Page 67 of The Refusal

“Janus,” she whispers, an embarrassed tilt to her voice.

“Shh,” I say. “This is too gorgeous for words.” And, as I bend down to kiss her folds, she gives me a strangled “Oh God,” before a soft thunk tells me she’s collapsed flat on her back. Giving oral sex to a woman is wonderful, that feeling of swelling under my tongue, but Jo takes it to a whole new level, lifting her hips up into my mouth on a plea. I give her what she wants, moving in rough fast circles on her clit, pushing her legs wider to dance my fingers down to her entrance, teasing, relishing every shift, every shudder. Goose bumps form beneath my other hand, heavy and tight on her stomach, holding her in place for my circling tongue; and she’s tiny under my hand. Her surrender makes me want to roar. Up until now, I’ve had mechanical sex—decent sex, sure— but it followed a set of actions, a script. What I’ve done has got me off fine, but I’ve never been lost in it like I’m lost in this; lost in the feeling that I could do this forever and never end the anticipation of what we’re doing together.

I slide a long index finger inside her wetness, and she’s so slippery I delve lower to taste. She raises her head in protest and I’m instantly back there, pushing at her swollen nub again: She’s close. I hook into her, rubbing her inner walls as she clamps down on my finger and I push up, thumb pressing where my tongue has been, looking at my hand moving, the rigid cast of her body as everything tightens. She gasps, and her eyes snag mine for a brief second before they fall closed, lips open on a gasp, face tightening into a grimace.

“Oh God.”

“Janus.”

“Please.”

“Oh my, my …”

And fire burns through me watching her face as she falls.

* * *

The airport cab is one of those old Mercedes cars you find in poorer corners of the world, with worry beads dangling from the mirror and huge holes in the foam seats. The driver is part maniac, part magician, as he weaves us in and out of the traffic, muttering under his breath, occasionally singing along to whatever is looping through the radio. I stare out the window at the passing buildings, the guardrail whipping past. This is ending—we are going back to separate apartments and different lives—and I hate it. I stretch my hand into the seat between us, catching her fingers.

“Okay?” I say.

She takes me in, eyes roaming my face, lips curling up.

“I’ve had the best time,” she says.

I smirk at her. “I know,” I say, and this gets me my favorite Jo laugh.

Something settles down in me with this exchange. We’re doing okay. Hong Kong is locked down tight; passwords right across the network have been sorted. Matt’s making good progress with the tracking code. Fabian is as agitated as fuck, but he’s started delving through his hacker networks. It’s good to have him on board; he understands the hacking underworld better than we do.

Jo and I have still got to have a conversation about how we’re going to behave in work when we’re back home, but there’s plenty of time to sort out how our relationship is going to work.Relationship. I’m still not sure I’ve got her on board with the idea that I want more, but I need to sit on my desire to hustle and give her some space.

“I’m really pleased with what we’ve done here. We can use this as a blueprint for elsewhere. That office is like Fort Knox now,” I say.

She grins at me, and I wonder for a minute what she’s going to say. I’m never quite sure which version of Jo is bubbling to the surface.

“I’ve got other ideas I’d like to implement, too,” she says.

What is behind that knowing grin? I gesture at her face. “What is this? You had some thought there, didn’t you?”

This makes her laugh. “You betcha.”

“Going to tell me what it was?”

“I was wondering what exactly was the blueprint? The picking-up-a-woman blueprint? The fucking-all-night blueprint?” She leans forward, a devilish glint in her eye. “The oral-sex blueprint?”

Her eyes sparkle. I’m speechless. Will I ever recover from what we did to each other in that suite? It was the hottest oral sex of my life, giving definitely, but receiving? My God. My ability to stay calm with her was rather sketchy from the get-go, but Jo wasn’t having any of that; she made it go on and on. She made me promise I wouldn’t take over, that I’d her allow her to do what she wanted, and I’d said yes, not knowing what I was letting myself in for. She tortured me for a whole hour, bringing me close time and time again. Her tongue on the underside of my cock, right on the bundle of nerves, playing with me and only occasionally sinking all the way down. The thought makes my breath hitch; the frustration, the ache in my balls I can still feel an echo of even now. I clenched my hands so fiercely, so many times, I could hardly type the next day. How hard I came at the end of all that? Fuck. I lost the sensation in my fingers and toes.

I’m silent for a bit before I lean into her and say, “it’s the Jo Williams blueprint. Amazing things happen when this particular lady is around.” I trail my finger down her arm as she groans.

“Good God, man, that was the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

A reluctant laugh huffs out—will she ever stop poking fun at me? Will I ever hearI love youout of her mouth? Woah, woah, woah. Where did that thought spring from? We’re way too early for that. But some old certainty is churning in my gut—so deep I hardly dare lift the lid of the box—I’m all in here, buried by these mountainous feelings coursing through my body every time my eyes pop open to red curls spread over a white pillow.

38

Jo

Kate’s smooth blonde hair is bent over a textbook at our usual table when I bounce into McNally Jackson’s the next day. After the turmoil of the last few days and the long flight home, I can hardly contain myself. I’m exhausted but strangely elated. With frantic days and even busier nights, I went out in a dead faint on the plane home and slept all the way, too tired when we arrived to do anything other than curl up around Janus.

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