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Matteo: Is that why my pillow smells like almonds?

Jaime: Maybe I’ve been sneaking in at night and fucking myself to memories of you.

Matteo: Then my entire bed would smell like you.

Jamie: I can make that happen.

He doesn’t take the bait, but he doesn’t deny his desire either. How could he? Our bodies fit together perfectly.

Matteo: Who’s stopping you?

My chest flames. My cheeks flush. My entire body buzzes. Hell yes. And the fact he’s daring me⁠—

If this doesn’t work, maybe I will break in and fuck myself in his bed all night.

Until then⁠—

Jamie: No time. I have a big job.

Matteo: Who’s the kill today?

Jamie: Someone I want less than you

Matteo: Using sex as seduction is beneath you.

Does he really believe that my skill as an actress means I should stretch myself? See if I can play to men’s desire to help, or feel important, or, you know, do anything besides get their dick wet.

Or is this personal?

I can see him in his apartment, tossing and turning in his eggplant sheets, staring at the plain white walls, asking himself if I faked every orgasm.

If only.

The truth is, no one compares.

Deep down, he knows that. Deep down, he wants that too.

I give it to him.

Jamie: I’d prefer if you were beneath me.

Matteo: Six feet under, I imagine.

My lips curl into a smile. That’s the Matteo I know. The one with an edge.

Sure, I love to see his softer side, but I love the hard one too. The in control Mi6 agent. The bad ass with a gun.

The man who wants to win.

That’s it.

He wants victory as much as I do.

Jamie: Baby, don't be a sore loser. I stole your information. You arrested me when I tried to apologize. We’re even.

Matteo: You expect me to believe you were in Paris to kiss and make up?

Jamie: Why would I waste my time talking if I was going to kill you?