RETRACE (9 page)

“Cuba.”

I inhale and hold it in for some beats. I let the trapped air out and turn to look at Jake. “Do we know what he has planned there? Or what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“We do. A couple of meetings with local questionable businessmen.” I let him brief me, watching him carefully. With his feet crossed at the ankles, still on the table, throwing and catching a baseball with one hand, he adds, “I want you to keep an eye on what’s really going on there, though.”

This will be what we call a double job. I’ll be indeed safeguarding Mikhail Vasileva, aka The Russian, however, I’ll also be “collecting intel” for our benefits while at it. The best way to describe the business Jake runs is a one stop shop for everything investigatory, intelligence and protection that resides in the grey area of the law. Albeit, kosher enough to collaborate with federal institutions. Better yet, take care of things that fall under grey areas
for
the federal bureaus. That’s how we originally met, when Hunter hooked us up after I retired from the FBI. After I lost my best friend.

And the bar? A hobby, cover-up, office. Jake’s shady, ragged, misfit baby.

“You can tell him I’ll take the job,” I say, and release the tension from my neck, craning it from side to side. “When do I leave?” I ask next, taking the last sip of my drink and tossing the empty bottle into a trashcan.

“That’s recycle shit.” He frowns, eyeing the brown bottle nestled amid a heap of papers. “Next week.”

“Okay.” I lean over to fish the bottle from the bin.

“Did you hear from Hunter?” Jake asks next. In spontaneous reflex, my body becomes rigid. I shake my head and Jake’s stare strays to the monitor at the side of his desk.

“I’m glad you didn’t do anything crazy so far and go after A.Z.,” he says, still looking at the screen. I don’t answer, knowing deep inside I haven’t really given up on the idea… yet.

“Oh, you’re both here,” Eileen says, smiling at us as she steps into Jake’s murky office. She tucks her black, tight shirt inside her black mini skirt. She holds a white apron on her waist and turns, directing her peach shaped ass at me, wordlessly, telling me to tie it up for her.

“Did the lime order arrive, Boss?”

She asks Jake, lightly giggling when I gently slap her ass once I’m done tying her apron. Jake gestures with his chin at a wooden box that’s resting on the floor a few steps from his chair.

“Great,” she sings, now tying her shoulder length blond hair into a high ponytail. “Come handsome, help me with my lemons.” She winks at me and I chuckle.

“Babe, you don’t need me to carry this thing.”

“I don’t, but I think
you
want to come with me.” She grins at me with a secretive sparkle. “Dancer girl is here.” Eileen makes a whole show of blinking twice. Jake lets out a mixture of a laugh and a snort when I jump to my feet.

“I’ll take care of your lemons,” I say. Eileen giggles again and wraps her hand around me in a friendly hug as we step out.

It takes me less than a breath to spot Nia. She’s sitting with a group of two women and three men at one of the long tables next to a gigantic, framed, black and white Hendrix photo. She has a black sweater on and her beautiful hair is falling in heavy clusters on her shoulders. She lifts her eyes and they meld with mine. A thin smile blossoms on her lips with the deepening of my stare. Although one of the guys is obviously speaking to her, she doesn’t tear her eyes from mine. When he nudges her hand she flinches, looking his way in a mildly confused expression. My lips rise at the edge. As he puts his hand on her shoulder my smile at once turns into a hard line. I inhale sharply, making my way to get Nia away from him.

Quicksand
. Quicksand would be the most accurate word to describe Reeves’ effect on me in general, and on my body in particular. If I stand too close, I’m pulled in, forcefully, swallowed, hopelessly. My attraction to him is beyond anything I can really try to resist. The way he watched me earlier, so absorbed, had my heart spasming all over my ribcage. While going through my stretching routine, I closed my eyes, savoring the knowledge of him watching me. It added a delicious thrill to the mundane task. Until the girls arrived, I was actually putting on a private show for him. My every motion, every bend, every flex, was slower, lingered, and accentuated, just for him. Yes, my mind on his own, had renegaded from the initial oath to not come on to Reeves, again.

A stinging recollection of how he stopped our crazy lip-lock less than twenty four hours ago comes, bursting my little, hopeful bubble with a mocking evil grin. Sadly as it may seem, I guess he’ll just have to remain the subject of my embarrassingly way too many, vivid dreams.

Just as I force myself to unglue my eyes from Reeves’ molten green gaze, shutdown these horny thoughts of him and pay attention to Paul who just nudged my hand, I notice out of the corner of my eye that Reeves has taken a few steps toward us.

I ease my face into a smile for Paul, raise my eyebrows, encouraging him to repeat whatever he’d just said that I’ve apparently missed.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Oh shit. This I didn’t expect. He definitely earned my full attention now. I don’t want to lie, but on the other hand I’d feel awful turning Paul down. I really like him.

“Um, no,” I say, avoiding his eyes, focusing on the circles my finger traces around the hem of my wine glass. He remains quiet long enough for me to finally lift my eyes, which meet smiling blue ones.

“I think you and my brother would really hit it off.”

I return his smiling expression with a mildly baffled one. “Oh.” I take a generous sip from my wine. “Um, the thing is, I’m not looking for anything… serious at the moment.”

It’s his turn to show surprise. He tilts his head and watches me in assessment. “Okay…” He inhales a quick, heavy breath. “His name is Kenneth. He is thirty. He is an accountant in a small, but successful firm. He likes sports, and music, and he is real fun.” I smile at Paul’s stream of basic, far from being luring descriptions. If he ever thought about a career in Sales he should kill the thought right this minute. “And I kind of already told him about you.”

“He sounds…um, interesting,” I say the closest thing I manage to come up with to sound remotely intrigued. My eyes involuntary leave him to trail up to the mass of human hotness blocking our view.

“Can I steal her for a while?” Reeves asks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as our eyes meet. Paul’s cajoling expression flattens a degree by the interruption.

I smile back at Reeves and say, “give me five, I’ll come look for you at the bar, okay?”

“Five.” The curve of his lip turns into a side smile. I watch him walk away, looking utterly addicting with his all black, heavy boots, attire. Coming back from my inwardly salivating pause, I turn to Paul. Paul gazes at me with a careful smile as I search my mind for an answer. Being the nice guy that he is, he offers me a polite way out, “How about I give you Kenneth’s number and you call him whenever it’ll work for you?”

“I think that would be best.” Really saying: thank you so much for not making it awkward, or being pushy.

“But think about it… You’ll get me as a brother in law.” He snickers in his charmingly geeky way. I wait for Paul to add his brother’s number to my phone and head to the bar.

Reeves leans with one elbow on the hardwood surface, holding a tumbler in his hand, watching me with great attention.

“Thank you,” I say, taking the glass with the golden liquid from his hand and bringing it to my lips. I close my eyes, letting the smooth drink fill my mouth. I open my eyes to intent green ones that undividedly, slowly, trace the edges of my lips. The way he looks at me makes my breath hitch and a wave of heat swirls just beneath my navel. Without breaking our eye lock, he reaches for the glass in my hand and turns it so that his lips will touch the exact spot mine just left.

“Thank you for earlier today,” I say.

“Uh huh.” He nods, utterly focused on me.

“It’s my turn to return a favor.”

The next sip he takes ends up a hard gulp. His eyes dart to mine and slowly his eyebrow rises.

“Do you want to go say goodbye to your friends?” He asks, as he turns to discard the empty glass at the bar behind him. It takes me a long moment to make sense of his question, and as soon as the realization clicks in, I bite my lip, subduing a smile.

“Are we going somewhere?” I ask, radiating the exact heated vibe he emits, and then some.

“Yes.” Is all I get in return. His hand finds its way to the small of my back, maybe more the small of my butt, gently stirring me to the table I left not long ago.

Our short walk home is packed with palpable tension. Despite our mutual try to hold a light conversation, we’re both too distracted to even make it remotely interesting. The choppy, forced attempt at dialogue is dismissed by intent stares and short currents as our hands accidently meet. It’s the kind of suppressed, boiling energy that could only be detonated in a bed, or against a wall, or on top of a washing machine.

With these thoughts seizing my mind I miss the first time Reeves asks, “My place?”

I don’t even try to play classy and just nod with an easy shrug. Well, it’s better than actually uttering the words restlessly fidgeting at the tip of my tongue: “the elevator will be just fine.”

The ride up in the small compartment is short, but it’s a lifetime in randy years. The force that sparks between us feels like a third being, warping us in a dizzying whirlwind. When the short chime indicates we’ve reached our floor, our unified loud sigh of relief comes in stereo. We both let out a light chuckle, trade amused stares.

As I follow Reeves into the apartment after he effortlessly unlocks the door, the idea of us about to take a leap into this uncharted territory invades my lustful, impatient thoughts. The idea that maybe taking this step would not be the smartest move marches in, carrying with her a bag full of forthcoming possible awkward moments. It’s pretty clear we are on the fast track to become good friends, or we already are. I like him, I enjoy his company, much, and would like to continue having him around. I’m not sure what a hookup would mean to him, as for me it is what it is, a hookup, nothing more.

We reach the open kitchen as I finally decide to speak up and make sure my intentions aren’t in any way vague.

“A drink?” Reeves asks, stopping me from actually saying what’s on my mind. The way he watches me as he waits for my answer suddenly unnerves me. I hop back to sit on the counter, taking a needed distance from his impossible pull. Reeves’ side smile appears at my action. He slowly takes one step to face me. He props his arms at my sides on the marble surface, caging me between them. Slightly prone toward me, he is close enough for our breaths to mix. I swallow hard.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says hoarsely. His eyes are heavy with something I could only interpret as the same hunger mine mirror.

“No, I’m good.”
Very good
. My voice comes out bound by a soft breath. The green in his eyes is so sharp up close. Our eyes collide with intensity and in harmony slowly trail down to our mouths and back. My lips part and I send my tongue to moisten the sudden aridity.

“You’re good.” He repeats my words, inching even closer. His head slowly descends for his nose to hover next to my pulsating artery. He inhales me in, his lips, feather like, touching, not touching, my skin. I hold my breath in at my body’s response to his closeness. My breasts feel heavier, my nipples stretch against the fabric of my lacy bra, together with the heat that spreads from between my parted thighs to the rest of me. Brushing my cheek with his bristled one, he shifts back to look at me.

“I enjoyed watching you dance,” he says with a throaty edge. My eyes run over his slightly flushed face, taking in every handsome, masculine feature. His defined, stern brows, almond-green eyes, his straight nose, firm, high cheekbones. The scent of his breath mixed with alcohol next to me intensifies every sensation of anticipation swirling within me.

“I’m glad you liked the show
I gave you,
” I say. And that’s all it takes for his mouth to crash with mine. In a matter of seconds it’s as if we continue right where we left off when our mouths met last night. In a matter of seconds, our tongues enthusiastically taste one another. Our crazed pace is followed by pants, moans, and bites. Teeth bumping against teeth. Lips opening wider, desperate for more. Gradually his weight is deliciously heavy on me. His hands travel from my hair, where they are threaded just above my neck, to my ass. He cups my butt from both sides and slides me forward to feel his throbbing heat through his jeans, just where I’m burning for him.

As I start to slowly graze against him, he swallows my groan, and moves to peel my black sweater from me. My tank top follows, unfortunately, forcing us to break the delectable connection that is our kissing. Reeves tips back again to stare at me, and I take the opportunity to rip his long sleeved shirt over his head. The sight of him, all defined and ridged before me, the soft fabric with his body’s warmth in my hand, brings me to new levels of want. I send my hand to the back of his neck and pull him toward me. His mouth lands at the hill of my breast, his hand squeezing the other, causing every muscle in my lower body to tighten.

He holds the lacy fabric of my bra between his teeth and gently peels it down. The exposed, sensitive peak hardens and I want to scream for him to cover it with his mouth. Reading my need, he leisurely retraces his way back with a soft scrub of a day old scruff on my skin till he reaches the point. As he licks and sucks on my hard crest, a moan funnels from my lips. He bites just enough to make it wonderfully painful and then lazily licks it with a caress of his flat tongue. Repeatedly, and ever so gently.

My hands run over his hard, curved chest and down to his defined abs, willing to both take the time to feel every inch and urge him to go further on. Reeves’ hand moves to cup my throat, his thumb helping my chin up as his mouth claims mine again. His lips drop down to suck my bottom lip into his mouth, greedily. His teeth join to slightly bite just before his tongue follows in with determination. The erotic dance of our tongues is charged, and electrifying, turning my body into a stimulated string of nerves. As we continue consuming each other with kisses that are at the verge of savage, Reeves’ hands move to hold my pelvis, his thumbs on my skin just above the hem of my jeans. With his hardness pressed against my middle, and his mass on me, he slowly leans me backward.