The man who answered the door to the suite was thirty-three to my twenty-two years, but he was as fit as any field agent in his twenties. A fact that I could currently see since he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I took a moment to appreciate the view, from his unruly dark brown hair to the blue-gray eyes that were still muddled with sleep, all the way down his chest to the trail of dark hair that disappeared under the waistband of his pants.

“Agent Kurth.” I gave Clay a snappy little salute.

“Rona?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked behind him. “It’s three in the morning.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to invite me in?”

We didn’t need to do the dance about why I was here so early. He’d known me for years, and he knew about my nightmares. He didn’t know exactly what they were about since the subject had always been off-limits, but he knew they often resulted in insomnia.

When he showed back up in my life seven weeks ago, I’d been glad to see him, but things hadn’t become sexual until a few weeks later when I’d had the nightmare and gone for a run. Like tonight, I’d found myself outside his hotel room door, and one thing had led to another. We hadn’t really talked about it since, but it’d become a thing between us, our friendship adding some ‘benefits.’ We could walk away at any time, opt out whenever we didn’t feel like hooking up.

It was just sex between friends. That was all.

For a moment, I thought he was going to turn me away. It was early in the morning, after all, and he had to work early. We both did. Just because I couldn’t sleep didn’t mean he had to lose sleep too.

He didn’t opt out though. He gestured for me to come in, then shut the door behind me.

“I wish you’d see someone about that nightmare,” he said as he stepped past me and walked into the little kitchenette.

I kicked off my shoes and yanked down my pants, kicking them aside. “And I wish you’d stop talking and start working on distracting.”

His eyes slid over my body, and heat followed his gaze. I hadn’t worn anything sexy, but he never cared about that. It wasn’t about what I was wearing, but what he was thinking about doing to me. I’d had a couple partners over the years, some of them bad, some good. Clay was better than good, and he was…inventive. It was a combination that kept me coming back for more, but not one that would get us past being friends who fucked.

“Come here.”

When I reached him, he motioned toward the counter, and I lifted myself onto it. At two inches under six feet and with an athlete’s build, I wasn’t the sort of woman who got literally picked up by guys. I didn’t mind though. I wasn’t sure I’d ever met someone I trusted enough to let him manhandle me. If Clay didn’t fit that particular qualification, I doubted anyone else would.

“Do you ever stop thinking?” Clay asked as he put his hands on my knees.

“What do you think?” I countered, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer.

Instead of answering, he captured my mouth in a deep, hot kiss, his tongue plundering, exploring. I ran my hands over his chest, his dark hair rough against my palms. He made a sound in the back of his throat when I rubbed my thumbs over his nipples. I used my nails then, blunt as they were, scraping them over the darker flesh, and he dug his fingers into my thighs.

“Damn, Rona,” he groaned, tearing his mouth away from mine.

I flicked my tongue against one nipple, then the other. One hand moved under my shirt, and I stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his signal that he could continue. We’d established boundaries the first time we were together. He could touch my breasts over my bra, but the shirt stayed on, and he didn’t go anywhere else. I knew he’d felt some scar tissue a time or two, but he’d been careful to stay away from it.

And to never ask questions.

His free hand dropped between our bodies and his thumb pressed against the damp fabric between my legs. I made a low sound, my eyes closing. My head fell forward onto his shoulder, and I ran my hands up his back and then down to his ass. As his thumb pushed the material between my lips, he found that bundle of nerves and pressed against it. I slid my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, dipping my fingers into the two little dimples at the base of his spine.

Soft kisses trailed up my jawline, and then he took my earlobe between his teeth. Mouth and fingers worked together, stoking the fire low in my belly. For all our banter, when we finally got down to business, there was no waiting around, no dragging things out. This wasn’t making love. It was having sex. Fucking. Physical pleasure and stress relief with a friend.

I squeezed my eyes closed, muscles tensing in anticipation of the relief that was only seconds away. He rubbed my clit harder, faster, and I came with a cry.

I turned my face into the place where his shoulder and neck met, panting. He gave me a moment to come down, and then he was taking a step back. I let him go, raising my head in time to see him drop his boxers. His cock was average length, but a little thicker than most, which meant it rubbed against a lot of nice places.

He fisted his cock as he opened a drawer and rummaged through it for a moment before pulling out a condom.

“You have them in every drawer here?” I laughed as the feeling returned to my legs. I could usually get myself off pretty well, but sometimes, it was nice to have someone else involved.

Clay shrugged and gave me that cocky grin of his. I’d masturbated to that smile plenty of times since I first met him, and it still turned me on. He was one of those pretty-boy sorts that people usually underestimated, but I’d always seen the intelligence in his eyes, and that just made him sexier in my opinion.

“Down,” he ordered as he rolled on the condom.

I slid off the counter and took a moment to drop my panties before turning around and leaning over. I spread my legs and heard an appreciative sound from behind me.

“You have an amazing ass,” he said as he ran his hands over both cheeks before dropping one hand down between my legs. “Damn, you’re wet.”

I nodded and braced myself on my forearms. He shoved two fingers inside me, and I let out a shaky breath. His fingers pumped in and out of me, twisting on every other thrust until he could add a third finger.

“Fuck!” I slapped the countertop. “Just get on with it!”

He chuckled and pulled his fingers out. “All right.”

A moment later, he was pushing inside me, an inch at a time. I let out a long groan as my body stretched and molded itself around him. When he was finally inside, he reached under me and put his hands over my breasts, squeezing them for a moment before moving his hands back to my hips. He set a brutal pace, knowing that I’d tell him if he was being too rough. He hadn’t gotten to that point yet. If anything, a part of me wished he’d push just a little bit further.

I wasn’t going to complain though. Each snap of his hips sent a ripple of painful pleasure through me, driving me toward another orgasm, though it wouldn’t come soon enough to catch him if I didn’t help it along. Reaching underneath me, I pressed my fingers against my clit and made short, brisk circles – the best way to get me off after I’d already come once. Just as Clay’s rhythm started faltering, I came again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted as white-hot pleasure exploded through my body.

Clay was talking too, but I didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying. All I cared about was that the tension in my body had faded. I’d done what I’d come here to do.

After a couple seconds, he pulled out and moved away to take care of the condom. I rested a few moments longer and then straightened. I glanced at the clock. Dammit. Not enough time to attempt to go back to sleep.

I bent over to pick up my underwear and then went to the door for my pants. “I’m heading back,” I called. He was in the bathroom, but I knew he could hear me.

“You want a ride?”

“No,” I said. “I still have time to run back, shower, and get to class on time.”

“I’ll see you there then.”

I heard the shower turn on as I pulled on my shoes. We both knew he only offered me a ride to be polite. No one at Quantico could know that Clay and I had been sleeping together. He wasn’t my supervisor, but I doubted anyone would make that much of a distinction. I was eleven weeks into FBI training, and he was a guest lecturer. Not exactly kosher, even if we’d known each other before.

It didn’t matter though. Once training was over, I’d be off to wherever I was assigned, and Clay would be off to the next lecture. We’d keep in touch, cross paths, maybe fuck. It’d never be anything more than that.