Page 73 of Coming in Hot

He kneels beside the bed, studying my expression, then partsmy legs to move closer before guiding me onto my back. “Let me take you where I’d intended to go.” He strokes his hands up the insides of my thighs, then follows the path with his lips. “Are you sore?”

I rise onto my elbows, looking at him kneeling between my legs. “Do you mean my legs? Or…there?”

“Shy girl.” More kisses on my inner thighs. Grasping me carefully behind the knees, he scoots me closer, and I realize his intention.

“Klaus,wait. Do you want to do, um…that? Right now, after, y’know…”

He chuckles. “I may be a disciplined person in many ways, but this isn’t one of them.” He presses another kiss to me, closer. “I’m not fastidious.”

With his thumbs, he glides up to the apex of my thighs, strokes my labia, then passes a thumb over my clit, featherlight. I suck in a tiny gasp but angle myself to encourage him.

He swirls two fingers of his other hand in a circuit around my entrance. “You’re the most stunning shade of well-fucked pink.”

A wave of heat goes through me—both bashful and turned on—at his words. His fingers slip inside me. I’m extravagantly wet, humming with the pleasant ache of energetic sex. Pushing past my shyness, I ask, “Can you keep your fingers in me but don’t move them while you… do that? I want to feel you inside me, but I’m a little tender.”

He smiles. “You can’t imagine how happy I am that you’ve asked.”

He moves my legs over his shoulders and I cock one knee outward to give him better access. His tongue sweeps over myvigorously worked flesh, testing my reaction. He gingerly strokes and explores, finding the ideal rhythm and pressure. My hands drift to my nipples, toying with them as he licks and kisses, mixing in an occasional careful hint of suction on my clit.

I’ve never had anyone go down on me rightaftersex before, and the sensation is surprising—very different from foreplay. The fullness of his fingers and the careful ministrations of his lips and tongue quickly conspire to bring on an orgasm so new feeling and unexpected that when the peak hits, I’m sobbing with the intensity.

My thighs tremor, and he strokes up my legs and torso as he climbs onto the bed by my side and pulls me into an all-encompassing embrace. We’re both wordless, exhausted, communicating only through trailing fingertips, snowfall-light kisses, contented sighs.

Just before I drift off, I hear him murmur, “The door will never be locked to you again, Talia.”

The moment is so perfect, I clutch it to myself and carry it with me like a confident traveler as I fall into a catnap.

But when I wake alone sometime later to the sound of a text—shower water hissing in the en suite—a message from Alexander startles me upright.

Alexander:Call me. Big news about prospective GP. They’re pulling out, and my sources say return of payment withheld due to concern it could fund an arms deal. Protests, and a fire at the headquarters of the sponsor Emerald jettisoned. This is massive, Evans.

Alexander:Engineering blueprint intel was definitely a smokescreen. I’m trying to determine who sent it to you, but don’t be afraid to get dirty turning over a few stones yourself in the meantime.

Just then, Klaus’s phone on the bedside table buzzes. I scramble across the big mattress, one eye on the open en suite door, and tap the screen to read the previews of two messages from Phaedra.

21

HUNGARY

THE SAME NIGHT

KLAUS

Natalia isn’t in bed when I walk out of the bathroom. When I go to the night table to look at my wristwatch, my phone isn’t there, and I’m certain it was when I got up. Securing the thick white bath towel around my waist, I stride into the suite’s living room.

On the balcony, her dark hair crowned with moonlight, Natalia stands, looking toward the river, her posture stiff. I pause in the open doorway.

My phone is on the outside table with the half-empty bottle of wine, a hurricane lantern with a lit candle inside, and the forgotten food. A fork shifts on one of the plates as I collect my phone, and Natalia flinches at the sound but doesn’t turn. When I tap the screen, the text previews from Phaedra—which Natalia has clearly seen—make my breath catch in my throat.

Schatzi:Shit has hit the fan. Protests. Arson (here’s a link). Journalist from Reuters injured or possibly killed. Thank fuck we severed ties when we did. This is a disaster.

Schatzi:UN sending a special envoy. We made the right call but still may not come out with our noses clean—Ben and Jack are so far up that president’s ass they look like Cerberus.

I set the phone down and go to the railing, leaving several feet between Natalia and me, and lean on the ledge with my hands steepled. “I know you must have questions. I’ll be as forthcoming as I can. But you must understand why I couldn’t talk to you about this.”

“Sure. You didn’t trust me—I get it.”

“Talia—”

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