Chapter Six #2
She forced her eyes open. He was still looking at her with the same hungry passion.
His nostrils were flared. His eyes glittered in his tanned face.
The kind of sexual teasing in which they’d been engaged went both ways; the man had to be just as turned on as she was.
Testing her theory, she squeezed his arousal.
His retaliation was devastatingly effective.
His fingers pushed inside her and started stroking with a determined rhythm.
At the same time, his other hand slid up under her shirt.
She cried out as he gently pulled at her tender nipple, her whole body jerking forward and upward.
She curled one leg around his. She was so close... right at the razor edge of pleasure...
“One more minute,” his voice was silky smooth, his breath teasing her ears. “Didn’t you say five minutes wouldn’t be enough?”
“No...” she protested, knowing instinctively what he was going to do. She pulled at his shirt fiercely. “Damn you...I know you’re him. Just...tell me.”
“I thought I’ve been showing you,” he mocked. “Thirty seconds. I don’t think you’re going to make it. Uh, uh, uh, no words...you’re going to waste these last twenty seconds.”
He nipped wickedly at her neck again, the slide of his fingers slowing down. She gurgled some helpless nonsense as he counted in her ear, dragging each number out. “Ten...nine...so wet...seven...six...”
She was getting faint from holding her breath.
He had her so close to coming, her heart rate roaring like a freight train, her whole consciousness zeroing in on the silken glide that was moving in slow motion, a chaotic mixture of pleasure and panic.
She whimpered, straining to reach...no, not yet...
he stopped. For one frozen second, she stood at the knife’s edge of climax.
Her breath whooshed out in total shock and disappointment.
“And one. I guess I’ll just have to show you more later.”
Her humiliation was complete as she stood there in helpless anger. She couldn’t believe he’d leave her in the lurch like this. Not like this! She watched silently as he adjusted her clothes. Zipped her pants back up. Released his hold of her.
He stepped back and unhurriedly licked his fingers, the sexual hunger in his eyes reflecting her own tumultuous feelings.
Then, as if he turned a switch off, the look was gone.
In its place was the cool, emotionless commando look she was beginning to recognize.
How did he do that? The shuttered expression stopped every word hanging fiercely on her lips.
She struggled to look equally unruffled, knowing damn well that was impossible with her mussed-up hair and smeared lipstick.
He ran his card through the security slot. The doors slid open. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Coming?”
“SO WHAT’S THE DECISION?”
Jonah continued studying the menu, pretending an interest in different choices of main entrees. He hadn’t eaten out in ages and he wanted to eat everything. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew they weren’t giving him a treat because they felt sorry for him.
“We aren’t needed in Velesta. They have activated a cell.”
“Is that right...how interesting.”
“I think they don’t want to chance losing another weapon.”
“We’d have fucking gotten the SEED if 51 here had been quicker locating the COS candidate.”
Jonah turned the page and stared blankly at the choices of desserts available.
He should have known the fatter one would put the blame of losing the decoder on him.
He wanted to say something to defend himself, wanted to point out that without him, they wouldn’t have known the SEED was in Frankfurt, that he wasn’t the one who had failed to capture that remote viewer.
In fact, he’d been the only one who had done everything right and had been quietly sitting inside the vehicle watching them fuck up.
It wasn’t his fault they couldn’t get inside a building themselves. Hell, those other agents did.
He frowned. He didn’t want to think about those moments when he was remote viewing that building. He didn’t want to remember the loss of his precious cache.
He snapped the menu shut. All his wonderful sex-filled recordings he’d carefully collected and stored for his viewing enjoyment.
They were his comfort in the stupid medical place.
Now nothing to fill that empty void. Remote viewing was no fun without that serum.
Just another fucking task to help these idiots get their reward.
51 go here. 51 look for that. What about his reward?
“So you’ve decided what you want to order, 51?”
“It’s Five-One,” he corrected with slow emphasis. If they were going to use him, they needed to at least call his special handle correctly. “It’s Five-One, not Fifty-One.”
He stared back at the man studying him. He heard the fat one snorting impatiently. The first agent put up his hand to stall his partner’s sarcastic remark.
“Of course, if it’s important to you,” the agent said mildly. “I didn’t know that’s the correct way to address you.”
Which told him that these two weren’t ever involved with the original CIA programs. There was a reason why the numbers were called out individually instead of as an entity.
Five-One would have told a knowledgeable agent the division and experience.
There were very few with the experience level he had and that was why it irritated him to be treated like a useless experiment by these assholes.
“Fifty-One makes it sound like I’m just a number down a long line of experimental remote viewers. I’m not. I’ve been handpicked for very special assignments, including for part of the supersoldier-spy program.”
“Which you failed almost immediately,” the other agent sneered.
Jonah refused to acknowledge that he was considered a failure. He was more than an experiment; in fact, he was a success for a long time. Why the fuck would climbing a rope or running for miles be so damn important anyway?
He shrugged. “I’ve never been in the army. I didn’t know they were expecting me to train like some athlete.”
“The serum, Five-One, was supposed to help you through that phase. Anyway, let’s get back to ordering food. We aren’t here to discuss the success of the program or the serum.”