“You came back.”

I spun around at the sound of Jack’s voice, my free hand reaching into my jacket for a gun. Habit and muscle memory were hard things to counter, despite every instinct assuring me there was no danger. Yet, the relief of seeing Jack standing in the open doorway, hale and apparently happy to find me in his apartment, did not quite mitigate the fact that he had surprised me. It could have been someone else at my back. Someone who announced their presence with a bullet through my spine.

“Jack.” It came out on a strained breath as I settled the Desert Eagle back into its holster under my right arm. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

Or, that he would catch me here at all.

Guiltily, I glanced at the distraction in my other hand. The picture frame was plain black, but solid and heavy, and would have made an adequate weapon if required, yet the photo it held meant I would never have used it as such. Since my first visit to Jack’s apartment, I had felt drawn to this image but resisted the temptation to pick it up and study it. Those same indelible instincts that protected me from harm kept me from giving in. This time, though, already hurting from Jack’s actions over the last couple of visits, all resistance was gone.

“Clearly not.” Jack stepped inside and closed and locked the door behind him, dark-brown eyes crinkling and lips curling into a delighted smirk. His pleasure at catching me by surprise tickled in my chest. Being the reason Jack smiled warmed me through and made me want to do nothing else for the rest of my life.

If only Jack wanted the same thing.

Though, the way he was focused on me, so intent and heated, it could be assumed he did. Yet the voice of reason reminded me assumption was a fast way to die. Be certain or be prepared for every possibility. I was failing on so many levels already. I couldn’t fail this one.

“There’s not a lot going on at work lately.” Jack’s tone was casual, as was the way he set his helmet on the kitchen counter and started pulling off his riding gloves. His gaze never left me, though. It raked down my body, faltered briefly when it reached the photo frame, then continued on and back up. “I got bored today and since I have quite a bit of leave time owing, they couldn’t wait to send me home.”

Drat. The plan had been to get in and out unnoticed, a quick ten-minute job. However, as with so many things Jack-centric, it all went haywire the moment I set foot within his home. It had been easy to convince myself I could do this when I’d been securely ensconced within my Kuala Lumpur safe place. Come to Sydney, plant the information Jack needed for his Delta Subject job and leave him to find it on his own. Of course, that had been when I thought I had a two-week window. Khun Sein had stepped up his timeline, and thus here I was, not totally unprepared, but rushed enough I’d been discovered.

“I really didn’t think I’d see you again for a good long while.” Jack unzipped the front of his leather jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair at the dining table. “If at all,” he added ruefully and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, managing to look like six feet of beautiful contriteness.

Jack had on an off-the-rack, navy business suit, like most of his workwear, but he wore it superbly well all the same. Granted, he didn’t look as polished as he had in his Hugo Boss at the Gold Coast, but right now, with his black curls tousled from his helmet and his button-down half untucked from his trousers, he was even more irresistible. Especially since I apparently wasn’t the only one who regretted how our last visit had ended. Maybe I’d been too rash in leaving as I had last time. Jack couldn’t help being rude and untactful when sick. The hurt was still there, a smouldering coal in my belly ready to be fanned to flames again, but right now it felt small and excusable.

Everything had been so much easier when there were thousands of miles between us. My resolve had been strong. Here, just the warmth of his hopeful gaze wilted my convictions. I had been caught. Perhaps I should make the most of it while I could. A final night of passion and pleasure to keep me warm when I left again.

I set the frame back on the shelf and Jack’s gaze followed the picture, a slight frown pinching his brows and his lips parting to speak.

“Don’t you have an active case at the moment?” I knew this question would waylay any questions he had about my interest in the photo: Jack had made his thoughts on my meddling in his work abundantly clear.

Jack frowned and shrugged out of his suit jacket, letting it fall over the top of the leather one. The pale blue of his shirt stretched across his chest and arms, defining his pectorals and biceps as they flexed. “Not anymore. We got kicked off the last job.”

A little sidetracked, it took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, I looked at him in surprise. I hadn’t known he’d been taken off the watch on Delta Subject, his part of the Salim case being run out of the Singapore branch of the Office. But the smirk on his lips said he didn’t mind me asking about his work, at least not as much as he enjoyed distracting me with his body.

“I do believe that I owe you something.” Jack’s voice lowered into that husky rumble that made my bones ache and my cock hard. He stalked towards me, loosening his tie as he came, eyes narrowing with intent.

Blast it. He’d stolen my tactic and turned it on me. Not that I particularly cared because a moment later he was pressed up against me, his arms around my waist and his forehead against mine.

Defenceless. That was what he made me.

Jack effortlessly stripped me of every survival instinct I had. No one else could have gotten this close to me unless it was what I had expressly planned. No one else ever wanted to get this close. It still worried me that Jack did. It was easier to think he used “mutual attraction” as an excuse for wanting my body, not the mind within it. Easier and more painful, because as much as I hoped it was more than just physical, I had to wonder if that’s all it had ever been and destined to be nothing more.

“Jesus, Ethan.” Eyes closing, Jack rocked his head side to side. His arms tightened, hands pressing into my back with possessive force. “You had me scared you weren’t coming back. I’ve missed you.”

Then he said something like that and my dumb heart leaped excitedly. My arms wound around his neck without guidance and I closed the final, miniscule distance between our bodies. “I missed you too.” Like my arms, my words appeared to be out of my control. Five weeks ago, I wouldn’t have minded. Now it scared me how quickly Jack undid me.

Jack shivered a little, then pulled back just enough so he could slide down to his knees. “Now, about that thing I owe you.” His hands went to my belt and began undoing it, the heels of his palms deliberately rubbing over the evidence of my arousal.

Sparks flared in my cock and up into my belly. My heart skipped several beats as my lungs forgot how to work. Jack tipped his head back, curls tumbling away from his face, eyes heated and lips parted as he looked up me. I ran a hand through his hair, loving the feel of his soft locks and how his eyes drifted shut as he smiled. His mouth was perfect, not too wide, nor too narrow, lips well defined but not too thick or thin. They were talented, too. Very talented. I had lost track of the hours I’d spent under their narcotic effect as they roamed across my body. Or wrapped around my cock.

Which he seemed determined to do now, judging by the way he nuzzled into my groin, his fingers slipping the button of my trousers free and finding the pull tab of the zipper.

“Jack, wait.” I fisted his curls gently and tugged his head back.

He went with my pull, tilted his head back and rested his chin on the back of his hand that still held the pull tab hopefully. “Problem?”

Oh so many. I sagged back against the bookcase. Sex had been my plan, yes, but the moment Jack went to his knees, I knew I was losing control of the situation. Once his mouth touched my skin, I would be completely useless for anything other than letting him possess me any way he wished.

Jack stood and cupped my cheek in his warm palm. “Ethan? What’s wrong?”

He was asking all the wrong questions to get the right answers. Why couldn’t it just be simple between us? Why did I have to be such a mess? It had been easier when I was alone and didn’t know the reality of what I’d been missing. For years, I might have wished for companionable contact with someone else, something more natural than what I had with my associates, more real than I had with any of my targets. Jack had given me that, and so much more, but I hadn’t realised there would be pain as well. Pain in what Jack made me feel. Pain in how he would react if he knew everything about who I was and what I’d done before meeting him.

“Is it me?” he asked.

“No.” Right then, it was true. He was happy to find me here, he hadn’t mentioned other men, and he wanted me—for sex, at least.

Jack nodded. “Don’t you want to fuck?”

He sounded despondent but was trying so hard to be accepting I couldn’t help but laugh. I draped an arm around his shoulders and guided his hand back to the still hard mound in my trousers. His fingers wrapped around me and with a single stroke, pulled our bodies back together.

“Yes,” I managed around the sudden resurgence of lust. “I do. Just . . . let me take charge.”

Jack stared at me for moment, then his mouth curved into a dirty grin. “Okay. Anything you want.”

All my convictions trembled under the power of that smile. Anything I wanted? I wanted to let him do whatever he wanted to me. I wanted to crawl into his arms and never leave them. I wanted to tell him everything and still have him desire me afterwards. I wanted to kiss him until he felt the same way.

I settled for grinding against his hand for a moment, then pushed him back. “Excellent. Shall we begin then?”

Jack snickered. “I don’t know about you, but I began the moment I saw you.”

Pressing my lips together to keep in the laughter, I grabbed his tie and held it over my shoulder as I turned toward the bedroom. Jack pretended a stumble as I dragged him after me, his hands landing on my hips. It reminded me of the night in Melbourne and I suddenly knew exactly how this was going to progress.

Halfway along, Jack pushed up against my back, arms sliding all the way around my waist. He walked in time with me, the hard shaft of his cock rubbing against my buttocks as we went. A couple of steps after that, we did stumble, for real this time. I caught us on the doorframe to the bedroom, both of us laughing as we straightened.

“Tsk tsk, Blade,” he said. “I know it can be difficult to walk with an erection, but I kinda expected more from you.”

Snorting, I shrugged out of his hold. “It can be difficult, especially when the erection is poking me in the rear.”

We realised what I’d said at the same moment. Blood rushed to my cheeks, heating them to the point of steaming. Jack laughed so hard he nearly fell over again. He came at me, leering and hands out to grope. I sidestepped his approach, caught his wrist and twisted, sweeping his feet at the same time. With a startled gasp, Jack landed face first on the bed, arm up behind his back, my knee planted on his bottom, holding him down.

After a silent moment, he turned his head enough to say, “I’m having strange flashbacks. You don’t have a needle and syringe, do you?”

I couldn’t resist him at the best of times. I was totally lost now.

“Not this time.” I let him go and stood back. “On your back, Jack.”

Grumbling all the way, he rolled over and scooted up the bed. He scowled at me, but it was the mock one he used when he really wanted to smile or say something tender. It made my heart leap. Maybe . . .

Shaking off my doubts, I stood at the end of the bed and stripped. I had no qualms about my body. It was appealing in form, if not perfect aesthetically. There were too many scars for that, not that Jack seemed to mind. He had his own scars, including the self-inflicted ones. His gaze locked onto my hands, watching avidly as they removed items of clothing and weapons. When I got to my trousers and unzipped them, he bit his lower lip and gripped his cock through layers of material. Which seemed to remind him he was dressed.

“Uh uh.” I shook a finger at him as he went to undo his trousers. “That’s my job.”

“Jesus.” He left his clothes alone only to grab himself again and stroke. “Then hurry up. Things are getting pretty tight here.”

I smirked and slowed down. Jack tossed his head back and groaned, all but wanking himself.

“Enough of that, Jack,” I commanded. “Hands on the headboard. Now.”

“Fuck you,” he snapped back, but lifted his hands and pressed them to the wood of the headboard. Perhaps this time I wouldn’t give in and let him touch me, no matter how much either of us wanted it. “You’re killing me here.”

Stepping out of my trousers, I folded them neatly and hung them over the arm of the recliner. Then I took off my sunglasses and set them on the tallboy. Turning back, I let my eyelids drop and, in a low voice, said, “If I were killing you, you wouldn’t even know it was happening.”

Not the most erotic thing I could have said, but sometimes I had to remind Jack just who he was with, to see if this time, he really understood and realised I wasn’t good for him.

All he did was suck in a sharp breath and shift his hips as if he was trying to get some pressure on his cock. “Please.”

Not this time, then.

Leaving my briefs and socks on, I kneeled on the end of the bed and gestured at one of Jack’s feet. He lifted it and I unlaced his shoe painstakingly slowly. Jack growled and his arms flexed as if keeping his hands on the headboard took a great effort. By the time both of his feet were bare, Jack was swearing at me, to which I just smiled as I moved up over him.

“If you take much longer, this could be a solo affair, you realise,” he warned, when I very carefully began pulling his shirt the rest of the way out of his trousers.

“Well, that would be disappointing, I suppose.” Concentrating on gently sliding buttons through holes was challenging since Jack kept pushing his hips up into my crotch as I straddled him. “However, I’m sure you’ll be ready to go again in fifteen minutes.”

Jack cackled and started to reach for me. One stern look and he contritely put his hands back on the headboard. Which stymied me when I finished unbuttoning his shirt and realised he’d have to move them if I wanted to strip him completely. Yet, looking at him like this, under me, with his chest bared, blue shirt spread to either side and his arms up like he was surrendering, was incredibly distracting. I pushed the material off his shoulders as much as I could, letting my hands linger on his warm skin. Jack watched as I dragged my palms across his pecs and downwards. His belly trembled and his abs rippled. I drifted my fingers through the thin trail of dark hair that swirled around his navel and ran down into the waistband of his trousers.

I had never been so entranced by a body before. Certainly none of the other men I’d had sex with had ever fascinated me as Jack did. Intercourse with anyone else had always been part of the job and aesthetics hadn’t meant as much as the reason why I was there. It had never been like that with Jack, though. Even before we’d had sex, I had felt drawn to this man who didn’t flinch from the name Ethan Blade. His voice, his sarcasm, his laughter, his skin, his hands, his—

“Ethan?”

His dark-brown eyes focused on me, the smirking and teasing replaced by an expression of almost pained tension. When he dipped his gaze to where my hand pressed against his abdomen, I understood his problem. Jack hadn’t said anything to me, but we’d been together enough for me to pick up on his reaction to how our skin tones looked side by side. He could lose himself for long periods watching his brown hand move over my white skin, or mine over him. If I let him go long enough, the intercourse afterwards was always hard and desperate, and scary at how vulnerable it seemed to make Jack.

Vulnerable wasn’t what I needed. Wanted, perhaps, but needed? Not now. Hard and desperate, though . . .

I leaned down, careful to keep our groins apart. Any more stimulation there wouldn’t help either of us keep on track, different though those tracks may be. The moment my lips touched the skin of his shoulder a lingering tension in my chest eased. Jack was familiar and warm and the way he turned his head to kiss my temple sent shivers down my spine. I breathed in deep and the scent of his clean skin filled my body. I weakened for a moment, nearly telling him to move his arms, to hold me, touch me. If I did, I’d never be able to leave again. So instead I occupied my mouth with tasting him, replenishing my memory of how smooth his skin was across his pecs, just the lightest smattering of hair and no disfiguring scars. Reminding myself how responsive his nipples were to my tongue, hardening with the slightest of flicks, and how his chest rumbled under my lips when I sucked. I made my way downwards, relishing every sound Jack made, every quiver in his body, every curse he snarled when he remembered he had to keep his hands on the headboard. Smirking, I gave him payback for all the times he’d tortured me with his tongue in my naval.

“Fuck. Jesus. Shit!” Jack bucked, twisting in an effort to dislodge me. “Ethan!”

Sitting back on my heels, I smiled sweetly at him. “Yes, Jack?”

He glared at me. “Stop it, you crazy bastard.”

“Hmm. Half right, Jack.” I traced a finger across the buckle of his belt. “Does this mean you don’t want . . .”

“There’s only so long I’m going to keep my hands on this headboard, Blade. Get on with it.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Slowly, slowly, I undid his belt.

Jack whimpered. “I won’t be responsible for what may happen.”

“There you go, shifting blame again.” I lowered the zipper, careful of the hard obstruction under it. His response was unintelligible. I took pity on him and got his trousers down and off. The number of wet spots on his boxer-briefs lent credence to his complaints so I divested him of his underwear as well.

Hard cock flopping up onto his belly, Jack let out a relieved whoosh of air. The tension left his thighs and they fell apart slightly, and his abdomen relaxed. A goofy grin spread across his face. “Thank you.”

The sight of him so sillily happy broke something inside me, flooding me with heat and anxiety. It didn’t matter that he was naked and hard, only that I had made him smile at me like that. And that if I went through with my plan, there was a possibility I’d never see it again.

“I’ve changed my mind.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d even fully realised the thought.

He lost the grin that had set my heart alight. “What?”

I crawled up his body and let myself melt into him. “Touch me. Hold me.”

“Always.” Jack’s arms snapped down and around me, hands pressed to my back, big and hard and comforting. “You know you worry me sometimes.”

Snuggling my face into the curve between shoulder and neck, I mumbled, “I do?”

“Yeah. It’s just that I never know what you’re thinking. I mean, one moment you’re all hot and in charge, the next you get this sad look on your face and ask to be held.”

I shivered. This was unusual. Jack didn’t normally talk so openly about such things. I’d had to dig to get the real story about what happened at the charity race dinner out of him on the Gold Coast. Jack’s jaw moved against the side of my head, as if he was about speak again, but he didn’t. His arms got even tighter though.

“I’m all right,” I assured him, lying.

The only thing holding me together right now was his arms. One look and my plan had been shattered. I could feel the chaos of uncertainty and doubt creeping into me, my body tensing in defence. So much of my life, so much of me, was dependant on trained instinct and being at least two and preferably three steps ahead of my targets just to stay alive and finish the job. I had no training, no weapons, no instincts to get me through this.

Well, I had one instinct and I reached for it with every measure of my being.

Jack rolled us over and pulled away so he could look at me properly, concern making him frown. Gently, he ran knuckles down my cheek. “Ethan, what’s wrong?”

“Fuck me, Jack.” My cheeks flamed, but my cock surged even though it had been flagging. Jack had been right. There was a visceral satisfaction in saying it, and a reciprocal excitement in seeing the effect it had on Jack.

His eyes went wide and his hand stalled half way down my cheek. Then he smiled, that same delightedly stupid one he’d given me moments ago. “You said it.” Before I could chide him for narrating the obvious, he lunged down and kissed my nose, my cheek, my chin. “You’re blushing so hard. Christ, Blade, do you have any blood left in the lower half of your body to keep you hard?” His hand went questing for answers.

I squirmed, desire starting to push aside the unwanted, terrifying emotions. “Jack.” Now, apparently it was my turn to whine, but even that urge fled as his hand dove inside my underwear and found my cock.

“Yes. Yes, you do,” Jack answered himself, his fingers closing around me and stroking. “I find, old bean, that I’m of a mind to make you pay for all your teasing.”

I chuckled at his atrociously bad British accent.

Between kisses and bites to my neck and shoulders, Jack kept working my cock and said, “Another time, though. Jesus, I’m so fucking primed I might not even get inside you before I blow.”

Before I could gather enough faculties to respond, Jack lurched up to his knees, tossed off his shirt and had my boxer-briefs down and cast aside with barely any help from me.

Jack sat still for a long moment, looking up and down my body. He squeezed himself and groaned. “Yup. Another time.”

Then he crawled across me, making sure there was a lot of skin contact as he opened the bedside table drawer and foraged for condom and lubricant. Successful, he slithered around until he lay directly on top of me, dropping the gear by the pillow while he kissed my neck and down my chest. Halfway down, he stopped, grabbed the lubricant, and continued.

When I realised his destination, I reminded him, “Jack, I thought you were about to blow.”

“We covered this earlier. Pay attention.” He lubricated his fingers and wormed his way between my legs. “I owe you something first.”

His mouth was on me and his fingers were at my entrance before I could even think to protest. As often and strenuously as Jack said otherwise, I still felt it wasn’t fair that he fellate me as much as he did. My objections had weakened considerably over time and were reduced now to a few plaintive “Jacks” while my body arched into him and my fingers dug divots in his shoulders. He licked and sucked and the deep pulling sensation threaded from my groin up into my belly and lungs until I couldn’t breathe and my heart thudded impossibly loud. Then his finger breached me and I didn’t know which way to go, up into his mouth or down onto his hand. Jack solved the issue, as he always did, by synchronising his sucks and thrusts so all I had to do was shake in between them.

When he worked a second, then third finger into me, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed him on me, in me, all around me.

“Jack.” I tugged on his arm. “Please, now.”

His response was indecipherable around my cock, but his fingers curled inside me and I nearly came down his throat. He kept it up until I was a writhing, whimpering mess, unintelligible and lost to the sensations. Then he stopped right before I reached orgasm.

“I hate you,” I moaned as he kneeled between my legs with careless disregard for retaliation. I may have been trembling uncontrollably, but I was sure my aim was still good enough to kick him off the bed.

Jack smirked as he leaned over me, reaching for the condom and diving in to kiss along my jaw, which I willingly gave him access to. “No, you don’t.” He sat back to open and roll on the condom, stroking my thigh with his free hand as he did so, as if he needed constant contact.

“No, I don’t,” I said softly and lifted my calves to his shoulders.

“I don’t hate you either.” Then he shifted forward, pushing my knees to my chest, and entered me.

I was still a little startled whenever Jack penetrated me. There was a slight burn and mildly uncomfortable sensation but it passed quickly as he worked his length into my body. In those first few moments, it was the gentleness of his touch and his attention to me that always took my breath away. The way he focused on my body over his own and made sure he wasn’t hurting me, rather than just ramming me in order to get his own gratification. Only when the glide of his cock was smooth did he start to give in to his own wants.

Jack shrugged my legs off his shoulders and pushed them apart so he could get closer. He skimmed his lips over my throat, kissing his way down my shoulder and back across my clavicles. His body moved over me and in me, tender, deep thrusts, making sure I felt every inch of him. Braced on one hand, he reached down with the other to pull at my thigh to let me know where he wanted my legs. Obedient, I wrapped them around him, knees pressed to his ribs, heels against his flexing buttocks. That done, he touched me. My face, my chest, my arm. Soft, wondering caresses that left me dizzy.

It was slow and passionate and beautiful and not at all what I needed. Wanted, yes, but needed? Not if I had any chance of salvaging anything from my botched plan.

Damn Jack and his rules and careless words and his tender touches and his effortless ability to hurt me.

“Jack,” I moaned, lips pressed to his cheek.

“Yeah.” He rocked into me, harder and deeper.

It felt so good I could nearly fool myself into believing this was all I ever needed. Much more of it, though, and I’d be confessing everything to him, and the plans of a Burmese drug lord were the least of it.

“Jack.” There was more pleading in this one, hope that he would hear what I needed without me having to say it again.

Whatever Jack heard, it sent a shudder through his body and he kissed and licked and tasted his way from one nipple to the other, murmuring “Yeah” over and over as he went.

Everything he was doing was wearing me down, kiss by kiss, touch by touch, thrust by thrust. He lifted his head and brought his face to mine, cheek to cheek, and his hand stroked up my ribs, over my pectoral, curved around my neck and his fingers delved into my hair.

I loved it when he touched my head or wound his fingers through my hair. So many memories of being touched like that, from so long ago. It wasn’t sexual for me, even when he did it in the middle of intercourse like this. To me it meant caring and comfort and . . . and love. Involuntarily, I titled my head back into his hand, wanting more of it.

“Christ, Ethan,” Jack hissed, his fingers digging into my scalp, his hips pushing harder, trying to get closer, deeper. He kissed my jaw, my neck, my ear, then worked his way towards my mouth.

Already on a precipice, I knew that if he kissed me properly, I’d be completely lost.

I bucked, pushing at him with arms and hips. “Jack.”

“I know, I know.” He shifted sides and sucked my earlobe into his hot mouth.

“No, Jack. I mean . . .” I trailed off as little shots of lightning shot from my ear right down to my aching cock and arse. This wasn’t going to plan at all. Gathering my few remaining wits, I got hold of a fistful of his hair and tugged his head up. “Jack, I said fuck me.”

Jack’s hips froze in mid-thrust. Startled, he stared at me for a moment, then asked, “What do you mean?”

Oh dear. I squirmed, feeling my cheeks warm, even more than they had under Jack’s attentions. “I mean, like the first time. In the cave, when you drove me crazy.” Like when the sex was only hot and amazing, not incendiary and shattering, and I didn’t know you like I do now, didn’t know just how thoroughly you would destroy my world and recreate it for me in beautiful, painful ways.

“Crazier,” Jack corrected absently.

I chuckled because I didn’t want him to worry. And nipped at his jaw because I needed him to know I still wanted him. “Please, Jack. Like then.”

The shifting of our bodies let his cock slide out of me, so I took advantage of it and wriggled over onto my belly. I lifted my hips for him, knees bent and spread, a silent plea for him to fill me back up.

After a strained moment, Jack moaned, “Fuck,” and settled back between my legs. Hands on my hips, he pushed his cock into me, slow like it was the first thrust again. It forced the breath I’d been holding out on a relieved sigh, then a second breath on a gasp as he pulled out and plunged back in, fast and hard.

I didn’t know why I thought this position would be easier. The pleasure jolting through me was exactly the same as before, explosive and glorious, just concentrated into sharper, firmer motions. Jack’s touches—sweeping caresses up and down my back, hard grips on my hips and shoulders, the bite of his teeth on my shoulder blade—still sent me reeling. The sounds of his panting and grunts, of his flesh slapping against mine, of “Ethan” and his growling blasphemies, riddled me like bullets.

Don’t fight them. It’s easier if you don’t. Just let them do whatever they want . . . It was advice I’d followed since the day it had been given to me. Words that I’d clung to in every sexual encounter with a male target—until Jack. That first time, I’d tried to follow the advice, but Jack had shaken me free of it, relentlessly waking up parts of me, physical and emotional, I hadn’t known I possessed. I knew them know and still he was giving them back to me like it was the first time.

I was doomed.

“I’m not going to last long,” Jack warned me.

Neither was I at this pace. I got a hand around my cock moments before Jack shoved me down into the mattress. He lay down over my back and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tighter. His weight was oppressive but welcomed, like he could protect me from anything the world fired at me.

“God, Ethan,” he moaned, hips going wild.

Every push of his cock into my body was cracking me open. I buried my face in the pillow and clung to the arms around me with one hand, the other around my cock, doing nothing but giving it a channel to move in as Jack pounded my arse.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Jack pressed his face into my shoulder.

I let go of his arm and reached back to wind my fingers through his hair, to make sure he didn’t pull away yet. I wanted him as close as I could get him right then. My orgasm was building frightfully fast and I clenched my fist around my shaft, hoping it would give me just that little bit of extra—

The orgasm ripped through me, heat and light bursting through the cracks to shatter me into a million pieces that Jack held together with his strong arms and encompassing body. I barely heard him shout “Ethan,” but I felt him come, hard and powerfully, his cock pulsing inside me. Several never-ending moments later, the tension eased out of him and his whole weight settled on my back.

It didn’t bother me when Jack lingered. I liked the feel of him slowly softening, of the press of his body as he caught his breath, the way his arms stayed tight around me even as the rest of him melted. His nonsensical mumblings as he came back to his senses always made me want to cuddle him.

“Sorry,” Jack groaned, sliding out of and off me in one clumsy move. He didn’t go far, just snugged down beside me, one arm across my back, hot breath wafting over my shoulder.

“You have no need to be.”

I wondered how true that was, though. My plan at distraction had worked—perhaps too well—but the fact remained he’d hurt me several times recently. Though, it was hard to remember just how his words and actions had wounded me right now. Lying here so warm, sated, and aching in the most glorious of ways, I could forget it all.

Eventually, the moment had to pass. Jack grumbled his way off the bed and down the hall to the bathroom. Given a few moments alone, I cleaned myself up as well as I could with tissues and sternly ordered my thoughts. Lust sated, I fixed my plan in my mind, determined to see it through. I’d had my moment of weakness, now it was time to work. Settled, I found two pairs of tracksuit bottoms, pulled one pair on and met Jack with the others. While he dressed, I started making tea and coffee.

“I should leave work early more often.” Jack stretched as he came into the kitchen. He didn’t lower his arms until he was right behind me and could drape them around my shoulders. He nuzzled into my neck, making silly snuffling sounds.

For a moment, I wished Jack was one of those men who came, then fell asleep. The more hours I had to divert his attention, the more difficulty I was going to encounter.

“Speaking of work, why were you taken off your case?” I poured the boiling water from the kettle into my mug. Jack started to make grumbly noises, so I hastily added, “I’m not prying. I’m simply curious about what could make your directors remove you from a case.”

Snorting, Jack leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed. “If you must know, I fucked up royally. You know how sick I was last time you were here. Well, I tried to break the case while delirious with fever and it didn’t work. That’s why they kicked me off it. Not that I really care. It was a bloody pointless exercise.”

“Hmm. I’m sorry to hear that.” I wasn’t, honestly. Except that even knowing about it now didn’t change anything. It was too late to alter my plan enough to leave Jack out of it.

“How long can you stay this time?” he asked.

“Not long.” I stirred his coffee and handed it over, cursing myself for not getting him a beer instead. “Perhaps just the night.”

Jack mused for a moment, then took his coffee to the couch. “Perhaps? You don’t usually have to guess. Don’t you have meticulously planned out travel windows?”

I joined him. “Yes, but I actually have several windows this time.” All true. Always plan for the worst possible scenario. Of course, I hadn’t planned on being caught here.

“Good. Make it the latest possible one then. I want you here for as long as you can be.” He clicked on the telly and flicked to an afternoon news program. Setting down the remote, he let his hand rest on my thigh, natural and non-demanding.

“As you wish,” I whispered.

Jack leaned over and kissed my cheek, then settled in to watch the news.

I needn’t have worried after that. Content that I had no immediate plans to leave, Jack spent the evening in his usual pursuits. At least, as usual as they were when I was with him. He fed me, laughed at me and with me several times, groped me at nearly every opportunity and, finally, herded me back to bed when I threatened to fall asleep on him on the couch.

It was a ploy, of course. Any other visit, we would have had sex a second and perhaps third time on our first night together. My body wanted him, but I overruled it this time. I couldn’t resist everything he offered a second time.

Jack curled around me under the blankets, arm across my waist, head resting on my chest. “You’re not going anywhere,” he mumbled, thinking I was already asleep and unable to hear him.

I waited until he was firmly asleep, then slid out from under him. Staying awake with him in the bed wouldn’t have been impossible, but I didn’t want to risk it. Physical desire sated, it was time I got to work.

Though being a Sugar Baby—thanks to my drug addicted mother—had only ever been a curse on my life, the one benefit was increased night vision. It let me move around Jack’s apartment without turning on a light that might wake him and let me look at the picture he’d caught me holding. I couldn’t quite pick out all the details, but I had studied it enough earlier to know exactly what I couldn’t see now.

It was of Jack’s parents. His mother, Usha, sat primly for the camera, her white-and-gold sari setting off her brown skin beautifully as she smiled serenely. Gold and gems decorated her fingers and ears, but around her neck was a simple chain with a pendent in the shape of a leaf with a beaded cross on it. I could see so much of Jack in her. Not just the brown of their skin, or the beautiful dark colours of their eyes. There was a strength in her that was more than just the straightness of her spine. She had conviction and determination that her son shared, even if I believed he questioned it in himself at times. They had probably clashed when he was younger and she alive, too similarly stubborn to really compromise for the other. Yet, I also didn’t doubt that they’d loved each other greatly. The fierceness with which Jack defended his memories of her spoke loud and clear.

Usha’s hand rested on the thigh of the man beside her. Christopher lounged back in his seat, long legs stretched out towards the camera he completely ignored in favour of looking at his wife. The corners of his blue eyes were crinkled, his wide mouth smiling, and his blond hair was highlighted in different colours by the festive lights behind them. His tie was loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was no suit jacket in sight. I saw more physical similarities between father and son—the height, the legs, the shape of their bodies. Christopher Reardon was a handsome man, like Jack, but it was the humour in his eyes, the shining devotion on his face, the way his body angled towards the woman he loved, that reminded me most of Jack.

In my research for the Valadian job, I’d read very sparsely about Jack’s family. Just enough to confirm my course of action with him. I’d found his strengths in his parents, and from there, it was easy to find his weaknesses as well. I should have hated what I did to him back then but couldn’t. It had been a job. He’d been the target. I’d hurt him but the job had worked out successfully.

Carefully, I retrieved the small note I’d tucked into the frame. Jack would have been certain to find it there in the morning, had I managed to leave without him finding me here. I had observed over the past months how he always gazed at the photo before heading off to work. At least this way I could be certain he got the note in the morning.

I retrieved my guns from the bedroom and sat down at the dining table to clean them. The chances I’d need them tomorrow had gone from a mild possibility to a near certainty.

Just before Jack was ready to wake up, I got back into bed and pretended to be so deeply asleep he couldn’t wake me. After a few attempts, Jack grumbled his way out of bed and into the shower. I waited a bit, got up and made his breakfast—a protein shake he’d guzzle on the way to the garage. When he emerged into the kitchen, he was mostly dressed and fumbling with his tie.

We both knew he could knot his own tie. This was just his strategy at getting close when he thought I wasn’t receptive to intimacy. It honestly wasn’t needed this morning. I’d set my own trap by leaning against the kitchen counter in a pair of Jack’s tracksuit trousers that I’d ensured hung dangerously low on my hips. It clearly worked because even as I ordered him over so I could fix his tie, his gaze locked onto my lower abdomen and didn’t move until he was so close he had nowhere else to look but into my eyes.

“Thanks,” he said as he pushed in against me, his hands on my hips, thumbs brushing over the skin just above my pubic hair.

Huffing a laugh, I pushed at his shoulders until there was enough room for me to knot and straighten his tie. “Are you certain you have to go to work?”

Jack shrugged while I fixed his collar, then appeared to seriously consider my question when I slid my arms around his waist, under his jacket. I slipped the note into his inner pocket, where he kept his wallet, which he’d need when he went for lunch, or earlier if he decided to spring for a decent coffee. Certain he didn’t notice, I let him grind against me for few moments, then pushed him back.

“You really will be late if you don’t leave now.”

“I guess.” He reached around me for his helmet and the protein shake. “You will be here tonight?”

What was one more lie? “I plan to be.”

“Good.” Jack kissed my cheek. “We’re going to talk. No ifs, buts, or I don’t want tos.”

“Yes, Jack.”

He gathered the rest of his riding gear and left. I got dressed, settled my weapons into place and, making sure Jack had definitely left the premises, departed as well. Fifteen minutes later, I’d retrieved Victoria from the storage facility where she stayed when I wasn’t in Sydney now that my safe place had been compromised. An hour after that, we were on the open road and heading not to the private airfield where my exfil plan awaited me, but to Canberra, where I’d either waste a day, or much more likely make Jack very angry with me.