Spy Games: Lethal Limits (30 page)

“Come again, Sarah.”

Really? Could she? She wasn’t done with this one. But she went higher, her toes cramping so hard. At the top of pleasure, he opened the door of the plane she soared in and shoved her out into freefall, holding her as she plummeted to Earth, his voice in her ear, urging her, guiding her. She screamed his name, the fall terrifying, because how could she survive something this fast, this hard?

“Give in, Sarah. Give in, honey.”

Could she? Yes, she could love him. And then she calmed as if a parachute had opened on the last contraction inside her core, and she floated, the pleasure blissful, peaceful, all the pain gone. Oh God, this is what Jake had wanted for her. It was divine.

“Jesus, Sarah. I love you,” he groaned in her ear as he came in a flood of wet heat.

Scissors snipped the lines that held her aloft. She hit the ground then, bottoming out under him, the shock, pain, admission of his love too much for her heart to bear. She shuddered, agony so sweet, the torture hot, like a hot brand inside, outside, the bondage tape on her heart wrapping tighter, tighter. Her breath was trapped in her lungs, deep in her chest. She gasped for air that didn’t come, gasped for words that wanted to come, to answer him.

“Sarah, are you with me?”

How could she be
with
him? He loved her, and she didn’t think she’d survive. The tears came then. How she could be on fire and drown at the same time, she had no idea. But she just gave into the sensation, because that’s what he had wanted.

“Sarah? Tia? Honey, are you okay?”

Her breath caught again, the flames higher, and his panic didn’t help her much. She sank deeper, unable to wrap her mind around his words. Love. He loved her. It was right there, and if she asked, if she found her voice, he might say it again. And she might be able to offer the same. But he felt so far away, above her.

He loved her. She loved him, too, so she gave in and opened her mouth—

“Red,” he whispered. “Honey, come back to me. Red. Red.” He slapped her face gently, feeling so far away. “Gunpowder.”

As if she’d been drowning and found the strength to live she surfaced, coming up for air in huge gulps. She slammed back into her body, into reality, her mind screaming because that wasn’t her safeword.

And if it wasn’t hers, it had to be…Kate’s.

“You fucking liar,” she whispered.

His blue eyes grew conflicted, shadowing the relief. “What? Are you okay? I was worried. You just seemed to melt from me.”

“Yeah.” She struggled, shoving her balled fists against his chest. “Get the fuck off me.”

“What? Why?”

“Gunpowder? Really? She can’t have a fucking normal safeword. She has to have something explosive, just like the orgasms she gave you.”

He rolled off her, and she scrambled from the bed, the nightgown in front of her. She quickly removed the clamps, not enjoying the sting that came with the process. She chucked the chains to the side and they hit the dresser.

He held a hand out. “It’s not what you think. Calm down, and we’ll talk.” His voice was gentle, as if he were trying to calm a wild savage. Or a hurt animal. She felt like both.

“I give myself to you. Fully, totally, and this is how you reward me?” Tears streamed down, and she slapped at them with the back of her hand. “Sadist.”

He shook his head. “Gunpowder is
my
safeword. I didn’t know what to do, to get you to come back to me.”

“Haven’t you ever had a sub in subspace before? You’re supposed to leave them alone. Not scream your lover’s safeword at them.”

“You scared me. I don’t know what happened, but that wasn’t subspace. I’ve had you there before. That was nothing remotely like that.”

“You lied to me.” She chucked the nightgown as if it had cooties. Then she took off his ring and tossed that at him.

He caught it and paled. “It’s not Monday.”

“It’s Monday somewhere in the world,” she informed him. “Take me home.”

“Listen—”

“You’ll talk, sure, because that’s what you do best. Lies. You can’t love me, Jake. She’s not here, because we ran from her. But when we go home, there she’ll be. On Chase’s arm, waiting to love you again. And you’ll go, because she has so much to offer.”

“Listen to me.” He grabbed her arms and dragged her back to the bed, folding her inside his strong grasp. “When Chase and I lived in Paris, the cover was that we were a gay couple. The only way he could survive that was if I let him be my Dom. He had to have control over the situation or he would have killed us both. He was freaked out, and these fuckers weren’t playing nice. I had to have a safeword for pretenses, and believe me, when he made me eat French food every night, I used it.”

“You lie. I can’t see Chase living that way willingly.”

“You’re right. It didn’t start out that way. We had to improvise because they were onto us, two American guys in an apartment…we were gay or we were spies. But Chase did it because if he didn’t, we would have died. They had a gun to his head, Tia. It was adopt that lifestyle or die. He was pissed as hell that I made that choice, but it was better than what could have happened.”

She no longer knew what to believe. So tempting to give in, to just accept his words and let him love her. But the pain returned, hitting every high note, every low note inside her, blocking his love, her love, binding her heart tighter.

She struggled again, and he held her closer.

“That’s why I’m so close to Chase, because we lived a month as more than friends. I kissed him, I slept with him, I knelt at his feet, and I did everything except for have sex with him. That’s why it kills me to have loved his wife. Have, because she was right. I don’t love her. I loved what she gave Chase, not her. I love you, Tia.”

“You can’t love me.” She looked at the clock. It was Monday by one minute. And she heaved a huge, despondent sigh as she wiped the slowing tears from her cheeks. “It’s Monday, Jake. You’re nothing to me.”

He pushed her to the bed, and she struggled to the edge, clawing at the sheets, kicking his shins. Anything to avoid contact with his skin. But he held her from behind, spooning her in an embrace stronger than anything she’d ever tried to escape.

He kissed her neck. Her shoulder, his lips burning. With betrayal. “Give in to the truth, baby. I love you.”

“You lie,” she whispered and gave up fighting him. This time she didn’t hide or run from him. She closed her eyes and waited for the numbness to claim her. She was done.

Chapter Sixteen

They sat in Chase’s office on the training base Monday afternoon, Jake in the chair closest to the door. Tia glared now and then, and if her gaze could spit fire and knock him dead, he would have burned to a crisp hours ago. It was frustrating, because he hadn’t lied. He loved her. What more did she need to hear?

Of course, it didn’t help that he’d awakened her by entering her from behind as she slept, still curled against him. He knew the exact moment she had waken fully. She’d stiffened like a board for a moment. He continued making love to her, though, and she came despite her anger, her lack of willingness. He’d come, too, because he loved her desperately and wanted nothing more than for her to just give in and love him back.

But she’d given up, and instead of being agreeable, she ignored him, hiding in plain sight. She hadn’t spoken since last night, not one word as they drove back. He studied her as she stared at her hands, at her empty ring finger.

Maybe he was wrong in making her give in to him. Maybe there was a limit to one’s pain. Maybe she’d been pushed far, far past her limits.

Chase was on the phone, sounding incredibly pissed at whoever was on the other end. Jake wondered if the guy ever had a pleasant phone call, because more often than not, he was chewing someone out for something.

But on that thought, Chase hung up, turned his most deadly, predatory gaze to Jake and folded his hands. Jake stiffened a bit and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Folded hands meant holy hell would be unleashed, especially when Chase assessed him with the mask of doom firmly in place.
Oh, shit
.

“Back from vacation, Anderson? Have fun?” Chase narrowed his eyes and stared at Jake’s head. “Why are you wearing a winter hat?”

“Tia made it for me.” Jake crossed an ankle over his knee and folded his own hands, but inside, he quaked just a little. Chase had called him Anderson. He never called him that. He often got the folded hands and the mask of doom, but never Anderson. He was fucked.

Not only had he lost Tia, he was about to lose his best friend.

Chase owned the glare, made it his personal bitch. “Didn’t your mother send you a hat for Christmas?”

Jake shrugged. He’d worn the hat to piss off Tia, so she’d at least shriek at him, but for the most part, he wore it because he was proud. She’d made him something beautiful.

“Your mother knits?” Tia finally found a voice, and Jake cringed as she spit verbal fire at him. “My God, you’d lie to get into heaven if you thought it would work.”

He would if it meant she’d love him. “I wanted you to make me a hat.”

“You don’t lie to get what you want.” Tia crossed her arms over her chest and sat so she didn’t have to look at him. “The whole fucking weekend was a lie.”

“Bad, bad idea to take her home.” Chase gave a sharp laugh. “I’m not usually wrong, am I, Anderson? I think you failed the team building crap.”

“I think you’re right,
Sir
.” The only time Jake had ever called Chase “Sir” was in Paris, as his submissive, and he now said it exactly the same way. No way was Jake fighting him on this, and he hoped Chase got the message. He’d pay for his sins.

A hint of a smile quirked at Chase’s lips on Jake’s Sir, one that didn’t reach his glittering brown eyes. “Tia, how much did you run this weekend?”

“I ran every day.” Then she glared at Jake. “He didn’t.”

“No?” Chase sat back in his chair assessing Jake, and Jake had the feeling this would be what facing the devil would be like when he finally went to hell, only hell would be a lot more pleasant. “Sounds like you owe me at least fifteen miles, Anderson.”

Fuck, he knew. He had never made Jake run home, which was the standard control freak punishment around here. You piss off the Lord of the Spies, you went to his castle on foot. “Does sound that way, Sir.”

And then Jake took out his phone and sent a text, because that’s what he did in times like these.

“Who the fuck are you texting now?” Chase ground out. “It’d better not be me.”

Jake didn’t look up. In the old days, he would have thought nothing of texting Chase during a meeting like this. SFB, same fucking bullshit, so fucking boring. But not now.

“I’m texting Ryan, to let him know he won. Again.” The team had a pool going for when Chase would make Jake run, finally, and how many miles. He had escaped it up to now, despite being a slacker, because Chase was his friend. No longer, though.

Chase arched a brow. “And how many times did Ryan think you’d run to the house?”

The more of a fuck up you were, the more you ran. “Once.”

“What did you bet against yourself?”

Jake always put a bet in, to make the pot sweeter. He never thought he’d be running, though. Not for this. “At least twice.”

“Can’t have you winning that, now can I? Better go for three, but not all at once. I want to savor this.” He turned to Tia. “Tia, did you know my house was ten miles from here?”

“No, sir.”

“I think your partner needs to start running.” Tia grinned at Jake, looking way too smug. Chase shook his head. “Not so fast. It’s your job to protect him. He’s your partner, despite being a fuck-up. If you’re going to toss him under the proverbial bus, then you’re running, too.”

She gaped at Chase, and if she were any other woman, Jake would have crowed with delight. “I’m not wearing shoes I can run in.”

She had on the boots he’d bought her and leggings with a T-shirt. He’d bet his farm she didn’t have panties on, either. He spiked a hard-on and shifted to hide it.

“Too bad for you, huh?” Chase sat back and said to Jake, “I trust you know the way?”

“You want me to get lost?”

“No. I want you to arrive, safe and sound. And then we might have a chat, once you’ve had ten miles to think.”

Jake nodded and rose. Of course, Chase wanted him to arrive safe and sound. It was hard to kill someone who was already dead.

Chase cleared his throat. “Tia, can I speak with you a moment?”

Jake hesitated and Chase said, “Privately.”

“Tia?” Jake asked softly, but he hovered and gave Chase a “back off” look. He knew what Chase wanted—to talk about their incident together. Jake didn’t know how he could let her face Chase, alone when she was scared shitless of him.

Chase glared.

So did Tia. “You don’t own me, Jake. I’m not your
wife
.”

But she was, as far as he was concerned. Jake sighed and shrugged, though he wanted to protest. He trusted Chase not to be an asshole about this, even if Chase hated him right now. That wasn’t the way Chase operated.

He nodded to Tia. “I’ll be at the truck, so you can change into running shoes at least.”

Tia gulped. Oh, God, she was going to be alone with Chase, and he would want answers.

Jake left, the door closing with a soft click, and Tia’s heart hammered, her palms suddenly damp. Why couldn’t she have been brave enough to say yes to Jake’s quiet inquiry? But no, she had to push him away, and now she was facing the devil himself. Or really, was
she
the devil? Because she’d led Chase deeper into temptation than he’d ever dreamed of going. That made her way worse in her book.

Chase surprised her by rising and skirting the desk to sit in the chair next to hers. So close. Too close. She closed her eyes and went to the place that made her an excellent agent, the one that let her pretend and become someone else. Very little scared her, but she found Chase absolutely terrifying. And it was her own fault, for making him the villain.