Authors: Lynn Raye Harris
Maybe it was the shared history, even if it was brief. Maybe it was the illicitness of doing something naughty, as she’d said, even if it was only an illusion.
Though it couldn’t be that because God knew he’d been naughty before. Seriously naughty. He was single and good-looking, and women threw themselves at him. If more than one woman wanted him at a time, he was willing. Had been willing, anyway.
Right now he didn’t want anything more than this. Licking Sophie’s sweet pussy and listening to her whimpers. Until he teased her too much and she reached down and grabbed his hair, tugging his head up until he had to look her in the eye.
“If you don’t let me come, Chase, I’m going to fucking scream. And then I’m going to get up, go into the bathroom, and finish myself off with my fingers. You won’t ever get up in this business again, you hear me?”
“Yes, mistress,” he said meekly. He would have gotten away with it if not for the humor in his voice.
“Asshole,” she hissed, and he laughed again.
But he did what she wanted. He lowered his head and devoured her until she screamed his name, her body shaking apart beneath him. He held her hard to him, licked her while she squirmed and begged him to stop—
And then she begged him to keep going, to please, please, please keep going.
So he did. When she came that time, she sagged into the mattress and he could hear her panting in the aftermath. He crawled up her body, licking his way up over the delta of her soft belly, the gorgeous peaks of her tits, the lush plains of her collarbone, and on up to the mysterious delights of her mouth.
He sank his tongue into her, and she met him with an arched back and her arms around his neck. He didn’t know how long he kissed her before he pulled away and rose above her.
“Fucking beautiful,” he said as he reached for the condom and tore the package. After he rolled it on, he sank into her, groaning as he slid home. He’d planned to get her on her knees, fuck her from behind, but that wasn’t what he wanted right now. He wanted her softness, the sweetness and connection he felt when they were face-to-face.
He rocked into her again and again, and she lifted her legs to put them around his waist.
“You feel so amazing, Sophie,” he whispered, his voice harsh and soft at once. “I could do this forever.”
That admission shocked him, confused him. What the ever-loving hell?
“I wish you would,” she said in his ear, her breath warm and sensual against his skin. “I never want to be anywhere but right here with you. Like this.”
His heart beat faster then. Where the hell was this going? What was he saying? What was
And yet he couldn’t think beyond what was happening right this second. The way his body fit into hers, the tightness of her pussy around his cock, the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he tunneled into her body again and again.
He had to do something to shake this up, shake himself up. He pulled out of her and got to his knees. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed and puzzled.
“On all fours, sweetheart,” he said, and she obeyed him.
At the last second, he pushed her head down to the pillow so that her ass was in the air—and then he thrust into her, certain this angle would distance him. Distance them.
But it didn’t feel as anonymous as he wanted it to feel. It was still Sophie, still her sweet body he slammed himself into again and again.
She gripped the pillow in her fists and thrust back against him, and he knew he’d changed nothing. If anything, he’d made it worse, because she was so hot like this, her back arched, her sweet ass in the air, her body thrusting backward against his as he pushed into her.
He wasn’t going to last like this. He’d thought he might, but he could feel the impending crisis. So he fingered her clit and felt a surge of triumph when she gasped and rocked into him harder. That was all he needed to lose it.
Which he did. Spectacularly. He came so hard black spots swam in his vision.
When it was over, Sophie sank to the bed and he sank down with her, still deep inside her but unable to move.
“My God,” she said, her voice muffled in the pillow. “I think I’m going to need a bigger vibrator when this is over. Or a gigolo.”
Chase frowned. Had she just said…?
Somehow, he rolled to the side and she rolled the other way, until she was facing him.
“A gigolo?” he croaked. “What the fuck?”
She scooted over and kissed him. It was tender and sweet but his cock still jumped in response.
“Well, this is pretty much over when we get the flash drive—and a girl has to satisfy her needs, Chase. Don’t tell me you won’t be satisfying yours with the next available waitress.”
He wanted to tell her there was no way he’d be doing that. But what the fuck was he thinking? Of course he would. Because Sophie would go back to her life in New York or California and he would go back to his. There would be no more of this. No more Sophie in his bed, in his mouth…
Which was good, because he didn’t want her there anyway.
“Of course I will,” he said. “I love waitresses.”
“I know you do. And they love you.”
He didn’t know what they were saying. What the hell was happening. All he knew was that he felt like shit inside. But he wouldn’t let her know it. He couldn’t. He climbed from the bed and went to take care of the condom.
When he returned, he got into bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. She snuggled close, throwing a leg over his and wrapping her arm around his waist.
They fell asleep like that, entwined like two vines growing together.
T’S GO TIME
,” Chase said, his expression somber as he pulled on a baseball cap. He had a pair of dark sunglasses tucked into his jacket and a gun beneath it.
Sophie adjusted the ugly dress even though there was nothing to adjust. It hung off her like a sack, though it clung to her breasts in a very unflattering way. She looked like a granny. She slipped on the glasses she’d bought at Walmart. She’d put her hair in a tight bun at the base of her neck, and she’d gone minimal on the makeup. She wrapped a pink scarf around her head and tied it beneath her chin Grace Kelly-style.
She didn’t look like Grace Kelly. More like Grace’s maiden aunt. She frowned at her reflection, but Chase only nodded his approval.
“Looking very unattractive, Soph. Excellent job.”
“Thanks. I think.”
His green eyes were very serious. “You ready for this?”
“You’re staying in the car, you got it? I’m getting the package from the carrier before he ever gets to Tyler’s building, but you’re along just in case I don’t intercept it in time. We’ll go to Madame Renard if we have to—but the plan is not to let it get that far.”
“Won’t Sergei Turov have the same plan?”
“Maybe. Which is why we have to get to it first.”
Sophie’s heart tripped along like a skier on a downhill run. She was nervous about the plan, sure. But she was also nervous because when they got the flash drive, this thing between them—whatever this thing was—was over.
It hit her that she’d yet to get him in her mouth. He’d managed to make her so incoherent with pleasure last night that she’d fallen asleep after he’d made her come—over and over—but she’d never explored him the way she’d wanted.
And now she might never get to. That thought made her heart ache and her belly tighten.
There was so much more she wanted to say, much of it nonsensical and confusing. She had this crazy feeling that if something happened to him, she’d never recover. That she would mourn him for the rest of her life.
She caught the lapels of his jacket and held him hard. “Chase, I—”
“What, baby?” he asked softly, running the back of a finger over her cheek.
“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “I just know I want more of you—”
“I want more of you too.”
“But when this is over, when we have the flash drive—” She couldn’t say it.
“We’ll figure it out, Sophie.”
She didn’t know what else to say. She’d already said too much. It was crazy to feel so strongly, but she had a connection with him, and she didn’t want it to end. She wanted more of the insanity of being with Chase. More of the excitement. More of him.
He squeezed her hand. “We have to go now. We have work to do.”
She nodded. He shouldered the gun bag, and she rolled the suitcases out the door. But he wouldn’t let her carry anything downstairs. He took both suitcases, carried them down, and then she rolled them outside and along the sidewalk until they reached the car. He shoved them in the trunk and stowed the guns behind her seat before helping her into the car as if she really were a helpless old granny.
He got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Then he turned to her. “You do everything I tell you, got it?”
Her heart thumped. “Yes.”
“If I tell you to drive away, if I’m bleeding in the road and six guys are standing over me with guns drawn, you drive away. Got it?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He nodded. “Good. Then let’s get rolling.”
hase fucking hated that he had to take Sophie along with him. More than anything, he wanted to leave her locked up tight in the apartment. Safe. But if he couldn’t get to the package on the van, then he had to take her to see Madame Renard, in which case there would be no time to turn around and go back for her. If he had to get the package from Madame, it had to happen very fast.
Unfortunately, there was every chance that Turov had the same plan he did, which was to intercept the driver—but it was a risky plan as plans went. Far easier to wait for the package to be delivered and snatch it then. Except Chase couldn’t count on Turov caring about the risk, which meant that Sophie was in danger every step of the way on this mission.
He checked that his earpiece was working and then dialed Hawk at his offices in Annapolis. He picked up right away.
“You on the move?”
“Affirmative,” Chase answered. “You got the coordinates for where we need to go after the mission?”
“Yeah, shooting the address over to you now.”
Chase’s phone pinged. He glanced at the address as he navigated traffic. “Montmartre.”
“That’s it. Trying to charter a jet to get you out of there, but everyone wants twenty-four hours’ notice. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
Chase could hear the frustration in Hawk’s voice. “This isn’t a HOT mission, Hawk. I don’t expect miracles.”
The other man grumbled. “Yeah, well, I do. And I’m not ready to give up yet, so don’t get too cozy in Montmartre.”
“So do we know where the delivery van is?”
“I’ve got Billy the Kid on it.”
Chase nearly sighed in relief. Billy “the Kid” Blake was a fricking computer genius. “Jesus, that’s awesome he’s there.”
“The other guys are on their way. They all want to help. Dex’s dad came through surgery so he has to stay in Kentucky, but he’s with you in spirit.”
Chase didn’t typically get choked up, but the fact his teammates were rushing back from R & R and joining Hawk was enough to make his throat tight.
“Putting you on speaker,” Hawk said, and then Chase heard Billy’s voice.
“Heya, Fiddler. Hear you got into some trouble.”
Chase glanced over at Sophie. She was staring straight ahead, her fingers curled together over her midsection. The dress she wore was awful and unflattering to her figure, but her profile was still the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. She must have felt him looking at her, because she turned her head and their gazes met for the briefest of moments before he had to put his eyes back on the road.
“A little bit,” he said. “But you’re going to help me out of it, I hope.”
“I’m working it, man. I’ve got the package’s last scan—and I’ve managed to break into the carrier’s network, so I can see where the van is.”
“Damn, dude, you’re the best.”
“Can’t guarantee that Androv’s people haven’t done the same thing, though I’ve added a script that should make it a little more difficult for them. They can hack it, but it should give us a few extra minutes.”
Chase didn’t understand anything about computers. “How do you know they didn’t get there first and add a script to slow
Billy laughed. “Trust me, I’d know. You worry about getting the package, and I’ll worry about Open Sky.”
Chase had worked with Billy long enough to believe him. “Where am I going and what am I looking for then?”
“There’s an office building two stops before Nash’s apartment. Sending over the coordinates now.” Chase heard keys tapping and then his phone dinged. “The driver has to go inside and up to the third and fourth floors for deliveries. The van will be unattended for several minutes. You’ll have to pick the lock to the bulkhead door. It’s a simple cylinder lock. You get the coordinates?”
“Good. The package is at location 1045. That’s inside the bulkhead door, to the left, top shelf.”
“Copy that. What’s the van’s ETA to the store?”