"The Charger? Yeah, why?" He unlocked the door and I followed him in. "I like it." I told him, filing into the loft to collapse on the bed.
"What the car or the loft?"
I didn't answer. I was nearly asleep. He laughed lightly and came over to cover me with a blanket.
I dozed off a few moments later only to be awoken by a booming voice.
"Mikey! Welcome home!"
"Shh, Sam, Fi's asleep." Michael chastised.
"Not anymore." I sat up and instantly felt anger return when I saw Sam standing in the doorway. "You cost me a lot of money, you son of a bitch"
"Oh god, Fiona, listen" Sam didn't look apologetic. "I was just doing my job."
"Fi, relax." Michael put a hand on my chest, stopping me from approaching him.
"And what kind of double standard is that? Mike and the fucking CIA cost you a lot of deals, and you're banging him, little lady."
"Sam!" Michael threw a hand up to stop him.
"You?!" I turned to Michael.
"Fi, I'm sorry. We did a lot of really illegal things together. I let a lot of them go. Sometimes, I looked up the guys we were selling to and decided it was better if they didn't have the weapons."
"You're acting like I'm... a criminal..." I started. "... And you aren't gonna like the way that ends for you."
Mike sighed.
"A spy is just a criminal with a government paycheck, Sister." Sam took my side. "Don't let him act like he isn't just the same as you and me."
"Michael?" I asked.
He looked at me. "Yea, Fi?"
"You were about to give me an excuse for why its ok that you cost me... thousands..."
He winced. "tens of thousands?" I asked.
Another wince.
"Michael!"
"Listen, I don't really want to talk about it, but lets just say if the CIA weren't so uptight... you'd be in a different tax bracket." He sat down and sighed. "But hey, listen, remember, this is about Sam, right now. He cost you a lot of money, too."
Sam and I both stared at Michael, surprised.
"He really paints a picture, doesn't he?" Sam asked.
"Help me find a guy who will sell me some c4, and we'll let bygones be bygones?" I offered Sam an olive branch.
"I might know a guy." He smiled. "Use my name and he'll give you a deal."
"I knew I'd like you." We bumped knuckles. "So, Michael... why don't you tell me how you cost me a lot of money."
"I'd cause a car accident, or plan a police car at the meet, or contact the buyer to cancel and if none of that worked, Tom Card would just arrange for the buyer to be arrested."
I stared at him for a long moment. "You couldn't arrange for them to be arrested after I had their money?"
"It's illegal arms dealing, Fi!" He argued. "The rules are simple and I played it pretty fast and loose with the rules for you."
I looked at him without blinking. "What is it with you and lying?"
"Spies." Sam shrugged. "You're not a spy, though?" I asked Sam.
He shook his head. "Just a wash up and a drunk." Michael suggested.
"Hey!" Sam looked at him, betrayed.
"You are." "Yeah, but... cheap shot."
"Mikey, I got a job as soon as you have time. Let me know." Sam said before leaving that night.
"We can do a job." Michael offered.
Sam looked between us. "Ok. Want to meet at Carlitos tomorrow and we'll talk it over?"
"See you there." Michael said casually.
Sam left and I turned to Michael. "I don't hate him nearly as much as I thought I would."
"I knew you two would get along." He said, putting the leftovers in the fridge. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I want to curl up in bed with you."
He smiled. "I think I can manage that."
I changed into one of his shirts while he checked the locks on the doors and windows. "We gotta buy you some clothes." He stated.
"I like wearing yours." I joked.
"Yeah... and I like to see you in them but they arent as appropriate for the outside world as I would like." He stripped down to boxers and climbed into bed behind me.
"You like seeing me in your clothes?" I pressed my back against him.
"I mostly like you naked... but when you wear my clothes... I don't know... it's sexy."
"I like wearing your shirts."
"I could fit three of you in there." He wrapped an arm around my front and ran a hand up my leg. His hand stopped at my underwear. "What is this?" He started pulling them down. "This shirt your wearing... its really one that goes best with nothing underneath it."
"Is that right?" I asked, scooting my now naked backside against his groin.
"Yes, Baby." He threw the underwear across the room and replaced his hand between my legs. "Now you sleep." "I love you, Michael."
"I love you, too, baby."
The morning sun shone past the window in the kitchen and announced the arrival of the next day. I sighed and rolled over, turning to rest my head back on Michael's chest. "Good morning." He said.
"Hi." I whispered.
"Shower?" He asked.
"Yes please." I followed him to the bathroom and brushed my teeth while he started the shower and undressed. When I turned to him to take off his shirt, he stilled my hands.
"Allow me." He said, pulling the shirt torturously slow over my head. "So... beautiful." He whispered, pressing his lips to my collarbone. "I love you, baby."
"I love you, too." I wraped my arms around his neck so he could carry us both into the shower. "Did you get my shampoo and conditioner?" I smiled.
"I actually bought this a month ago." He held up the soap in question. "It smells like your hair... so..." He shrugged. I rested my head on his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you, too, Fi." He leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "Where is my blanket, by the way?"
"What blanket?"
I lathered shampoo in my hair while he played with my nipples. "The throw one that was on the couch in Belfast."
"Oh. Yeah, I stole that." He admitted, bending down to run a soapy loufah along my legs while I put conditioner in my hair. I sighed in contentment while he caressed my body gently. I wondered how it was possible to be so in love with someone all over again. This man turned my whole life upside down a few weeks ago and if you asked me a week ago, he was either Satan, or never real in the first place. Then again... that wasn't this man at all. It was Michael McBride... the man I loved to fight with. The man I hated to love. This is a different Michael. He kissed my forehead after I rinsed my hair once more and switched sides of the shower with him. "I love you." I whispered.
He smiled.
I knelt when he closed his eyes to wash his face, swallowing him whole.
He made a strangled noise, throwing a hand behind me to hold himself up against the shower wall and placed the other in my hair to hold my head in place. "Oh, fuck." He sighed, thrusting into my throat.
I looked up at him while he adjusted his hands so one was one the back of my head and the other was holding my jaw. He thrust hard and then soft, alternating from staring into my eyes and closing his eyes in overwhelming pleasure. His breath came out in short gasps. "Thats... ah... so good, Fi." I watched his face and wondered again how it was possible to be this in love with someone. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life. This exactly. His pleasure was so satisfying to me. I felt whole. I had never felt this way with any of my other boyfriends. I had given head on special occasions, but I always found that it was just that... a special occasion. Armand said when I was 19 that I was far too pretty to be on my knees for anyone. He told me a girl this sexy doesn't ever have to give head. I was grateful for him saying that because otherwise I might grow up feeling like I owed men something. Instead I had a healthy amount of confidence. Enough to slap Kyle in the face once when he tried to push me onto my knees.
But this was so different. I wanted to do this. I didn't feel like I owed it to Michael... but I wanted him to feel how much I loved him. I tried to show it in every step that I took and every word I said, but this was one way I knew that he knew. When I blew McBride, he would back me into a wall and thrust into my throat so hard, I had a raspy voice for a week. That was probably just the youth. He was younger and more playful. But more reckless. Michael was the complete opposite of reckless. He was careful in the way he held my jaw but the hand in my hair was there to carefully make sure he got what he wanted. His expression was gentle, but his thrusts were aggressive. Some thrusts were a little too aggressive but his soft words made up for it. McBride was a silent lover, save for some groans. Michael was... encouraging... maybe. Every thrust was capitalized by a sweet reassurance. He said my name a lot too. "Fi" "Baby" "Babygirl" all of it. He was vocal.
I was brought back to the present by Michael thrusting hard and holding himself in the back of my throat. My eyes watered when he came hard.
"Jesus." He breathed.
I stood up.
He looked like he had never been so surprised in his life. "Wow... you're so fucking incredible."
I smiled at him, a little confused. "I love you."
"I love you so fucking much, wow."
I stepped out of the shower and dried off with a towel, letting his finish washing up. I had very little clothes with me, but I looked through what I did have. Sam mentioned a job, so I picked out a pair of jeans and a tank top. Michael stepped out of the bathroom and yanked the bra out of my hands.
"No bra." He said, throwing it across the room.
"I'm wearing a pretty thin shirt, Michael"
"So, what? It's Miami, Fi." He slipped a pair of boxers on and dressed in jeans and a tee. "I don't think anyone is gonna stare while I'm standing next to you. I just like the distraction."
I shrugged and decided to listen. I slipped a pair of stilettos on and we rejoined in the car, holding hands on the way to Carlito's.
"What kind of... jobs... do you guys do?" I asked Michael. "Is this gonna be anything like Ireland?"
"Depending on what the client's problem is." He shrugged. "The jobs are usually a little more legal... than Ireland. Still not legal... but more legal than Ireland. They often involve a gun. Sometimes, it's just an innocent person gets themselves marked for death, by accident and then we protect them. Sometimes its about security. It's about security usually to be quite honest with you."
I nodded. "You'll like it, I think. You'll be good at it, I'm sure. You were always really good... at tactical... stuff."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "That means a lot... coming from a spy."
"Hey, spies are the most tactically aware people on the planet."
"And a spy tells me I'm good at the tactical stuff."
"You are." "So are you."
He looked at me after parking the car outside a bar. "Ready?"
I nodded once. "Let's do it."