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“Go with me tonight. Please,” I said, holding out my hand. She didn’t take it, but she nodded.
8
EMERSON
“You look fantastic,” Lynx said when I answered the door to my apartment thirty minutes later.
When he’d offered to leave me on my own to shower and change, I had a flashback to our one night together, and how at midnight, we’d shared a candlelit bath in his room’s claw-foot tub.
“Shall we?” Lynx asked, jarring me out of my memory…fantasy…memorable fantasy.
Stepping into the elevator, thoughts of our bath were immediately replaced by memories of a very different elevator ride than the one we were taking now.
Once the doors closed behind Lynx and me that night, he’d pushed me up against the wall, parted my legs with his knee, and ground his thigh against my wetness.
“I’m going to fuck you senseless,” he’d said, and I’d almost orgasmed from that alone.
I took a deep breath and let my eyes wander the length of him. He’d changed into a black t-shirt similar to the white one he had on earlier, and instead of dress pants, he wore jeans. He looked so fucking hot I could barely stop myself from pushing him up against this elevator wall.
The door opened, and the harsh light of day shook me out of my lustful stupor. Lynx motioned for me to go ahead of him, and every so often, I could feel his fingers brush against the curve of my spine. He’d done the same thing that night. I shuddered.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“It’s fine,” I said, raising my eyes to catch the lip twitch and smirk he quickly tried to mask.
A car similar to the one that had taken us to MIT this morning and then driven us back later, sat at the curb in front of the building. Thankfully, though, Speed Racer was nowhere to be found.
He held my door open, leaning in close enough that he could’ve kissed the side of my neck, but he didn’t. My disappointment was palpable.
We’d beenon the road for at least fifteen minutes, and neither of us spoke. The longer the silence dragged on, the more I thought about why he’d acted like he didn’t recognize me. Part of me felt angry, but did I have any right to be?
Had I said, “Hey, Lynx, you were the best fuck of my life. Why don’t you remember me?” Nope. Did I remind him we met in the bar of my hotel and within an hour of meeting we were tearing one another’s clothes off? Nope. I hadn’t done that either.
He’d said his reason for not acknowledging he knew me was because of what I did. And what he did. What did that mean? And why hadn’t I asked? So I did.
He took a deep breath and looked everywhere but at me. I sensed this was bigger than, “What do you do for a living?”
“The position I’m in…scratch that.” He took another deep breath. “I know what really goes on at IPP. All of it, Emerson. However, until this morning, I had no idea you,” his gaze traveled the length of me, and I shivered, “were Dr. Charles.”
“And now that you do?”
“You should be aware that I’m in Boston undercover on behalf of MI6.”
Something else occurred to me. “Tommy is MI6 too, isn’t he?”
Lynx nodded. “Although in our world, he’s known as Saint.”
“And you’re known as Lynx?”
“That’s right.”
“Were you with MI6 three years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Did you try to find me? The next day?”
He shook his head and looked away.
