came.

She could have purred with contentment, even draped naked as she was over the furniture. He stayed inside her for a long time, his hands idly stroking her skin. She wondered what he was thinking.

Probably that he was going to regret what they’d done in the morning. She hoped he did have regrets. It would mean he’d stepped out of his comfort zone, which in turn meant she’d be memorable to him.

He was already memorable to her. She liked the contradictions in him she was discovering. She liked the tightly-controlled diplomat with the great sense of humor and the sexual boundaries that begged to be pushed. She hadn’t yet found their limits.

Neither had he.

He withdrew, sliding from her semi-erect.

“The bedroom’s this way,” he said.

Now that he’d committed to an affair he was very thorough, exploring every inch of her body well into the wee hours of the morning and until she was limp with exhaustion.

She lay on her side with her hands under her cheek, facing Harry. He was on his stomach and had one arm resting over her waist. His fingers played at the small of her back, stroking her skin with a delicate touch that felt far more intimate than anything they’d done. Deep shadows, parted by a crack of light cutting between imperfectly-drawn curtains, coated the bedroom in night.

She was tired, but not too tired to talk.

“Tell me more about your childhood,” she said, stretching against him. She rubbed a toe against his calf.

He turned his face toward her. “There isn’t much more to tell. I wasn’t a daredevil, never at the epicenter of trouble, always in the top percentile in school, and overall I was pretty dull.” She could hear him smiling at her in the dark. “Not much has changed.”

He couldn’t possibly believe that to be true. “I have the sore spots to prove you aren’t dull.”

“A lot of that can be credited to you. Your enthusiasm and energy spills over.”

“I didn’t notice any lack of enthusiasm or energy on your part. I think it’s fair to assume we’re equally matched in this one area, at least.”

“I suppose we are.” He sounded so smug she couldn’t help laughing.

“What led you into the trade commission?” she asked next.

“You mean you didn’t investigate me?”

“Of course I did. You studied commerce and international business and marketing at Carleton University, then spent two years abroad as an exchange student in Stockholm. You interned for three summers with the United Nations while you did your MBA. After university, you worked for several different defense contractors in international marketing, brokering deals with foreign governments. You speak French, Spanish and Italian.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about you knowing all of that.”

“Those are a bunch of facts in a file that anyone could find by doing an Internet search of your name,” Lies said. “I could pull them off LinkedIn. I don’t know anything about you as a person.”

“I could say the same about my knowledge of you—except I couldn’t find anything about you on the Internet other than that bullshit story about your diplomat father.”

“You know me as well as anyone does, including my mother. You simply can’t accept that I really am who I appear to be because I work undercover.” She kissed him, a soft brush of her lips against his. “I know one thing about you. You have trust issues.”

“I suppose I do.” He was quiet until the clang of a church bell, dulled by distance, pronounced the half hour. “Would you really have had sex with me on a canal boat if I’d asked?”

The answer was a resounding maybe. “What do you think?”

The sheets rustled as he rolled onto one hip. He grazed the line of her jaw with a knuckle. “I think you only said that to shock me.”

“See? You know me better than you thought you did.” She threw her leg over his thighs and burrowed against him. “For what it’s worth though, I wanted you badly enough that we can never be sure.”

His soft chuckle rumbled around her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep. It’s late and I’m exhausted.”

* * *

“I’m going to be late for work,” Lies said. A quick glance at her watch confirmed it.

Harry had stipulated that their relationship wasn’t to carry over to the office and she’d respect that. She felt a tingle of guilt that she wasn’t going to tell John Carmichael, or at the very least Dan, but she planned to keep it out of her workplace too.

What was happening between them was private.

Despite the ticking clock and desire for discretion, the last thing she wanted to do was crawl out of Harry’s bed. He was towel-drying his hair with brusque strokes in the adjoining bathroom. What he hid under his business suits was deceiving. Right now he had another towel around his narrow hips and looked delicious. He had strong arms and a broad chest, and buttocks well-muscled from bike riding.

He dismissed her concern with the negligent shrug of a man in complete charge of his workplace. “If anyone asks, tell them we had a breakfast meeting scheduled before I left for the airport.”

She’d forgotten he had meetings in Paris that afternoon and tomorrow. With a sigh, she threw back the bedclothes and went in search of her dress.

The car Harry had reserved to take him to Schiphol drove her home en route. He insisted on walking her to her door. An elderly gentleman wearing a black hat and carrying a hand-carved cane hooked over one arm hobbled out of the lift as they waited to get in, wishing them both a caustic
Goedemorgen
that reeked of disapproval.

Lies compared her rumpled appearance with Harry’s and at this time of day, it wasn’t favorable. In his usual suit and tie he looked every bit the diplomat. She could only imagine how she must look. At least no one would guess she was an intelligence officer. Her cover was safe.

“That was my neighbor,” she said as Harry slid the lift door closed and they were alone in the cramped space. “First we have loud sex and disturb him. Now I arrive home in the same clothes I wore last night, and to look at you, he’ll never believe you were the same man both times. I’m going to have to move.”

“Moving would be an overreaction, don’t you think? You’re here temporarily. You can survive a few weeks of judgmental neighbors.” The shifting corners of his mouth hinted at the sense of humor he possessed underneath all that reserve. “Unless he tries to purchase your services. That could prove awkward.”

The reminder that she wouldn’t be here forever, and the casual tone in which it was delivered, were equally as jarring as the ancient lift lurching to a halt at her floor. He could sound less accepting of their limited time frame. While they’d agreed not to become emotionally attached, they’d barely begun to explore each other physically.

Harry didn’t linger. He had a driver waiting downstairs and a plane he was perilously close to missing. He placed a hand on her hip and gave her a quick kiss good-bye. “Please try not to take advantage of my absence by placing the entire embassy under surveillance. I’ll call you tomorrow after my flight gets in.”