Nineteen
James
James did have business in London. But not for the entire week.
Meetings dotted Monday and Tuesday, but the rest of the time would be spent digging further into the mystery behind Delacroix.
Damien Torrence might’ve been a dead end, but James was far from the finish line.
Raymond had put James in touch with some connections he had in Europe who did a good job investigating security breaches for high-profile clients. Since Delacroix was a French citizen first and foremost, it would be slightly easier than looking in America.
As Raymond promised, it took some time, but they managed to trace the IP address of the person who emailed Torrence to a house in southern London.
James employed certain people who never failed to get answers, and they had been paying the man visits every few days.
James wasn’t sure what they had told the man so far, or what progress had been made. But James was set to fly over and sweeten the deal even more.
Movement fluttered in his peripheral vision, and he fought to prevent his jaw from dropping.
Sophie came out of the bathroom, her clothes balled in her arms and hair free from her bun. His shirt graced the middle of her thighs and clung to her curves in a heady way that drove him insane.
He wanted to tear the clothes right off her and show her exactly how much he venerated her.
“Here.” She tossed him the pajama pants he offered. “They’re too long. I had this problem with the pants last time as well. It felt weird against my skin. The shirt covers everything, anyway. Have you ever thought about shrinking?”
Jesus, she’s only in her underwear under there?! He cleared his throat and shifted to the side. “I’ll get right on that.”
Chuckling, she climbed in next to him. “Please tell me that’s not work.”
Don’t drool, don’t drool, don’t drool. Dropping his phone, he shook his head. “You remembered where the toothbrushes are, right?”
He always kept extras under the sink for his friends—they stayed overnight often enough that it was easier than having them bring one every time.
“Is that your way of telling me my breath stinks?”
“I—No.”
“I know, I’m teasing.” She grinned. “You should see your face.” Her gaze dropped to his lips, then lifted back to his eyes. “You’re staring. Do I have toothpaste on my face or something?”
“Just a tiny bit.” He grinned and leaned forward. Using his thumb, he swiped the corner of her mouth.
Her lashes fluttered rapidly as she smiled and caught his hand before he could pull it away. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his palm.
“Thanks for letting me stay here tonight,” she murmured, staring at him.
He said nothing and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, cradling the side of her head.
His thumb stroked across her cheek ever so gently, and his gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted and blowing minty breath over his face.
“James?” she whispered, shuddering.
On the off chance she found out about the articles when he was gone, would she even want to see him when he got back?
A swooping sensation filled his stomach. Fuck it, he needed her. Just once before he left and in case everything hit the fan while he was gone. This might be his last chance ever to touch her again or taste the honey soaking her lips.
Kissing her deeply, he drew her onto his lap. He ran his hands under her shirt, smoothing his fingers against her skin.
She laughed, arching her neck. “I don’t see you for a few days and you get like this? Maybe I should leave you more often.”
“Don’t you dare.” A pang of sadness ricocheted in his stomach and he yanked her shirt up and off.
He couldn’t get enough. He wanted all of her before an ocean separated them, and if that meant passionate yet rough, he would give her that.
His lips traveled down to her chest and he sucked a nipple into his mouth. Tongue roving, he made tight circles over the pert tip as she canted her hips against him.
Gripping her shoulders, he stilled her and removed his boxers. Moving his hips up, he mouthed along her collarbone.
She hummed, pressing the sodden cloth of her underwear against him. “Fuck.”
He groaned, tapping the band. “Get these off. Now.”
“No, you get them off,” she retorted, boosting herself up.
He hurried to slide them off and toss them aside. Swiping two fingers through the slickness between her legs, he examined the shine coating his skin. “Look at you, making such a mess.”
He kissed her again, his hand twisting in her hair before letting go, and gliding his palm down the curve of her spine.
Reaching her ass, he reveled in her moan as he gave it a sharp smack.
“Again,” she said.
It took all his self-control not to give in to her demand, but he grinned, smoothing his palm over the reddened skin.
“As much as we both know how much you like it when I do that, that’s not what I have planned right now,” he said.
“Oh?”
He ran the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Sit on my face, bǎobèi.”
Her eyes rounded and she cocked her head. “Are you sure? I’m not exactly—”
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now because I can tell you, you’re wrong,” he said. “Now, sit. Down.”
Gingerly, she positioned herself.
“All the way,” he murmured. Gripping her hips, he gently pulled her the rest of the way down.
“I’m going to kill you,” she protested.
He hummed out his refusal, gloating in the way her body reacted, and licked her slowly.
Her hips jerked in his hands as his tongue swirled and flicked, and a tugging hit his body as she let out the most scintillating moans.
Christ am I going to miss you.
His mouth puckered, sucking at her clit, and her back arched.
Expletives fell in a whispered rush from her mouth. “That’s—keep doing—oh, God.”
Digging his fingers into soft skin, he held her hips tight as she writhed. Peeking up at her, he glimpsed widened eyes and pink dusted cheeks.
Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip. “I’m going to—”
He withdrew his mouth and kissed her thigh. “I know. Which is why I want you to tell me how you want it.”
She panted, trying futilely to lower her hips again.
“Not this again,” she pleaded. “I swear—”
He didn’t give her a chance to finish as he lowered her hips, and she groaned.
The taste of her, the warmth. Teasing her until she was right on the edge, then pulling away—he somehow booked a one-way ticket to heaven.
Puckering his lips, he drew the tip of his tongue in tight circles over her clit, and she jerked, gasping.
“Please.”
Cupping her ass, he slid his fingers between her legs, snaking his touch to her clit, and stroking it. “Please what?”
Her thighs shook. “P-please, I … James.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said as he gripped her hips and lowered her, burying his head between her legs again.
“Oh—.” Her body stiffened and goosebumps raised under his touch. “Oh, my God.”
Lifting her, he rubbed his thumbs on her hips as she panted. “I know you’re close. So tell me how much you need it. What you want me to do.”
Staring down through hooded eyes, strands of her hair dusted her cheeks. “I .. ”
“Either you tell me, or we keep doing this.” He raised a brow. “Your choice, Sophie.”
Whichever one she made, he would win. Fire would muddle with satisfaction under his skin, knowing he was the cause of the crimson splashing her skin, her mouth forming into a perfect ‘O’.
“Fuck me,” she finally eked out. “With your mouth, with your fingers, I don’t care. Just. Do. It.”
A smirk licked his lips. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now. Let me hear exactly who that pussy belongs to.”
She cried out his name as he sucked her clit, tongue-fucking her until she came apart.
Christ, the sounds she made … they were enough to almost make him lunge over the cliff with her.
By some miracle, he managed to hang on, his tongue never slowing as she writhed over him.
Groaning, she slumped forward. “Fuck.”
He helped her into a proper sitting position once she caught her breath.
As soon as she was able, she grabbed his wrists and he blinked as they were pinned on either side of his head. “Wha—?”
She shushed him with a kiss, chest rising and falling rapidly. “My turn.”