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I hadn’t even begun to process that he worked for MI6. Why hadn’t he let on? He knew what I did for a living—at least in theory. But had he really kept it a secret? Hadn’t he given me enough clues that if I had been paying attention, I should’ve picked up on it?
There was something about the way Lynx said he didn’t know when Tommy would return that gave me the impression he was worried. I wouldn’t ask him about it again now, though. The mood had already shifted enough because of my melancholia.
“Why don’t you see how it goes?”
“What do you mean?”
“I truly believe Nora is looking forward to spending an afternoon with you. My prediction is you’ll both enjoy yourselves.”
I didn’t know what to say in response, but nothing needed to be decided tonight.
Lynx moved his hand so it rested right above my knee, also like he’d done earlier. “I enjoyed our evening very much.”
“I did too,” I admitted. I didn’t remember laughing as much as I did tonight since before my brother died.
Lynx and Stephen had been playful, neither shy about making nearly everything a sexual innuendo, although not until Brian had left the table, I’d noticed.
It reminded me of how Lynx had been that night at the bar. Playful, teasing, flirtatious, and finally seductive—he’d been so self-assured that I would’ve put my hand in his and followed him anywhere.
I closed my eyes—remembering. Maybe he’d been right not to try to find me. One perfect night. That’s what we’d had. Instead of wondering what might have been, I should simply be thankful it had happened at all.
9
LYNX
The way Emerson shifted in her seat and looked down at my hand on her knee, it was easy to assume she was thinking about the same thing I was—the night that I’d never been able to forget.
Was it because she’d left before dawn? Had she stayed, would I have felt differently? As it was, the memory of Emerson took on a life of its own. She became the one who’d gotten away.
I’d lied to her earlier when she asked why I hadn’t tried to find her. I had. In fact, I knew she’d left before the end of the conference, and why.
I often wondered if I ever saw her again, if she’d live up to my memory of her. She did. In fact, she was so much more. She was beautiful, like Irish had said. She was also charming and witty, extraordinarily intelligent, and had fit in with Stephen and Nora like I’d hoped she would.
While this morning I thought she was too thin, her tits maybe too small, when she came out in the dress she was wearing, my eyes nearly popped out of my head, and my cock almost pushed through the zipper of my jeans.
The sleeveless dress hugged her slight frame, and while it didn’t dip far enough to show much cleavage, the swell of her breasts made me want to lean over and lick them. That it fell midway down her legs, had me imagining what she might be wearing under it. Lace knickers? A thong perhaps? Or maybe nothing at all.
I groaned, removing my hand from her leg. If I hadn’t, I would’ve gone farther, letting my fingers explore the heat between her thighs. It was all I could do to stop myself from imagining what I’d find. Would she be wet? I knew she would be. When I slipped my finger under the drenched material, would she spread her legs for me? When I reached her pussy, would it be bare like it had been three years ago?
Remembering her reaction to Rashid and how she’d demurely looked at the floor when he’d questioned her, I wondered how she’d react if I told her to—demanded that she—raise her dress and spread her legs? What if, at the same time, I pulled the bodice down so both her tits and pussy were on view for me?
I tried to focus on the road, and even though I could feel Emerson’s eyes on me, I didn’t allow myself another look.
“Lynx?”
“I can’t look at you at the moment, my darling. My ability to drive depends on my keeping my eyes off of you.”
“You missed the exit.”
How did she make those four words sound like the sexiest I’d ever heard? “Fuck,” I swore under my breath, and then had to look at her to see if she’d heard me.
Her eyes were hooded. Had she been able to read my thoughts? Did she want my hands on her as much as I wanted to run them over every inch of her bare skin? Thrust my fingers into her pussy while I demanded she pinch her nipples for me? I groaned and adjusted my trousers as she watched.
“Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you right now, Emerson? How much I want to spread your legs and taste the sweetness between them?”
She shuddered like she had so many times in the last few hours. It was all I could do not to pull the car over and rip her dress from her body.
Somehow, although I doubt I could duplicate our drive, I got us to her building. I pulled up to the front and was about to get out to open her door, when I saw a man standing near the entrance.
