Page 32 of Boats, Moats, & Root Beer Floats

“Ah.”

I waited.

Covin stared at me.

A huff–a really big one—built in my chest. Just before it burst from me dragon style Covin finally cracked a small smile.

“What do you want to know?” He pulled me up for a salty kiss.

“Stop that. You’re far too good at it.” I batted him away. “Is this your best theme for distraction?”

“And if it is?” He raised his eyebrows.

I wondered if he had met Sarah on a job, and decided it was best not to ask.

“This might be an unconventional Christmas, so make it my present?” I offered, pairing the question—demand—with a quick grin when he watched me carefully.

If he had been a spy, an occupation that suited him far too perfectly the more I thought about it with his penchant for knowledge, his ability to blend and the apparently endless supply of energy he could call upon at any given moment, then he should understand my desire to understand what made him tick.

What made him become who the man who held me…how he got to this place where we were now.

And because I was nosy as fuck and we both knew it.

Covin’s arms tightened around me. “I went back to work after—” his voice strained.

I wished I hadn’t asked. My fingers found their way over his mouth. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. I’m just nosy.”

“No.” The single word came out sharp, like a gun’s retort, then his hard eyes gentled. “You’re being you, and that’s a beautiful thing, love.” He kissed me again, sweeter this time and I didn’t fight him. “My line of work is…was…specific. I heard plenty of things and with no one to regulate me, I took risks. Lots of them, on many fronts. Some paid off. Others…” He slanted me a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Not so much.”

One hand grabbed mine to pull my fingers to a spot just below his ribs. I touched a patch of roughened skin, then another. Small dots, round, like…

“Holy fuck, Covin. You couldn’t duck twice?”

He laughed at me, the sound bouncing off the warmed stone walls. “Only you, Lindy.” His arms wrapped back tight around me, holding me to him. “A deal went sideways in the worst conditions. That’s all.”

I had the sense he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say more and I had learned enough about this man that there were limits not to cross. That was okay. I could respect those, and was grateful for the glimpse into his past. Still…

“Are you really a SoCal professor?” I asked, holding my breath.

His fingers wound through my hair. “I always was. That started as a cover years ago. In between jobs I did actually hold classes, did mundane things like grade papers.”

“Must have been a change of pace,” I muttered.

His chest rumbled. “I never was the favorite cool teacher,” he agreed. “Far too strict on dates in the history department for kids who thought my course would be an easy pass.”

“Doom on them.”

“Indeed.” His knee pressed between my thighs. “I’ve had enough of this clothing, and my past isn’t something I enjoy. Sonow it’s your turn to distract me.” One hand wandered between us, squeezing my breast gently through my dress. I hadn’t worn a bra under it, opting for the choice of relative freedom over constricting garments. Today I didn’t feel the need.

Shedding my tights and dress beneath the blanket, I unbuckled Covin’s belt as his hands roamed over my skin, scooting lower. His breath hissed between his teeth as I dipped my head, licking his cock that sprang free the moment I unzipped him. His hands landed in my hair, tangling there in a gentle pressure but not pushing me down.

I hummed my appreciation at the freedom as I played, exploring his shape and size with lips and tongue, reveling in the musky sex-tinged scent of him. Strained groans filled my ears as I took him in my mouth all the way to the back of my throat, laving my tongue along his length, and hollowed my cheeks. The hands in my hair flexed as he pushed gently, his hips jerking up involuntarily.

The moan that left me, knowing I could make him react that way so fast sounded wanton to me, but he didn’t seem to mind, massaging my scalp as I sucked on his length.

“Fuck, that’s good, Lindy. Christ–” he swore liberally, gripping my hair and pulling me off him. “I need to be buried inside you.” His eyes glowed, dark and determined as he gripped my hips, gliding our bodies together until I rested over him.

Splitting my thighs apart, I straddled him, stroking my wetness along his straining length.

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