A Dangerously Sexy Affair (7 page)

For a moment she looked as though she was going to offer some sympathetic comment, but instead she said, “So you're Mariah Carey all of a sudden?”

He laughed, relieved. “Yes, you may only take photos from my best angle.”

Shaking her head, she switched places with him. “Is everything we need in these paper files?”

“I don't think so. Only things that have been printed out as part of the recruitment process and anything that requires a signature, like a disciplinary action.” Aiden took the pile next to her. “But it should be enough to help me when I start interviewing the staff tomorrow.”

“What makes you think they'll talk to you?” She scanned a document. “I wouldn't.”

“They might not say much, but their bodies do the more valuable talking anyway.”

“Did they train you to read body language at the FBI?” Her voice held a note of wariness rather than the curiosity that most people had when asking about his career.

“Yeah. It's important for a lot of reasons, especially when you're interviewing people.” He pulled another file from his stack, his finger catching the edge and flipping it open.

“Do they teach you how to lie?”

He took a moment to formulate his response. “They teach us to read body language and how we might be accidentally giving information away.”

The building's air-conditioning hummed in the quiet room, and the rustle of papers beneath his fingertips highlighted her lack of response. He scanned the page—it contained notes from a disciplinary action for a minor security breach, password sharing. Aiden set the file aside in the pile for employees of interest.

“I can teach you a few things, if you'd like,” he said, turning toward her.

She pulled another file and kept her eyes straight ahead. “About body language?”

“Yes, how to read it.” His eyes drifted over her as she worked, her slim fingers flipping through the documents. The chipped black nail polish was gone, replaced with a pink color bright enough to stop traffic.

“Maybe some other time.” She narrowed her eyes at something in the file and she handed it to him wordlessly, and he placed it on the growing interest pile.

“Correct me if I'm mistaken, but you seem kind of preoccupied with people lying to you.”

She stiffened. “Preoccupied?”

“It sounded more palatable than
obsessed
.”

“I am
not
obsessed.” She finally looked up at him, her eyes simmering. “Is it so wrong that I want people to be up-front with me?”

“It's not wrong, but it does tell me that there's a reason for your behavior.” Satisfaction took root in his stomach when her expression confirmed his statement. “That's why you blew up at me for lying about my job even though I tried to explain it to you. And, if we're being honest, it was kind of inconsequential to what we did anyway.”

She gaped at him. “Inconsequential? Your lies meant I ended up sleeping with someone I work with.”

“Hold on a minute—” He held up his hand. “You weren't exactly Little Miss Honesty with me, either. If you'd mentioned that you worked at Cobalt & Dane, I would have pulled the pin.”

“Oh, so I'm supposed to trust you because of that?”

“No, you're supposed to take responsibility for your part in what happened. You slept with me because you
wanted
to. I didn't trick you into it.” He forced a slow breath.

He closed the file in front of him. Why the hell should he care what she thought of him? It was obvious her feelings were rooted in some deep hurt that had nothing to do with their night together. She was damaged by something. Afraid.

Her tongue ran across her lower lip, leaving it shiny and pink.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

Burning hunger flared across her face. A delicate flush rose up her neck, and her lips parted. Tempting as sin. Heat blazed in her hazel eyes, lighting up the flecks of gold and green in her irises. Frustration and anticipation, excitement and a hint of fear. All competing for dominance.

It was how she'd looked at him that night, as she'd taken his hand and followed him to his room. As she'd watched him lower himself down onto her body, then latch his mouth onto the sweet spot between her legs. Tasting her. Drowning in her.

“Quinn.” He tried to hold his response back and hide it from her. “Don't look at me like that. If you do...”

“What?” she asked, the question echoing in his head, bouncing around.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

She blinked, eyes wide and black as an abyss. “Yes.”

The air snapped around them, filled with chaotic energy and magnetic desire. He took the folder from her hands, tossing it onto the HR manager's desk.

“I'm sorry I lied,” he said.

She backed up against the filing cabinet, her chest rising and falling beneath the open motorcycle jacket. “And?”

“I wish you hadn't snuck out that morning.” His training and practice slipped away, the skills he'd honed to be detached and impassive dissolving like a snowflake on his tongue. “I wasn't finished with you.”

A whimper escaped her lips. “I had to go.”

“I know.” He slid a hand along her jaw until his fingers threaded into her hair. “But I've thought about you every day since then. I've imagined what else I want to do to you, what else I want you to do to me.”

Her teeth scraped along her lower lip as her palms came up to his chest, her fingers sliding along the fabric of his shirt and setting off sparks within him.

“Tell me to stop.” His forehead came down to rest on hers, his eyes squeezed shut. “Because I'm going to kiss you if you don't.”

7

U
SE
YOUR
WORDS
, Quinn. Say it, say
something.
Anything.

But she couldn't. Trapped between the hard metal cabinet and Aiden's even harder body, his hand wrapped around the base of her skull, she couldn't convince herself to put a stop to it.

His warm breath fanned out across her cheek as he hovered, his lips so close to hers. Damn it. She wanted this kiss, wanted it like sleep at the end of a long day. She wanted to sink into him and let the world fade away until there was nothing but his tongue against hers. She wanted
not
to be terrified of feeling like this.

What happened to baby steps? It was supposed to be one night, spontaneous and risk-free and—

“Just say the word.” His lips brushed her cheek.

Her breath stuck in her throat and her heart pounded like a fist against her rib cage. Awareness ran through her, filling her with a delicious tingling.

“Quinn,” he breathed as his lips crushed down on hers.

The force of his kiss pressed her hard into the cabinet, the files rattling inside it as the handle dug into her back. But the glide of his tongue between her lips, the pressure of his hands and the warm, heady scent of him took everything else away. Robbing her of all experience but his kiss.

Her body responded immediately, an aching pulse gathering hot and tight in her sex. Fingers curling into his shirt, she clung to him with all the desperate, terrifying need she'd locked away for the past two years. But Aiden wasn't going to take advantage of her like her ex; he wasn't going to use sex to humiliate her.

Strong hands held her head in place as he explored her, taking and giving all at once. Memories of him swirled so vividly in her mind it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. His pushed his thigh between her legs, parting her and pressing against the pulsing ache there. She gasped.

Yes, yes,
yes.

“Damn,” he moaned into her ear as she ground herself against him, shameless in her desire.

The seam of her jeans rubbed her through the thin cotton of her panties, giving her enough friction to drive her crazy but not enough to give her what she needed. Heat flared within her as his hand breached the hem of her jacket, pushing the leather out of the way so he could skate his hand up her rib cage to cup one breast in his palm.

A groan broke the air, but she had no idea who it came from. His thumb teased her nipple through the fabric of her tank while he kissed her neck, zeroing in on the spot where her pulse fluttered wildly.

Teeth. Tongue. Lips. He used them all.

Hooking a finger over the edge of her tank, he pulled the fabric down along with the soft lace cup of her bra until her breast was freed. The second he touched her sensitive nipple, her back arched, her head lolling against the metal filing cabinet.

“My God,” she moaned.

Each not-so-gentle flick of his thumb across her nipple sent heat spiraling through her, but his hands weren't enough. She fisted his hair and dragged his head down to her breast, flooded with relief when he took the swollen bud between his lips. Pleasure and pain bled together as he nipped her with his teeth, soothing the spot immediately with his tongue.

She didn't realize his hand was at her waistband until cool air hit her skin when he dragged down the zipper of her jeans. Slipping his hand inside, he pressed the heel of his palm to her sex, rubbing in slow, circular movements as he mimicked the motion of his tongue. He laved her nipple, alternately sucking and licking until she felt as if she was going to explode.

“You're far too good at that,” she gasped. “Tell me that wasn't part of your James Bond training.”

“Search and seduce?” His throaty chuckle vibrated against her chest as he moved from one breast to the other. “Breaching enemy lines?”

He slipped his finger beneath her panties, grazing her sex. Blood rushed in her ears as his fingertip pressed against her entrance, teasing her. Testing her.

His mouth found its way back to hers, wet and hot and open. “Nothing could have prepared me for how good you feel. So silky and perfect.”

Her muscles clenched as he slid a finger inside her, easing it in and out while he continued to massage her with the heel of his hand.

“You're so tight,” he whispered into her ear.

Reaching out to him, she brushed her fingertips along the hard ridge of his erection.

“Damn, Quinn.” He pressed against her hand and thrust his finger into her again. “You drive me crazy.”

Stars danced behind her eyes, and each stroke dragged her further under. The ragged edge of his voice obliterated her, the catch in his words revealing how turned-on he was.

“You're so close.” His lips peppered her jaw with kisses. “I can feel you shaking. I want you to come against my hand.”

The words were more than she could take, the husky sound and the expert touch tipping her over into oblivion. Her thighs quaked as she came, her knees giving out so that he had to hold her up with his free hand until her climax subsided.

What the hell did you do, Quinn?

Reality crashed into her like a stone-cold tidal wave. Her eyes snapped open, searching the roof of the HR manager's office.

Not again. Please, please,
please
don't let there be a camera.

She wriggled out of Aiden's grip, extracting herself with flustered force and wrenching his hands from her. Her breath came hard and fast as she checked each corner of the room. There didn't seem to be anything that might have recorded their tryst...unless they had put secret ones in the smoke detectors. Would they do that?

“Quinn?” Aiden reached out for her but she stepped back, clipping her elbow on the corner of the filing cabinet and yelping in pain. “Tell me what's going on.”

“I... We...” She rubbed her elbow and let out a deep breath to dislodge the panic blocking the words from coming out. “We shouldn't have done that.”

He watched her without managing to give a single thing away. Damn him and his stupid body-language training. “Why?”

“Oh, I don't know, maybe because we're on a job together at our client's office? Or perhaps because there could have been...there could...” She fought the rising tide of emotion clawing its way up her neck.

“Try to breathe slowly.” He pulled the chair out from behind the manager's desk and held it out toward her. “Sit.”

The last thing she wanted was for Aiden to see how weak she was. How anxious. Talk about giving him ammunition to prove she wasn't up to the task. One orgasm and she was about to have a full-blown panic attack.

“Sit.” His voice left no room for argument, which made her want to do the opposite of what he ordered.

But the floor shifted beneath her feet, and her face tingled. If she didn't sit she might faint...and then she'd never be able to show her face at work again.

“I'm sitting because I want to, not because you're telling me to,” she grumbled as she slid her butt into the chair and leaned forward, bracing her head between her knees like the therapist had taught her.

“I don't give a shit so long as I don't have to carry your unconscious body out of here.” He spun the chair around and squatted down in front of her so they were at eye level. “I have to admit that's the first time a woman's ever had that reaction after I've given her an orgasm.”

She cringed. Maybe it was time to get the word
damaged
tattooed across her forehead in big black letters. At least that way guys would steer clear of her from the get-go. Then she could save herself the mortification.

“You don't have to give me the whole story.” He put a hand on her shoulder, his touch steady and comforting. “But can you at least tell me if you're okay?”

“It's not you,” she muttered into her hands. “I should have been able to control myself.”

Maybe if she stayed in the brace position long enough, he would leave. But she could see the buttery-smooth leather of his shoes and the soft denim of his jeans. He hadn't moved an inch.

“Control is overrated.” He removed his hand from her shoulder. “Would a glass of water help?”

She nodded, without revealing her face. Not because she wanted a drink, but because she needed a moment alone. To deal with the shame and embarrassment, to work herself up to looking him in the eye.

This
was why she couldn't do anything more than a one-night stand—it seemed she could only keep her shit together for a single encounter. Where there was no risk of getting hurt. After that the fear started to creep in. What if it happened again? What if she trusted him and he used it against her?

She swiveled the chair back and forth on its wheels, as if she could shake the crazy out of herself. When would she go back to being a normal girl who could enjoy more than a one-night stand? Probably never.

She slowly sat up, letting her balance settle before she pushed out of the chair.

“Here.” Aiden reappeared with a glass of water, holding it out to her like the proverbial olive branch. “Drink it slow.”

“Yes, sir.” She managed a weak smile and sipped the cool liquid, her heart slowing to its normal pace.

“It's probably time to get you home.” He straightened the files they'd taken from the cabinet and scribbled a note on a sticky pad.

“But we didn't get past
G
.” Quinn pressed the cool glass to her temple and sighed.

“Doesn't matter. I'll come early tomorrow and finish it.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “And your health is more important than sorting through files.”

“My health is none of your concern.”

“While I'm in charge of this assignment,
any
consultants who are working for me are my concern.” He motioned for her to follow him out of the room. “Whether I make them orgasm or not.”

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She drank the rest of her water, and they passed through the kitchen so she could put the glass into the dishwasher. No evidence, just in case. “We're not allowed to talk about us sleeping together or that...kiss.”

“We're allowed, but you don't want to.”

This day was not going according to plan. Proving herself and keeping things professional with Aiden had been a big fat fail. Where was the reset button when she needed one? At the very least she could use a checkpoint in order to replay the past few hours... Hell, why not redo the last week and a bit while she was at it?

They took the elevator down to the building's lobby in silence. She was grateful that he wasn't pushing her to explain why she'd flipped out; it wasn't a story she'd shared with many people. Alana and her therapist were pretty much it. Even her own mother didn't know. Quinn couldn't bear the thought of her mother hearing that despite her best efforts, she'd raised a naive fool.

Outside, the traffic rushed past. The peak hours were over but New York was still jammed full of people. Rain fell, lightly misting the street until it developed a glossy sheen and amplified the sound of tires turning and people hurrying past.

Aiden stuck a hand out to signal a cab. “Come on, let's get you home.”

“You don't have to accompany me.” She folded her arms across her chest and resisted following him as the cab pulled up to the curb. “I can get home on my own.”

“You almost passed out up there,” he said, opening the passenger door. “I wouldn't be a good colleague if I didn't make sure you got home safe.”

Colleague. Thinking of him that way soothed her edges a little; it was nonthreatening, equal. And didn't imply any of the unwanted attraction that she felt toward him.

The rain caught in his hair, dampening the dark curls until they shone like polished onyx. Her sex clenched, the muscles remembering what it felt like to have the heel of his palm pressed against her. Massaging. Pleasuring.

Now that there was space between them and air to breathe, her body relaxed...and with relaxation came the slow trickle of desire.

Could you be any more screwed up? It's not normal to flip from mind-blowing orgasm to panic attack and back again just like that. He probably thinks you're a freak.

“Quinn, we're both going to be soaked. Let me do the right thing.”

If they split the cab it wouldn't bust her budget for the week, and she really couldn't deal with the subway right now.

Sliding into the backseat, she gave the cabbie her address...well, the house a few doors down from her address. Aiden might not be like her ex, but that didn't mean she could trust him.

* * *

A
IDEN
WALKED
THROUGH
his front door and let out a long breath. His clothes had dried out on the ride to Quinn's place—or at least the address she'd given the cabbie. He'd asked the driver to wait so he could make sure she got inside her house okay, but she'd stood in the rain, arms folded over her chest, until he'd given up. For all he knew that wasn't even her street.

But she wasn't the kind of girl who could be pushed. Someone had hurt her really bad, and now she wore her scars like armor against the world. The girl had baggage with a capital
B
and that was so
not
his thing. He hated drama.

Then why was he inconceivably drawn to her? Maybe it was that whole moth to a flame thing? He wanted the bright, shiny light even though he knew he'd get burned.

Stupid. He should never have kissed her, never mind that he couldn't think about anything except how amazing she'd felt in his arms that first night.

“You're not the brightest crayon in the box, are you?” he muttered as he walked into the living room and slung his satchel onto the couch.

“It's all right, A. Not everyone can be the brightest crayon.” His brother's voice made him jump. “But you're still my favorite.”