Page 43 of Jonesing for a Spy

“Honestly?”

He nods.

“I want to eat you, so something new sounds good, but only if it doesn’t take too long.”

“Toast sounds great.” He throws the refrigerator door closed.

“Now, handsome, you have to know that anticipation is part of the deal. I think it was you who said if I was hungry the food would taste better. So, just think about me licking that perfect dick into my mouth, sucking it down my throat, and⁠—”

He’s on me, my face in his hands, his legs parting mine wide on the stool. He kisses me like he’s starving. When he pulls back, his blue eyes are totally enveloped by pupils blown wide. “I always thought I’d find an innocent girl, someone sweet, someone I could protect and teach.”

I stiffen because I do not like where this is going.

“But you… You’re feisty, funny, and you give me hell. You keep me on my toes and make me hard. I was so wrong about what I needed.”

I allow myself to exhale. I’ve never been soft or defendable. I’m loud, brash, and can handle my own shit, even if I don’t want to.

“You don’t want easy and sweet?”

“The only sweet I want is your taste on my tongue. What I need is the Mirren I’ve known from day one. Funny, bold as brass, and sharp as a tack. Someone who throws sass and raises hell, a woman I’d follow into the fire, because I couldn’t not.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

My voice goes quiet. “I kind of wait for people to say I’m too much, too independent, too brash, too me.”

“Sounds like a weak man to me. If he—or they—couldn’t keep up or were intimidated, that’s on them. Don’t you dare dim your light because some man is chicken shit. A real man wants you to shine.”

I faceplant into his chest. He hums as his arms round my back. “Now enough about that. I can’t think of another man near you, much less judging you or making you feel unworthy. We’ll pretend it’s only ever been me.” He kisses my forehead. “Because then I won’t go apeshit.”

I’m curious what apeshit looks like on a man this calm, this easy-going. He defended me last night but wasn’t violent or loud or cruel. He rolled with my brother. Twice. First here and then again at my apartment and seemed to come out unscathed from both.

For him to mention, or allude to, jealousy while at the same time telling me what I should demand of others in regard to myself is… different.

“So, back to the topic of dinner.” I lick my lips. “Do I get you or will it be some other meat in my mouth?”

He tosses his head back, his long, lean neck on display, and roars a laugh.

“Freckles, far be it from me to not give you what you want.” He grabs my hand and tugs me down the hall to our bedroom.

19

avoid shooting

Mirren

Two days later, a million times sated, and oddly melancholy, I drop Strider off at the airport, since we returned his rental early. He holds me tight to his chest before kissing me deeply, pressing his lips to my forehead, and striding wordlessly through the sliding glass doors.

I haven’t even left the airport loop when a text arrives.

Strider

From tumbling into my chest to holding you this morning, this has been the best week of my life.

Silent tears run down my cheeks. There’s no way to stop them. They flood over my lashes too quickly to wipe away as I merge onto the highway and head home.

Home to my apartment.