The Black Sheep and the English Rose (26 page)

He pushed his hips into hers and dipped his tongue into her mouth, once, then again, then finally took her in a kiss so deep, and so intense, they were both moaning a little bit when he finally lifted his head.

“Yeah, about that,” she said, a little short of breath. “Don't stop.”

He grinned, and said, “Yes, master,” and gave her exactly what they both wanted.

F
elicity clutched at the hand rail in the shower as Finn soaped her breasts. She'd given up questioning why it was like this with them. Insatiable didn't begin to cover it. They'd finally crawled from bed twenty minutes ago, after playing “master strategist” for a good hour and a half. They were supposed to be showering off and cleaning up in anticipation of her report coming through any minute now…but, at the moment, he was pushing her right up to the edge. Again.

“I thought it was…your turn,” she gasped, her thighs quivering as he slid his hands down her torso and over her hips, while sliding himself down between her legs.

“Lost track,” he said, then took the showerhead from her and rinsed off the suds as he let the warm water pulse directly over her still pulsating, sensitive parts.

She started to slide down the wall, but he replaced the gentle spray of the water with the even gentler touch of his tongue, and she immediately peaked. She clutched at his head, trying to keep her balance as the waves rolled through her again. “Illegal. Must be,” she gasped, clutching at his shoulders, shaking and shuddering, as he kissed her thighs before finally standing and gathering her into his arms.

“I don't think there's a climax police,” he said, chuckling. He sat down on the built-in corner seat and pulled her into his lap.

Heart still pounding, she tucked her head on his shoulder and blew out a long, shaky breath. “Thank goodness for that.” She smiled against his warm, slippery skin. “I'd be taken into custody for sure.”

Finn tipped her chin up and kissed her. But this time it wasn't meant to incite. Instead, it was slow, tender, the kind of kiss that made her want to curl up with him and fall asleep in his arms.

She wondered if they'd ever get that chance, but forcibly pushed that thought away. There was so much to do, so much yet to sort out, before the reality of what they wanted could even be discussed. So she'd decided to enjoy the moment rather than waste a single one worrying about future moments.

She was just about to suggest a short, restorative nap, when her phone buzzed from its spot by the sink. “I told you we should have left it by the bed,” she groused, but she was already climbing off of him and reaching to turn the showerheads off. “I know, I know,” she went on, before he could remind her. “We're professionals. Job first.”

Finn wrapped a towel around her from behind and pulled her back against him, nipping the side of her neck. “I'm pretty sure what we were just doing had nothing to do with the job.”

“True, but—” The phone buzzed again. “Oh, sod it.”

Finn laughed at her less than ladylike epithet, so she whipped a towel at him, which he neatly caught, then pulled her against him again.

“I'm sensing a pattern of behavior here,” she said, pushing him away, when what she really wanted was exactly the opposite.

“And this is a problem, because…?”

“Not a problem. I'm a creature of habit, after all.”

He snaked her towel off and snapped it at her. “I pretty much like all the habits of yours I've discovered so far.” He tucked his towel around his hips and pulled a fresh one off the rack and stepped up behind her to gently rub her hair.

“Stick around, I'm sure there are a few that will drive you mad.”

He pushed her head to one side and dropped a warm, damp kiss on her neck. “Deal.”

Her phone went off a third time, and she snatched it up.

Finn put his hand on her wrist before she could flip it open. “Promise me you'll handle this in whatever way works best for you. We'll get the sapphire, one way or the other, so if me being on a need-to-know basis is what makes life easier for you in the long haul, then…” He raised an eyebrow until she nodded her understanding. “Good. I need to check in with Rafe anyway. So, I'll give you your privacy.”

He went to step out of the room, but she halted him this time. “Do your partners know? About me, I mean?”

“Not yet, no.”

She wasn't sure why it mattered, or why she'd even asked. But now that she had, she realized she wasn't the only one who had things to sort through with coworkers or superiors. “Was it because you thought I—were you embarrassed to tell them?”

“No. It's because you and I had more to talk about first. And they didn't ‘need to know' until that happened.”

She thought about that, and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said, then smiled and closed the door between them.

She appreciated that he was always direct with her, and vowed to be the same with him. It was new, being responsible to someone like that, but she wanted the same from him and found it wasn't so hard to do when the rewards were so great. He was doing everything he could to make this easier on her, like the space he was giving her, and that it mattered to him that things went well for her professionally beyond just recovering the stone. She wanted to do the same for him, with his partners, but wasn't sure where to even begin.

She picked up her phone and flipped it open. For the first time, she wasn't as anxious to dive headlong into whatever they threw her way next. She looked toward the closed door between her and Finn and realized it was because she finally had something more exciting to dive headlong into.

Smiling, she looked back at the screen and punched in the descramble code. Her smile faded as she read the very sparse report. She'd responded to their last message with a number of what she considered to be pertinent questions. Namely, when they said it was time to bring John
Home
—meaning MI-8 headquarters in London—she could only take that to mean that it wasn't just her home base, but possibly his. Only she couldn't see how that could be. Because that would mean they'd put two agents on the same mission without telling them, and for what purpose? And what was John's mission? He'd tried to sell the stone to Andreev, while she was supposed to bring it back with her.

And had they answered her vital questions? No. All she'd gotten was a list of places where it was anticipated he might show up. She'd asked them about Julia, if they had any intel on her, or hell, if she was working with them, too. She'd gotten no response back on that. Sometimes the “need-to-know” predicate was frustrating as all hell.

But there was nothing she could do for that now. Asking again wouldn't net her any additional info. And given what she had to tell them about Finn at some point, annoying them now would not be a grand scheme.

She looked over the list. The next time there appeared to be a possible rendezvous point was over dinner this evening. It was almost impossible to believe that it was just twenty-four hours ago that she and Finn had crashed John's dinner with Andreev. That felt almost a lifetime ago now. And given the lifetime she was now contemplating, perhaps, in some ways, it had been.

She pulled a comb through her hair and brushed her teeth, but gave up on the rest. Instead, she put on one of the hotel robes and headed back into their bedroom to find Finn. How odd it was, really, already so used to having him around, that she missed him when they were apart, even for a short time. She wanted to discuss the latest information with him, bounce ideas off of him, and, yes, just be in his personal space for as long as she could manage. She'd berate herself for being so silly and foolish, except she felt pretty damn good at the moment. So she went with that, and, smiling, went to find him.

But the bedroom was empty, so she walked into the main room. Also empty. She experienced a moment of panic, before reminding herself that Finn was hardly the love-'em-and-leave-'em sort, much less the kind of man who'd play her into submission, then take off on his own after their quarry. He might have been willing to do that before—they both would have—when they'd been professional adversaries, but no way would he do that to her now. She knew that, didn't doubt that. Which left her to sort out where he would have gone without telling her.

She looked around for a note of some kind, even went back into the bedroom to look there. No note or message. But his towel was on the back of the bedroom chair, and a quick look inside the closet showed he'd dressed in fresh clothes. She went to the hallway door and looked out, thinking maybe he went for ice, or to get something off the maid's cart, but no sign of him there, either. And when she walked back into the main room, the ice bucket was where he'd left it after filling it earlier. So, if he hadn't left on his own…

Her heart picked up its pace again, but for entirely different reasons, when the sound of a sliding door behind her made her jump and spin around, wishing she'd dressed first so she could better handle the intruder.

Finn stopped just inside the balcony door and smiled at her assumed karate pose. “You're probably a black belt, but, I must say, you look a lot cuter in the white terry cloth one, Grasshopper.”

She all but slumped to the floor in relief. “Where the hell were you? I mean, never mind, I didn't know there was a balcony, but for the love of all that is holy, next time—”

He grabbed the loose ends of her robe and tugged her to him. “Miss me?”

“Worse.” She smacked his chest with her open palm. “I was worried. Don't do that to me.”

“You didn't think I'd taken off on you?”

“No. I knew you wouldn't. Which left you leaving under duress.”

He covered her hand with his own, trapping it there. “Don't take this the wrong way,” he said, turning her hand over and pulling it to his mouth.

“If you say one word about my being cute or royal—”

“Actually,” he said, dropping the sweetest of kisses into the center of her palm—he was really disarming when he did that—“I was going to say that while I don't ever want to worry you, because I'm learning I don't like it a whole lot either, it's kind of nice knowing you would.”

She opened her mouth, all prepared to argue, then closed it again as his words sank in. “Oh. Well.” She curled her fingers into her freshly kissed palm and slipped it into her robe pocket. “I do. Worry. And, you're right, it's not a lot of fun.”

He used the tail of her terry cloth belt to swat her across the butt. “But we have plenty of that, so it sort of balances out.” Then he slowly reeled her back to him. “And, to be honest, like it or not, I'm okay with having someone out there who worries about me. Puts things in a whole new perspective.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, it does.”

“So, what's our next move?”

“Dinner, with John.”

He raised an eyebrow, but only said, “Same move, new coast.”

“Apparently.”

“When?” he asked.

And, once again, she was struck with gratitude for how he was handling this. He didn't argue or ask a million questions she couldn't respond to; he just nodded and went from there. Perversely, it made her want to share everything with him all the more. He had a cool-headed way of sorting things out and coming up with viewpoints and possibilities she didn't always see or think about. She was still very confused about John's role in all this and would feel a hell of a lot better if she had a better handle on it before she went barging in again. Too many things weren't adding up, and most of them had to do with her direct chain of command.

“Felicity?”

She jerked her gaze to his and realized he was still waiting on an answer. She was waiting on a ton of them. “Six, but we need to get there first.”

“Why is that?”

“I'm not exactly certain what's going on. I'll feel better if I see him come in, gauge his demeanor. See if he's with someone, before he sees us.” Another thought occurred to her, making her pause.

“What?”

She looked at him, worried all over again. “It occurs to me that I shouldn't take for granted that I'll be the one breaking news of our liaison to my superiors.”

He started to ask, but then paused as the light of understanding dawned. “You mean Reese would inform them?”

“He knows I'm not merely Felicity Jane Trent, Foundation director and the Trent ancestral heiress. He knows. Other than you, he's the only one who has ever put those two things together.”

“But how would he tell your superiors, unless—” Now he broke off. “Sorry, I'm venturing into territory—”

“Bollocks to that,” she said abruptly. “I need help.” She looked at him. “I need your help. Right now, you're the only one I know I can trust. Things aren't adding up. Important things. And it seems foolish for me to try and figure them out myself, when I have another clever mind sitting right next to me.” She held his gaze. “I think the bigger risk now is that I make the wrong move because I didn't use my resources wisely. And, if my chain of command doesn't like it, then they can find themselves another thrill-seeking, philanthropic heiress to do their dirty work.”

“I know I should be arguing, given our recently struck agreement, but you're making very good sense.” He grinned. “Besides which, it's killing me, you know.”

She smiled then, despite the nerves currently twisting her insides into knots. “Is it now? Well then, there should be some way we both benefit from that.”