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He sighs. “Son, you have to continue. We need this breakthrough. We know she’s working with one of our enemies, just not sure which one.”
“Dad.” I groan.
He holds up his hand, silencing me of any further comments. “No. This isn’t up for discussion.”
“Can I tell—”
“No one. You can tell absolutely no one.”
Fucccck.“Everett would have been a better choice.” My dad scoffs, taking a sip of his scotch.
“Your brother is heartless.”
“Touché, but that’s why he would have been a better choice.”
My dad thinks it over, shaking his head. “It’s too late. You will finish this job. That’s a fucking order.” I growl at him, pushing to my feet and slamming the door. Fuck my life. And fuck being a sleeper agent.
Monroe
Months of my senior year are flying by. Nixon and I are still not talking. He is still with Holly. I’m getting lost in my dancing. Football season has come and gone. We had a solid season before getting knocked out in the second round of playoffs. I was devastated for the team and my last time cheering for them, but now we were on to basketball season.
“Again.” I blow my whistle as we all set up in formation for our halftime dance on the court.
A remix of songs I had put together begins playing as we start a routine that involves tumbling and a standard dance, our bows shimmering as we go. When the song ends, we break for the day. I grab my bag, tossing my pom-poms in. As I’m about to exit, strong arms grab me, pulling me into the janitor’s closet. A hand wraps around my mouth, preventing my scream.
“Shh…” Warm breath whispers against my ear.
I sag into his toned body. It has been months since I’d touched him. Even longer since I’d heard his voice. And his scent, the tingle of his touch, the sound of his voice, it all feels like home. He releases my mouth, grabbing my hands and planting them on the wall in front of me as he pushes me up against it. My nipples press hard into the cold wall. My back is covered by his heat, molding to the hard curve and edges of his body. Kicking my feet apart, his breath fans by my ear. “Ma fille, do you know how hard it is to stay away from you?” he rasps into my neck.
I do know, because I also had to stay away from him. I stay quiet, not wanting him to come to his senses just yet. “Je veux te lécher chaque centimeter.” The French words roll off his tongue like a prayer as he licks my neck. “I want to lick and mark every inch of your perfect body,” he says, teeth sinking into the sensitive curve where my neck meets my shoulder.
I suppress a moan. I know he left his mark. Again. When we were little, we had always marked each other before we even knew what we were doing. When one faded, we’d make a new one. Drove our fathers crazy.
I was high off his words. Drunk off his touch, but as soon as his free hand grips my ass, I remember. Like a hit to the head, it hurts to think of, but that didn’t mean I could ignore it. He was taken. “Nixon, we can’t,” I whisper as his hand goes down to my shorts. He cups me from behind. The pressure causes the warm feeling to boil in my stomach, to seep between my legs. “You have a girlfriend.” I moan as he gently rubs me through my shorts.
He flips me around, caging me into the wall. His huge arms resting on either side of my face. I wanted to lick them. I have an unhealthy obsession with his fascinating arms. His lips are close when he speaks, caressing my mouth with a featherlight touch. His eyes drill into mine, refusing to break the contact as the air grows thicker around us. “Can you trust me?” he asks.
“No,” I blurt out.
He chuckles, nipping at my bottom lip. “Well, I need you to. See, everything I do is for a reason. Reasons I can’t tell you. Reasons for our family.” He cups my face, rubbing the swell of my cheek with his thumb. “So, I need you to trust me, ma fille.” I look into his eyes, swallowing. He was telling the truth. We had to do things for the family that we couldn’t always talk about.
“On one condition,” I whisper, lightly licking his bottom lip. “Tell me what my nickname means.”
He smiles, his straight, perfect white teeth highlighted by his dimples. “You want all my secrets?” he asks.
“I want your everything, Nix.”
His lips crash to mine in a savage kiss. One kiss. “My girl,” he says, breaking apart from me. “It means my girl.” He presses his lips back to mine in a gentle kiss.
“But we were only seven when you started calling me that.”
He laughs and kisses my nose. “I already knew you’d be mine.” He smiles into my lips, finally releasing my hands.
I wrap my arms around his waist. “I miss you, Nix. I miss my best friend,” I confess.
“I know, ma fille, but I have to do this. But, hey.” He tips my chin up so I’m looking into his green crystals. “I’ll see you tonight. Happy Birthday, baby girl.” He presses one more kiss to my lips and then he’s gone.
I rest my head against the wall, catching my breath. I didn’t fully understand why business with the family meant he had to be unavailable, but I trust him.
