15. Choosing The Fight #2
Ecstasy turns back to us.
"Harmony."
She says my name like we're already friends.
"I've wanted to meet you."
"I've heard wonderful things about this place."
"I'd rather hear wonderful things about my food."
She studies me for a second.
"Victor told me a little about you."
I feel myself tense.
She smiles gently.
"Not the headlines."
The tension eases.
"The woman who spent years helping families stay together."
She places the first plate in front of me.
"I like feeding people like that."
Emotion catches me off guard.
"Thank you."
She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving away to greet another table.
The first course arrives. Sweet potato gnocchi with crispy pancetta, fresh porcini and fried sage with a drizzle of chili oil.
It’s delicious.
Then another.
By the third plate, Rafael is shaking his head in disbelief.
"How many courses are there?"
Ecstasy calls from just inside the kitchen.
"Until I decide you're full."
Shane points his fork toward Rafael.
"I tried to warn you."
Verity smiles into her wine.
"He never listens."
"Neither do you."
"No," she agrees. "But I pretend better."
The conversation drifts easily from food to travel, then to stories from old investigations and operations that are finally safe enough to laugh about.
Verity and I compare impossible witnesses and impossible deadlines while Shane and Rafael trade stories about suspects who confessed to everything except the crime they were arrested for.
Since Texas, no one talks about the Westbrooks.
No evidence boards. No warrants. No surveillance.
Just four people sharing a remarkable meal while a gifted chef and the Italian spy who loves her create magic from the kitchen.
Somewhere between the pasta and dessert, Renzo and Rafael discover their nonna and abuela taught them the same lesson, that feeding people is one of the purest ways to show someone they're loved.
As dessert arrives, Ecstasy sets the final plate in the center of the table.
"No opinions yet," she says. "Eat first."
Shane takes one bite. His eyes widen. He looks at her across the restaurant.
"I hate it when you're right."
"I know."
The entire table laughs.
For a little while, the war can wait until tomorrow.
MacLeod’s Baby Bump Hotel, Safe Floor Suite, Sausalito. 2320 hours.
He shuts the door of the Sausalito suite behind us, the deadbolt clicking home. As he turns, his tongue traces his lower lip, a dark, lingering glance settling on me that says dinner was only the warm-up.
Before I can step into the living area, his hands are on my waist. He guides me back until the edge of the sofa hits the hollow behind my knees, lowering me onto the cushions.
He comes down over me, his body a heavy, welcome weight, pressing his lips to mine in a long, thorough kiss that tastes of red wine.
His hand slides up the hem of my dress, gathering the silk as his palm glides high over my thigh. He nudges aside the lace of my thong, his warm fingers cupping my bare heat while his thumb sweeps over my clit until I part my legs to give him room.
He breaks the kiss to watch my face as he slips a finger inside. The slow, deliberate rhythm of his hand sends a rush of heat straight to my core. Panting, my head falls back against the cushion, my fingers digging into the shoulders of his shirt.
He sits up long enough to pull my thong down my legs, taking my skirt with it and leaving me bare beneath his steady gaze.
He kneels on the carpet between my knees and leans down.
His tongue finds my clit as he laves me with warm licks and tight suction that make my hips jump off the leather.
As he flicks his tongue over me, he slides two fingers inside me and starts pumping slowly at first, then with a steady, unrelenting pace.
"Rafael, please," I gasp, my hands tangling in his dark hair. "I need you inside me."
He doesn't answer with words, only increasing the pressure of his thumb against my bud while his fingers work inside me. Then the tension snaps, sending a wave of release crashing through my lower belly.
Before the tremors fade, he stands to strip off his jeans.
I appreciate the view as my gaze travels over the rippled muscles of his chest, down across his sculpted abs, then further south to his impressive cock.
I take hold of it quickly and lean forward to suck the head before biting softly along the ridge with my teeth.
Let him see what light nibbles are like. I watch him as I tease him relentlessly. He seems to get even harder as he smiles down at me.
But not for long. Yes, I know I could make him come quickly right now if I wanted to. But I don’t.
He smiles as he settles between my legs again and guides himself inside me with a quick, sure thrust.
It feels so good as he holds me and pumps in and out, reaching back to take one of my ankles and lift my leg over his broad shoulder. The angle opens me completely, every drive striking a spot that makes me cry out in pleasure.
He holds my opposite hip, his rhythm growing faster and harder, the leather creaking beneath us until we find the same breathless cadence and shatter together.
Afterward, he lifts me into his arms with careful gentleness, pulling me against his side as we lie together on the cushions. My fingers trace the faint silver line running along his cheekbone.
"Where did you get this scar?"
"A knife fight," he says softly, his thumb brushing my collarbone. "Luckily, I jumped backward just in time or it would've sliced deeply."
"It adds character," I murmur, smiling up at him. "Otherwise, you'd be demasiado guapo."
He lets out a low, quiet laugh, the vibration warming me. He presses a soft kiss to my temple, wrapping the edge of a throw blanket around my shoulders.
"Mi tesoro," he whispers, holding me close against him. “I could never be too handsome,” he chuckles.
Safe in his arms, surrounded by a love we've both chosen, I let the certainty settle through me.
I’m loved.
I’m protected.
I’m home.