"I'm a member of the Istochnik," Jeannie said, holding his gaze.
Thorne blinked once, twice, and then launched himself at her.
That was the only word Jeannie could use to describe what he did. He was blinking one moment, and then, he was a blur.
Jeannie's world upended. Her curls swung from side to side as Thorne carried her over his shoulder.
"Hawthorne! Put me down," Jeannie squealed.
He eventually did. Once he reached her bed.
The moon filtered through the blinds of the window to make glowing patterns on the cover. Thorne climbed on top of her before Jeannie even thought of rolling away.
Not that she would.
Thorne nudged Jeannie's legs open with his knee to fall between them as soon as they parted. He propped himself up on his arms so he could gaze into her face.
"You and I will talk," he said softly, running a finger down her nose, tapping the nub at the end. "But later, okay?"
Jeannie giggled, causing Thorne to flush red. He growled in her ear as he dipped his head and moved against her. Dinner was forgotten on the table as they let their hunger consume them.
Jeannie sighed. Cradling Thorne close, she ran a hand through his silky hair.
"Later," she whispered. "Much, much later."
***
Thorne sat back on his haunches. Crossing his arms, he pulled his sweater and undershirt over his head. Jeannie sat up and hurriedly did likewise with her clothing, leaving on her bra and panties. She wanted to watch Thorne undress.
Thorne stood.
Jeannie admired the way even the moon aided her in her perusal of his body. The silver globe came from around a cloud to shine brightly on the slats of his ribs as he bent to remove his socks, hopping on one foot and then the other.
When he straightened, part of his tattoo, a woman with flowing hair holding a scale and sword aloft became visibleâThe Lady Justice.
Was the face modeled after an ex? she wondered.
"Who is the woman in your tattoo?" she asked, rolling to her side.
"The Lady Justice."
Well, I knew that, Jeannie huffed in her mind.
She waited for a further explanation, but when Thorne undid the top button of his jeans, she forgot all about her follow up questions.
Jeannie stifled a moan as Thorne slid his pants slowly down his long legs. He stepped out of them, bending low to pick them up. She raised from the bed to follow his movements, leaning back again when he caught her staring.
She didn't want to seem too eager.
Thorne's grin, as saucy as ever, sent a nervous chill of anticipation up her spine. The tremor grew worse when the moon winked out, plunging the room into near darkness.
Where is he?
She rose up on her knees, trying to decipher his shape.
Jeannie let out a Fifi like yip, when she felt his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down into the mattress. His legs encased her. Skin rubbing skin. Thorne's hair tickled her face as he bent his head.
"You want to talk about my tattoo now?" He whisper-brushed her lips with the barest of kisses. Thorne went on to smooth her hair and then nuzzle her ear. When Jeannie arched into him, he chuckled.
"I didn't think so." With skilled fingers, he reached under her to unclasp her tiny bra hooks.
"But, I-I- Oh!"
Thorne palmed her naked breast, flicking her nub until Jeannie whimpered. Her hips bucked with unfulfilled need. Thorne smiled as he settled himself more firmly between her legs, lowering his head to dine on her hard pebble. He switched from one soft globe to the other, teasing each in turn.
Jeannie squirmed, her roving hands moving to grip his muscled shoulders, bubble booty, and strong back. When Thorne started to nibble her neck, Jeannie cried out.
***
Her lustful cry was music to his ears.
He lowered his hand, gliding it across her stomach and hip. Her skin was smooth and soft. Now that Jeannie was his, he wanted to take his time and explore every inch of her, and he wouldâlater.
"Jeannie, I want you," he said, desire evident in his expression.
"Then make me yours," Jeannie said, arching into him.
Thorne bent to kiss her, knowing what they were about to do would cause a world of trouble. He didn't care. With Jeannie by his side, he could take on anything.
She. Was. His.
And as long as he lived, she would never know another man.
***
Jeannie removed a water bottle from the refrigerator and used the condensation on the outside to cool her warm cheeks. The things Thorne had done to her, still made her blush hours later.
Last night and this morning were everything Jeannie expected. Thorne, with his expert ways, had turned her into something that bit, scratched. . . and clawedâmaking her a woman in every sense of the word. Jeannie trembled, the ghost of what he'd caused her to feel, creeping into her bones.
She giggled into the soft morning light.
Did she feel different?
Yes, she did.
She felt safe and...
Dare she think it?
"Loved," she said softly. She felt it in the way Thorne looked at her as he murmured her name. The way he'd coddled her each time afterward like a fragile porcelain doll that would break apart at the slightest touch ...
But during.
Oh!
During he'd been rough, demanding. Bent on wringing every hidden emotion Jeannie felt for him out in the open as she cried his name over and over while he ravaged her body with his hands, lips ... and teeth.
Was it real?
Jeannie's steps faltered, her mind pushing out the euphoria to focus on reality.
Thorne was an agent. An agent trained to seduce women.
He is committed. Why would he blow his cover otherwise?
But deep down in the darkness of her mind, she wondered if it were all a trick. Some sick game to make her drop her defenses.
She trembled again. This time due to the coldness of her thoughts.
Well, he won. It's too late to turn back now.
She would just have to ride it out and see if what they shared did indeed mean something to him.
***
Thorne slept, his hair mussed around his head. A puffed-up pillow obscured half his face. Only one closed eye and part of his pink lips were visible.
Those same sweet lips Jeannie had traced with her tongue and finger. That wicked mouth that had given her such delicious sensations as he moved inside her. . .
Jeannie's mouth grew dry at the thoughts playing through her mind. She took a sip of water from the bottle, crackling the plastic.
Thorne's eye opened, homing in on her right away. The visible part of his mouth lifted in a sunny smile.
"Good morning," he said. "Did you sleep well?"
Jeannie giggled. "What I got of it, was wonderful."
She lowered her head as a blush warmed her cheeks.
Thorne sat up, the sheet falling away to expose his chest tattoo of Lady Justice.
Jeannie had asked about his tat as they lay spent, their breathing just beginning to recover from their exertions. Thorne had said he wanted to cover up his scars with a reminder that justice always came through in the end and that no, the face wasn't of an ex. The tattoo artist had drawn it freehand. Silently, Jeannie had rolled on top of him, kissing every bit of his ink.
Sleep had evaded them for a while after that.
"Let me have some of that water, will you?" Thorne asked, stretching his long arm out.
Jeannie came from her thoughts to hike her robe and place a knee on the bed. She then leaned over to hand Thorne the water.
He grabbed her wrist instead, pulling her down to cover her with a muscled leg. Jeannie giggled as she squirmed in protest.
Thorne uncapped the bottle. He took long swigs, draining it dry. When the bottle was empty, he smacked his lips in satisfaction.
"Hmmm. That hit the spot." Thorne tossed the container onto the floor. Jeannie's protest cut off when Thorne straddled her, pinning her arms to her sides with his thighs.
Jeannie had tricks to get out from under him if need be, but she was content to wait and see what he would do.
"Time to talk, Jeannie."
Jeannie frowned. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to stretch out their intimacy as long as possible. The outside world would intrude soon enough as it was.
She molded her tone into the one she used until the early hours of the morning. The one Thorne said reminded him of soft jazz and expensive red wine.
"Are you sure, Hawthorne?" she purred.
Jeannie smiled inwardly when Thorne's deep green eyes darkened over. For extra insurance, she wiggled against him despite his weight bearing down on her.
"I want you to call me Thorne, Jeannie," he said lowering his head for a kiss.
It was like a light switch how fast she changed. All the mirth drained from her caramel eyes and she turned her head from him.
Thorne was at a loss as to what just happened.
What did I do?
Jeannie rolled away as soon as Thorne lifted his weight. A torrential downpour of emotions ran through him at Jeannie's rejection. He lay next to her, his whole body weak with uncertainty.
"Jeannie? What's wrong?"
A tear rolled down her cheek. Thorne watched as Jeannie tried in vain to blink the rest back, but they kept coming, running into her mouth and down her chin.
Thorne ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Somehow, he had ruined their playful moment.
"Tell me, Jeannie. Don't shut me out." He circled his arm around her waist, and when she didn't pull away, he moved his body flush against her.
"Don't ask me to call you Thorne if you don't mean it," Jeannie said between her tears.
Thorne couldn't puzzle out why she was crying. "What do you mean, Jeannie?"
He pulled at her until she rolled flat on her back. Water leaked from her lids in a steady stream as her eyes remained firmly shut. "Baby, look at me."
Her eyes sprang open to glare at him. "Don't call me that," she growled.
"Baby?" he asked, wiping at her tears with the bedsheet. "Why not?"
"I'm sure you've called your other assignments that. Is that all I am to you? An assignment? Tell me now." Her voice broke on her last word. "Please tell me the truth."
Thorne frowned. He'd bared his deepest secrets to her. How could she think he would betray her? Especially after what they shared.
He gazed at the woman who had stolen his heart.
She is so beautiful.
Even with hair matted to her head, eyes red and puffy, mouth frowning and chin buckled, Jeannie was and would always be, the most beautiful woman in his world.
Thorne's blood boiled. He'd wanted to talk, but that could come later.
He straddled her again. Jeannie's eyes went straight to the middle of his tanks. The material strained and extended from the rest of his body. Her eyes bulged. She sucked in a breath and bit her bottom lip.
Thorne let out a moan at the expressions of lust that flit across her face. He was more than ready, but first things first.
Thorne opened her legs with a gentle nudge, nestling himself between her thighs so she could feel all of him.
"Jeannie," Thorne said softly, brushing wisps of hair from her face as he resisted the urge to start things in motion. "You're my everything. I thought I proved that to you last night?"
Jeannie turned her head into the pillow, so just the side of her face was visible.
He wasn't having it. Thorne took her chin in his fingers, making her face him. He then traced her lips with his thumb as he spoke, "You don't believe me?"
"I want to. I do, but. . ."
Thorne's body turned to ice. His heart stuttered for several beats before it evened out.
"You know about my last assignment."
Jeannie remained silent.
Thorne signed, his limbs heavy with dread. Thinking about what happened, let alone talking about it, brought up the loathing he felt for himself. Could he chance ruining the mood to tell Jeannie the truth?
Thorne looked into her fearful eyes. He knew Jeannie was afraid of what he might say, but she needed to know his side. He didn't want any secrets between them. Also, if he talked about it, maybe he would get the closure he needed to let the incident go and move on.
"I only want to say this once." He took his hand and smoothed out her worried brow. "After I tell you... everything, I never want to talk about it again. Agreed?"
She nodded, sniffing.
He looked down at her a moment longer, then he began.
***
"My last assignment was to extract information from a married woman with two kids." Thorne stared at her forehead, refusing to meet her gaze. "Before her, my other assignments had been single women. I didn't have to take her on. The Source actually wanted me for another case." Jeannie noted how his heart rate had picked up and every muscle in his body grow tighter and tighter with tension.
"I'd taken the assignment because of the challenge it posed. I wanted to prove myself. A married woman was hard to break; only the best agents were successful in doing so. Finally, my handler relented and gave me the mark's information." Thorne gave her a rueful smile, his green eyes blank. "From the moment I began to work on her, I hated her. No. That's not right. I didn't hate her. I hated... hate myself."
Thorne repeatedly punched the mattress in rapid succession. Once, twice, thrice, so close to Jeannie's head she could feel the air swoosh by and the springs creak in protest.
A weaker woman would have flinched. Jeannie, however, didn't. Now that he was opening up, she would ingest whatever he revealed, and they would work it out together.
"I thought my hatred was because she'd thrown her home, husband, and kids away on empty promises from a hollow shell." Thorne smiled a small smile full of self-loathing. "That's what I am. A dead hollow shell. Uncaring and unfeeling."
He wants to push me away. To scare me. But I'm not going anywhere.
Jeannie cupped his cheeks with her warm hands. She wanted his burden to pour into her so she could carry it.
"Thorne," she said, slightly waggling his head. "Look at me."
It took a while, but finally, he did.
"You're not dead inside." Jeannie stared into the dull green eyes of a shark swimming in deep water. He was gone in that moment. Already turned into the shell he'd described.
Uncaring... Unfeeling...
She didn't panic, that would only drive him further away. Instead, she seized on the one thing others in the past had inadvertently done. "I'm not going to leave you, Thorne. I'm here for you. Forever."
Thorne's mother had left him. Momma Diana, inhuman creature though she was, had forsaken him as well. Well, not her. She was his for as long as he needed her.
It took some moments for Thorne to come back. Jeannie had to keep whispering endearments and encouraging words until his eyes focused on hers.
Jeannie sighed in relief, bringing Thorne's head down for a chaste kiss. . . which quickly turned into more.
Thorne feasted on her mouth, dragging her closer with a hand on her backside, fusing their bodies together. Jeannie ran her fingers through his hair, pulling at the scalp. Thorne moaned as he came up for air.
"Jeannie." He slipped her robe from her shoulder to nibble at the soft skin underneath.
It was a long time before they focused on anything else besides each other.
***
After a quick peck, Thorne moved from Jeannie and propped himself up on his side. Jeannie was more than he expected. Not only was she giving and kind, but she surprised him with her stamina and expertise.
He bit back a moan when her sleepy amber eyes smiled up at him. "Hmmm," she said. "I could lie her all day."
He traced the slope of her nose. "I was hoping you would say that."
Jeannie giggled. "Thorne, you're too much."
He moved against her. "How much? Enough, or more than you expected?"
Her lust filled eyes fluttered open. "More than I expected. A lot more."
Thorne let out a contented sigh as he rolled back over her. He reveled in the fact that his body perfectly covered hers.