Jigsaw (Black Raven Book 2) (23 page)

Sex was just sex, and this was just a job.

I have to do a better job of reminding him—and myself—of that fact. It is just a job. For both of us.

“Zeus,” Ragno’s voice commanded his attention.

Samantha glanced up as well, expecting to see Ragno in a monitor. But there was no image of a woman. Instead, the monitors each had iterations of the maps. Hearing her voice, without knowing what she looked like, was disconcerting.

“Can you take a look at the latest iteration of the Praptan map?” Ragno asked.

Zeus stood and walked over to the table where his agents worked, his eyes on the television monitor that showed Ragno’s creation. “Get Gabe back on the line.”

As Zeus and the agents worked on the map, Samantha, Abe, and Charles ran a variety of searches through OLIVER. They kept reaching dead ends, because every search result was highlighted in red, meaning the information wasn’t in the ITT record and was likely too sensitive for them to put into the record.

After a while, Abe pushed his chair back, pulling off his glasses, and rubbing his eyes. “We can’t force something into the ITT record that isn’t there. And if the French knew what they were overlooking, they’d be stumbling all over themselves to expand the record.”

Samantha stared at him for a second, her heartbeat racing. She suddenly felt as though the spirit of Stanley Morgan was giving her an answer. “Oh my God, Abe.” She pushed her chair back, and stood. “That’s brilliant.”

He shook his head, eyes heavy with frustration and skepticism. “What? In my mind, I hit a dead end.”

“We’ll back door it. The French want there to be a link between these four terrorist acts as badly as we do, and their subpoena requests—the ones that were drafted too narrowly—are in the record. I’ll get them to expand the requests. I don’t have to tell anyone what’s in OLIVER. I can go to the French prosecutors and persuade them to expand the record. I can do that off the record. If I phrase it correctly, they’ll
file the subpoena requests.”

“And why would they take your word for it?” Zeus’s question, from across the room, proved the man’s multitasking skills, and his hearing, were sharp.

“Because I’m going to tell them I’ll file the expanded subpoena requests if they don’t,” she said. “No one wants to be caught overlooking something. I’m giving them an opportunity to fix a potential problem that no one’s spotted until now. I’ll call it a hunch. They’ll know there’s more. This is record manipulation, Stanley Morgan style. I learned some tricks from the best. I may as well put them to use now.”

Zeus’s eyes narrowed. Skepticism? Worry? “You can’t reveal anything about our data gathering techniques.”

“How could I? You haven’t revealed anything to us. All you’ve said when we’ve asked questions is it’s proprietary.” Confident her plan would work, she sat down, and talked with Abe and Charles as she compiled her thoughts on how to proceed with the French, and also about securing an interview with Vladimer Stollen.

When she next glanced at her watch, it was 1 a.m. Charles and Abe were bleary-eyed, while she felt energized with the possibilities of expanding the record and interviewing Stollen. “Let’s call it quits for the night. With tomorrow’s proceeding starting at noon we’ll have time to regroup in the morning.” She paused as they nodded. “As early as you feel like getting up. I’d like to develop a plan for Stollen and getting the French to expand the telecommunications records and, assuming there will be motions to file, I’d like to get them filed as early as possible.”

Lifting her laptop, planning to work more upstairs, she left Zeus in the library where he continued to work with Ragno and his agents. Back on the third floor, brushing her teeth, she considered two options.

Option A–climb into her own bed, work, and fall asleep wondering whether Zeus would come to her room when he finally came upstairs.

Option B–go to his bed, work there, and hope he’d be happy to see her. Happy enough to give her a replay of his evening performance.

Ridiculous to even consider Option A.

She wanted sex. He wanted sex. They were together, at least for a while. He was a freaking Maserati of a man. May as well enjoy the ride. She’d keep it distant. Impersonal.

Win. Win.

She slipped on a black lace camisole and matching panties and went to his bed, laptop in hand. She climbed under the covers, worked till her eyes crossed, then shut the computer and pushed it to the side.

Chapter Nineteen

Paris, France

Thursday, February 3

“Best invitation I’ve ever gotten.” Zeus’s low voice pulled her out of her dreams.

Lying on her side, with her head nestled in his pillows, her body buried in the warmth of his king-size bed’s linens and goose-down duvet, she’d been able to smell his rich masculine scent as she drifted off to sleep. She focused on him, and not the dream of him she’d been having. “Accepting it?”

He shut the door behind him, then placed his iPad and laptop on the credenza on the far side of the room. Eyes locked with hers, he pulled off his earpiece and watch, pressed a button on his watch, and placed the items next to his iPad. Not breaking eye connection, Zeus crossed over to the bed with purposeful strides that told her the answer. Yanking the covers off of her, his eyes traced from her head to her toes. With dark eyes clouding with lust, he knelt on the side of the bed, gently pushed her shoulder so she was flat on her back. Lips on hers, his fast, hard, open-mouthed kiss took her breath.

Breaking away, his eyes held hers. “In the library, I couldn’t stop thinking about,” he paused, the corners of his lips lifting in a slight smile, “being inside you.”

“Mmmm.” She shivered, but not from the drafty, cool air in the bedroom. Heat came off of him in waves that warmed the chilly air and her. “Show me.”

He lifted her laptop off the bed, put it on the bedside table, and bent his head to her breasts. Gentle fingers pushed aside the delicate fabric of her camisole, and he opened his mouth on her left nipple. He tongued her as he lifted his hand to her right breast. Sparks ignited down her spine, and she ran fingers through his thick hair, pulling his head tighter to her with her right hand, while her left hand slipped inside the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed her hands, broke his mouth away from her with a groan, then stood. She sat up, reaching for his hand, and tried to yank him down.

Shaking his hand free, he said, “Thanks for the reminder.”

He walked into the closet, leaving her to sit on the bed, legs dangling on the side, wondering what he was doing. A few seconds later, he returned, an assortment of neckties in his hand. Red, green, gray, paisley—the vibrant colors went well with the dark business suits that he wore to the ITT proceedings. The steady, focused look in his eyes as he approached the bed told her that the ties wouldn’t be used for their intended purpose.

“Told you I’d tie you the next time,” he said, his tone low, almost a growl.

“I thought you were kidding,” she whispered, sitting up, unsure. She hadn’t yet ventured into the world of bondage. No one had ever suggested it, including Zeus when she’d been with him before. She’d certainly never volunteered for it. Sex was sport, and like running, she liked being a pacesetter, with her hands, legs, and every inch of her body.

Being restrained? Fun for a moment. Maybe. Not for any length of time and certainly not for the duration of the act.

He dropped the ties on the bed, next to her, the silks softly brushing against her bare thigh as the ties settled into a pile. “I’m not much of a kidder. Ready?”

“Really?”

An arched eyebrow told her he was dead serious.

“I thought you liked my hands on you.”

His gaze, travelling along her body with the force of a hot touch, flicked up to hers. “Love it. But not this time.”

Standing, fully dressed, about a foot away from the bed, his eyes were on her body. In response to his visual touch, her nipples formed hard peaks that showed through the silk camisole. Warmth at her core emanated through her. She was wet. Ready. She had been ever since she’d climbed in his bed. What was happening between her legs was a wonder of pheromones and hormones, mixed with certain knowledge of how damn good he’d feel inside of her once again.

“Ready for me to tie you?”

Her body didn’t care whether she was tied to the bed, whether he did her against a wall, or if he did her any damn way he could think of. Nerves and muscles tingled with the possibilities, but her mind was the problem. “Maybe not.”

He lifted the left corner of his lip in an almost smile. “But maybe yes?”

“Problem is, I like to be in control. And so do you. I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but—”

“You don’t, do you?” Eyes serious, he added, “Not one bit. And given what happened seven years ago, I can’t say that I blame you.”

The elephant in the room reared up on its hind legs and demanded attention. She was determined not to go there. “Keep this focused on the problem with the ties in your hand, and why you’re not using them on me.”

“You’re worried I’ll make you take it slow.” His voice was husky. “And you don’t like to say please in bed, do you?”

He had her number and she couldn’t deny it. “Bondage isn’t something you just spring on a person. There needs to be a contract.”

“We can do a verbal.” He lifted the sweatshirt over his head, revealing a white T-shirt underneath. He pitched the sweatshirt to a chair. “Name your terms.”

“No terms needed. I’m not going there.”

“Should we have our lawyers negotiate it?” He untucked the T-shirt from his jeans, and stopped before pulling it off.
Damn.
Her mouth watered for the eye candy that was his chest and he took his time with his strip tease, a slight, puzzled expression on his face, more teasing than serious. “Are there lawyers who do that sort of thing? You would know better than me.”

“Not funny. It’s late, and you’re wasting time, Hernandez. I’m not in your room for sparkling repartee and chit-chat.”

“How is this for terms? I promise I’ll never hurt you. I did that once. At least I think what I did hurt you. Not that you ever acted hurt.” He arched an eyebrow and waited.

No, Hernandez. I’m not going there.

Apparently giving up on his fishing expedition for comments from her about their past, he continued, “And I’ll never do it again. I promise. Come on, Sam. Talk about what happened so we can move on from there. Really talk abou—”

“Careful, Hernandez. We’re talking about sex. Either you want it now, or you don’t. You’re going off topic. Don’t be a buzz kill.”

His eyes flashed with anger. He nodded, jaw set. After a second, he shrugged, the annoyance hidden behind that stoic emotional shield. “Sex. Got it. Just a fuck or two, or many, while the job’s taking place, right?”

Yes. Please.
She nodded.

“Fine. Understood. How’s this,” he continued, his tone matter of fact, though she could tell from the pulse that was throbbing at his temple that he was still irritated. “Let me tie you. Choose a safe word. I’ll untie you when you say it.”

He pulled off his T-shirt and threw it to the chair with the sweatshirt. Ahhh.
Hell yes.
Lamplight illuminated tawny skin stretched taught over well-defined abs that led down to the waistline of his jeans. “Good enough?”

“Fantastic. Yes. Wait.”
What was the pending question?
Oh.
Hell!
He was talking about bondage. Tying her to the bed, and she’d just said yes. “No. Why don’t you be the submissive one? Let me tie you.”

He chuckled. “Seriously?”

“Sure. With the tables turned you’re suddenly not so sure? Scared of relinquishing control?”

“Hell, no.” He gave her rare a full smile, the grin of a man who was about to have a fond wish granted. The offer seemed to dispel his irritation, and now a different emotion heated his gaze.

Oh hell.

“Ever engaged in bondage before?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Truth?”

“Assume this—anytime you’re talking to me, I want the truth. Even about your sexual exploits. We’re just having sex, without an emotional commitment. In my book, the more experience a man has, the better. I don’t have a lot of time for sex and I don’t want to waste time with someone who fumbles. I don’t care if you’ve done it with three lingerie models at the same time—”

“Really? Well, that’s a relief, because—”

“I’d say hoorah to you. Take your pants off while you tell me about it.”

“Answer’s yes.” He unzipped his jeans, rolled them down, and kicked them to the side. His smoky-gray trunks went to mid-thigh and fit like a second skin, cupping his butt, his balls, and his penis. If he modeled them, the company would sell out in mere minutes. With the hard-on he sported, the image wouldn’t be an advertisement at all. It would be called porn.

“Tell me more,” she said as he reached for his nightstand and pulled out a condom.

She grabbed the condom out of his hand. “Don’t put that on yet.”

“I don’t have sex without one.”

“And I’m not planning on having sex for a few minutes,” she whispered, eyeing his erection and fighting for willpower. She wanted to forget the ties and just climb on top of him. “Tell me about your experience with bondage.”

“Those days were a while ago. Before marriage. Before you.”

He still hadn’t taken the damn grin off his face. He did a slow strip down of his boxers. What was fully erect, and pointing to heaven, was a sight to behold. Her fingertips tingled with the need to touch the smooth skin that stretched around the girth and length of his hard, straining penis.

“Don’t just stare.” His voice was gruff. “You’ve got work to do.” He gestured with his chin to the pile of ties. “Pick a color. I’ll help you with my ankles.”

She handed him a tie as he sat on the bed and spread his legs. As she eyed his erection, she said, “I’m not sure I really get the point. Seems like a waste of time, when I could just climb on top of you right now. You certainly look ready for me.”

“Just get me tied me up and you’ll see. This is about anticipation, something not high on your list of accomplishments.” He got to work on his right ankle. “Tying the restraints properly is an art, and”—as she tugged on his left ankle, he glanced at her work and frowned—“you’re doing a piss-poor job.”

She didn’t bother checking his knot, nor was she too careful with hers. At this point, she didn’t care if the damn thing held. “Tell me about your most memorable bondage experience.”

“Twins. I was the bottom, which means I was the one who was tied. The three of us came at the same time.” Studying her expression, he threw back his head and laughed as what he said registered.

“How did that even happen? Oh my gosh, one of them was sitting on—”

“I’m pulling your leg. I won’t give you details about my sex life. Not now. Not ever.”

“Spoilsport.” She mumbled, kneeling on the bed, at his side, eyes on his penis as she snapped the red tie, extending it to its full length between her spread hands. “Give me your wrists.”

“Gimme me that condom back.”

“No. I’ll put it on you.”

“Dammit, Sam,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m warning you. I’ve had a hard-on for the last five hours. I’ll last longer with a condom.”

“Awwww. You’re adorable. Worried about performance?”

His frown, real and marked, told her he didn’t like her ribbing. “You’ll pay for that.”

She laughed. “God, I hope so. Hey, I might not have tied up a guy before, but I know my way around a good hard on. And this…” She glanced at his penis, licked her lips, and met his eyes. “Is a great one. Don’t worry. I won’t waste it.”

He extended his arms to her, one wrist over another. She wound the tie around them, pulled them over his head and bound his hands to the headboard. “If you—”

“Shhhh.” Pressing her fingers to his lips, she said, “Now that you’re all tied up, you have to listen to me, don’t you?”

His eyelids were half-closed, his chest flushed. He still smiled, as though he enjoyed every single second of what she was doing. “That is part of the fun of it.”

“Don’t say another word until I untie you. If you do,” she whispered into his ear, “I won’t do a thing.”

She watched his chest rise and fall with each deep breath as she removed her camisole and panties in a slow strip tease. Until he was fully restrained, she had planned on mounting him and using his penis as the great Creator had intended when designing it with well-honed perfection as a tool to give a woman pleasure.

Something happened, though, between thought and execution when she stepped back and got an eyeful of his glorious body, all muscle and sinew, immobile, an offering for her. It was the same thing that had happened earlier in the evening, when he had tried to hold her after he had fucked her so hard she’d seen stars.

She became someone else, transported to a time when sex hadn’t just been sex. There had been a time when she hadn’t been such a hard ass, a time when she’d believed in the gifts of happiness and love and that her life could—and would—have both.

That time had been with him, seven years earlier, and it had ended abruptly when he’d told her he was going to Miami to marry his pregnant ex-girlfriend.

There was a huge problem with having sex with Zeus.

His goddamn penis—glorious as it was—was a divining rod straight back to that time, to a person who no longer existed.

Being with him again was too tangible a reminder of who and what she no longer allowed herself to be. She was no longer the naïve woman who’d believed that upon falling in love with him, with every unquestioning molecule in her twenty-six year old brain, that he was going to be a part of her life forever. That he’d light the shadows of her darkest days, that he’d be there to walk with her on every ambition-fueled journey through which she travelled. That he could be a facilitator of her dreams.