So why couldn't he just think. Oh well, what the hell. And forget her. This was CIA official business. Go back to the calm and surety feeling that he simply didn't give a damn when it came to love and lust and all that life consuming monopoly.

And why couldn't he just go to bloody sleep. Look at the time for god's sake.

When the knock at his door followed by a rapping on his windows awoke Michael the next morning, his first thought was Fiona and his second thought was giving Sam a call. He checked what he was wearing – a t-shirt and boxer shorts- and assessed this would do for neither. The thought that it would be Fiona with croissants and fresh orange juice hadn't entered his mind.

"Morning, sleepy-eyed." Fiona said.

"Fi?" said Michael.

"Are you going to invite me in?" she said. "I come bearing gifts."

But she was already in. and Michael really noticed that one of her gifts, apart from the orange juice and croissants was her comely figure. Today displayed under a tight t-shirt that was too short for her jeans.

Glimpses of flat toned midriff. Michael felt suddenly ravenous.

"Is anyone else around?"

"Just you and me."

"Good, I haven't enough to go around."

She walked through his kitchenette and started busying herself opening cupboard,

And drawers though Michael would have never been quite happy to have swigged the juice from the carton and dabbed the croissant crumbs from his lap.

"We have a lot of work today." She said and turned.

Two glasses balancing on two plates. Kitchen roll under her arm. Belly button peeking out under her T-shirt. Michael, speechless.

"Earth to McBride! she laughed. "Are you awake?"

With one hand on his hip, Michael ran the other over his closely cropped hair, down to his neck while rotated his head gently, side to side, as if stiff from sleeping awkwardly.

"Yea."

He said, "I'm awake."

"Come." She said, all sparky. "Let's eat."

And she led the way back through his lounge. And he followed her bottom all the way. And she was turned away from him, bending to place the plates on the coffee table. Now she as straightening up to open the carton of juice. Bending again, to lay out the croissants.

Black panties. Michael could see the tip of a tattoo in the small of her back. No idea what it was? She bent again, to pour.

"Juice?"

And Michael was up behind her, the soft flimsy of his boxer shorts providing no modesty for his cock grown hard. He pressed against her. He slipped his hands down her sides, caressing the undulation of her waist. His hands going around to the front, the buckle of her belt, the soft tip of her skin, the sexy little groove of her belly button. Up her body, nape of her neck. He puts his lips there and at that moment she turned to him, his wet lips swept over her jaw, her check, her mouth where her lips awaited his, moist and parted.

Michael was still leisurely, he wanted to enjoy the sensation and warmth of this female form is his embrace. He was more t happy to linger.

She pulled away, looking wild and triumphant. With her tongue caught seductively between her teeth she wriggled from her t shirt, snapped away her belt and pulled down her jeans in haste. A simple

white bra. Lacy black panties. The best of both worlds for Michael.

He took off his shirt. She lay back on the sofa and Michael kneeled over her, and sank his mouth into hers. His tongue searching out every answer that from every clue her tongue gave him. Their hands were clasped together.

They lay into the sofa, limbs interlocking, Michael rolled her on top of him and she kissed him hard, hungrily. He filled his nostrils with the scent of her hair which flowed over his face in soft serpentine.

He scooped it up, tugged it into a ponytail, admired the sweep of her neck and took his lips there again.

Fiona's hands travel up his arms, more muscular than she imagined, more beautiful. She kisses and sweeps her face millimeters over him. She finally whispers between kisses,

"it's about time."

The door bells been ringing for a while now.

Michael saunters through,whistling,and stops abruptly and says,

Sam?what the hell are you doing here!

"Hey brother. Thought id stop by,brought some beer, maybe we can talk over the whole Hannin situation. I think we've got trouble.

And then Fiona walks in.

"Michael who is it?

Sam stares wide eyed at Fiona. She's in her underwear? Michaels shirt on top…(Michael is shirtless)

Her legs just don't stop, , and seriously, he knew she was pretty, but damn.Those were some legs.

Sam can hear the shower running.

Their hair is damp.

And all Sam can think is MICHAEL YOU DIRTY DOG.

"F..Fi I'd like you to meet Chuck Finley." He's an old friend.

Sam smiles at Fiona. "HOWDY."

MICHAEL GLARES AT SAM.

TO BE CONTINUED! PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS OR FAV! 3 APPRECIATE IT AND THANKYOU FOR YOUR TIME.