Page 49 of One Secret

'It's better,' Cyrus says. He uses his feet to spin the desk chair and I'm treated to the glorious view of Cyrus Alesi fully aroused. Color streaks those glass-sharp cheekbones of his, his chest is rising too fast, and a massive length is pressing up through his jeans. He reaches for me, hands settling behind my knees. His voice is heavy and thick as he continues...

'You said it yourself. If you want peace of mind, mutual leverage is as good as out-and-out trust.'

'Aah...' I exhale in understanding. Cyrus pulls on the back of my thighs and I follow his lead to straddle his lap. The warm breadths of his palms come around my ass and I wriggle up closer. 'So you and this Nat have crap on each other?'

'Hard not to. Mmm... do that again...'

I shuffle higher, gripping his legs with my thighs and pressing down hard against his erection.

Cyrus manages to continue the conversation, but his gaze is on my chest, on my bare stomach. Pressing his lips between my breasts, his words become whispers, working around sweet licks and open kisses. Fire burns along my skin wherever he touches. My heart begins to race, striking out a staccato against my ribs.

'We've worked on too many jobs together,' Cyrus says. For a moment I try and remember who we're talking about. Nat... the "woman" I have no right to be jealous of. 'Be it the law or opposition, we could each testify against the other. So, both sides can trust in the discretion of the other.'

I gasp as Cyrus pulls back one side of my bikini and takes my nipple into his mouth. He sucks down hard and rolls his tongue around the tip like it's his favorite flavor of lollipop.

I feel the tip swell and turn firm inside his mouth.

'Mutually assured destruction,' I conclude breathlessly.

Are we even talking about his work associates anymore? Isn't mutually assured destruction where we're headed?

For the thousandth time, I question why Cyrus wants this... Why he's so intent on keeping our arrangement in place, even when I've made it clear we're done as soon as this trip is over...

Amazing sex aside, casual partners don't hold on. Casual partners give a polite thanks and disappear into the ether.

'Exactly,' Cyrus says, his words muffled against my breast. 'Leverage works better for me, anyway...'

It kills me to distract a man so diligent in his love-making, but I take hold of Cyrus's chin, break the kisses he's been pressing to my skin, and lift his face to mine.

'Because out-and-out trust is hard?' I ask him.

His eyes, glowing with sexual heat, seem to weaken. Then break a little. As if something has cracked far behind those pretty irises.

Cyrus swallows.

'Not a lot of trust in my field.'

A heavy lump settles in my throat. Being in the army—in the Fallskärmsjägarna—had been hard. But I wasn't alone. I had a squadron with me. A team. Men and women whom I trusted to protect my back. People I protected in return by cutting all contact when I was summoned to court martial. Thus far, they've all gone on to achieve stellar careers and earn a handful of medals between them.

I stroke the back of my fingers along Cyrus's cheek and down his jawline.

What must it be like to have all of that danger, I wonder... All of that fear and stress... but have to shoulder it alone?

'And you've been in the game a long time...' I whisper with compassion. It's not a question. Cyrus moves with the kind of lethal grace built from years of killing.

'Since I was four.'

I blink, surprised.

'What?'

Cyrus seems equally shocked. His lips work but no sound comes out. Like he's somehow trying to reverse engineer his confession; to suck the words back in.

His throat moves and his lips part. Only awkward silence follows...

'Four?' I prompt.

Cyrus exhales through his nose. His jaw hardens under my hand. His expression is one of grouchy surrender and he gives a lopsided shrug.

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