Page 31 of Only the Wicked (The Sinful State #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sydney

I snap back as if slapped. The temperature in the room plunges.

My breath catches. Not from surprise—I knew this was coming—but from the realization that part of me wants to tell him everything. The mission, KOAN, Caroline, all of it. That impulse is dangerous.

“Who are you, Sydney?”

I’m whoever you want me to be.

That thought, unbidden, stays within the confines of my mind, ricocheting with deceit.

Slowly, I recover from the ambush and shift back on his thighs to meet the inquisition.

I don’t have to play dumb. He knows I worked for the CIA.

“I have his business card if you want it.”

His thumb flicks over my nipple, and I swear the light flick shoots fire to my clit, the lace so thin his touch brokers the feel of skin on skin.

“You didn’t mention him.”

The accusation cuts.

“How did you know?”

Our eyes lock, and my chest seizes.

“I know everything, Syd.”

He believes his guttural confession, but he’s wrong.

Or at least, he is wrong, right? He can’t possibly know everything. But the way he’s looking at me—like he’s already solved me—makes my chest tighten.

He fists my hair, rough, controlling.

“Talk later.”

His eyes are pure ice. The pull on my scalp sharp.

“Now. We fuck.”

His grip on my hair tightens, and he jerks my head back.

“You okay with that?”

“Very.”

“You want my cock inside you?”

He wants a little dirty talk. Fine.

“Yes. I want to choke on your cock. I want you to thrust inside me so hard it feels like you’re going to split me in two. I want you to fuck me so hard sweat drips from your temple and you lose all control.”

“Fuck.”

The one word comes out with a growl. He flips me and I strain to see over my shoulder. With one hand, he releases his thick, hard cock. He positions his crown at my entrance and pushes inside. I’m turned on, wet even, but I’m not ready, and there’s a burn with the intrusion.

My cry sets us off. It’s not love making. It’s fucking. Dirty. Hard. Cruel.

And it’s what every single cell in my body craves.

Depraved punishment.

I deserve it. But there’s also desperate need, the same craving I feel—to connect with someone who sees through all the pretense. Even as he takes what he wants, I’m taking something too. Something I shouldn’t want.

By the time he shudders over me, a film of perspiration coats our skin. We’re halfway off the sofa and one heel dangles from the corner of a credenza across the room. He threw it when I pierced his skin.

He pushes up and swipes his forehead as his chest heaves.

With a shake of his head, he hitches his pants up to his waist. They never made it below his knees.

I wrap my arms around me, warming my middle, and pull my knees up. The skin between my thighs is sticky.

His cum.

“I’m going to use the shower.”

The absence of an invitation to join him chills the room.

I’m in over my head.

The bathroom door clicks closed.

I push up and pad barefoot into the bedroom. I step up to the closed bathroom door and put my ear next to the wood panel. The distinct sound of pouring water reverberates through the door and kicks me into gear.

I find an oversized T-shirt and panties in my bag and dig out my secure phone.

I shouldn’t call. It’s stupid and dangerous.

But I need to hear a friendly voice. Someone who knows who I really am.

Quinn answers on the first ring. I pull the bedroom door closed but sit outside on the floor where I can see a shadow below the door rim and will hear if the shower cuts off.

“Syd? Is that you?”

“Yes. I don’t have long. Is the team here?”

“Yes.”

“Are you listening?”

Shame heats my neck and my cheeks, a sharp contrast to the chill that wrapped around me after the sofa.

She snorts. “Only source is from your bag.”

She’s referring to a small device I packed that appears to be an old school recorder, one that if someone discovered, I could play it off as triggered in my bag and pull out a cassette to throw away.

“He’s onto me.” My eyelids close, hating the admittance.

“Pack your bags. Go.”

“I don’t think I’m in danger.”

“Syd…we’re flying free here. You’re in the lead. You make the calls. But as a reminder, your life isn’t worth intel. We’re not building a criminal case.”

“I know.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Like a nicked scab, the pain of the past bleeds.

Four assets dead.

You’re out.

To this day, I don’t believe I was in danger when they pulled me. No one else agreed.

“Did you get anything on the FBI guy?”

“He checks out. We could be looking at an off the books op.”

Off the books for the very reason KOAN is watching. The fear he has too much on the government for them to open a formal investigation. If he can access information on any one in the world, who’s going to openly look into him?

I could ask if we’ve still got someone in San Francisco, but it doesn’t matter. My focus should be on my role.

“Who are you Syd?”

My eyes sting and I blink away the emotion. Teary eyes are not a good sign. I need to nip it.

“Who’d he meet with?” Quinn brings me back to the call with a reminder.

“I don’t know. The meet moved. Did anyone tail him?”

“No. He met with a Russian diplomat before his meeting. Outside the embassy. Then he got in a car. We lost him in traffic. If you’re compromised, get out.”

Standard, fair advice.

Quiet replaces the low shower hum.

“Gotta go.”

I push up from the ground and cum smears my thighs.

That’s a touch of reality I’d rather not dwell on, and as luck would have it, I don’t have the time to spare. I’m back in the bedroom, tucking my phone away in the side pocket with tampons and maxi pads when the bathroom door opens and steam billows out.

“My turn?” I ask, stepping past him without waiting for an answer.

He grips my arm, and ever so slowly, I raise my gaze to meet his.

“That was….” He’s impassive, but he wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t have questions and possibly regrets.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I enjoyed it.” The truth in those words burns worse than any lie I've told him.

I step forward, but his hold on my arm tightens.

“We need to talk.”

He’s got questions and I don’t have a clear head yet.

“Your cum is leaking down my thigh. Do you mind?”

As if stung, he snaps his hand back.

“Let me shower. Then we’ll talk.”