Chapter 2
Chapter Two
He braked at a red light.
And heard her laughter. Sweet, musical. Utterly delighted.
What. In. The. Hell?
Cass pressed a foot to the pavement even as he turned back to look at her.
She flipped up the visor on the helmet. He didn’t know exactly when she’d flipped it down, but she had.
And now she was beaming at him. A beautiful grin lit her face as the street lamps illuminated them.
“That was amazing!” she gushed. “My whole body feels alive! Like, seriously, I’m vibrating.
I have to confess that I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before, though I always wanted to give it a try.
Sensational. Five stars. Highest recommendation ever. ”
He just stared at her.
She kept smiling. Then she dipped her head toward him. “The light is green. Vroom, vroom.”
What? He growled. He was growling a lot with her. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with you?”
“I thought you had a plan. You know, you told me about it not too long ago. Right before we began our fabulous ride into the dark. Don’t go being a tease now.”
He had to get her alone and in a secure location. Not so he could fuck her. Fucking a Fed was a bad idea. Something he’d told himself at least ten times already during their fast and furious ride. Such a bad idea.
And yet…
And yet…
Focus. “I want to know your game.” No way did a Fed just sashay into his favorite bar without a reason. What was it this time? Was he under investigation? Did the Feds think they could use him? Blackmail him? Screw that shit.
Not happening.
He whipped back to the front, drove fast, and, fine, maybe it felt good when she curled her hands around his waist and pressed her body against his.
Maybe it felt better than good. Maybe something about Agnes was making him a bit delirious.
Or, hell, drunk. And he tried to never get drunk.
Getting drunk would make you sloppy. Weak.
In his line of work, there could be no weaknesses.
Since he didn’t know where the hell to take her—not like he could drop a Fed off at her door—he drove to his home.
On the other side of town. Actually, beyond town.
An old scary-as-hell-from-the-exterior place that someone else had begun renovating and Cass had scooped up the property when that guy had decided to relocate to Texas.
Private, secure, with lots of sprawling space, the old house was perfect for him. The fact that it looked like something from a horror movie? Bonus points.
She didn’t speak until they were inside his home. The garage door had lowered behind them. He’d killed the engine of the motorcycle, and he was trying to figure out a tactful way to say…
“Do people often try to kill you?” Agnes politely inquired. “I’m curious. Was wondering if tonight was a one-time situation or just a typical night out for you?”
He turned to look at her. Agnes no longer had a fierce grip on his waist. Pity. She had also taken off the helmet and now held it with one hand.
The lights were on in his garage so he could see her perfectly.
Those damn freckles were gonna be the death of him.
“My vote is for a typical night,” Agnes declared, as if she’d pondered the matter extensively. “You’re way too cool about everything. When someone tries to stab me in the back, I am not cool. At all.”
He growled again. Dammit. He should stop that. Why in the hell was he down to making animalistic sounds with her? “People try to stab you in the back a lot?”
A sigh had her slender shoulders falling. “More than I’d like.” She scooted back a bit on the bike, putting some distance between them. “You trust a fellow agent one day, and then…boom, betrayal the next moment. Life sucks that way, you know?”
Yeah, he knew. Betrayal was the name of the game in his world. Cass shoved down the kickstand and climbed off the motorcycle.
She kept straddling the bike but handed the helmet to him. “I believe this belongs to you.”
He reached for the helmet. His fingers slid over hers and damn if a bolt of molten lava didn’t seem to surge through his veins. Hell, hell, hell.
“Apparently…” Her head tilted. Her wind-tousled, thick red hair trailed over her shoulder. “Apparently, I do, too? Or else maybe I misheard that guttural ‘Mine’ bit you were throwing out at the bar. Got to tell you, it very much gave Eric Northman vibes from True Blood.”
His brows shot together.
“Tell me you got the reference? No, then I’d suggest you watch or read yourself some True Blood, like, stat. It’s seriously hot. Or, Eric is, anyway. Most definitely, Eric is. I was always rooting for him in the show. Anyway…about me belonging to you…” She still straddled the bike. “That was new.”
Cass locked his jaw. He was finding that he did that a lot around her. Just as he was growling a lot with her. Slowly, Cass backed up a step. “I was protecting you.”
Agnes swung one leg over the seat. She angled her body so that she faced him as she continued to sit—sideways now—on his bike.
That skirt was about to give up the battle because it could not rise much higher.
“Is that what you were doing?” She put one hand to her chest. Against those pert breasts that had been pushing into his back as he drove them through the night.
“How incredibly chivalrous of you, but…I don’t really remember asking for protection.
” Her hand fell. “In fact, what I remember was me, protecting you. After all, that broad back of yours was incredibly vulnerable. Had it not been for my amazing throwing skills, you could have found a blade shoved deep into you, and wouldn’t that have sucked for your night? ”
He tossed aside the helmet. “What do you want? A medal?” Cass surged back toward her.
She sucked in her lower lip. A sexy lip. Dammit.
“You flash warm and cold, don’t you?” Agnes suddenly challenged. “Promising to fuck me one moment and then offering me a medal the next. I think—” Her words abruptly ended.
He’d just leaned in close to her as Agnes carefully perched on the motorcycle.
Cass knew his expression had to be helluva hard.
His hands went to either side of her body, pushing down onto the seat, and maybe his thumbs brushed against the outside of her thighs.
That stupid, short skirt might be the death of him.
“What is it that you think? Don’t leave me in suspense. ”
Her hand rose and pressed to his chest. “I think…” She tilted her head back a bit. “I think you want to kiss me right now.” Surprise tinged her words.
She was right. He did want to kiss her. But… “I want to know what the hell kind of con you think you’re running.”
“I want to kiss you, too. That’s not a con. It’s the truth.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Fine, you want some deep, dark confession from me? I did come after you tonight because I was hoping to team up.”
This could not be happening. The woman was just spinning and spinning him with her words and confusing the hell out of him.
“I kinda threw out the line about fucking you because I knew other people were listening at the bar, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate me just loudly saying something like, ‘Hi, Cass. Do you remember me? I’m FBI Agent Agnes Quinn.
We met when you were working a secret deal with the Feds not too long ago. ’”
He could feel another growl building in his throat. Cass choked it down.
“You do remember our first, exciting meeting, don’t you?”
It had not been exciting. But, yes, he remembered it. She was pretty hard to forget.
“I introduced myself back then, tried to shake your hand but you…” She tut-tut-tutted. “You left me hanging. Hardly the appropriate thing to do with a lady.”
He made a mental note to never leave this woman hanging. “How did you know I was in that bar tonight?”
“Because The Bottomless Pit is a known hangout for the Strikers?” Her hand kept pressing to his chest.
“If I hadn’t been there, you would have walked into a world of trouble.”
“This may shock you to the heels of those bad-ass, black boots that you are wearing, but I know how to handle trouble.”
“Do you?” A dare.
“Try me and find out.”
He should not but…
“Kiss me,” she breathed. “You know that you want to do it.”
He did want to do it. He should not. He should send her on her merry way, but… “I am not partnering with you. I’m done working with the Feds.”
“Really?”
“I kiss you, and it will mean nothing.”
“Wow. Rip my heart out, why don’t you? You haven’t even put your lips against mine. Could be that when you do that, it will mean everything.” A pause. “Why don’t we find out?” Her hand suddenly fisted around his shirt as she yanked him closer.
And his mouth locked onto hers. Her mouth locked onto his.
It should have been just a kiss. He’d had plenty of good kisses in his life. Plenty of hot, passionate kisses. He knew kissing was great foreplay. Kissing was great for pleasure. Kissing was great for—
A fucking eruption of need and wild lust. A torrent that drove through his whole body.
Because her taste was insane. Sweet and heady and it hit him harder than four shots of tequila.
Yeah, four. It blew through his entire body, electrifying his bloodstream and sending lust surging in every pore of his body.
His dick went rock hard. His hands grabbed for her waist and curled possessively around her, and he yanked her up and off that motorcycle.
Off the motorcycle and into his arms even as her tongue met his.
She moaned into his mouth. Kissed him even harder, more passionately.
Agnes wrapped her legs around his hips. Her body rocked against his, and he had a flash of how easy it would be to rip away her panties.
To yank open his jeans and drive his dick into her right then and there.
He could take her. Take and take and take and if kissing her was this phenomenal, then fucking her had to be absolutely mind-blowing.