Page 21 of Beehive

I grabbed his coat and yanked it off his shoulders. “That enough showing for you?”

He reached under my shirt and pressed his palms to my stomach.

“Holy mother of fucking—shit on a stick. Your hands are like ice!”

His hands shot upward and gripped my chest. “One of us went shopping so the other could sit in our warm apartment and brood. It’s still wintery outside, yet I sacrificed for you.”

“You’re such a giver.”

He groaned. “I would be if you’d stop talking and take off those clothes.”

“Damn. That wasn’t my plan, but—”

His tongue dove into my mouth as his fingers fell to the button of my pants. Before I could blink, they were tangled around my ankles and he’d dropped to his knees.

“Jesus, Will, you’re gonna kill me.”

His lips teased the sensitive skin of my cock as his tongue slid up and down my shaft. Shivers of pleasure trailed up and down my spine in time with each lick.

“Do you think Soviet spies love their partners as much as I do?” I’d meant it as a tease, but he took it as a distraction, releasing me and looking up with ire in his eyes.

“If they do, I seriously doubt they talk about American spies in the middle of getting their dick sucked.”

“Um, right. Good point. Carry on.”

He shook his head, then applied his tongue once more. When his icy digit began fiddling its way inside my crack, I surrendered to the moment and let Will become the only other person in the world.

We spent the afternoon asleep in each other’s arms, still sweaty and sticky from our post-shopping exertions. Will had beenright. There was no better way to prepare for a world-ending spy mission than naked with the man I loved. I vowed to listen to him more and send him shopping as often as our government paychecks allowed.

When we arrived back at the café, everything was as our mystery woman had predicted. No lights shone in the café or any of the nearby buildings.

Paris conserved electricity. They conserved most everything, still.

That meant the street wasn’t dark; it was black.

Only a few houses showed flickers of life, but even those were cloaked behind curtains or shutters.

We agreed Will would go first. I was supposed to remain around the corner between the buildings, but curiosity and caution overrode good sense. I peeked around the corner as he approached the café’s back door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing.

Will stepped back and stared expectantly.

Still nothing.

A minute passed, then another, then five.

He looked to where I hid, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist.

I shrugged, though I doubt he saw it in the night.

He was turning away from the door when a series of clicks drew his attention back to it. Dim light flowed out as the door swung open. I could hear hushed tones as someone spoke, then he vanished inside.

I waited a moment before stepping out of the shadows for my turn.

The door opened as soon as my fourth knock sounded, even before I could get my knuckles off the splintered wood.

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