Lie to Me (19 page)

Affection.

She was enjoying this as much as he was. Maybe more.

Her lashes lowered and she sucked him in again, curling her velvety tongue so he fit snug against it. The sight of his swollen cock sliding in between the ring of her lips was so sublimely intimate, the last vestiges of his resolve shredded. He withdrew an inch, then pushed in deep. Withdrew again.

Sasha gripped the base of his erection, her fingers working him over as she coaxed him with her mouth. His entire body tensed. He wanted nothing more than to come. Needed to come. Hell, if he didn’t he was going to combust internally. But though she’d said she wanted to please him, he doubted she would appreciate choking down his semen. And the idea of watching her spit his seed all over the shower floor made him feel oddly cold inside. No. Better he pull out now, guide her into orgasm, and help himself to release. He was too close, too on the edge of climax, to fool with finding a condom and sinking into the sweet haven of her pussy.

He tangled his hand in her hair, guiding her mouth away. But as she reached the crest, her teeth encircled him once more. Lightly. Threateningly.

Aw hell.

Alexei clamped his teeth together to silence an anguished groan. She wanted him to let go. Wanted him to absorb himself in the ecstasy of coming in her pretty little mouth.

And God help him, he was. He was coming uncontrollably, wave after wave of bliss pounding through his body, pulsing through his cock. Through the heady, blissful sensations, he felt her throat work,
swallowing down the jet of semen that hit the back of her tongue. The little ripple of muscle movement brought another surge of pleasure, and his cock pulsed again. He sucked in a shaky breath, held it behind clenched teeth as his body convulsed.

Sasha suckled at his softening erection, her firm pulls now soothing flutters that guided his heart into a somewhat normal beat. Then, slowly, she let him slide from between her lips altogether and tipped her head up to meet his disbelieving gaze. That same unbelievable glimpse of affection burning behind her blue eyes lingered on the slight upturn of her mouth.

He slipped his hands gently into her hair, massaging her scalp as he exhaled unsteadily. “Sasha, you didn’t have to do that,” he whispered.

Lifting off her knees, she slid her body up his, standing once more. She looped her arms around his neck and planted a hard kiss on his mouth. “I wanted to.”

Instinctually, Alexei cupped her mound in his palm and pressed a finger against her clitoris, seeking to return the pleasure she’d given him. To his surprise, Sasha chuckled and twisted her hips away. “You already took care of that.”

He already…Alexei blinked. She’d gotten off by letting him fuck her mouth?

Oh, holy hell. He hadn’t been at all prepared to learn his pleasure could arouse her so thoroughly. The notion did strange, unexplainable things to his system. Things like make his gut tighten and leave him feeling like he’d just bailed from an airplane—without a chute.

Things like make him consider, just possibly, she might actually believe him to be normal.

Determined not to let that idiotic fantasy take root, Alexei reached behind Sasha and turned the water off. He wrapped her in fluffy white towel, then tied one around his waist. Before conversation could spoil the warmth infused in his veins, he picked her up and carried her out of the shower, out of the bathroom, and to the big, comfortable bed. There, he laid her down and stretched out alongside her.

He wasn’t normal. No matter how she might think he was, how she might look at him like he mattered, Alexei knew in his gut that when she learned the full extent of the things he had done, everything would change. If he was lucky, that warm, affectionate light in her eyes would turn empty and cold. More likely, her stare would hold revulsion.

T
he chime of an old-time telephone brought Alexei’s head off the pillow beside Sasha’s. He considered ignoring it for a nanosecond before he realized the reason why. He was entirely too content with Sasha asleep in his arms, her silky thigh wedged between his, her equally silky, gloriously warm skin rubbing against his ever-so-lightly as she breathed. This he could get used to.

And then she’d learn about his past, the things he’d done to provide for his sick mother, and it would all come to a devastating end. An end where there was nothing left of him.

Besides, he didn’t dare ignore Kevin Clarke’s insistent ring tone.

He threw back the lightweight comforter, pried himself out of her slumbering hold, and tugged on his pants. Following the sound of his ringing cell, he left the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind him.

Light danced off the walls from the LCD face on the coffee table, illuminating the early evening shadows. He picked up the phone as he flipped on a lamp. “Alexei here.”

“How did I know someone was going to die during this mission?” Kevin’s voice carried the heavy resignation of a man who understood the problem child was never going to change, no matter how he preached. “Saeed? Really, Alexei, couldn’t you have taken out one of his guards, a servant, anyone but the sheikh himself?”

Alexei dropped into the sofa and tossed an ankle over the opposite knee. “Do I really have to answer that?”

Two seconds of silence passed, then, as Alexei had anticipated from the get-go, Clarke exploded in a customary surge of temper. “What the fuck were you thinking, Nikanova? Hughes is on my ass about this like flies on shit. You took out his marked asset. How the hell am I supposed to navigate this one? MI6 thinks I can’t control my operatives. They’re getting edgy about working with the Opals. The last fucking thing I need is to have them plotting
around
us.”

Alexei tapped his fingers on his knee, waiting for the tirade to end. It would. Clarke always blew steam. Most of it was for show, because when it all came down to the wire, he trusted his operatives to react as the situation demanded. He just had a hard time swallowing that he didn’t,
couldn’t
, hold full control over the elite killers he governed on paper.

Kevin wound up to the final bellow, one Alexei mouthed as it blasted through the receiver. “Get your shit together, or I’m putting you on analysis.”

“Feel better, boss?”

A mumble drifted through the line.

“Okay, as long as we’re agreed then.” Alexei couldn’t help but grin. “The little princess blew my cover. Saeed was about to tell his entire security team
Alexei
was back in Dubai.”

“How the hell did that woman know you? They were all mind-numbingly high when you delivered them to Amir.”

Too late, Alexei realized he’d said more than he should have. But there was one thing he’d learned early in his time with the Opals. Tell all the lies necessary to accomplish a mission, but never,
never
lie to Kevin Clarke. The man would make rivers run backward to help out his team, even if they were bent over, balls in a sling, and fucked three ways from Sunday. So long as his operatives were honest. Those who deceived him disappeared. Wiped out and eliminated, all in the name of preserving State secrets.

He finally settled on a summation for Clarke. “I didn’t light her
up on heroin. We were…
personal
acquaintances.” Not like Clarke didn’t know Alexei had a hell of a time drugging the women bound for Dubai anyway. That difficulty was how Natalya Trubachev entered the game.

“You…” Kevin trailed away with a sigh that gave Alexei the distinct visual of him shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.”

“Probably not.”

Another chain of muffled oaths buzzed in Alexei’s ear before something heavy slammed into something solid on the other end of the line. “Jesus. Don’t tell me I’ve got to hire this one too. I can’t keep creating positions just because you all think it’s time to start thinking
family.
And I damn sure can’t take another pregnant op on my team.”

That made Alexei grin. Natalya must be giving Clarke a hell of a time. Alexei would give his right pinkie to see her bullying everyone around HQ. But the implication of Clarke’s grumbling drove a hot spike into Alexei’s chest. Sasha’s background made her an exceptional candidate for the Opals. Damned if Alexei didn’t like the idea of her joining the team too. Reality was though, she might sign on, but they would never have what Natalya and Moretti did. At best, they’d be partners, and that term didn’t come anywhere close to the definition Alexei desired.

He pushed off the sofa and moved to the window, suddenly uncomfortably confined in this set of rooms with Sasha just beyond the closed doors. Staring down at the lighted parking lot, he heaved a sigh. “It’s
personal
, Clarke.”

“Yeah, well you and personal means a hell of a lot more than anyone else under that definition.” Clarke’s tone did a one-eighty, good-natured grumbling becoming stone-cold sobriety. “What do I need to be prepared for?”

“No promises.” Alexei turned from the window, intent on retrieving a bottle of water. As he pivoted, movement flashed outside. He
pulled the lightweight sheer aside and frowned at the lot. He could have sworn a man had just ducked behind a parked car.

“Well, I expect you to keep me informed if I need to start considering appropriate options.”

“Yeah,” Alexei mumbled, his gaze scanning the parking lot for signs of the shadow he’d swear on his soul had just moved.

“So, believe it or not, I didn’t call to discuss Saeed. I’m en route to London. Leaving Atlanta in another hour.”

“London?” Nothing behind the yellow sedan, nothing near the silver Mercedes. It couldn’t have been a cat, or an animal from the surrounding woods—the movement he’d caught was far too large. Alexei’s defensive instincts kicked in. The hand he held against the sheers tightened as anticipation launched into high gear. “What’s in London?”

Another shifting of shadows pulled Alexei’s gaze closer to the main entrance, and he expelled a breath of relief. He
had
seen someone. But not a threat as he’d assumed. Grigoriy stood near the edge of the light, heading for the entrance. The light turned his shadow into a towering beanpole that shifted near the parked cars each time Grigoriy moved.

Christ, Alexei really needed to get a grip. He was so on edge about Sasha, he was seeing shit and imagining threats in the darkness. Kadir couldn’t possibly know where they were in such a short time. Even if he was listening to Alexei’s cell, Alexei had left a message on Grigoriy’s phone about the hotel change from the room’s phone. Letting the sheers fall, he moved away from the window and returned to the sofa.

“I can’t discuss it on this line,” Clarke answered. “I’ll sum it up when Sandman’s been called in.”

Sandman. Alexei frowned. Jayce Honeycutt, aka Sandman, was a bomb expert. He’d gotten that name years earlier in Iraq. If Clarke was pulling him in to help out MI6, shit was really going down. Clarke didn’t just volunteer his best operatives.

“I haven’t been briefed on the full details myself, but I’ll meet you in London. We’ll wrap up this business with Sasha and her father and expect to be pulled into whatever is going on.”

The door handle rattled, and Alexei turned his head as Grigoriy let himself in. Beneath his arm, he carried a brown paper bag. The scent of hot food hit Alexei’s nose. As his stomach rumbled, Alexei acknowledged his partner with an absent lift of his hand. “Gotcha, boss. I’ll keep my ears open.”

Grigoriy cocked his head, his understanding that something else was going on immediate. Alexei terminated the phone call, dropped the cell on the table, and flopped against the back of the couch.

“Problems?” Grigoriy asked.

“Couple dozen.”

Chuckling, Grigoriy set down the sack of food and went to the door again. When he came back in, he carried a small open-topped cardboard box that clinked as he set it on the countertop. He reached in and pulled out a dewy green bottle of pale lager. “It doesn’t get better than Peroni.”

Beer. Oh hell, yes. This was why Alexei put up with Grigoriy’s habit of driving him crazy. He leaned forward to accept an offered bottle, twisted the cap, and took a long drink. The malty flavor melted on his tongue, a taste of heaven amidst a world of hell.

“So what did Clarke know?” Grigoriy asked as he unpacked a sack of burgers and greasy curly fries. “Where’s Sasha? I thought she might want to eat too. And what’s the deal on why we’re here?”

“I’ll get her in a minute. She’s sleeping.” Alexei took another long draw and set the bottle on the coffee table. Typical European bitterness replaced the immediate sense of satisfaction. Damn. He couldn’t wait to get back in the States and suck down a Budweiser. Or two.

“Clarke’s meeting us in London. Something’s going down. Sandman’s on the job.”

“Sandman?” Grigoriy considered this for a moment while he turned
his bottle around in his hands. “EU meeting’s coming up. They’re supposed to give Ukraine conditional entry. Guess someone’s opposed to that idea.”

“Aw, shit, I didn’t even think of that.” More proof he was too preoccupied with Sasha when he shouldn’t be. He’d spent too many years embedded in Moscow to not be intimately familiar with the divided sentiment over Ukraine joining the European Union.

Further discussion died away as the bedroom door opened and a very sleepy-looking, very sexy Sasha limped out. She’d left her ankle unwrapped and wore only Alexei’s button-up dress shirt. The long tails brushed her muscular thighs, drawing his immediate attention. As well as Grigoriy’s, Alexei noticed as he forced his gaze away. His partner didn’t react as quickly. Grigoriy’s appreciative stare lingered on Sasha’s legs as she walked to the countertop and helped herself to a fry.

That trespassing stare had Alexei’s gut in knots faster than a mousetrap could snap. His gaze narrowed, and he curled a fist against his thigh. Grigoriy’s gaze lifted, met Alexei’s. Defiant challenge issued behind those dark eyes.
Stake your claim, old man, or she’s fair game.
Alexei had no claim to stake, no ties he was willing to bind. If he were smart, he’d step aside and let Grigoriy fill the role Alexei couldn’t.

“You two are quiet,” Sasha observed.