Page 43 of Power Surge

I take the laptop from his outstretched hand and rest it on the floor. Wiggling low, I snuggle down the bed and turn to lie on my side. Tucking both hands between my cheek and the pillow, I wait while he does the same. Head propped in his hand with his elbow pressed into the mattress, Trey gazes down with an expectant expression.

“Nothing happened. He's just hard to read. I can't…. I don't understand him.”

Trey's focus shifts over my shoulder like he's processing through my words. “I trust him. He has an edge to him that no one else on this team has. It's a positive addition, especially now that you’re president and have three times more enemies and threats than you had as VP.” He inhales deeply, swiping his tongue along his lower lip. “But that edge comes with… something. I can't pinpoint it either. Yes, he's closed off, but not in a way where I think it's personal. If that makes sense. It’s almost like he's closed off in the way a tiger is caged. It's for the safety of others that it's behind bars.”

“He's a tiger?”

“On our team I'm the one with the looks and charm.” I snort and shove his shoulder, resulting in his signature cocky smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Fuck, I love it. I love him. “Tank's the one with the leadership and size. That man could stop a speeding car with his shoulder. The other guys are great at following orders and observation. Smith… he adds a violence to the team. That's what I mean with the caged tiger analogy. I have no doubt if you asked him to take someone out, he'd do it without question, or if you're in danger, the threat would not only be eliminated but they'd never find the body.”

I swallow, shifting my gaze from Trey's face to his bare chest. Reaching forward, I trace his collarbone. “Is he unstable?”

“I think we all are. His comment about monsters earlier was curious though. But that kind of statement makes me think he knows what lurks just under his skin. As long as he's in control of it, well, then I'm good with him.”

“The CIA director said they would never transfer someone out of the agency willingly. I think what he wasn't saying was no one leaves the CIA still breathing.”

Trey smiles. “Not everything you see in the movies is real, Mess.”

“I know that,” I say, even though my comment was based on the Jason Bourne movies as my reference.

“Right, well, the CIA, especially at that level, they're all dicks. They'd never admit someone wasn't cut out to be an agent and they had to transfer them out. But I don't think Smith flunked out of the CIA, if he even was CIA. He could've been NSA or Homeland Security.”

“He seems strung tight,” I say as I allow my fingers to slide along the naturally tan skin of his hard abs.

“I wouldn't let him be around you if I thought you were in danger. I don't get that vibe from him.”

“He doesn't laugh at my jokes.”

Trey's breath hitches, a small groan pushing past his parted lips at the scrape of my fingertips down his happy trail.

“Give him time, Mess. He'll be in love with you in no time, just like the rest of us.”

“That doesn't bother you?” I ask, halting my pursuit as I anticipate his answer.

His gaze burns with intensity. “If I thought he was a threat to us, he wouldn't be breathing. What I meant was anyone who spends time with you falls under your spell. Mine just happens to induce lust and vivid pictures of me fucking you every which way.”

Tingles erupt in my lower gut. I suck in a shaky breath.

A hot palm wraps around my wrist and tugs it lower down his abdomen. Our gazes stay locked as I trail my nails down his skin until my knuckles graze his hard cock. It twitches in my grasp when I wrap my fingers around him and squeeze. Trey's dark lashes flutter, his eyes barely open as he gazes down at where I’m slowly pumping my hand up and down the silky smooth skin.

His breath hitches; beneath the covers, his hips flex, thrusting himself harder into my hand. Desire blooms through my veins, scattering any thoughts of the email I never finished or the nagging questions I still have about Agent Smith. The soft sheets glide beneath my hip and shoulder as I wiggle down the bed to dip beneath the layers of covers. Darkness envelops me. My desire surges at the heavy scent of Trey’s spicy aroma mixed with both our arousals.

A groan rumbles in my throat, matching his as I wrap my lips around the soft head. Flicking my tongue along his slit, I lap up the few drops of desire. Long fingers slip through my loose hair, tightening into a fist. Following his urges, I glide up and down, my lips suctioning around his throbbing cock. The bed shifts and his hips lift, diving deeper down my throat. The grip in my hair holds me steady as he thrusts in and out. Muffled curses make their way down through the blankets, but I don’t pay them any attention, too engrossed in my ministrations and the feel of him coming apart because of me.

Suddenly the light of the bedside lamp assaults my eyes, and cold air fans along the bare skin of my legs and arms, causing goosebumps to erupt. The hand at the back of my head releases its hold before hooking beneath my arm and hauling me upward. I glide up the sheets with ease. The room rotates with a single urgent shove to my hips. My nose buries into the pillow as my hips and legs jerk with hard tugs on my sleep pants and panties until they’re fully removed.

Rising up, I dig both elbows into the soft mattress and glance over my shoulder. Trey kneels on the bed, stroking his cock, which is still glistening with my saliva, his focus solely on my ass. The tip of my tongue glides along my lower lip, licking up the last tastes of him. He swipes the fingertips of his free hand along my spine. Fevered chills sprout in their wake, and I shudder in response. The bed shakes as I press up to my knees. My spine arches as he trails lower, gliding between my cheeks. A finger hesitates over my tight hole. Instinctively I feel a hot flush spread across my cheeks. Unsure, I shy away from his touch.

“Not tonight,” Trey says, his voice a deep rumble through the room. “But one day soon, baby.” Every muscle relaxes as he continues the path south before diving deep into my wet center.

My head relaxes forward, the feather pillow a cushion for my forehead. For half a second, I'm empty, the sense of loss like a stone sinking in my gut, before I feel the bed shift beneath his weight and a different pressure against my entrance. I brace myself for him to thrust forward, giving me exactly what I need.

But he doesn't.

My entire body trembles in desperation. I shift back, urging him to hurry the hell up, but am met with a resistance that's not his cock. The soft pillowcase shifts along my forehead as I turn my head. Mouth open, ready to scream at him, I look over my shoulder. The words evaporate in my throat; I still, not daring to even breathe. The desire-driven, sexy-as-hell Trey is long gone. Instead kneeling behind me is concentrating, tense Agent Benson with his full focus directed at the balcony doors.

As graceful as a born predator, he shifts off the bed, his hard gaze never faltering.

“What—” I snap my lips shut at his raised hand. Trepidation takes over, smothering the earlier need. The edge of the sheet folds between my fingers as I tug it upward, covering my naked lower half.

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