Felicity stared at Finn over the edge of her glass, pondering whether it was really worth taking another sip of the most awful wine she’d ever had the misfortune to taste. It was a desperate attempt to take the edge off the anxiety growing inside her. Anxiety that had little to do with solving the job at hand, and a lot to do with the fact that despite her little speech earlier, her desire for Finn Dalton hadn’t eased one whit.
Sitting across the table from him, watching his quick mind in action, certainly hadn’t helped matters either. Wasn’t it enough that he had a body that wouldn’t quit? He had to have a tantalizing mind as well? She sipped. She shuddered. And her gaze went to the dark blue plastic bag currently clutched in his hands. His long, broad-fingered hands.
She forced herself to look away. “Business,” she managed. “We really should stick to—”
He took the glass out of her grasp and set it on the table beside him, then reached for her hands. “The hell with it. Maybe we should stick to what we do best.”
It was simple. All she had to do was keep her hands in her lap, or anywhere but on Finn. He wouldn’t push her if she didn’t want him to. Which was the problem.
She looked up at him. “You said that wasn’t enough for you. What’s changed?”
“Other than you driving me so crazy I can’t think straight?”
“Join the club,” she muttered, knowing he heard her when his smile grew.
“I do want more.” He wiggled his fingers, urging her to take his hands. “But maybe more talking isn’t what’s going to do the trick.”
She eyed his hands, accepted the shudder of pleasure that rolled down her spine at the image of those strong fingers caressing her flesh, then connected with this gaze once again. “I’m a trick now? A puzzle to be solved? So that is the draw, then? Figure out the mystery of Felicity Jane?”
“I won’t deny you intrigue the hell out of me, but my hope is that the more I know, the more I’ll want to know. Isn’t that how this is supposed to work?”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t even know what this is.”
“And there’s no curiosity on your part to find out?”
“We’ve been through this. Just moments ago, in the hallway.”
“Maybe you need options.”
What she needed was for him to shut up and drag her into his arms so she wouldn’t have to make up her own damn mind about all this. Take the decision out of her hands and drown her in so much sensation and pleasure that she didn’t have to think. Not about this.
Of course, for all he was a bad boy personified in some ways, he was also a good guy. Too good to ever do that without her express consent. Which was one of the things that so attracted her to him in the first place. Damn it.
“Options,” she repeated.
“At the moment, you have your life all neatly arranged. Your day job,” he said, then smiled, “and your extracurricular activities.”
She didn’t bother to correct him. She couldn’t anyway.
“You have no reason to upset the status quo. Why reach for the uncertain?”
“Why, indeed?”
“Because a job, no matter how exhilarating, can’t give you this.” He was taking her hands even as she was raising them to his. He lifted her from the chair and pulled her snugly between his thighs in one smooth motion. His hand slid to the back of her neck, and he tilted her head as his mouth descended toward hers.
“What if I don’t really want this?” she whispered, just before his mouth took hers. It was a last ditch effort, a plea for him to do what she could not and bring them both back from this brink of insanity. Her heart was beating as fast as hummingbird wings, and her legs had gone all rubbery and weak.
“Don’t you?”
She could feel the warmth of his breath, her gaze focused tightly on his lips. She wanted to feel them on her so badly she ached. “I do, but only this.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“It did before.”
He nudged her chin up, so their gazes met. “It won’t now. Not for me. You give what you want, or what you can.”
“And you’d be satisfied with that?”
He shook his head, and his lips curved. “No. But I’m willing to take the risk.”
“Why?” she asked, never more sincere. Why did this man, who she was certain could grab and hold the attention of most any woman he desired, desire her?
“Because I already know what I plan to give, what I can give.”
“Which is?” she asked, her legs trembling now.
“Everything.” He pressed his fingers to her nape, urging her lips back up to his. “I hope you’re ready for me, Felicity Jane. Because I’m a lot.”
Yes, yes you are, she thought distantly, and without much resistance. Because his mouth was finally, blessedly on hers again. And there was nothing tentative about this kiss. But it wasn’t a warrior’s kiss, bold and aggressive, attempting to conquer through sheer will and force.
No, it was far more insidious than that.
It was confident, certain, and seductive. He didn’t just kiss her lips, he feasted on them, and every touch and taste was an invitation for her to do the same. That was something she’d learned about him from the moment they’d first put their hands on each other: he wanted a partner in pleasure, not a passive playmate. She was a strong, confident woman, but in bed, she’d always found herself falling into more traditional patterns. Not because she was shy or uncertain of her abilities, but simply because it had seemed to be what was expected.
Not with Finn. He’d always demanded that she give all of herself, at least physically. She’d learned what it was to be a fully intimate partner with him, and she’d reveled in it. The pleasure it gave her to be with someone who was so responsive to her needs, who pushed her to reach for more, no matter how spent she’d thought herself, but also someone with whom she’d learned the depth of pleasures to be gained from satisfying his needs. She’d felt bold, and innovative, discovering a confidence that being successful in her other endeavors had never given her. She had no idea if Finn knew the myriad gifts he’d given her. Likely he thought she’d always been this…conquering vixen in bed. And she’d been privately thrilled to let him think so. It had been quite exhilarating, not to mention liberating.
Now…now she wasn’t so certain. Now this wasn’t simply fun and games. He’d laid down his gauntlet, and it changed completely how this made her feel. How it made her want to react. Her heart squeezed now, engaged despite her wishing it not to be, as he tenderly drew his fingers along the side of her neck, moving his mouth to the delicate line of her jaw, then following the trail of his fingertips.
He’d been gentle with her before, and she’d privately reveled in it, loving how cosseted and adored it had made her feel, but never once allowing herself to believe—or hope—it was anything other than him being a considerate and fully sensual lover.
Now, she had no idea what thoughts were going through his mind. And so much more of her was at risk of being seduced than her body.
She instinctively eased away from him, pushed at his shoulders. It wasn’t a shove, she wasn’t strong enough for that, still wanting—craving—what he was giving her, but knowing she hadn’t the control needed to protect herself. And she wasn’t ready to surrender. Not fully.
He allowed her to shift back, then framed her hips in his wide palms when she stepped back unsteadily. He balanced her, kept his hands there, firmly, but nothing more.
He did balance her, in every way, she thought, struggling for the clarity of mind she so desperately needed right now.
“I—I,” she stuttered, then stopped, willing her head to stop spinning, her legs to stop trembling, and her heart to stop pounding. “I still can’t.” She finally looked at him, and had she found him smiling smugly, secure in the knowledge that he’d proved at least part of his point, it would have made things far easier for her. Instead, his gaze was intense, and as serious as she’d ever seen it.
“I know,” he said quietly and, if she wasn’t mistaken, with real regret. He slid his hands to her elbows and eased her back, so she could sit down in her chair. “But I’m a patient man,” he said, rising, gratifyingly unsteady himself. He touched her hair, then leaned down and kissed her, firmly, deeply, but ending it the moment she began to relax and accept it. “And you’re worth the wait.”
She swallowed against a suddenly tight throat. “I might never—” she began, needing him to know she was making no promises here. She didn’t even know what she wanted.
“I know. It’s my risk to take,” he told her.
She stared at him, into eyes that held hers so solidly, so certainly. “Why?” she whispered. “Why me?”
His grin was like sunshine peeking out from behind a stormy cloud. His gaze hadn’t lessened one whit in intensity, so the gleam from the smile was like a laser beam of light, shining directly, and only, on her. “Why not you? No one has ever captivated me like you have. Two years, and I can’t put you out of my mind. We’re back here, together once more, and I’m not going to waste my only opportunity to find out what more there might be.”
“You think I’m this larger-than-life mystery woman, but I assure you, I’m not so different as all that from other women.”
“You’re nothing like other women.”
With you, she wanted to shout, but didn’t. “You’ll scrape off the international woman of intrigue, and the woman of means, and discover I’m that girl who likes to dig in her garden and sip tea. I’m hopelessly boring, and there isn’t anything memorable—”
In the next instant she was lifted bodily from her seat and pulled fully and tightly into his arms. He spun them both around so he could lower her onto the table. Champagne glasses slid dangerously close to the edge of the table as his body pressed down on top of hers. He pushed her hair from her face and framed her cheeks with his palms. “That’s what makes you memorable. You’re all of those things. Every complex layer. And I want to peel them all away, while savoring each part, until I get to know every inch of you. Inside and out. Don’t you get it? All of you fascinates me. Not what you do, or what you’re capable of—though I assure you, you have my full attention there, too. But who you are that allows you to do all of that. To dig in the garden one day and steal a priceless gemstone the next. To be so confident and in control, with what you do, and with me, matching me breath for breath, thrust for thrust when we go at each other, and yet still look at me like you are now, with such vulnerability and trepidation.”
“Finn—”
“Call it chemistry, call it whatever you want. But I’m in, Felicity. I’m all in. In a way I’ve never been in before. If that scares you, fine. It should. It terrifies the hell out of me. So did flying a helicopter solo the first time, but it made the rush that much sweeter. When something intrigues me, fascinates me, I know of only one way to handle it, and that’s to immerse myself in it, learn as much as I can about it. I don’t ask why, I just go. And do. And enjoy the hell out of every second.”
“And when it wears off? When it grows old?”
“Life offers no guarantees. You know that as well as I do. But I wanted to fly. So I do. And it’s a never-ending passion for me. I wanted to ride, so I do. I always will. When something fascinates me, grabs me, it’s not a matter of getting it out of my system. It’s more a matter of integrating it into my life so I can feel that passion every day. About as many times as I’m able to.”
She stared up into his eyes, feeling the impact of every word, the absolute truth in them. Marveling at his certainty. Maybe, she realized, she wasn’t so different from him after all. She wouldn’t be here, on this mission, if she hadn’t been willing to tackle something that both intrigued her and scared her. She’d thought working for MI-8 would be the most thrilling and terrifying thing she could ever do.
She’d been so wrong.
Body shaking, lips trembling, she held that passionate gaze, held on to it tightly, and smiled. “Then show me,” she said, “show me what it’s like to take off and fly into the unknown.” She pulled his head down to hers. “Show me what it’s like to have all of you.”
He took her mouth this time like a man starved. There was nothing tender about it, not that it mattered at this point. She couldn’t allow herself to assign motivation or meaning to every little action he took, or reaction he might have. She could only let herself feel…whatever he made her feel. Then deal with the fallout afterward.
Even as he pulled back, lifted her off the table, and swept her into his arms, she knew this was as big a mistake as she was likely ever to make. And it no longer mattered. If he was going to be a mistake, best she get on with it and start to deal with the consequences, but telling herself she was strong enough to do anything else was simply putting off the inevitable.
He was nibbling her neck, and she had her fingers in his abundantly thick mane of dark blond hair. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she said, allowing the joy of the moment to push past the fear and anxiety, and holding on to that joy with everything she was worth.
“God, I hope not.”
She laughed, feeling suddenly, gloriously free. She was thirty thousand feet in the air, as unfettered and unbound by the world and what awaited her in it as she was ever likely to be. She was in Finn’s arms and about to be naked under his equally glorious body. Honestly, what more could a woman want? And in that moment, she didn’t want for anything.
She didn’t dare.
“The bag of goodies, darling,” she reminded him.
“Oh,” he said, his voice already huskier, his body already harder, “right.” He spun around, held her close with one arm, and scooped up the bag with the other. “If we’re lucky, we might even get to the contents before landing.”
“We’ve at least another three hours or so.”
He wiggled his eyebrows and nipped at the side of her neck. “I know.”
She laughed, even as she shivered in anticipation of what was to come. Namely, her. Several times, if past history was to be repeated. She used her foot to nudge the accordion-fold doors open so he could swing her into the bedroom and onto the bed, wondering why in the hell she’d let herself get so caught up in his emotional whirlpool. They could have been doing this, having each other, all along.
She started to unbutton her dress, but he pushed her hands away. “I’m going to undress you.”
“Okay.”
But rather than starting with the buttons, he nudged her back onto the bed and motioned for her to scoot back, so she was stretched fully on the mattress. She arched a questioning brow, to which he merely said, “Humor me.”
He’d been the perfect playmate in the past, aggressive when warranted, and gentle when necessary. She trusted him. Here, anyway. Here is where she knew him best, after all.
But there was something else in his eyes now, something beyond the teasing, playful bad boy she’d previously known. Something far more…evolved. No, her little voice said. No analyzing, remember?
She still didn’t believe there could be more to this than…this, no matter how optimistic Finn was. After all, that was his nature. There was no obstacle he couldn’t supersede, no outcome he couldn’t impact in his favor, either with money, skill, or sheer force of will. Or a cunning combination of all three. She was more a pragmatist, a realist, who understood the odds weren’t always in her favor, no matter how much power she wielded. But if this was the only way they could each discover what needed discovering, then she was all in, too. At least that far.
She let her heels slip to the floor and scooted back.
He leaned over her, then covered her wrists with his hands before pushing them up along the bedspread, until they were over her head.
“There had best not be any cuffs in that bag,” she warned, though teasingly. For some reason the idea of him restraining her held entirely different overtones—all erotic—than it had earlier when it simply meant failure of a mission.
“No cuffs,” he murmured, his mouth next to her ear, then drew his hands down her arms, making her skin tingle at the warm contact.
She had to work to keep still and not arch into his hands as he drew them along her sides. He didn’t cup her breasts. His knuckles barely brushed the swell as his hands continued to move down to frame her waist. Her nipples tightened almost painfully as the expected contact didn’t come. The lack of direct stimulation was almost more erotic than if he’d teased and tweaked them.
He massaged his thumbs into the muscles of her stomach, digging his fingers in lightly along her side, before continuing his exploration. Her hips pumped slightly, of their own volition, as he traced his fingers over her pelvic bones. But just as she thought he’d let his thumbs trail down her center, between her legs, he slid his hands to the outside of her thighs and continued to draw his hands lower, until finally, he reached the lengthy hem of her dress.
By now, she was almost frantic for him to directly touch her skin. Any part of her skin. Feeling his hands mold every curve of her body, except those that craved his touch most, was far more stimulating than she’d ever imagined. One thing his slow, methodical journey had done was to dismantle her ability to think about anything other than where he was going to touch her next.
And she was still fully dressed.
It was hard not to be restless, to move her torso, shift her limbs, in an effort to ease the ache that had pervaded her every muscle and pore. The way he’d positioned her hands above her head meant that any move she made felt sinuous, writhing. It made her feel wanton, sexy, voluptuous even, though she was most definitely not.
He teased his fingertips along the edge of her hem, so she could occasionally feel his hands brush against the bare skin of her legs. Thank God she’d chosen to skip putting on stockings. It was almost unbearable just having this much of a barrier between his touch and her bare skin.
As he continued toying with her dress, it took an increasing amount of restraint not to either rip the dress off herself or beg him to do it for her. She fought a smile, wondering if that was his goal. It wouldn’t surprise her. Her eyes drifted shut. It was much easier to analyze and think about his motives when it was just about sex. Especially when she knew he had taken very good care of her needs in the past, so there was little doubt of a repeat performance, no matter what route he took.
Her smile didn’t fully materialize, however, as without warning, her thoughts veered dangerously toward the area she desperately wanted to avoid. Wondering about things like what he’d be like as a lover over an extended period of time. And she didn’t mean a long weekend. Would he remain a considerate, seemingly inexhaustible partner, or would passion ebb, along with his interest in her? More disconcerting was why it mattered?
It mattered, she realized, because if she allowed this to progress the way he wanted it to, lowering barriers, letting him get close, risking…things that weren’t really in her power to risk, only to have him bounce off in some other direction the moment he grew bored, it would devastate her.
And she knew that, because he was already starting to matter to her.
“Felicity,” he said, his voice smooth and soft, like a warming sip of cognac.
“Mmm,” she replied, realizing he’d stopped toying with the hem of her dress.
“Don’t think,” he said. “Just feel.”
“I was,” she said, being honest. He was the one who wanted more, not her. She just wanted…this. For as long as she could get it. And, at the moment, he was willing to let her. “Am,” she corrected herself, then tilted her head back, pressing her eyes more tightly shut. She’d waited two years; she wasn’t going to screw this up. “Just…don’t stop.”
He responded by slipping free the button closest to the hem of her dress. The garment buttoned—and unbuttoned—all the way up the front. She wasn’t sure she’d survive it.
“No slip,” he mentioned as he slid another button free.
“The dress…it’s lined,” she managed, a little short of breath just feeling the brush of his fingertips nearing the sensitive skin along the inside of her knees.
“Lucky me.”
Oh, she was pretty sure the lucky one at the moment was her, but she didn’t give voice to the thought. Besides, he’d already seen her in the lingerie she was wearing, with no dress. She’d felt the full weight of his body on top of her while wearing nothing more than the silk bra and panties she currently had on. Which did nothing to explain how incredibly erotic this slow striptease was.
He continued unbuttoning her dress, carefully parting it as he went, but also careful not to do more than casually brush his fingers against her skin. She felt the cooler air of the cabin brush her skin as he bared it, which did little to soothe the heat that was pervading every inch of her body. When he got to the button ever so helpfully positioned at the top of her thighs, he paused. She wanted to squirm, or scream, already dying for him to do far, far more than lightly brush any part of her with any part of him.
She curled her fingers into her palm, resisting the urge to reach down and push his hand where it would do a fair amount of good right at the moment.
She felt his warm breath blow softly against the tender skin of her inner thighs. Then he slipped open that button—that button—brushing against her just enough to make her entire body twitch and a soft gasp escape her lips. He parted her dress, then dropped the softest of kisses to the inside of either thigh, before shifting up and moving on, opening another button, followed by a kiss below her navel, then another, and another, until she thought she’d surely lose her mind.
“Finn,” she choked out, not certain if she could stand him opening the front of her dress and not touching her nipples, either. She needed something, anything, to ease the ache that was almost physical pain by now.
“Mmm,” was his only response as he did, indeed, unbutton the last few buttons between her breasts, then draw the material slowly across the front of her silk bra, so gently abrading the tight tips of her nipples, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through her. She moaned now, and didn’t care what he made of it. She dug her nails into her palms, determined not to sink her fingers into his hair and drag his mouth back to her nipples. Even through the silk, the sensations of his lips tugging on them would be exquisite.
Maybe she’d been right, and his goal was to make her lose control, lose whatever inhibitions she might have left with him, to demand that he give her what she wanted, so he, in return, could make demands of his own. Only she had no idea what those demands might entail now that he’d made his intentions clear, and she was in no position, or state of mind, to risk finding out.
So she squirmed, and she twitched…and waited breathlessly to see what he’d do next.