His Secret Read online

  Right now, however, I intended to wipe my mind of everything that had been in it tonight. Give myself something better to think about. More enjoyable anyway.

  I knocked on the door twice, and then waited.

  Two

  The man who answered the door to the suite was thirty-three to my twenty-two years, but he was as fit as any field agent in his twenties. A fact that I could currently see since he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I took a moment to appreciate the view, from his unruly dark brown hair to the blue-gray eyes that were still muddled with sleep, all the way down his chest to the trail of dark hair that disappeared under the waistband of his pants.

  “Agent Kurth.” I gave Clay a snappy little salute.

  “Rona?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked behind him. “It’s three in the morning.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  We didn’t need to do the dance about why I was here so early. He’d known me for years, and he knew about my nightmares. He didn’t know exactly what they were about since the subject had always been off-limits, but he knew they often resulted in insomnia. When he’d showed back up in my life seven weeks ago, I’d been glad to see him, but things hadn’t become sexual until one night a few weeks later when I’d had the nightmare and I’d gone for a run. Like tonight, I’d found myself outside his hotel room door, and one thing had led to another. We hadn’t really talked about it since, but it’d become a thing between us, our friendship adding some ‘benefits.’ We could walk away at any time, opt out whenever we didn’t feel like hooking up.

  It was just sex between friends. That was all.

  For a moment, I thought he was going to turn me away. It was early in the morning, after all, and he had to work early. We both did. Just because I couldn’t sleep didn’t mean he had to lose sleep too.

  He didn’t opt out though. He gestured for me to come in, then shut the door behind me.

  “I wish you’d see someone about that nightmare,” he said as he stepped past me and walked into the little kitchenette.

  I kicked off my shoes and yanked down my pants, kicking them aside. “And I wish you’d stop talking and start working on distracting.”

  His eyes slid over my body, and heat followed his gaze. I hadn’t worn anything sexy, but he never cared about that. It wasn’t about what I was wearing, but what he was thinking about doing to me. I’d had a couple partners over the years, some of them bad, some good. Clay was better than good, and he was…inventive. It was a combination that kept me coming back for more, but not one that would get us past being friends who fucked.

  “Come here.”

  When I reached him, he motioned toward the counter and I lifted myself onto it. At two inches under six feet and an athlete’s build, I wasn’t the sort of woman who got literally picked up by guys. I didn’t mind though. I wasn’t sure I’d ever met someone I trusted enough to let him manhandle me. If Clay didn’t fit that particular qualification, I doubted anyone else would.

  “Do you ever stop thinking?” Clay asked as he put his hands on my knees.

  “What do you think?” I countered, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer.

  Instead of answering, he captured my mouth in deep, hot kiss, his tongue plundering, exploring. I ran my hands over his chest, his dark hair rough against my palms. He made a sound in the back of his throat when I rubbed my thumbs over his nipples. I used my nails then, blunt as they were, scraping them over the darker flesh, and he dug his fingers into my thighs.

  “Damn, Rona,” he groaned, tearing his mouth away from mine.

  I flicked my tongue against one nipple, then the other. One hand moved under my shirt and I stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his signal that he could continue. We’d established boundaries the first time we were together. He could touch my breasts over my bra, but the shirt stayed on and he didn’t go anywhere else. I knew he’d felt some scar tissue a time or two, but he’d been careful to stay away from it.

  And to never ask questions.

  His free hand dropped between our bodies and his thumb pressed against the damp fabric between my legs. I made a low sound, my eyes closing. My head fell forward onto his shoulder and I ran my hands up his back and then down to his ass. As his thumb pushed the material between my lips, he found that bundle of nerves and pressed against it. I slid my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, dipping my fingers into the two little dimples at the base of his spine.

  Soft kisses trailed up my jawline, and then he took my earlobe between his teeth. Mouth and fingers worked together, stoking the fire low in my belly. For all the banter we’d had, when we finally got down to business, there was no waiting around, no dragging things out. This wasn’t making love. It was having sex. Fucking. Physical pleasure and stress relief with a friend.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, muscles tensing in anticipation of the relief that was only seconds away. He rubbed my clit harder, faster, and I came with a cry. I turned my face into the place where his shoulder and neck met, panting. He gave me a moment to come down, and then he was taking a step back. I let him go, raising my head in time to see him drop his boxers. His cock was average length, but a little thicker than most, which meant it rubbed against a lot of nice places.

  He fisted his cock as he opened a drawer and rummaged through it for a moment before pulling out a condom.

  “You have them in every drawer here?” I laughed as the feeling returned to my legs. I could usually get myself off pretty well, but sometimes it was nice to have someone else involved.

  Clay shrugged and gave me that cocky grin of his. I’d masturbated to that smile plenty of times since I’d first met him, and it still turned me on. He was one of those pretty-boy sorts that people usually underestimated, but I’d always seen the intelligence in his eyes, and that just made him sexier in my opinion.

  “Down,” he ordered as he rolled on the condom.

  I slid off the counter and took a moment to drop my panties before turning around and leaning over. I spread my legs and heard an appreciative sound from behind me.

  “You have an amazing ass,” he said as he ran his hands over both cheeks before dropping one hand down between my legs. “Damn, you’re wet.”

  I nodded and braced myself on my forearms. He shoved two fingers inside me and I let out a shaky breath. His fingers pumped in and out of me, twisting on every other thrust until he could add a third finger.

  “Fuck!” I slapped the countertop. “Just get on with it!”

  He chuckled and pulled his fingers out. “All right.”

  A moment later, he was pushing his way inside me, an inch at a time. I let out a long groan as my body stretched and molded itself around him. When he was finally inside, he reached under me and put his hands over my breasts, squeezing them for a moment before moving his hands back to my hips. He set a brutal pace, knowing that I’d tell him if he was being too rough. He hadn’t gotten to that point yet. If anything, a part of me wished he’d push just a little bit further.

  I wasn’t going to complain though. Each snap of his hips sent a ripple of painful pleasure through me, driving me toward another orgasm. Though it wouldn’t come soon enough to catch him if I didn’t help it along, so I reached underneath me and pressed my fingers against my clit. I made short, brisk circles – the best way to get me off after I’d already come once – and just as Clay’s rhythm started faltering, I came again.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted as white-hot pleasure exploded through my body.

  Clay was talking too, but I didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying. All I cared about was that the tension in my body had faded. I’d done what I’d come here to do.

  After a couple seconds, he pulled out and moved away to take care of the condom. I rested a few moments longer and then straightened. I glanced at the clock. Dammit. Not enough time to attempt to go back to sleep.

  I bent over to pick up my underwear, and then went to the door fo
r my pants. “I’m heading back,” I called. He was in the bathroom, but I knew he could hear me.

  “You want a ride?”

  “No,” I said. “I still have time to run back, shower, and get to class on time.”

  “I’ll see you there then.”

  I heard the shower turn on as I pulled on my shoes. We both knew he only offered me a ride to be polite. No one at Quantico could know that Clay and I had been sleeping together. He wasn’t my supervisor, but I doubted anyone would make that much of a distinction. I was eleven weeks into FBI training and he was a guest lecturer. Not exactly kosher, even if we had known each other before.

  It didn’t matter though, I thought as I left the hotel. Once training was over, I’d be off to wherever I was assigned, and Clay would be off to the next lecture. We’d keep in touch, cross paths, maybe fuck. It’d never be anything more than that.

  Three

  A quick, but thorough, shower and a cup of coffee with a bagel were enough to wake me up completely. I might be flagging by the end of the day, but right now, I was good. My first class would be with Clay, and it didn’t matter how long he’d known me or the fact that we were sleeping together, he’d call on me if he thought I was dozing. It was one of his favorite things to do to trainees. It didn’t matter if he was lecturing in a full auditorium or doing a more casual class where he was in front of only a dozen people. He demanded attention. The thing that kept him from being a total asshole was that it was always about making sure people were learning what they needed to, so they’d do the best job possible. Sometimes, that meant embarrassing the hell out of someone. I sure as hell didn’t want it to be me.

  As I walked in the building, he was there. I barely glanced at him, but I felt his eyes on me as I walked past him and into the classroom. Today’s lecture was about family annihilators and what made their psychopathy different from mass murderers or serial killers. We wouldn’t be dealing with those sorts of cases much here in the FBI, but a family hostage taker could be an annihilator and we’d need to know how to handle it differently than, say, someone who wanted something.

  I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it, but I’d deal with it the same way I’d dealt with everything else in my life. Besides, if I couldn’t handle hearing about it, I’d be no good if I was called to a scene where it was the issue. As an Intelligence Analyst, that wouldn’t be my usual case, but I believed in being prepared. Besides, there was no guarantee I’d actually make it in the field I’d chosen. Best to plan for all possible contingencies.

  I usually sat in the first couple rows, but before I’d gone more than a few steps, the door opened behind me.

  “Quick!”

  I turned around, the movement automatic the moment I heard the familiar bark of Martin Edwards, one of the senior agents at Quantico. He wasn’t the very top guy, but he was up there pretty far, and he scared the shit out of pretty much every trainee here. Not me, but I wasn’t exactly the best judge when it came to fear. Not many people intimidated me. I couldn’t think of a single one off the top of my head.

  “Yes, Sir?” I gave what I hoped was a polite, but not too cheery, smile.

  He scowled at me and my heart sank.

  “Come with me.”

  Shit. Had someone figured out about Clay and me? Shit, shit! We could deny it, I supposed. The fact that we’d known each other before could be a believable reason for me visiting him at his hotel. He’d been my uncle’s friend, after all.

  When I was almost at the door, he walked away, and I hurried to keep up with him. He clearly didn’t want to walk and talk, but I was fine with that. If he was about to chew me out for fooling around with Clay, I definitely didn’t want to do it with an audience.

  We made it all the way to his office without a single word being said, but as soon as he opened the door he snapped at me, “Sit.”

  My stomach twisted. This was worse than I thought. I sat.

  He settled in his chair and folded his hands in front of him. His face was back to being expressionless, but that didn’t necessarily mean I was off the hook. Especially when he didn’t start talking right away. I vaguely remembered hearing somewhere that he’d been one of the agency’s top interrogators, and I finally admitted that I was in extremely deep shit.

  “Rona Quick.”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  He gave me a look that said he hadn’t wanted a response from me. He’d let me know if I was supposed to speak.

  “Rona Elizabeth Quick.” He reached forward and picked up a file folder from his desk. “That’s the name you submitted on your application.”

  Fuck. It wasn’t about Clay.

  “Mother, Dana Quick, father unknown. Birthplace, Carmel, Indiana.”

  My pulse raced but I didn’t interrupt him as I tried to figure out exactly how bad this was going to be.

  “Do I need to keep reading?” he asked, clearly expecting an answer this time.

  “No, sir,” I said quietly.

  “You were asked if you were known by another name, and you said no. At the end of the application, you were asked, as was every applicant, if the contents of the application were true to the best of your knowledge. You checked the ‘I agree’ box and signed underneath it. In doing so, you also accepted that lying on the form would be a federal offense.”

  I was going to be sick.

  “We would normally have weeded out any discrepancies fairly early on, but you came with a letter of recommendation from one of our own–”

  Shit. Clay.

  “He didn’t know,” I whispered.

  Edwards continued as if I hadn’t even spoken. “Once we started looking, however, we found that you’d lied about several different things, including your name, your parentage, and the fact that a close family member had been convicted of a felony.”

  I’d known it was coming. If they’d found one lie, they’d found all of them, because they were all connected. Pick at a single thread long enough and everything would unravel.

  “I assume all of what we found is true, and not more fabrication.”

  I picked up the folder and glanced inside. I didn’t need to read the details to know what it said. “It is.”

  “Did you really think that you could get away with it?” He seemed more curious now, than angry.

  I didn’t want to look at him when I answered, but I forced myself to do exactly that. I’d known the risks and the consequences, and I’d made the decision anyway. “I didn’t know, but I thought it was worth trying.”

  He tossed the folder back onto the desk. “Why didn’t you fill it out truthfully?”

  “I thought about it,” I said, “but I knew if I did, it would all be there in my permanent file, where anyone could find it if they wanted to look hard enough.”

  “Your past wasn’t erased, Miss Quick. It can still be found.”

  “You know all of it then,” I said. When he nodded, I continued, “I didn’t want anyone thinking I had a weakness that could be exploited, that I wasn’t strong enough to handle what someone might throw at me because of it. I didn’t want instructors using it as a reason why I wouldn’t make it. And I didn’t want it to be all anyone saw when they looked at me.”

  Maybe the lengthy explanation wasn’t really necessary, but I wanted it out there. I hadn’t done it on a whim, or without understanding how serious it was. Other people might not get it – hell, I was pretty sure no one would get it – but I stood by my decision, even now.

  Oh well. Nothing I could do about it now. Might as well get along with it.

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “I need to know who knew about this,” he said.

  “No one.”

  He gave me a skeptical look.

  “By the time I met Dr. Kurth, I’d already had my name legally changed,” I said. “As for the rest of it, we didn’t talk about it. Ever.”

  “And you believe that your uncle never told Agent Kurth anything?”

  “He wouldn’t have,
” I said. “Believe me, it was the last thing either of us ever wanted to talk about.”

  “What about when he talked to you about joining the agency?”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I repeated. “He still doesn’t know.”

  Edwards gave me a hard, searching look and I suddenly understood what it must have been to sit across from him in an interrogation room. As strong and stubborn as I usually considered myself, I couldn’t imagine lasting very long against him.

  “This isn’t something that can be excused,” he said, “no matter your reasoning. You have fifteen minutes to clean out your room and any other possessions you may have on the premises. Your clearance is revoked, and you’ll be escorted from the grounds.”

  It could have been worse, I supposed. I could’ve ended up with a fine or jail time. Instead, I was only being kicked out the FBI academy, bringing all of the plans I’d had for the future to a screeching halt. No Intelligence Analysis. No FBI. No solving cases or protecting people. From the first moment Clay had suggested the FBI to me, I’d been determined to make that my life.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I waited until he called for someone to follow me to the dorms, and then hurried away, desperate to leave before anyone realized how humiliated I was. I heard Clay calling my name, but I refused to even look at him. It was better this way. Once he realized that I’d been lying to him for years, he wouldn’t ever want to speak to me again, no matter what our history.

  Yet one more thing to add to the list of ways I’d fucked things up, simply so I wouldn’t have to remember the past.

  Continues in New Pleasures, the exciting spin-off to M.S. Parker’s USA Today Bestselling series, The Pleasure Series. CLICK HERE to pre-order now.

  Also by M. S. Parker

  His Obsession

  His Control

  His Hunger

  His Secret

  Sex Coach