Chapter Three
Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.
Like she didn’t know that this was a colossal mistake. Like Agnes wasn’t aware of the fact that she was way out of her safety zone and flying blind.
Cass wasn’t some by-the-book accountant. He wasn’t some buttoned-down Fed who would toe the line. He wasn’t some arrogant stockbroker who’d tell her all about his big trades for hours on end…
All men she’d dated in the past.
Men she’d dated and had not fucked.
Because what she’d told Cass was true—she didn’t have one-night stands. She hadn’t been with a lover in years. She was never the type to just let go. To be wild.
Except…
Tonight, she was. With him, she was.
A moan slipped from her as he carried her through his house. He’d started kissing her in the garage. When his mouth touched hers, electricity had poured through her veins. It was the kind of off-the-charts reaction you saw in movies but never found in real life. Her knees had gone weak. Her toes had curled. Her body had ached.
Yes, she could have walked away from him. Played it safe.
But…
She’d never felt this way before. Not with any of the men she’d dated. She’d wanted to feel a spark. She hadn’t.
What I feel with Cass isn’t a spark. It’s an inferno.
She’d been used to loneliness. To pain. To sadness that snuck up on her late at night.
This time, this night—she’d feel something different.
Not like it was forever. After all, as she’d tried to explain to Cass, she’d done her research on him. Very, very careful research. She knew him better than he might know himself.
He wasn’t looking for commitment. Happily-ever-after wasn’t in his vocabulary. Fair enough. It wasn’t in her vocabulary, either. She’d tried that route before, then wound up standing at a gravesite.
Her arm had curled around Cass’s neck. Her hold tightened as she tried to draw him closer and push away the sorrow from the past that wanted to sneak its way into her present. Not happening. She was going to take this moment, this time. It wasn’t about love. Or about a future with some silly picket fence. It was just need. Sex.
She was pretty sure, based, ah, on her detailed profile of Cass, that he would be amazing in bed. Since she wasn’t quite sure how she’d be—it had been way too long—Agnes was counting on his amazing self to make this night outstanding for them both.
He lowered her onto the bed.
She bounced. Once. She also shoved her hair out of her eyes as she peered up at him.
He stood on the side of the bed, in a very dark and intimidating bedroom. He was just a big, dangerous shadow, and what could have been a faint quiver of unease slid through her. “Turn on a light,” Agnes ordered.
“Why?” Deep. Rumbly. “Do you think you’ll be less afraid in the light?”
Great question. “Yes, actually, I do.”
He reached out and turned on the lamp near the bed. Not a whole lot of illumination, and, if she’d hoped the light would make him less intimidating, then that hope had been in vain. The soft light just spilled around the bed. Half of Cass remained in shadows. So she had one illuminated side of him, and one dark side.
Like that probably wasn’t the story of his life. A struggle between darkness and light.
She kicked off her heels. They hit the floor with a very loud clatter.
“This is your chance to say no,” he rasped. “To run right out of this bedroom.”
Not happening. Instead of running, she reached out for his belt. Her fingers trembled a bit, but she ignored the tremble. Not like she could really help that little shake. She was running on nerves and adrenaline, and even FBI agents had shaky fingers every now and then.
