Spy Games: Lethal Limits (22 page)

Tia didn’t give in to his desires. Tia gave up and let him do what he wanted.

However, the Tia that slipped her finger into his ring was a different creature. That Tia held promise of submissiveness, to giving in to his desires. A true power exchange, much in the way they had exchanged vows, exchanged bites of cake. That Tia was his perfection, in and out of bed.

He went into the house with a sense of purpose. He’d get to the bottom of this and then make love to her for the rest of the evening. Or maybe they’d make love first, then he’d figure it out. In any case, he wanted answers, and he wanted to see if she was still the brave, pushy, sexy thing she’d become after he slipped his ring on her finger.

“Hey, Tia?” he called as he entered the house by the backdoor. Silence answered him, so he took off his boots, damp from the rain, and went in.

She’d been busy—her purse kit box was open on the counter, with sticky notes attached to the box with numbers on it. She’d begun to string silver beads onto thin yarn, and the beads glittered as he ran a finger through them in the bowl she’d used to hold them.

Jake stuck his head into the dark living room. She wasn’t on the couch. He took the stairs two by two and found her on the bed, curled up in his favorite T-shirt, asleep. He leaned against the doorframe and drank her in, the curve of her hip under his shirt, the way her thighs pressed together, her hand between them. He saved her face for last and sucked in a breath, because she’d obviously been crying again. Damn it. The flesh under her long lashes was puffy, swollen, and streaks darted down her cheeks.

He drew closer and touched her shoulder, but she didn’t stir. She wasn’t faking it. He’d know the difference, and she usually woke just as quickly as he. So he grabbed the blanket off the rocking chair and gently covered her with it. She rolled and tugged the corner to her in her hand, holding it to her cheek, and she looked sixteen instead of twenty-eight.

He glanced around the room and found her phone on her bedside table. He checked it—no calls except his, no texts except his, so the tears were definitely his fault somehow. He set it back on the nightstand next to her gun and went to his side of the bed. He tripped on something—his bag—and as he moved it, a flash of light blue caught his eye.

He bent down and lifted Kate’s garter off the top of the pile of clothes. He stared at the garter, then back at Tia, his heartstrings tugging. This had been stuffed at the bottom, in a corner. She’d either wanted him to know she’d found it or, in her moment of sadness, fucked up.

Kate had snapped her garter at him in the restaurant after the very tiny, informal wedding, laughing at him as she also chucked him her bouquet. He was doomed to be next to marry, she’d told him, her smile so wicked he’d wanted to strangle her. He’d forgotten all about it until now. But Tia wouldn’t know that.

Jesus, what else did she find? His bedroom was full of ammo against him, and not the bullet type. His gaze flew to the bottom drawer and back to her tear-stained face. He didn’t have to check the drawer to know she’d found his Kate pile, the photos he’d dumped in one album the last time he’d come home, because he’d realized how he felt about her and decided to cleanse her from his life. Without that knowledge, it’d look like he had a stalker problem and needed a restraining order. He didn’t. God help him, he didn’t.

She stirred and whispered something, the blanket over her face. Jake went closer and tugged the blanket from her hands.

“What is it, honey?”

“Hurts.”

“What hurts?” He scanned her form with growing fear—would she hurt herself over something he’d done?

“Heart,” she whispered.

She rolled and something fell from her hand. He picked it up and drew in a breath. It was the engagement photo Kate had sent him, with her big grin and that flashy, carated billboard on her finger, screaming that she belonged to Chase. He frowned and looked closer. It had been taken here.

He whipped out his phone and texted Chase.
When did you bring Kate here?

When I proposed. I used the house rules to make her say yes.

Yes, now he remembered. Chase’s plan had been to use the house rules to make sure she said yes. Christ, Chase was manipulative, even before marriage. Of course, Kate had said yes. The last few months were a blur, though.
Where was I?

England, the first time around. Everything okay?

No, it wasn’t.

Everything’s fine. TTYL.

Jake closed the bedroom door softly behind him, letting her sleep. He went back to the kitchen and poured himself a generous whiskey and cola, not because he wanted it, but because he needed it. The house rules allowed alcohol if you didn’t get sex, and he wasn’t getting any tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either. The honeymoon was over.

Jake sighed and went to the porch, the crickets loud, the swing creaky as he sat, the moon shrouded in rainclouds. One of the horses snorted, echoing off the walls of the barn. He loved it here. He should be thrilled to be home. But now when he thought of Tia, instead of flashes of her in Paris, he had to suffer her in his T-shirt, tear-stained, curled around a picture of Kate. He’d done that to her, maybe not directly, but this fucking mess was his fault.

He sipped his drink, rattling the ice around in the glass. Tomorrow… He didn’t want to face her tomorrow. How could he bring up what he knew when he wasn’t supposed to know it?

The pocketknife in his pocket seemed to burn into his thigh, probably because he’d cheated yet again and had spoken to Kate. The look in Tia’s eye had been vindictive when she promised to emasculate him if he contacted Kate. Possessive. He liked that, but he didn’t want to lose his balls over stuff that wasn’t his fault.

He had to find a way to convince her that she was wrong—he didn’t want to be Kate’s seconds anymore. But how? His drink finished, he set it aside and stared out into the darkness, up at the stars just beginning to shine through the clouds.

The truth didn’t work with her, nor did charm. The only thing that seemed to work was when he pulled the dominance card, demanding she see things his way. How could he enjoy playing that, now, when the path it would take him would be a fine line between hate and…caring? Did he dare go deeper than that?

Yeah, he did. He had to go deeper, harder than he’d gone before. He would spend the day charming her, playing the gentleman, the kind husband, because that’s what he really wanted to be. But if things had changed like he thought, he knew a way to get her to surrender.

She wanted pain? He’d give her pain. The good kind. It would be the first step to her giving in and personally handing him the reins to her heart.

Chapter Twelve

Jake prided himself in waking quickly, since it was an asset in the field, but for some reason, he didn’t want to. He was having one hell of an erotic dream, one filled with no images. Only sensations and those were fucking awesome. His skin tingled as if it had a life of its own, his flesh hot, damp, especially around his cock, which had to be hard, because his balls ached. Damn, his dick was throbbing, insistent. Way, way too hard. It also felt…wet.

The spy inside him struggled to reach for his gun, his sixth sense thinking he was in danger, because why would his cock be hard and wet if he was asleep? But the man in him didn’t give two shits if he died. If he was on his way out, he was going happy, especially since his balls tightened on a growing orgasm the size of Texas.

He woke enough to open one eye. Tia was curled at his hip, her mouth on his cock, her hand on the shaft, stroking him. Jesus, so beautiful. He opened the other eye and sank his hands in her hair, his breathing suddenly twice as ragged. Oh, yeah, he would die very happy.

“Good morning,” she said huskily after releasing his cock from her sweet mouth, not looking up at him. She returned to her task at hand, literally, and stroked him vigorously. “I thought I’d surprise you with a wedding gift of my own.”

Jake frowned. She wasn’t supposed to be happy, was she? He didn’t think so, but the pleasure kept him from remembering, and suddenly her mouth returned to work, sucking him harder, deeper, her tongue swirling around the head when she paused on an upstroke.

“Why don’t you come ride me? I still owe you a ride,” he offered, tugging at her hair, though he wanted her to just keep sucking. Too damned good, her mouth too damned hot.

She released him. “I’m good.”

Her tongue ran down his shaft, and she sucked at his sac, her tongue running over first one tight ball, then the other. He drew in a very deep breath, rammed his heels into the mattress and his ass clenched. Think, think of something other than her wicked mouth. The crib. Babies had a way of staving off an orgasm.

He wanted to come inside a different damp heat. “You sure? I’m behind on
your
wedding gift.”

“Shh. Just enjoy my gift.”

And then she slipped a lubed finger into his ass. He arched off the bed, his cock so deep in her throat. God, the sensation. It was tight, it burned, and was so fucking good that when she sucked him hard and fast, his orgasm took him by surprise.

He pumped into her mouth a few times before he shot into the back of her throat, groaning her name, a load so massive that a part of him not drowning in pleasure worried she’d be unable to swallow. But swallow she did, lapping him clean, caressing his balls.

When she was done, he dragged her up his boneless body to kiss her.

“Best gift ever,” he whispered and slanted his lips across hers, the taste of his essence on her mouth and tongue almost an aphrodisiac. If he hadn’t come like a madman, he’d be hard again. But he had and, instead, he floated like a jellyfish bobbing on the waves of the best high. “Give me a bit, and I’ll take care of you,” he promised as he drew her close into his boneless arms.

She dropped a kiss to his lips and slipped away. “If I come, I won’t want to run.”

He got that. There was no way he was walking anywhere, never mind running. He opened one eye again to see her dressing, tugging on shorts and underwear—he wanted to veto that, but whatever. She could take them off when she got back. Shorts up the ass when you ran had to be uncomfortable. Her bra went on next, and she tossed his shirt onto the rocking chair.

“I’m sorry I got back so late.”

She smiled that serene smile of hers as she put on deodorant. “It’s okay. I kept busy. And I was very tired. We had quite the day yesterday.”

Yes, they had. He floated a little lower, the high lessening as he listened to how she spoke instead of what she said. “You want to ride Jessa later?”

She picked up her running shoes and smiled as she sat in the rocking chair. “Whatever you wish.”

He frowned, the fog in his brain almost clear enough to remember why that phrase pissed the hell out of him. “I want to give you five orgasms today. I’m way behind.”

She finished with her shoes, rose, and kissed his lips softly. “Whatever you wish.”

And then she was gone, leaving behind a haze of floral musk for him to feel puzzled in.

With a jolt, he saw the image of her wrapped in his T-shirt, the picture in her hand. He jumped up but she flashed by the window, already halfway down the driveway, her loose curls bouncing down her back in a high ponytail. Running.

That’s what his gift had been about. Suck him off and then run, so she didn’t have to be put in a position to give him anything. Yeah, the blowjob was a gift, and he had received the best orgasm, but she remained safe, no power exchanged, no feelings hurt. Nothing risked. She had no right to be pissed at him. He’d never lied about Kate, and he needed to talk to her about what she’d found. But she was gone.

It was as if they’d never said vows in the first place.

Jake rose, feeling cold, maybe a little used. He was too much guy to give into that feeling, though. He shrugged on running clothes and went to the basement to pound out his own mileage on the treadmill. Halfway in, he decided to continue with his vow from the night before. He’d make her surrender, but she wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t be able to hide. And he’d make her give him everything before she erupted into a ball of orgasmic flames in his hands.

He grinned and ran harder. He had a lot to do before the sun set.

****

Saturday evening after dinner, they sat in the kitchen, Jake at the head of the table with a deck of cards. Tia gave him a wary look, because a spy with cards was never a good sign. Especially one who lied, charmed, and oozed sex appeal like Jake did.

Tia had spent the day avoiding him without looking like she was doing so. He greeted her in the kitchen with a hot kiss when she returned from her run, whispering of orgasms. She had begged off, her mind wanting a shower while the rest of her wanted nothing more than to lose herself in his arms. Later, he’d cornered her in the barn with another hot kiss as she brushed Jessa, and she’d swatted him, telling him his horse needed exercise, not her.

He’d backed her against the counter after lunch and whispered that his tree was lonely, and wanted entertainment like they’d given it before. She showed him the beads she was stringing, telling him they wouldn’t enjoy the trip outside.

Finally, Jake had gone outside alone, only because she promised to join him there when she was done stringing. But she had no intention of showing up, even though that’s all she wanted. She wanted Jake, pure and simple. But she’d be strong and hold out as long as possible. The less contact she had with him, the safer her heart.

Eventually, she’d have to put out again. Blowing him this morning had been a great idea, one she enjoyed as much as he did, which hurt a little. She stuffed that pain away, though, making a little cell in the corner of the maze, on the opposite side of her heart. The cell was made of those pictures of Kate, the garter a door pull. Pain would be happy there until she had the time to grieve Jake’s loss properly on Monday.

Now, Tia sat at the table, staring at that deck of cards, and realized the corner she’d been backed into would have strip something—like poker—as entertainment, and there was absolutely no way out without facing him about what she’d found in his bedroom. It was the same old fight, one that would end with her saying whatever you wish and she’d somehow end up deeper in wedding something. She didn’t want to face that, not now.