Midnight Action

  His voice thickened. “Did it work?”

  “Depended on how many pills I took. But after a while, I realized I didn’t want to block it out.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I wanted to remember every second of his torture, every disgusting, evil detail. Remembering helped me keep the hate alive, so that way I’d never forget to exact my revenge.” Bitterness washed over her. “Not that it mattered. In the end, my revenge was stolen from me. I wanted to make him suffer, but the asshole got himself killed before I had the chance.”

  She figured Jim would press for details, but he didn’t. A soft snip of the scissors, and then his warm hand left her arm.

  “All done,” he said briskly. “I’m not going to bandage it. You should probably let it breathe.”

  Noelle started to get up, but he stopped her by planting his palm on her thigh. The heat of his touch seared right through her jeans, and the rest of her body instantly responded. Her nipples puckered and her clit throbbed in anticipation of the carnal fucking she expected to come.

  She expected wrong. Because when she looked into Jim’s eyes, she didn’t see lust there. Only tenderness.

  Discomfort rolled through her like tumbleweed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Rather than answer, he moved his other hand to her face and swept his thumb over her lower lip.

  She jerked as if he’d struck her, and yet she didn’t push his hand away.

  “You said that if...” He trailed off, his expression hesitant and oddly defiant. “You said if I kissed you again without your permission, you’d slit my throat. Is that still the case?”

  Surprise jolted through her, but somehow she managed to keep her voice steady. “Yes. It is.”

  He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips. His touch was so gentle it ignited a spark of fear.

  “Then I guess I’ll ask permission.” He paused. “Can I kiss you?”

  The husky request sounded so earnest she couldn’t help but search his gaze to see if he was playing games, mocking her again. But she found nothing to support that.

  God. He was actually serious.

  The scared feeling in her stomach turned into a rush of fiery panic. A cold and ruthless Jim, she could handle. But not this tentative, vulnerable Jim. Whenever he lowered his guard, she was tempted to do the same, and she knew just how dangerous that could be.

  If she let him in, she was one step closer to becoming that girl again. The girl who used to express her feelings openly, the girl who’d managed to hold on to her optimism in spite of the torment she endured on a daily basis.

  The girl she’d been before Jim Morgan had blazed through her life and extinguished every ounce of joy from it.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked again.

  “No,” she burst out, shoving his hand away. “You can’t.”

  Chapter 18

  Noelle’s rejection hit him like a slap in the face. He wanted to be angry with her, but he couldn’t muster up a single drop of rage.

  Truth was, Morgan didn’t blame her for saying no. He had no business kissing this woman, especially when he felt so damn raw, like someone had turned him inside out and exposed his emotions for all to see.

  Telling Noelle about Ariana had unleashed feelings that he didn’t like to think about. Not the desperation and agony and helplessness—no, those emotions were constant; they’d been lingering beneath the surface for seventeen years, a gut-wrenching reminder that he might have a child out there somewhere. A child he’d never raise, a child he might never even meet.

  No, admitting he hadn’t loved Ariana had unearthed something even worse. Something that had occurred to him only once in all these years, and which he’d banished before the idea could take root in his brain.

  But it had come back to him this morning, and now he couldn’t get rid of it. It nagged at him like a stray dog, pawing at the door, whining to get his attention. Once upon a time he’d kicked that dog away. Today, he’d let it in.

  All the years he’d spent hating Noelle...he’d really been hating himself.

  It was a crushing realization. For years he’d condemned her for Ariana’s disappearance, but what had she really done, aside from warning a girl who’d deserved to be warned? He’d used Ariana the same way he’d used Noelle, and he was a bastard for it.

  And Noelle hadn’t even known about the baby. She hadn’t known that her interference would result in his child being stolen away from him, but he’d convinced himself that it was her fault. He’d needed someone to blame, someone to hold liable—otherwise he would’ve had to hold himself accountable, and that would mean having to admit he was a pure and total bastard.

  A man who didn’t deserve to know his own kid.

  It was too much, too awful to accept, and so he chose to focus on the anger again. The burn of being rejected by a woman who had every right to reject him.

  “So you’ll fuck me, but you won’t kiss me,” he said coldly. “Is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have a strange sense of logic, baby.”

  Noelle shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

  Her expression was a block of ice, with the merest hint of fire behind it. But there was never any real emotion there, nothing that resembled warmth or vulnerability. He doubted he’d ever see that in her eyes again, and that only made him angrier.

  “So if you’re not planning to fuck me,” she went on, “I suggest you take your hand off my thigh and get the hell out.”

  He arched a brow. “Oh, I’m not going to fuck you.”

  “Then I repeat, get the hell out.”

  “No.”

  “For God’s sake, Jim,” she muttered in frustration. “Just go.”

  “No. I’m not leaving this room until I kiss you.”

  She scowled at him. “I said no.”

  “I don’t care. I’m going to kiss you, Noelle.” He reached for the button of her jeans and snapped it open. “One goddamn way or another, I’m going to kiss you.”

  Her blue eyes widened as he pulled her jeans off her legs, right along with her black bikini panties.

  “You won’t let me kiss your mouth? Fine. I’ll just kiss you here,” he rasped before latching his mouth on the inside of her thigh.

  She jerked when he kissed her smooth, creamy flesh, but she didn’t stop him. When he peered up at her, he was irritated to see the fascinated look on her face. He knew she could sense that his composure was unraveling, and he didn’t like it one damn bit. He didn’t want her to see...to see...

  Christ, he didn’t even know what he was trying to hide anymore.

  He dropped hot kisses along the insides of her thighs, then spread her legs apart and gazed at her perfect pink folds. The moisture pooling there brought a surge of male satisfaction. She wanted this. No matter how much she might despise him, she would always desire him. Always welcome him into her body.

  “And I’ll kiss you here,” he muttered, pressing his mouth to the top of her mound.

  She shivered.

  “And here.” He planted a trail of kisses down her slit. “And here.” He rubbed his lips over her clit before tonguing it gently.

  Her throaty moan drove an iron spike of lust right to his cock. He was harder than ever, his balls tight and achy, but he wasn’t going to fuck her. He wished he could say he was trying to punish her by depriving her of his cock, but deep down he knew he was punishing himself.

  His mouth tingled as he kissed her glistening sex. He did it over and over again, sometimes using his tongue, other times just rubbing his lips over her clit in the softest of caresses. He made out with her pussy the way he wanted to make out with her mouth, teasing her until she cried out and fell back on her elbows as if she couldn’t support her own weight anymore.

  She tasted as sweet as he remembered, and
he licked her up, drank her in, lost himself in her. She was a drug and he was an addict, hooked on her from the second he’d met her.

  “Come for me,” he whispered against her hot flesh.

  He got a breathy sound in response, and he could feel her pulse pounding between her legs. Her excitement fueled his own. He was rock-hard and aching for relief, but he didn’t reach down to stroke himself through his jeans. He needed his hands. One to grip her thighs in place in case she suddenly decided to resist or suppress her growing passion the way she always seemed to do around him. He needed the other hand to bring to her core, slipping two fingers inside her and working her until she was moaning in abandon.

  He wanted her to come, wanted to feel her throbbing against his lips. Sex was the only time both of them dropped their guards, and he desperately needed her to be as vulnerable as he felt right now.

  “Come. For. Me.” It was no longer a gentle request, but a command.

  “Make me,” she said breathlessly.

  His eyes narrowed into slits as he lifted his head to look at her. Her beautiful face was hazy with desire, her breasts heaving beneath her black tank top.

  Keeping their gazes locked, he lazily slid his fingers in and out of her tight channel, then pushed them in deep and curled them so he could hit the one spot guaranteed to make her scream.

  And she did, pleasure flooding her face as she thrust into his probing fingers.

  With a satisfied smile, he dipped his head again and resumed feasting. He captured her clit between his lips, sucking rhythmically as he fingered her, and was rewarded by her cry of surrender.

  “Jim.”

  His name echoed in the air as she convulsed in orgasm. She rocked her hips into his face, her hands coming down to grab at his hair. She trapped his head between her legs, but shouldn’t have bothered—he wasn’t going anywhere. When she finally grew still, he planted one last kiss on her swollen clit and raised his head.

  “You’re such a bastard,” she sighed.

  He chuckled. “Are you really insulting the man who just gave you an orgasm?”

  “I sure am,” she muttered, trying to catch her breath.

  His fingers were still lodged inside her, coated with her juices. He slowly pulled them out and brought them to his lips, licking each one clean as Noelle watched with passion-glazed eyes.

  She spread her legs wider. “I want you inside me. Now.”

  Morgan’s gaze rested on the paradise between her thighs. His cock twitched eagerly, and his hand moved to his zipper of its own volition.

  And then a female voice piped up from the hallway.

  “Boss? You in there?”

  Noelle instantly straightened up. “Bailey,” she told him, her expression growing uneasy. She raised her voice at the door. “I’ll be right out.”

  Morgan experienced a rush of disappointment as she hopped to her feet and wasted no time getting dressed, but despite his cock’s irritated protests, a part of him didn’t even care that they weren’t going to fuck.

  He’d wanted to kiss her and he had. Well, kind of. But he was still more than satisfied.

  “I’m just going to get cleaned up,” Noelle said, heading for the bathroom. “Go introduce yourself to Bailey. I’ll be out soon.”

  He frowned, wondering whether she was ashamed to be seen leaving the bedroom with him.

  Nah, probably not. Noelle had never cared what other people thought of her, not even her own operatives.

  When Morgan exited the bedroom, the hall was empty, but he could hear someone moving around in the kitchen. He followed the sounds to the large, modern kitchen, which boasted gleaming stainless steel appliances and dark brown granite counters.

  A slender raven-haired woman was reaching inside one of the cherry-stained cabinets. She retrieved a bowl, then rummaged around in a drawer for a spoon before drifting over to the counter.

  Morgan stood in the doorway and watched as she pried open a yogurt container and spooned the creamy substance into her bowl.

  “So you’re Jim Morgan.”

  She didn’t turn around. Just kept preparing her afternoon snack, sprinkling granola on the yogurt, then walking over to the sink to rinse out a plastic container filled with blueberries.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she added.

  “And you’re Bailey,” he replied in amusement. “I’d like to say I’ve heard a lot about you too, but when I tried checking into your background, I came up with zilch.”

  “That’s because I’m a ghost.” Laughing, she finally turned around and provided him with a glimpse of her face.

  She wasn’t flawlessly beautiful like Noelle, but objectively attractive. Her slate gray eyes were framed by sooty black lashes, her skin was fair and smooth, and she had a wide mouth that lent her a sensual air.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “CIA?”

  She smiled. Didn’t confirm or deny it.

  “Abby and Isabel tell me you’re a good man,” she said thoughtfully. “Are you?”

  He had to think it over. “Most of the time. Other times, no.”

  “Isn’t that how it always is?” Bailey dumped a handful of blueberries into her bowl, then leaned against the counter and stuck her spoon in her concoction. “Sometimes we’re good. Other times we’re not.” She paused. “Now, Juliet is still on the fence about you.”

  “I’m still on the fence about her. She’s distracting one of my best men.”

  “Ethan? Gosh, he’s cute, isn’t he?” Bailey chewed and smiled at the same time. “Jules is head over heels for him.” There was a pause as she swallowed. “Should I be worried about him hurting her?”

  Morgan grinned. “Nah. Ethan worships the ground that woman walks on. He’d never hurt her, not intentionally anyway.”

  “Good.”

  He tilted his head. “What would you do if he did? Kill him?”

  “Maybe.” Her expression turned impish. “I’m very protective of my friends, you know.”

  “Well, I’m very protective of my men.”

  “Fair enough.” Shrugging, she took another bite.

  Morgan continued to study her, realizing that she reminded him a lot of Isabel Roma, thanks to her easygoing nature. He had to wonder if she was as complicated beneath the surface as Isabel was, or if with Bailey, what you saw was what you got. Probably not. Noelle had a history of recruiting women with troubled pasts and dangerous secrets.

  Women like her.

  “So when do I get to meet the infamous team?” Bailey asked curiously. “Is it safe to assume you called in your soldiers to help us out?”

  “Us?”

  “My boss says we’re taking down the man who’s trying to kill you. So yes, us.”

  Morgan headed for the counter and clicked on the coffeemaker. “A couple of the boys are showing up tonight. Reilly should be here sooner—any minute now, actually.”

  Suspicion clouded her tone. “Reilly? Last name or first?”

  “Last. You probably know him—Sean Reilly. He and his brother Oliver are the information dealers Noelle uses.”

  Displeasure flickered in Bailey’s gray eyes. “Yeah, I know them. Since when does Sean work for you?”

  “Since yesterday.”

  “I see.” She looked ready to say more, but Noelle chose that exact moment to finally grace them with her presence.

  She glided into the kitchen wearing black leggings and a loose red sweater, slid onto one of the tall stools by the counter, and gestured to the coffeepot in Morgan’s hand. “Pour me a cup?”

  He prepared her a mug, and when she leaned across the counter to take it from him, her sweater slipped off one shoulder, revealing her smooth, tanned skin.

  His mouth instantly went dry, tingling with the urge to kiss that bare expanse of skin, while his cock throbbed with the need to slide inside he
r.

  You hate her. Don’t forget that, a warning voice said.

  Did he? It was getting hard to remember that these days.

  “Bailey and Reilly have some history,” Noelle informed him, giving away the fact that she’d overheard their conversation. “That’s why she looks so incredibly excited at the prospect of working with him.”

  “I’d hardly call it history,” Bailey said in a dry voice. “Will he be staying here with us?”

  Morgan glanced over at her. “Will that be a problem?”

  “Not on my part. But you should ask him when he gets here.”

  “He’ll do what I tell him.”

  Bailey snickered. “Good luck with that. Sean doesn’t like to follow orders. And he doesn’t play well with others either. I’m actually kind of shocked he was interested in being part of a team.”

  Noelle swiftly changed the subject. “We need to figure out our next move.”

  He stifled a sigh. She was right. After Denis Charron’s very public assassination attempt, Morgan now had to worry about getting his head blown off whenever he left the house.

  “I’ll get the boys to watch Durand’s estate,” he answered. “If Ariana is in there, we’ll know.”

  Noelle tensed at the mention of Ariana. “What about our little contract killer problem?”

  “I’ll stay out of sight,” he said with a shrug. “Once Durand is dead, the hit will be null and void. Is this place secure?”

  She nodded. “But I don’t want to stay here too long, just in case. If Charron told someone that I’m working with you, then I’m a target too. Anyone who digs deep enough will eventually be able to trace any safe house I own back to me, but it’ll take time.”

  When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out of his pocket and studied the screen.

  “Reilly’s here.” He gave Bailey a crooked grin. “Want to let him in?”

  With an unenthused look, she took one last bite of yogurt before placing the bowl in the sink. “Fine. Might as well get it over with.”