“Yes. Please.”
With a slight smirk, he nudged me over him so that I was straddling his leg. A blunt push at my hips showed me what to do. My body felt strung up tight, sharp need constricting my cunt. Lowering myself, I pressed the slick skin against his thigh and rocked hesitantly. The coarse smattering of hair on his skin created extra friction against the lips of my sex, against my clit. I rocked faster, more sure now, finding my rhythm. The humiliation of the position roared through me, making me hotter. I closed my eyes, savoring the faint flavor of him still on my tongue from before. It wasn’t enough, though. I draped my body against his, rubbing more than my pussy, rubbing my whole body, my breasts against him until the pleasure built and crested, and I came in hard, painful pulses, spilling liquid arousal all over his skin. I kept rubbing him until the last of the aftershocks had subsided.
Lazily, my eyes opened. Self-consciousness suddenly assailed me as I realized he’d been watching me this whole time. He’d seen my body in orgasm; he’d seen my face in rapture. All with his hands resting behind his head, as if he were watching a show. But his expression disarmed me. It was intent, focused. Reverent.
“Beautiful,” he said.
Blushing, I lay down beside him again, curling myself into him. On the outside, it hadn’t looked so different than regular sex. On the inside, though, the ground had shifted right under me. Sex was no longer a thing I did to be normal. It wasn’t a favor I did for a horny guy at a bar. It was an experience shared. A connection found.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I woke up the next morning with a warm, empty space on the sheets beside me. The running water from the bathroom clued me in to Ian’s location. As did the baritone voice singing off key. It made me smile, that off note. A reminder that he was human too, after all.
Until I registered the sad, lilting strains of La Bohème.
My smile faded. If I’d needed any further proof that this was the man who had held me captive, I had it. Not that there had been any question after his admissions. Or the way he fucked me. That I could have recognized blindfolded—and had been blindfolded.
I pushed myself out of bed and slipped into my running clothes. Every day at 6:00 a.m. I’d gone running since high school when I’d had ripped hand-me-down tennis shoes. The only time of day when the dingy streets were free and clear of the dealers and crack heads. At Quantico, where the miles I ran alone were piled on top of the strict fitness regimen in the academy. And in my own home, with sleek running clothes and ergonomic shoes that had come out of my first paycheck.
A running path drew curlicues around a manmade lake a mile away from my house. I jogged a foot away from the curb until I reached it, then continued on the gravel path. I lost myself in the activity—my body and mind absorbed in the task. So I almost didn’t notice him lounging near the bridge. He leaned against the base of the bridge, like a troll I had to answer to before I could pass. I slowed then stopped before joining him on the dewy grass.
“Nice morning,” he commented.
I didn’t have the patience for small talk. “Why are you here?”
His eyebrow rose, but he didn’t reprimand me. Maybe he would walk on eggshells after what had happened to me. Or maybe what he was about to say was that bad.
“I figured you’d want to know the results of the psych eval.”
Shit. Focus. I ran a hand over my face. Already there was a light sheen of sweat from my exertions. “I take it the results aren’t good, since you felt the need to tell me in private.”
“No, not bad. We just didn’t get a chance to discuss in the meeting…after the incident with…” Agent Brody coughed. “The psychologist was generous. Six weeks’ rest and you can get re-checked. Standard procedure, considering.”
Considering I’d been tortured and sodomized, yeah. Not too bad. As expected. If he was expecting me to be grateful, though, he’d have to wait a long time.
A slight frown line appeared in his forehead. “I want you to know that I’m looking out for you. I don’t think a commendation is out of order for your dedication to service. A promotion, maybe a few months down the road.”
“Really.”
He must have mistaken that for enthusiasm, because he nodded quickly. “Yes, even though you broke protocol. You were doing it to assist your teammates, after all.”
Ah, so that was how it would be. A cover-up to save all our asses. Having an agent captured by the target wouldn’t sit well with the higher ups. Sure, I could get fired for my own part—the break in protocol—but Brody would be in hot water too. He was the one who’d pushed for the early run we weren’t ready for. He was the one who’d assigned a junior officer to the case.