In Deep with the FBI Agent (16 page)

In her heels, Casey sashayed out of the kitchen to the doorway leading to her bedroom, knowing Sam's gaze was on a direct flight pattern to her rear. As she reached the doorway, Sam's voice stopped her.

“Hey, Case.”

She pivoted her head to look back at him.

“You're perfect. Every time you look in the mirror, you need to know that. You are ridiculously fucking perfect.”

Tears sprang into her eyes, because his words betrayed that he'd done some reading on anorexia and had to know that when she looked in the mirror, she saw anything but perfection. Knowing that Sam thought she was gorgeous made her think that someday she might look into a mirror and think the person in the reflection was flawless. She didn't respond to Sam's compliment. She couldn't without turning this into a cry-fest, and she didn't want tears at this moment. She wanted Sam's mouth on her, eating apples.

She was barely on her bed for a second before Sam entered, holding a small plate full of apple slices. He was still fully clothed. He shook his head with mock disappointment when he saw her. “You're still dressed.”

Her lingerie didn't really count as clothes in her opinion, as it revealed more than it covered, but she supposed in Sam's view, the best bits were covered. She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, but he stopped her.

“Let me.”

She rolled to her belly and he sat next to her on the bed and unhooked the bra, then tugged the strings of her panties lower.

“Lift,” he directed, and she raised her ass in the air as the silk and lace shimmied down her thighs.

“Jesus,” he murmured. His palm cupped the globes of her butt cheeks. “There might be a change in plans. I could take you like this. You'd stay like that, slightly on your knees, and I'd hold your hips while I come into you from behind.”

She heard, rather than controlled, the whimper that escaped from the back of her throat.

“But I'm hungry,” he said, “and I promised you apples. Roll over.”

She obeyed and had to watch Sam stand and remove all his clothes, save for his boxer briefs, which were straining at the crotch. He followed the direction of her stare. “I can't lose these yet, or we won't do everything I want to.”

She reached a hand out to cup the alluring bulge, but he pulled back. “You can listen to me or you can be tied up. Put your hands under your back. Lie on them and don't move.” One second, then two, and then she followed orders. Right hand under, shift to the side, then the left. In this position, her breasts jutted out, crying out for attention.

Sam reached for the bowl and plucked a paper-thin apple slice out, then laid it over one nipple and repeated the move for the other lonely breast. The cold made her hiss and hardened her nipples.

Next he trailed a slice between the valley of her breasts, stopping at her belly button and leaving it there. It was time for the fourth apple slice, and there was only more place he could conceivably put it, but he surprised her by placing one on each kneecap.

And then he gave her a smile that made her shiver with need. “Spread.” There was no question to which body part he was referring. Casey glanced down at her body, then back at Sam, who was lounging on the bed holding one last apple slice in his hand. She wasn't sure how she felt about fruit in her bodily orifices. It sounded…sticky and maybe too kinky.

Sam laughed. “The look on your face…Don't worry. I'm not going there. Trust me?”

Since she did, she carefully spread her legs, keeping the apples balanced on her knees. Sam gently brushed the edge of the apple slice between her lips, tickling her clitoris.

“It's cold,” she said on a shiver.

“Let me warm you up.”

He knelt between her legs and replaced the apple slice with his hot, wet tongue, eliciting a gasp and sigh of pleasure.

“
Mmm
,” he murmured. “You taste good. Like apples.”

Her laughter dislodged the apples on her knees, but they were soon forgotten in the tangled sheets as Sam's mouth got busier between her legs. At first he kept his licks slow and gentle, and she felt her body softening under his mouth. Then his moves became more deliberate and pronounced as his tongue penetrated her.

“God, Sam.” Her fingers threaded through his hair, and he stopped to balance on his forearms over her body.

“You disobeyed me.”

In her pleasure-induced haze, it took her a moment to realize what he'd said. Her hands froze at her side, now out of his hair. “Please, Sam. Don't stop.”

“Do I need to tie you up?”

A wave of undiluted desire rolled through her, crashing right at the juncture between her thighs. One day she did want Sam to tie her up, but not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to touch him. “No. I'll be good, but I want to touch you.”

From his position above her, he cocked his head, studying her. Finally, he gave a head jerk. “Fine. You may touch my head or my back.”

“All right,” she whispered.

He lowered until his mouth was level with one of her breasts, and shivered as he nibbled the apple off her skin, making sure to miss the slice and find her breast. Then he ate the other apple slice. The cotton of his underwear was rubbing against her thighs, and she reached her hands around to cup his butt. He'd said she could touch his head or back. His butt was part of his back, right?

She clearly needed anatomy lessons, because Sam stopped his devouring of her breasts and gave her a warning look.

“Don't you want to be touched?” she asked in frustration.

“Hell yes, but I'm getting off on giving orders to bossy Casey Cooper. Tell me the truth, baby. You like it, don't you? You've been giving orders and been the queen bee every minute for the last twenty-something years. You want—no, you
need
—a man who isn't going to kneel at your feet worshipping you.”

He tugged at her lower lip with his teeth then pulled back. “No, that isn't right. I'll worship your body, and I'll give you what you need. What I think you need is to be programmed.” He studied her for a second, their eyes locked on each other's, until she glanced away. He nodded with obvious satisfaction. “Yep. You know how I code software? It's all about giving orders in very specific detail. If-then statements.” He bent to give her a wet, openmouthed kiss. “If I do this, then
this
happens. You're an unknown variable. You're the bug in my code.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Keep your hands to yourself, and you'll be thanking me soon.”

She laughed. “But I do love touching you.”

He kissed her again. “And I love it when you touch me, but right now I'm coding your body to react a certain way. I want to control you. Can you give up control to me for a little while? If I do anything you don't like, say…” He smiled to himself. “‘End.' That'll be your safe word.”

“Am I going to need a safe word?” She felt as if she'd fallen down the rabbit hole. If you'd told her in high school that she'd be holding hands at the ten-year reunion with Sam Cooper and then taking him home to get naked, she would've laughed and then said something cutting and bitchy. But here she was, and damn happy about it.

“No,” he promised. “This is about your pleasure. No pain.”

That she could get on board with. Carefully, she shifted to place her hands under her lower back and waited for Sam's next move. She didn't have to wait long. His lips were gentle on hers, and then together, they grew more urgent. Their chests pressed together, damp with sweat, and soon she was a puddle of need writhing underneath his strong body.

“Sam,” she said.

“
Hmm
?”

“You forgot an apple.”

He pulled away to grin down at her. “Why, yes I did.” He scooted down and with his mouth, grabbed the apple slice that had been pressed between their bodies. Casey was going to need a serious shower tomorrow, possibly tonight, as she felt sticky in the best possible way.

“As long as I'm down here,” Sam said, and then bent between her legs again, hoisting her thigh over his shoulder.

“Oh, God,” she said on a moan. The pleasure mounted, spiraling deep in her body, and she started to crave completion more than she craved her next breath. “Please, Sam. I need you in me.”

He ignored her pleas and kept coming at her with his mouth until her orgasm was on her, making her scream. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of sheets under her body, and when the sensation grew too much, she tried to scoot away, but his hands held her hips in place, and he kept his mouth on her.

“End!” she cried. “End, end.” Her depleted body was a limp pool of pleasure.

Immediately he pulled back and sat back on his heels looking at her. “You okay?” he asked softly.

“More than,” she said. “You?” Pulling a hand free, she gestured toward his impressive erection still stretching the gray cotton fabric of his boxers.

“I'm okay,” he said, “but not as good as I'm going to be.”

Suddenly, her tired body had more energy. “Oh?”

He nodded and thumbed the elastic waist of his boxers down, revealing the swollen red crown of his cock. “I want reciprocity.”

She sat up slightly on her elbows. “I get to boss you around?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight. You get to get on your knees and take me in your mouth.”

“Oh, do I?” He had some nerve thinking she'd get on her knees to suck his dick like she was his slave, yet it was exactly what she wanted to do. He'd spent ample time between her thighs, and she wanted to return the favor.

“If you're too tired, we can make it work another way.”

“How?”

“Stay like that, on your back, head up on the pillow a little. I'll come to you.”

She understood what he meant to do as his thighs straddled her chest and his cock bobbed in front of her mouth. “Take me,” he said.

Obediently, her mouth opened, taking him full in her mouth. She pulled back a second to coyly ask, “Can I use my hands now?”

From his position above her, leaning heavily on the headboard, he groaned, “Definitely. Use your hands.”

Immediately, she reached between his legs to cup his sac as her mouth opened again to suck him deep. His groan told her she was doing it well.

“Not going to last long,” he said, and let his hips nudge gently at her mouth.

As she squeezed his testicles gently, his thrusts grew stronger until he was fucking her mouth and shouting his pleasure. Suddenly, her mouth filled with his hot seed and she swallowed it back.

“End,” he groaned. “End.”

She smiled into his chest as he scooched down to lie next to her and wrapped his arms around her sated body.

“Stuff of fantasies,” he said, “and it was even better in real life.”

She glanced over a second later, and he was out. Eyes closed, lips parted, brain in dreamland. Men. Typical. Even…

“Stop staring at me and go to sleep,” he said with his eyes closed, but a slight smile on his lips.

With an inward sigh, she obeyed his order.

University of Maryland, Freshman Year

C
asey stalked across campus, head down, seeking out the library. A bitter January wind bit straight through her thick coat, freezing her flesh underneath. Funny, she'd always been told a little meat on her bones would help keep her warmer. Well, she was as fat as she'd ever been and not one bit warmer.

She'd taken the previous semester off to stay home and heal, as her mom said. Mostly it was a lot of visits to a nutritionist and group counseling. There were also regular weight checks, which she freaking hated.

A large group of girls all wearing pale blue ski caps with pink Greek letters walked by, forcing her off the path not to run into them. They were the pledges of one of the sororities, and Casey should have been one of the group. Heck, she should've been their leader, not the loser having to avoid them on the path. Unfortunately, by having to drop out her fall semester, she'd missed sorority rush and any chance of having a fun social life on this campus.

Tears sprang into her eyes, and she told herself anyone who saw them would assume it was because of the cold, but Casey knew better. It was because, for her, college sucked. It was supposed to be the best time of her life, and instead she hated it.

Her mother was forcing her to live at home and commute, because supposedly she couldn't be trusted to eat properly if left on her own. Whatever. Her therapist said she should pick and choose her social activities very carefully. If joining a sorority was going to bring back all her emotional triggers like she had in high school in her attempts to be the most popular, then she had to avoid sororities.

But, oh, it hurt, especially when they walked past her as a cohesive unit, leaving her lonely in their wake. She had no friends at college yet. The acquaintances she'd made during her first two months living on campus had forgotten about her due to lack of proximity. Out of sight, out of mind.

“
Hey, Casey.”

A male voice startled her out of her self-pity party. She looked up to see she was nose to nose with Sam Cooper, who was holding open the library door for her. Or rather, she was nose to chest, because some time in the last few months, Sam Cooper had grown several inches.

“
Hey, Sam.” She paused to chat, eager for any friendly face, even if it was Sam Cooper's, but a girl with long dark hair and a bulky red coat came up and hooked her arm into Sam's.

“
Honey, we have to get going if we're not going to be late to class.”

Sam smiled down at the girl, and Casey suddenly hated her with all the rage in her that was usually reserved for the image of her body in the mirror.

“
Okay,” Sam said, and grinned at Casey. “Bye, Case. Good seeing you.” He walked off with the girl without a backward glance.

Casey stood on the cold library steps and watched them go, this time allowing the tears to fall and freeze onto her nose. There was a time, less than a year ago, when Sam Cooper would
have stopped to chat. He wouldn't have cared if he were late to something if it meant he got a chance to talk to her. She'd taken it for granted that Sam Cooper would always have a crush on her.

That world was obviously gone, and now Sam had some new girl to obsess over. Casey was old news, not the girl he'd dared to kiss at graduation. Probably because she was fat and wretched and Sam could spot that a bazillion miles away. He'd moved on and she should also. Casey entered the building and headed to the bathroom to wipe off her tears and reapply her eye makeup, determined to find some friends at this stupid school. Screw sororities and screw Samuel Cooper.

Sam walked about twenty feet away from the library with Elissa hanging on his arm. She was chattering about something, but he didn't hear a word. He'd walked away from Casey Cooper, whom he hadn't seen in months, and he'd said nothing more to her than “Hey.” Obviously college had changed him more than he'd thought.

Sometime over Thanksgiving break, Sam had decided to lose his futile crush on Casey and try to experience everything he was supposed to be doing during college. Like finding a girlfriend and maybe losing his virginity. It wasn't as hard as he'd thought to give up on Casey, since she was MIA. He hadn't bumped into her on campus even once, and after tracking down her dorm room and heading there one night, he'd learned she'd moved out. To where, the unhelpful roommate didn't know.

So he'd moved on. He'd flirted with the girls in his classes and started asking them out on dates and had been together with Elissa for just over a month now. Sex was as amazing as
he'd imagined. He liked Elissa. Really, he did, but running into Casey Cooper had nearly made him forget Elissa's name. Had it been his imagination or had there been tears in Casey's eyes?

Sam stopped walking. “I think I left something in the library. You go on to class so you won't be late.”

Elissa smiled up at him. Finally, he'd grown enough that people looked up to him. “Okay, baby. I'll save you a seat.” She blew him a kiss and walked off.

Sam hustled back to the library and burst through the doors, but Casey was no longer in the entrance. He looked around, but it was too late. She was gone.

Casey opened the door to her apartment to greet Sam. “How do I look?” She spread her arms to give him a good look. It was less than a week since their high school reunion, and Sam was taking her out for a midweek date. To where, she didn't know. As usual, Sam liked to surprise her.

“Perfect.” He ducked down to give her a proper greeting, lip to lip.

She wasn't fishing for compliments. It was that he'd told her he was taking her out and she shouldn't wear her usual duds, whatever that meant. She thought men appreciated that she was nearly always in a dress or tight skirt with high heels. Tonight, under Sam's instructions, she was in a tight T-shirt, jeans, and—gasp—ballet flats.

Sam pulled back from the kiss. “Were you always this short?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't think I've see you out of heels since high school.”

“And the other night,” she said coyly, reminding them both of how he'd brought takeout dinner after work and they'd eaten it on her couch in their underwear.

“Don't talk about the other night, or we won't make it to our destination, and I've got something fun planned.” He grabbed her purse off the small table in the entrance of her apartment and handed it to her. “Ready?”

She gave a last glance into the mirror and fluffed her hair around her shoulders. “Ready.” She wheedled and teased him on the way to the elevator. “No clues about where we're going? Pretty please.” She lowered her lashes and gave him her most practiced seductive look. “I'll make it worth your while.”

Instead of falling to his knees and being her willing slave like most humans with a penis would do at her offer, he laughed and tickled her.
Tickled her!
Like she was his little sister or something. Unacceptable. She trailed her fingers over his navy polo shirt from his abdomen up to one nipple.

“I don't like surprises, Sam. Please tell me.”

The elevator arrived, and he hauled her inside with him and caged her against one wall of the confined space. His breath was hot on her neck when he said, “You love my surprises.”

She bent her neck, granting him better access to continue the line of tiny kisses he was planting. “Maybe.” He refused to budge on his stance and wouldn't tell her what was on his agenda for the night, even after he'd pulled into a parking spot in a lot in suburban northern Virginia.

“We're in a whole other state, Sam,” Casey said, looking around the parking lot toward the strip mall where they were parked. There was a bank, a yogurt place, and a yoga studio. None of them seemed likely places for a date.

“Come on.” He caught up her hand and tugged her along the asphalt toward a small shop near the bank.

“The Kozy Kitchen?” Casey gave a sidelong look at Sam, but he'd already opened the door and was ushering her inside. She entered see a typical kitchen supply store with very expensive pots and pans hanging on one wall. Racks and racks of knives, spatulas, and whisks lined the center aisle.

“They offer cooking classes in the back,” Sam said. “Come on.”

She squeezed in close at his side, clinging to his arm, feeling very much out of her element. There was also the expectation that there'd be a bunch of experienced home cooks, mostly female, who'd mock her when she didn't know the difference between sauté and simmer.

Instead, they entered an airy room in the back with three rows of two stations apiece, totaling six stations. Most surprising was that she recognized two of the people in the room.

“Hey, Casey. Hi, Sam,” Arianna Rose called and waved them over. “We saved you a spot.” Lance stood next to her looking handsome as always, in an apron looped over his neck.

Casey glanced at Sam, who was smiling at her, but there was a hint of a question in his expression as if he was worried she'd hate this kind of class. She had to put him at ease immediately. She had no idea whether she'd like a cooking class, having never done it before, but it was incredibly sweet of him to go through the trouble of bringing her to one and bringing along friends for support. “This is great. Thank you.” She squeezed his elbow and hurried to the counter space next to Arianna, where she exchanged hugs with her new friend, former frenemy.

Sam shook hands with Lance, and then an older woman called their attention from her spot at the front of the room.

“Hello, everyone. It looks like all our registrants are present; let's begin. Welcome to Cooking for Couples. This is a cooking class series we started last year for busy people who want to spend time with their loved one and learn a new skill. This class is more relaxed than some of our others, as it is designed to be a date night for you.”

Casey felt a smile form on her face and flashed it to the room at large. What a great idea. She'd have to talk to the manager afterward to see if they'd be willing to donate a cooking class to Montgomery Prep's auction.

“I'm Chef Aliza.” The woman introduced herself a little more, giving her credentials and highlighting some of the dishes they'd be learning to prepare tonight. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Sam actually taking notes.

She poked him. “What are you doing?”

He frowned at her. “What does it look like?”

“Once a nerd, always a nerd?”

Instead of taking offense, he grinned. “Hey, there's no cheating later. I won't let you copy my notes.”

“Yeah you will,” she whispered.

“Not a chance.”

She leaned into him to say very quietly into his ear, “You'll let me, because in exchange, I'll…” and she suggested something that made him drop his pen and notebook.

“Hey, you two,” Arianna hissed. “Stop dirty talking each other and pay attention. And pour the wine.”

Casey's cheeks heated, and for the first time, she noticed an open bottle of wine on every workstation along with four wineglasses. She poured four glasses and handed them out to Ari, Lance, and Sam.

“Just 'cause you two have lost your spark,” she warned Arianna, handing her the goblet, “doesn't mean you need to be a curmudgeon.”

“Lost our spark?” Ari jokingly reached for the long knife in front of her, but Lance's hand stopped her.

“No stabbings tonight, hon. It would be too much paperwork.”

Ari pointed a finger. “You got lucky. The day you and Sam have hotter sex than me and Lance is the day I turn in my stilettos and wear mom jeans.” She gave a pointed look at Casey's feet. “Nice shoes.”

Now Casey laughingly reached for the knife, but Sam grabbed her. “I thought you girls were friends now. I'm having tenth-grade flashbacks.”

“We are friends,” Casey and Arianna said in unison.

“If you're done comparing our respective love lives,” Lance intoned in his deep voice, “I'd like to hear the instructions.” Four pairs of eyes gazed back to the front of the room, where Chef Aliza was chopping some blue-gray raw shrimp.

“Ick.” Casey shuddered.

“I thought shrimp were pink,” Ari said, and Lance laughed while rolling his eyes.

“You get to clean the shrimp,” Casey whispered to Sam. She volunteered to go to the front and get all the raw food for their first course. Balancing two metal bowls of raw shrimp, she carried them back to her group. She and Arianna perched on the tall stools, drinks in hand, watching their sexy men wash and prep seafood.

“Are you two helping or what?” Lance asked, flicking some water in their direction.

“We're enjoying the view,” Casey said, lifting her glass in a toast.

“Hear, hear,” Ari said and they clinked glasses.

Sam glanced back from his concentrated cooking effort to smile at her. “No interest in learning how to cook?”

“Why bother?” Ari asked. “You're doing such a good job.”

“Hear, hear,” Casey said, and they tapped glasses again. But because Casey had a genuine interest in learning to feed herself healthy food, she scooched off her stool and joined Sam at the counter. “What should I do?” she asked.

“Pour a little olive oil in that frying pan and turn the fire under it to medium.”

“I can do that.” She obeyed the instructions and watched until the oil heated and took on a wavery glow.

“Drop the shrimp in,” Sam said, handing her the prepped shrimp in a bowl, and she slid it in.

“Ouch.” She jumped back as bits of oil spattered. Sam immediately pushed her behind him, lowering the flame on the stovetop.

“That will happen if the oil gets too hot,” Chef Aliza called from the front.