Twenty

Parisa expected Jared to react with a kiss, not a long, contemplative stare. "Maybe the real question is what do you want?" she said, turning things around.

"I want you, too."

"Then why are you just staring at me…"

A smile slowly spread across his mouth. "I'm building anticipation."

Relief ran through her that she hadn't completely misread him. "We've had enough anticipation." She stood up and held out her hands.

He slipped his hands into hers as he rose.

"I think you'll like this even more than anticipation." She pulled him closer, then let go of his hands, so she could wrap her arms around his neck and pull his head down to hers.

As soon as their lips touched, she felt as if a thousand firecrackers went off in her head. Her blood thundered through her veins. Her heart pounded against her chest and tingles of desire ran through every nerve ending. It was like a giant ocean wave had swept her up, and she might either wipe out or have the ride of her life.

She wanted that ride. She wanted Jared with a need that was thrilling and terrifying.

With the physical connection would come emotions, and those emotions could make her vulnerable. But she wasn't thinking about what would come later, only about what would come next.

She wanted to be with Jared. She wanted to know this man even more intimately than she already did.

And Jared seemed to want the same. His hands ran under her shirt, bringing more delicious heat, as his fingers stroked her spine, sending shivers through her.

His tongue swept into her mouth, a beautiful, joyful, intimate dance.

They tasted and took what they pleased, until they both finally had to come up for air.

"Damn," he murmured, gazing down at her. "You're something else, Parisa."

"We're something else. This—us—it feels different."

"I know. I want to go fast and slow—at the same time."

She felt much the same, but right now need was driving her actions. "Take off your jacket and your shirt."

"I see we're heading for fast," he teased. He took off his black leather jacket and pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it on the table.

She swallowed hard at the stunningly broad, flat, muscled chest in front of her, with just a smattering of dark hair. He was tan, too, as if he'd spent quite a bit of time without a shirt on. What a gorgeous man he was, but the long scar running under his right rib cage and another across his shoulder reminded her that he was also a man of many layers.

She ran her fingers along the rib cage scar. "How did you get this?"

He shrugged, as she met his gaze. "Does it matter?"

"It looks like it was serious."

"I survived."

"It doesn't look as old as the one on your shoulder."

"It was last year. I'm hoping the scars make me sexier."

"I'm not sure you could get any sexier," she said with a laugh, loving how easy it was to be with him, how real and honest it felt.

"Your turn, Parisa. I'd like to see some of the curves you're hiding under that sweater."

She licked her lips, then took off her sweater, shaking out her hair as she did so. She threw it on top of Jared's shirt, watching his gaze narrow on her breasts, as she played with the front clasp of her lacy, cream-colored bra.

"You're killing me," he said, a somewhat tortured note in his voice.

"Oh, I don't think so. We're nowhere near that."

He put his hands on her bare waist, and the heat sent another thrill of desire through her. She flicked open the clasp on her bra and then pulled it off, tossing it on the growing pile of clothes.

Jared's gaze on her breasts was filled with pure male pleasure, and whatever shyness she might have had evaporated under his hot, needy look. She took his hands and lifted them to her breasts.

Jared didn't have to be told twice what she wanted him to do, his fingers spreading across her skin, his thumbs teasing her nipples as another surge of heat swept over her. And then he kissed her again, and she felt like her insides were melting away.

"Let's go upstairs," he murmured.

"Too far away," she returned, pressing him back against the counter. "I like it here." She looked into his eyes. "In the light. I want to see you, Jared. No shadows for us tonight. You and me, out in the open, who we really are, scars and all."

His gaze darkened. "I haven't been who I really am in a long time."

"I haven't, either. But I want to be tonight. I feel like I can be myself with you. No judgment."

"No judgment," he echoed. He followed his words with a kiss, and then his lips slid down the side of her neck.

She sighed with pleasure, wanting his mouth, his hands on every part of her body.

As they kicked off their clothes, she realized the rest of Jared's body was also magnificent. He was honed, fit, powerful and very, very male.

She caught her breath as his gaze made the same appreciative trip down her body.

"Lucky me," he muttered.

"Lucky me," she said.

And then there was no more time for words, only for touching, tasting, loving…

It was wild and raw and honest—exactly what she needed. She'd been in the shadows too long, but the light was glorious, freeing…earth-shattering.

Jared made love the way he did everything: with intensity, enthusiasm, confidence, and generosity. They fell into a pace, a rhythm, that seemed as if it was theirs alone, the perfect symphony, the perfect climax, the perfect everything…

At some point, they made their way into the living room, sinking into the soft pillows of the couch, talking and laughing, and then kissing again as desire sparked once more.

 

* * *

 

Jared woke up with two thoughts: he had a beautiful woman in his arms, and the couch was damned uncomfortable. But as he tightened his arms around Parisa, the discomfort faded away. He was exactly where he wanted to be…maybe even needed to be.

He frowned at that thought, not liking the serious weight of it. He didn't want to think beyond right now. He just wanted to enjoy being in the moment.

Parisa was a mix of toughness and tenderness, cautiousness and fearlessness, optimism and pragmatism. He very much liked how she thought, how her hopes overrode her fears and her passion for her job, her friends, what was right, what was just, drove her actions. She was a force of nature, a whirlwind of beauty, and he couldn't imagine not seeing her every day, not talking to her, or laughing or competing—not sharing…everything.

But time was running out…in so many ways. The lights of the room still bathed them in a brilliant glow that had been so important to Parisa and surprisingly important to him, too. But there was also sunlight coming in through the window blinds. Morning was rapidly approaching, and their escape from reality was almost at an end.

As if Parisa had read his mind, she moved against him, her dark eyes flickering open. She gave him a sleepy, happy look, another expression he'd like to see every morning.

"Is it morning?" she asked.

"Not quite, but soon."

"Good. I'm not ready to get up yet." She snuggled back against him.

He wasn't ready yet, either. He didn't want to move, didn't want to let her go, because he didn't know if he'd ever get her back. It was strange to be worried about that. He was usually the one who didn't know when or if he'd return. But with Parisa…she was just like him. She could be gone in the blink of an eye and that was disturbing.

"Jared?"

He looked down at her and caught her questioning gaze.

"You just got stiff," she said. "And not in a good way."

He smiled. "It's all good."

"Better than good. Last night was…real."

He nodded, knowing that he'd needed it to be as real, in the light, completely honest, because he couldn't remember the last time it had been like that. "Unfortunately, there's a lot more real stuff coming in a few hours."

"I know. But we're not there yet."

"You want to catch another hour of sleep?"

"Or…" she asked with a lift of her brow.

"Or we could test out the new mattress I have upstairs that I've never slept on."

"I like the second option."

"Me, too," he said, pulling her off the couch.

"By the way," she said, as they ran naked up the stairs. "Having seen what those pool-goers saw all those years ago, I'd have to agree that you really do have a very nice ass."

He laughed as she reminded him of the story he'd told her. "Good to know."

"You know what else I know," she said, as she pulled him down on the bed with her.

"What?"

"I'm about to blow your mind."

"Again?" he asked. "And I thought I was the cocky one."

"Well, you already had your turn. Now, it's mine."

"I do like the way you think. And the way you kiss," he added, as her mouth touched his. "And yeah, that, too," he said, as she moved down his body.

 

* * *

 

While Jared was showering, Parisa got dressed and went downstairs to make coffee. It was seven fifteen, so they had a few hours to drive into Manhattan and get to the consulate before the scheduled ransom exchange.

She felt a twinge of regret as her brain focused back on the job at hand. It had been more than a little nice to let it all go for the night. Especially since the night had turned out so fantastically amazing.

She smiled to herself at her use of double adjectives. She didn't really have enough words, or maybe the right words, to describe her night with Jared. And it wasn't even all about him; it was about herself, too. She'd felt free for the first time in forever. Unfortunately, she suspected the emotions Jared had helped her unleash were not going to go back into the box she'd put them in a long time ago.

But that was a problem for another day.

Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out the sandwiches they'd gotten from the neighbors the day before. Unwrapping the first one, she bit into turkey and Swiss with sliced tomato and pesto sauce. It was delicious, and she'd definitely worked up an appetite. She was just swallowing the last bite when Jared entered the room.

His dark hair was damp from the shower, and his cheeks were cleanly shaven. He smelled good. He must have found some aftershave somewhere.

He walked straight to her and gave her a long, deep, minty kiss. "It's been too long since I kissed you," he said.

"It's been about an hour. You taste like toothpaste."

"And you taste like pesto."

"I saved you a sandwich. They're delicious."

He grinned. "Not as delicious as you."

She flushed at the look in his eyes. "You're going to need to rein it in, Jared."

"Is that what you want me to do?"

"Not really. It's kind of nice to have a man so boldly interested in me."

"That's a change for you?" he asked in surprise.

"Well, they might have been interested—but not in the real me, which I didn't show them, so I guess I can't complain."

"I get it," he said, taking a sandwich out of the fridge.

"Do you want some coffee?"

"I'd love a cup."

She filled a mug and brought it over to the table, as they sat down. "Have you had a lot of relationships out in the field?" she asked curiously.

"I wouldn’t call them relationships. What about you?"

"Same," she admitted. "I've done far more flirting than anything else, you know? It's a lot of smoke and mirrors."

"I agree. If we need a change in career, maybe we should just become magicians."

"You could be my pretty boy," she said with a laugh. "The one I put in the box and cut into pieces."

"I was thinking of you as my pretty assistant."

"See, that's the problem with us. We both like to be on top."

"We actually both had fun on the bottom and on the top and on the side…"

"Like I said, we need to start reining all this in," she said, feeling more heat run through her. "The night is over."

"Is that all we get—a night?"

"I don't know, Jared," she said, telling him the complete and utter truth. "Do you?"

He met her gaze. "No."

"Until we do, let's table this kind of talk."

He nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich. "All right. You told Damon you wanted to be at the consulate this morning. I assume that's where we're headed when we get into the city."

"Yes. I may not be able to be at the drop, but I can at least talk to Anika and Kenisha. Maybe I can get their take on Ben. Anika might know more about Ben's relationship with Sara than his parents do."

"Good point," he said, as he devoured his sandwich. "There's something else I've been wondering about. I've gone over in my head what April told me right before the explosion a million times. She said the head of the group was in Bezikstan or the US, someone who had a lot of connections, someone no one would ever expect to be a supporter of their cause, which allowed him to move freely without suspicion."

"Okay. But that could be any number of people."

"It could be Raj Kumar."

"Jasmine's father?" she asked in astonishment. "No way."

"Why not?"

"Because…just no way."

"It could be his director of security, Mr. Bhatt, the man who conveniently didn't vet two men who joined the waitstaff at the last minute, the one who hired a guard on the back stairs, who disappeared."

"You make some good points."

"Or…" he continued.

Her gut twisted at the look in his eyes. "Or who?"

"Neil Langdon."

"Why would you suspect Neil?"

"Because his reactions are off. Why wouldn't he do everything he can to help find the daughter of one of his best friends?"

"To protect his son."

"But like you told him, the more Ben cooperates, the better it will be for him."

"He's not thinking clearly. He's worried."

"He's also a teacher, a professor now, a man who has access to a lot of young, passionate, ideologic people."

"Okay, you're going in a lot of different directions."

"I agree. Raj and Neil are long shots, but I like to consider all possibilities. I know those two people are not who you would want to be suspects."

"No. But let's get to the city," she said. "The sooner we start talking to people, the sooner we'll get some real answers."

As they stood up, Jared caught her by the arm. "Before we go." He gave her a long, tender, loving kiss, made even more personal by all the intimacy they'd shared. "It's still you and me, Parisa. Partners—even if we disagree."

She gazed into his eyes and felt a rush of affection. Actually, it felt like love, but she was afraid to call it that, even in her own head.

Instead, she said, "Partners—definitely. And I'm not angry. I just want to get to the truth, wherever it leads."

"I do, too."

The buzzing of a phone startled her. "Is that yours?"

"Yes, sorry. I turned it on to text Gary again—my contact at the agency." Jared pulled out his phone and read a text, his jaw turning to stone.

"It doesn't look like good news. What's happened? It's not Jasmine, is it?" she asked, suddenly terrified by the look in Jared's eyes.

"No, it's not Jasmine. It's me. The agency found out I was present at a shooting near the convention center yesterday."

"How would they know that?" As soon as she asked the question, she realized she knew the answer. "The FBI mole. They know who you are. They want you off the case."

"So does the agency. They want me at Langley today. They've arranged for me to catch the company plane. I need to be at the airport at eleven."

"Then that's where you'll be."

He shook his head. "No."

"Jared, you have to go. This is your job, your life."

"Let's go to the consulate first. I'll make a decision after that."

She couldn't imagine what other decision he could make. "Maybe the agency just wants your information, so they can put together a bigger investigation."

He gave her a short smile. "If that was the situation, they wouldn't call me to Langley. They want me out of New York. They want me off the case. That's not going to happen."

"You're really going to risk everything, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said, no trace of doubt in his voice. "Help me make it count?"

"I will," she said, really hoping she could keep that promise.