Heston (In the Company of Snipers #25)

Chapter Twenty

“Yes, sir, I’ll be sure and let you know.” When pigs fly. No way am I working for this obnoxious guy. Who does he think he is?

“I’ll take that as a definite yes. See you Monday morning, bright and early.” Director Chase grinned. Then, as if that wasn’t enough of a lame come-on, he shot London a cocky wink. He still hadn’t let go of her hand. Was he flirting with her? Seriously? A man his age? He had to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties. Yeah, he was okay looking, but too damned old to think he was, in any way, impressing her. There was at least ten years difference in their ages. Eww.

‘Take it any way you want,’ she thought, but said, “Monday, yeah. I’ll let you know by then.” Like I said.

“Great! You’ve got my card.”

“I sure do,” London answered as she pulled her fingers out of his big, warm grip. And I’ve got your number. The man acted like he already owned her. Gross.

“I’ll get your workspace ready,” he called out even as she turned and walked away from him. “Ever had an office to yourself?” No, and I don’t want one now. “Well, I’m the guy who can make it happen.”

“I’ll call you,” she repeated, more firmly this time, then kicked up her gait and speed-walked to the one-story brick building Heston, Asher, and Renner had disappeared into.

“Bye now!” Director Chase yelled.

Oh, for the love of God, give it up! London didn’t look over her shoulder this time. Didn’t wave. Didn’t answer. Uh-uh. No sense in saying anything to this obnoxious guy. Man, was he pushy.

She’d learned a few things working for the government. Most government agencies were inefficient, bogged down by redundant regulations, ROEs, and a shit ton of lessons they hadn’t yet learned from their prior errors. Add to that the fact that all federal data systems were outdated, some as old as World War Two. The very socialist nature of government employment, which had to have been the harbinger for today’s woke generation’s rule that everyone gets a participation prize, prevented hardworking civilians from excelling. Which stood to reason. Corrupt politicians created those agencies, and the only thing politicians ever excelled at was covering their asses.

Case in point: the Federal Bureau of Investigation had enough rules to choke a twenty-mule team, like the ones that had once hauled tons of borax out on the Mojave Desert! And the Bureau’s egregious errors were legendary. Yet they kept making the same ones. Over and over again they’d proved how partisan and corrupt they were. Why she’d ever wanted to work for the FBI boggled her brain now. And that Tucker Chase guy?

No. Just no!

Finally, at the brick building, she jerked the entry door’s steel handle and— Ouch! Darn near pulled her arm out of its socket. Locked? Heston locked her out? Damn him. Furious at being treated like a nobody, she raised her fist to give the door a good pounding when—

It opened inward and there he stood. “You finish your job interview?” he asked politely. Too politely, damn him. He thought she’d told Director Chase she’d work for him. Well, guess again.

“I’m not working for that pompous jerk. Come to think of it, how can your friends, that Isaiah dude and Mrs. Winchester, stand him? He’s an ass.”

“Most alpha males are asses, London. They’re driven to succeed and exceed. Can’t tolerate slackers. Won’t tolerate cheaters. You’d be smart to accept his offer, and you’d get used to him. He’s one of the few decent bosses around.”

“I don’t care how decent you think he is.”

“No, of course you don’t,” Heston replied with something that sounded a lot like indifference in his tone. “Sorry, that just popped out. I won’t make assumptions again.”

London slapped both palms onto his chest and shoved him backward, tired of the uneasy truce between them. “For your information, I told him I’d think about it, that I’d call Monday and let him know my decision. But I lied. I’m not dumb enough to call him—ever. He thinks he’s hot shit. But he’s not and he’s certainly not the man I want to work with.”

Heston’s deep brown eyes blinked. Sadness glittered there. Didn’t he know she meant him? Did he really think she’d kiss him like she did in her camper if she’d planned to walk away again? Hadn’t they cleared the air between them? Didn’t he know she’d give anything to take back the rash decision she’d made that night? Didn’t he know anything?

She stabbed her index finger into the thick wall of his muscular chest. “I don’t want to work for the FBI. I’ve already got that t-shirt. It didn’t fit!” She stabbed him again.

Instead of fighting back, he calmly spread his palms to the wall behind him.

His complacency made her mad. “Who’s walking away now, Hes? It’s sure not me.”

“I’m giving you time and space,” he whispered. “I’m giving you enough room to make your own decision without my interference.”

“I don’t need time and space!” By this time, they were nearly flush against each other, yet he hadn’t taken hold of her like he used to. Hadn’t tipped his head to kiss her. Wasn’t acting friendly. He looked sad. Not acceptable.

London flung herself at him, just wrapped her arms around his stubborn neck and her long legs around his waist. He was too good for her. Too smart and so much better trained, the whole enchilada. Damn it, she wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him.

He didn’t make a sound, didn’t even say, ‘Oomph,’ when her body hit his. But his hands automatically caught two big handfuls of her ass. That was encouraging.

She took a frantic, deep, wet taste of his mouth, bound and determined to light this man’s fire again. “We’ve both made mistakes, Hes,” she mumbled against his lips. “I hurt you, I know. I’ve hurt you a hundred times worse than you’ve ever hurt me. I get that. I’m sorry.” She peppered his face and neck with more kisses. More determination.

At last, “I’m trying,” murmured out of him.

Sill not good enough.

Returning to his mouth, she licked his lips, then bit the bottom one. Licked it again in case she’d bitten too hard. Wormed her tongue into his mouth and combed her fingers up his neck and into his hair. They were both panting hot, short breaths into each other’s mouths. His body had changed from cool, calm, and collected, into a coiled, deadly snake who might bite her.

Bring it on.

Switching tactics, London attacked his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, needing to be skin-on-skin with this man. Her man. “I haven’t been with anyone since I left Killeen,” she told him without preamble.

“I’ve never loved anyone but you,” he replied huskily. But there was still a heavy hint of sadness in his tone.

London tipped back at his confession. “You haven’t slept with anyone else? Really? But…”

Heston was a god among men. He was so good-looking. Bronzed by his lineage. Muscled by the physical demands of his vocation. Short, shiny black hair, always trimmed and neat. Even the five o’clock shadowing his chin was sexy. His body was honed into a chiseled, lean, mean fighting machine. He was smart and honest and— “What’s wrong with women in Virginia?”

“None of them are you,” he whispered.

London blinked then. His pain at her leaving him was still fresh. She’d been off thinking she was saving the world when all this time, she should’ve been saving him. Seeking his forgiveness. Healing the pain her impulsive decision had caused. Keeping him safe and protected. The world had never really needed her, but he did. And she needed him.

“I never stopped loving you,” she choked, her fingers once again running over his head, into his hair, petting him like she should’ve been doing all those missed years. “But if you can’t forgive me—”

“Can you forgive me? I’m the one who started this mess.”

“No, you’re not. There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Let’s agree to disagree. Can we talk more about this later because…?” Heston released one hand from her backside to palm the door behind them open. It bounced against the inner wall. He didn’t seem to care, just took firm hold of her ass again with both hands, kicked the door shut behind them with his boot, and plunged them into darkness.

By the quick glimpse London caught before everything went dark, he’d chosen well. Big, empty conference room. Nice long table. A bank of computers and monitors on the far wall. Lots of chairs were scattered around a conference table. Heston kicked a couple of those chairs out of his way and sat her on the edge of the table. Her greedy hands went to his belt and zipper. He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it away. His shirt went next. She had no idea where her bra went, because all of a sudden, her breasts were in Heston’s warm palms. Both of them. She couldn’t breathe. His hands were big and callused and rough, and his thumbs were working magic on her aching nipples.

She tipped her head back, remembering the days and nights they’d spent worshipping each other’s bodies. Soaking each other in. Adoring the way they’d fit together. Playing. Damn it, she hadn’t played once in all the years they’d been separated. She needed this. Wanted this man with a passion that was tearing her apart. “Marry me,” she commanded.

Heston shook his head, as he inhaled her nipple into his mouth and suckled. A shock of awareness slammed straight to her core. Instead of arguing, London gave into her body’s response. Her eyes rolled back at the suction of his wet mouth on her. At the thrill of his teeth scraping over her begging nipple.

A fierce flood let loose between her legs.

Releasing her nipple with a sloppy ‘pop,’ Heston took a step back and tore her jeans down her legs. He needed to take his clothes off, too. And be quick about it! But he didn’t. Her naked, him still dressed. So damned naughty. Downright dirty. Shivers raced up her spine at the game she was caught in. She was the bad girl. He was the man in charge of bad girls. Tingles raced up her spine at what that might mean for her.

Discipline.

Bring it on.

He attacked her breast again. Oh, that mouth. That hot, slick mouth of his felt so, so good. She could’ve sat there all day letting him suckle and nibble her boobs, squeeze and lavish those girls. Until his tongue migrated up between her breasts to her neck. To her mouth. The moment his teeth grazed her bottom lip she opened for him. His hands went firmly to her neck. Her hands went to the sides of his head. He tilted her head sideways. Their teeth clashed. Their tongues tangled and tangoed. His breath became the only air she needed.

A steady, primal beat began low in her gut, in her womb. Her blood was on fire, drumming a rhythm through her veins as old as time. A beat her body remembered. The sensual magic it had needed for so long. Like a fine line of det cord, magic flashed bright and hot, sizzling between her core and his mouth and…

“Oh, Heston. Oh, man, Hes… Hes…” She writhed into his touch. Into his mouth. Against the manly palm pressed firmly over her mound. Against the strong, thick fingers curled inside her trembling body. Plucking at the erogenous flesh deep within. First one finger, then two, then… “Heston. There, yes. There. Right there!”

Her words rolled off her tongue as if she were being tortured. By love. By the glorious consummation of two stubborn, hard-headed souls finally mashed back together. By the conflagration caused by his busy fingers inside her body. By finally understanding how much love hurt, but only because she’d finally given her heart away. All of it. Completely. Like she should’ve done years ago. To Heston. Without regret or ego.

In the blessed heat of this reunion, this once-in-a-lifetime second chance, she mentally tore it out of her chest and handed it to him. Living without Heston Contreras in her life was the greater loss. She knew now that he’d always owned her heart. He was right. She had run from him, from this. But no matter how far she’d run, she’d still loved him, and from this day forward, he owned her. Like she would soon own him.

But he needed to lose those clothes. She was hot and sweaty and nearly naked. He was still completely dressed. She’d only gotten his belt loosened. His zipper wasn’t even down the tiniest bit.

As if he’d read her mind, Heston’s slick lips moved up to her neck and he distracted her once more. He sucked a mouthful of her skin into the warm, wet depths of his mouth, then pressed his jaw together and bit. No bloodletting, just a possessive, claiming bite on her neck that she hoped left a mark to last forever.

“Do it again,” London commanded, her arms circling his neck again, and her voice husky. Her entire body quivered with aftershocks from the magnificent orgasm he’d given her.

“Oh, baby, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us,” he breathed, his mouth barely open, still hot and slick on her neck. “I can feel every one of those after-orgasm quivers. I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. Let yourself go. Lean back and feel.”

“But you’re still d-d-dressed,” she managed to stutter before tremors lifted up her back at the heat pouring out of Heston’s mouth. He’d always been the one for her. She needed him to understand that. She’d only left him to protect her independence. Which now seemed a woefully pathetic reason.

“Marry me,” she ordered again, her pupils flaring to catch the faint, blinking light from the far wall of monitors and big screens and—stuff.

Heston pressed his sweaty forehead to hers. Man, they were both shaking. London inhaled the spicy, musky aroma pouring off the warm, slick body holding her. Then inhaled again. Heston. Old Spice aftershave. Maybe Old Spice deodorant. Manly sweat. Combined, they were her favorite scent and the most delicious flavors in the world. She licked a sloppy line up his neck to his jaw, right under his ear, and savored the taste. Didn’t matter what he’d splashed on. She knew the scent of this man’s skin and his breath. With just one sniff, one lick, she could pick him out of a line-up of a million guys and never be wrong.

He growled into her hair, “I’m not telling you no, baby, but first, we need to talk.”

“Now?” she asked like a simpleton, her fingers still threaded into his hair. “Here? But you haven’t even undressed yet, and you didn’t—”

“I’m fine. Honest, babe.” His hands still cupped her bare backside, but she was the only one who was naked. Well, nearly naked. Her boots were the only reason she hadn’t completely lost her pants and panties, but Heston hadn’t undressed at all. Only his belt was loose on his hips, and she’d done that. Something was wrong.

“This was about you, not me,” he continued. “My place, babe. Let’s get dressed. We can grab breakfast on the way.” Tugging her right hand away from his head, Heston folded her bra and shirt inside her curled fingers. “Let’s get you ready to go.”

Was he dismissing her? Sure felt like it.

London’s heart still pounded in her head from the first orgasm she’d had in years. Her blood was boiling and bubbling in her veins. Her brain was slow, foggy with afterglow. Breathing hard to get her emotions back on track, she fumbled her arms and shoulders into the shirt Heston held for her. Her bra went into her pocket. He helped her off the table. The instant London’s feet were back on the floor, she stooped and hurriedly pulled up her panties and pants. Suddenly, everything they’d just done felt awkward and wrong, like she’d wanted all of him, but he’d only wanted a piece of her. What now? She had no idea.