“Who else would I be?” said Ava.
“I apologize,” said Tariq.
She stared at him for a long moment. The moon had come out from the clouds. It hung high above the mountains and cast a faint light into the room. She stepped forward and kissed him. “Coffee and toast,” she said. “For breakfast.”
“Here,” said Tariq, sliding his hand around Ava’s waist, pulling her close, kissing her.
“Here?” Ava peered over his shoulder. No sign of the man who’d brought dessert. “What about ...”
“Jerry,” said Tariq. “He knows better.”
“I think you do like people watching you all the time,” said Ava.
Tariq bit her lower lip. “Beds are so boring.”
“You prefer?”
“Anywhere else.” He kissed her deeply, and she reacted as any other woman might. She allowed her private passions to run wild. She pressed her loins against his. She ran a hand up his back, then lower, cupping his buttocks. He’d made his intentions clear. He had no intention of falling in love with her. He wanted her once. A princely conquest. It was her job to fan his desires, not satisfy them, not entirely. She must persuade him that experience was something to be savored, not once, but time and again. Zvi Gelber’s warning, not only about TNT and his sinister dealings with Dr. Abbasi but also that others at home in Israel might be party to his machinations, served to heighten her performance, if, indeed, it was that. Somewhere in her mind, a voice commanded her not to fail.
Did she think of Mac? Yes, but only in passing. Did her actions compromise her love for him? No. Did they betray the trust between them? No, she refused to believe so. She didn’t write the rules of the game. Sometimes she believed there weren’t any. There were just ends. Objectives.
A man, an agent like her, might beat someone with his bare fists to get what he needed. Another might lie. Another kill. Sex, violence, deceit, bribery, extortion: all were the agent’s tools. When she swore an oath to her country and accepted her commission, it was with full knowledge that one day she might be called upon to use them, one and all. Over the years, she had. She’d screwed, bribed, extorted, and killed for her country. What was a spy but an expert in the exploitation of weakness? Human, political, technological. Tonight, here, at this minute, TNT’s lust was such a weakness. And Ava would exploit it as best she could without reservation or remorse.
Gently, she pushed him away. She stepped back so that her figure might be silhouetted against the midnight sky, so that the moon’s beams would dance upon her skin. She unzipped her dress and eased it over her hips, allowing it to drop to the floor. Beneath it she wore lace undergarments,porte-jarretellesto hold her stockings.
Tariq unbuttoned his shirt with care and pulled his arms from his sleeves. His chest was hairless, well-muscled, his shoulders rounded, his stomach rigid. It was impossible not to feel something.
“Touch yourself,” he said, and waited until she did, studying her hungrily.
He removed his shoes and his pants, eyes never leaving her. He slid his briefs over his feet. He stepped closer to her and stroked himself, preening, watching Ava as she watched him. She moaned and moved a hand toward him. He shook his head. “Just watch.”
“I want you,” she whispered.
“Watch,” he said.
“But—”
“Take off your brassiere,” he said.
Ava unclasped her bra and slowly pulled it off. She followed his eyes and heard him sigh. She dropped the bra at his feet and caressed herself, feeling her nipples grow taut.
Tariq intensified his efforts. His breaths grew ragged. “Take me,” he commanded.
Ava fell to her knees and put him inside her mouth. He came violently. His back arched. He cried out. Ava continued to pleasure him, pressing her face into his nether regions, holding it there until his spasms ended.
“Please,” he said.
She held him in her mouth a moment longer. He stumbled backward, a hand on the couch to steady himself.
“You,” he said after a moment.
“You’re right,” said Ava. “I am wicked.”
Chapter 35
Chesa Grischuna
St. Moritz
