On The Rocks (35 page)

The lashes on her ass kept getting the
slightest brush from her flowing gown, and the sensation was
amazing. She swore she could still feel every ridge of his hard
cock deep inside her, pumping in and out of her in a steady
rhythm.

Stupid grin for the win.

Doors went by on her left, but Kizzie had
her focus on the wall of glass to her right. She slowed to a stop
and turned to face the clear panes fully.

Outside, a brilliant orange sun dissolved
into the deep, dark sea. Same as it did every night. Same as it did
on every mission in every location she’d ever worked around the
world. The sunsets in Panama were utterly amazing. On the rare
occasion she was actually “home,” she could see the dazzling show
from her bedroom window. But this sunset,
this one right
here
? Most perfect sunset she’d ever witnessed.

Damn, everything was exponentially more
beautiful after great sex, wasn’t it? It was like the cobwebs had
been banged off her brain and she could finally see possibilities
in her life that she hadn’t before.

Sighing, she kept her gaze on the bright
orb, but in a blink the sun was gone. She lingered a little longer,
watching the faint glow on the horizon. Her lids slipped closed and
for that moment, every ounce of the bullshit she’d shoveled from
thirteen to thirty-two actually felt worth it.

Sharp footsteps came tearing down the
hallway toward her. Eyes snapping open, Kizzie whirled at the same
time a pale blue blur went flying by, a heat-seeking missile locked
onto a target. Kizzie brought her hands up, ready to defend
herself, but the woman was already well beyond her and still moving
fast.

Ten feet away, the woman came to an abrupt
halt. One hand clamped over her mouth, she used the other to push
open a door and disappeared inside.

Kizzie glanced over her shoulder.

Even though the woman had been moving like
the devil himself was on her tail, no one followed.

A few cautious strides got Kizzie to the
door. A loud clunk sounded, and then the distinctly awful sound of
moaning. No, coughing.

She frowned. Oh, no this was a mix of the
two.

Retching.

The closer she got, the louder and more
painful it sounded. Kizzie peered through the crack in the door at
the woman curled over the porcelain hole. Her arms were bare, her
small frame cased in a gorgeous blue dress.

Kizzie couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t
need to. The short-cropped hair in stylish finger waves clued her
in to who the woman was.

Le subbie
, otherwise known as
Mrs.
Xander Duquesne.

Kizzie’s blood froze in her veins and a
tingle shot through her body.

Did she know who Kizzie was?

Better still, did she know what Kizzie had
just done with her husband?

A sudden heat flushed through her, opening
every pore in her skin. Her blood melted so quickly the sharp flux
in temperature made her head whirl.

This was wrong. For them to meet like this
was just… wrong. If they ever met, it would have to be up to
Xander. And then only if his wife wanted it. Anything else seemed
like an intrusion.

Kizzie took a quiet step back, ready to
tiptoe away when another bout of the deep-throated heaves started
up. A violent coughing jag followed, and that made her pause.

Clearly the Mrs. needed help. Kizzie stole
another glance down the hallway, praying Xander would genie-blink
himself here and come to his wife’s aid. But there was only a
darkening stretch of nothingness.

“Oh god,” his wife moaned. She spit,
muttered in a garbled English accent, “All this ‘cause some idiot
man ate a damn apple at the beginning of time? Way to hold a
grudge, Big Guy.”

Kizzie’s chuckle was automatic.

On a soft gasp, Mrs. Duquesne craned her
head around. Her face and neck were red and a tad puffy, and her
nose was running. She stared up at Kizzie with brown eyes that
watered, but didn’t seem to recognize her. Why would they? Why
would Xander mention her to his wife? She didn’t
really
buy
that whole open relationship BS, did she?

Kizzie blinked. Shoved her hand through her
hair. “Sorry. I… didn’t mean to intrude.”

Yet here she was, doing exactly that.

She edged the door open a little wider, in
spite of the klaxons blaring in her head.

Xander wouldn’t appreciate this. He didn’t
talk to her about his wife. Didn’t seem to care for it when Kizzie
dragged the woman up in their brief conversations. But she couldn’t
just leave the lady here to puke her eyes out all by her
onesies.

Besides, she still needed the bathroom to
make herself presentable… after having just fucked this woman’s
husband.

Not awkward at all.

The Mrs. kept staring, as though wondering
what Kizzie was doing there and when she would leave.

“Are you all—”

The retching started up with gusto, and that
stupid question died in Kizzie’s throat.

Setting her clutch and holster on the
counter by the sink, she stepped over a pair of cute shoes and went
to an overhead cabinet. A bit of rummaging produced a couple of
hand towels.

At the sink again, Kizzie soaked the cloth.
When the woman finally came up for air, Kizzie knelt beside her and
gently brushed at the tear streaks on her face.

“Should I go get your husband?”

“No!”

Kizzie’s head jerked back at the emphatic
response.

“No,” the Mrs. said again, quieter.
Sniffing, she dabbed at her nose with the bend of her slim wrist.
“Please… it’s just… something I ate didn’t agree with me.”

Kizzie reached up to the counter and snapped
a couple of tissues out of a nearby box. Handed them over.

“Pretty sure he’d want to know you’re ill.
He can’t be too far.”

Their gazes met. “Do you know my
husband?”

Kizzie turned away. Her heart banged against
her rib cage so hard she was sure it echoed in the room.

“I don’t.” She pushed upright and fought
back that ache in her chest. Gave herself a moment to recover by
running another cloth under the water. “He was speaking with Mr.
Galletti and I was introduced when I came in.”

She returned with the wet wipe.

“And you knew he was my husband how?” A
dainty brow popped up.

“I saw you two earlier and figured... “
Working the towel once more, she gingerly dabbed at the woman’s
nose and mouth.

“I’m sorry. You’re helping and all I can do
is be a total bitch.”

“Oh, trust me. You’re not being a
bitch.”

Though, given the circumstances, she totally
had the right to be one.

“Kind of you to say, but I’m feeling rather
bitchy right now, thank you very much.” She pushed away from the
bowl and flushed. Murmured, “God, I hope I’m done with that till’
tomorrow.”

‘Till tomorrow?

‘Till tomorrow…

Oh, hell…

Kizzie’s heart tripped and her breathing
stumbled. Bile rose in her throat, and she had half a mind to push
the woman aside so she could empty her own stomach.

A disagreeable meal was
not
the
culprit behind his wife’s illness.

Oh god…

Kind of explained why Xander didn’t want to
come in her— apart from the obvious reasons. He’d already gone half
on a baby with the wife. Did they have other kids?

The woman stepped around her and washed her
hands. Rinsed her mouth. She checked her face and hair and met
Kizzie’s reflection in the mirror.

“Your lippy’s a tad smudged.” With a smile
and a wink she said, “Havin’ a good night are you?”

What the hell had she just done?

Kizzie bobbed her head. “Yeah.”

“Whoever the bloke is, looks like he made
you happy.” A chuckle. “Thanks for your help. It was very kind of
you.”

“No prob.”

The woman grabbed her purse from the
counter.

The door opened and shut and then Kizzie was
alone. Shaking, she braced her arms on the counter and stared in
the mirror.

‘A little smudged’ was an understatement.
Her lips were pink but there was a faint red ring all around them
from where Xander had kissed her lipstick away. Or fucked it
off.

Kizzie wiped at her mouth. Wiped again. Then
scrubbed her palm over her lips hard, but the stain was there.
Seeping in.

Her chest ached and her head started to
throb. Why it was getting to her now, she hadn’t a clue. She knew
going in Xander was married. Out of sight out of mind though,
right? But pregnant? He had a
family
?

The next exhale sounded like a sob and she
dropped her face in her hands.

Okay, Kizzie…

She took a breath.

It was okay. Xander said relationships were
built on trust, so she’d trust him. He and his wife had an open
relationship. Everything that just happened was okay.

So why didn’t it
feel
okay?

Shit, she was confused.

In the grand scheme of things she’d had X
for less than an hour. His wife had him for a lifetime. Kizzie was
fine with that. Totally fine.

She was going to be fine with it.

Was going to have to be…

Kizzie had signed on to be Xander’s sub.
Nothing more. Hell, apart from confirmation that he really liked
fucking her, she didn’t even know what that entailed, but forever
definitely wasn’t on the menu. He already had a woman for that and
Kizzie wasn’t it.

Didn’t want to be.

Wouldn’t even know
how
to be, so,
yeah, good thing that option wasn’t on the table. Whew! Bullet
dodged…

She shrugged off the mental workout and
focused. She had to get Sabine tagged, get into Abrahan’s
computer.

Whatever existed outside of that —Xander’s
promise to come find her, his pregnant wife— she cursed again— was
irrelevant at the moment.

On autopilot, Kizzie tore open her clutch
and spilled the few contents onto the counter. After washing her
face as best she could, she quickly reapplied her makeup.
Finger-combed her hair. Made a messy fishtail braid and pulled it
over one shoulder.

A quick cleanup of the stickiness between
her legs, she threw the tissues in the toilet and flushed. Flushed
again.

Kizzie strapped the thigh holster around her
leg, feeling herself slip back into familiar skin. She checked her
weapons were secure. Eyed her face in the mirror.

Welcome back, Agent Baldwin.

Contents returned to her bag, she snagged
the clutch and prepared to leave when a twinkle caught her eye.

A ring rested near the back edge of the
counter, like it had skittered away when she first put her purse up
there. Kizzie picked it up and studied it. A huge diamond in a
raised setting on a thick gold band. Was this his wife’s ring?

On impulse, she slipped it onto the ring
finger of her left hand. It went past the first knuckle and
stalled.

Some things just weren’t meant to fit.

Still, it was a gorgeous piece, glittering
no matter the light. Actually, now that she looked at it closely,
that diamond was odd. Marquise cut, but it didn’t really throw
light at all. Almost like it was illuminated from beneath.

Kizzie flipped the switch and the room went
dark. Sure enough a faint blue light flashed under the clear stone.
Flashed again, a steady pulse.

Lights on, she pulled the ring off and
studied the area beneath the band, but it was smooth solid gold all
the way around.

She tugged on the diamond. Brows popped up
as the setting flipped back. A micro USB port was hidden
underneath, the tiny hole disappearing into the gold loop.

Kizzie frowned. What the hell were the
Duquesnes up to?

AND THAT, LADIES and gentlemen, is how you
steal time.

Fighting a smile, Xander headed back into
the party, relaxed for the first time in a
long
time. He
sidestepped two side-steppers and shimmied by a shimmier, keeping
his eyes peeled for Abrahan and Sanzio. The transfer would come
through soon, and the brothers Galletti would expect him to be
there. So it was time to link up with Naima and Phil. Do what
they’d come here for so he could get back to his sub.

Kizzie had taken that belt like a champ. He
had
whipped her in Helsinki, but the belt was stiffer than a
single tail. Broader, too. Which one did she like better?

She’d probably love a cat-o-nine. A crop.
Flogger.

Exactly how much pain did Kizzie like?

And how much was he willing to dole out?

This was the fun part of the relationship.
Figuring out each other’s limits. And kissing her. He could kiss
those pillow-soft lips of hers for hours.

Craning his neck around, he scanned the
crowd. Naima was five feet and change in heels. His chances of
spotting her in this sea of trees was pretty much nil.

He pulled out his phone and got it unlocked.
Frowned at the notifications on the screen. Phil had been blowing
his phone up.

So he was a little late. Once he found Naima
and got the ring, he’d run downstairs and handle business on
Abrahan’s laptop. In less than ten he’d be back up here long enough
to get a dance or two in with his wife. Then it was just a matter
of waiting around to go do an acting job for the Gallettis when the
NOC list didn’t show up. Regret to inform them that he wouldn’t pay
a dime until they could produce the goods. And since they never
would, he’d never have to pay.

Just as Xander dialed Naima’s number,
someone brushed by him, dragging his attention up. A flash of red
went by, that gown flowing, the woman wearing it moving with a
dancer’s fluid grace.

Kizzie turned and looked at him. Motioned
for him to follow with a subtle tip of her head.

Grinning, Xander slipped the phone back into
his pocket. Waited two beats to be sure no one was watching. Then
he tailed her through the crowd, body hardening as he thought of
the raised welts he’d left on her ass. Thought of how deep the
color of those bruises would be. He wanted to watch them fade so he
could mark her up all over again.