Strong adult warnings in place.
Ghosts That Haunt—50
Casey had half expected V. H. to meet his flight, but he didn't see the man anywhere. Surprisingly, he did see Monroe. Age had not been unkind to Monroe, but then nature hadn't been all that kind to her in the first place. The operative was, he supposed, pretty enough, but despite that, she had never appeared very feminine. She was a bottle-blonde, very nearly as tall as Casey, and had always looked and sounded more than a little like a drag queen. He and Adderly had once spent an entertaining few hours on a very long stakeout speculating that Monroe might be exactly that, though V. H. had eventually decided transgender might be closer to the mark.
It dawned on Casey as he approached her that he had no idea what Monroe's given name actually was.
"Adderly said to give you a ride," she said, and she made it sound like her boss had told her she had to get a root canal without anesthetic.
He fell in behind her, and they were silent on the drive to Riah's apartment. Monroe drove into the parking garage, pulled up next to an elevator and got out to open the trunk so Casey could get his bag. She didn't say a word as she left him there. Casey watched her drive away, bemused.
When he stepped out of the elevator onto Riah's floor, an ISI operative asked for ID. He reached into his jacket and slowly removed and handed it over. "Colonel," he nodded, handed the ID back, and stepped aside for Casey to move down the hall. The other operative stepped aside with a nod. Casey fished the key Riah had given him out and inserted it into the door.
She paced her darkened living room. Casey dropped his bag outside her bedroom door and called her name softly as he walked into the large, open living area. Riah launched herself at him, and he cupped her face, kissed her. He had nearly wrapped his arms around her before he remembered her wound. "Get me out of here," she said fervently when she released his mouth, "or make them at least let me open the drapes."
He snorted, amused, as she released his suit's lapel and flung her hand at the covered windows. There were no operatives inside with her, and it had, apparently, never occurred to her that she could simply open them until someone made her close them again. Casey considered teasing her about following rules again, but instead he kissed her once more and said, "I plan to take you home, Riah."
She clutched him tightly. "If you're joking, John, I'll shoot you."
"No joke," he promised, moving her away and dropping his hands to her hips. "Your American passport is in my bag along with a letter offering sincere apologies."
She snorted. "Fuck apologies. Let's get the first flight out."
He settled her more snugly against him and made a counteroffer. "How about dinner, a long night keeping each other awake, and I'll help you pack in the morning?"
"Deal," she said.
Casey took her hand and walked her toward her bedroom, asked about Victoria as he did so.
"Isobel took her to run errands."
Immediately uneasy, Casey recalled Beckman's words earlier that morning. "Is that safe?"
Riah heaved a sigh. "I don't know. Dad seemed to think it would be okay. Isobel's armed, and there are two other operatives with them."
Inside her room, he walked to the windows. "Your dad heard any more about Nevins?" he asked as he opened the drapes.
When he turned to face her, Riah had her arms crossed over her chest. "He was spotted in Toronto late this morning."
He returned to her, kissed her again, spread his hands on her back and pulled her to him. "How long have Izzie and Victoria been gone?"
"Twenty or so minutes." Her hands slid up his chest and under his jacket.
It didn't take long to dispose of their clothes, but Casey paused when he exposed the bandage. Riah impatiently let him look at the wound. She and her father had been right, so he pressed the surgical tape back into place. "You're going to waste more time making me tell you, aren't you?" she groused.
"I saw the video," he told her.
"Then shut up and get around to keeping me awake," she said and pushed him toward her bed.
Always happy to oblige, Casey did so.
He was half asleep, Riah apparently completely asleep, when he heard Izzie and Victoria come home. He probably ought to let Izzie know he was there, or at least wake Riah so she could, but he didn't. His luggage was still outside the bedroom door, and the other woman was clever enough to figure it out, assuming one of the operatives in the hall hadn't already told her. He was in no hurry to give up the comfort having his naked wife wrapped around him offered. His one concession was to draw the covers over them.
As he lay there listening to Izzie try to calm Victoria, who apparently really didn't like being closed in any more than her mother did, he decided that since he wasn't going to get to sleep, he might as well let Riah rest and go see his daughter. He carefully separated his limbs from those of his wife and slid out of the bed, pulled most of his clothes back on, and slipped out of the room.
Izzie was not at all surprised to see him. "V. H. told me you were coming," she said when he reached for Victoria, who began to settle down almost as soon as he had her. Izzie caught him up on what she knew. Casey had already been told most of it, but he thanked her anyway.
"By the way," she added with a stern look, "I can't believe you told Mariah about Windsor."
He shrugged, fought back a grin. "Let's just say I've learned that when my wife asks a question, as long as national security is not involved, it's best to honestly answer her."
Izzie gave him a long look. "You and I both know that sometimes the truth does not set you free."
"No," he agreed, mindful that he could have easily wound up a single man in the wake of Keller's blackmail, "but sometimes hiding it makes it far more likely you'll be unpleasantly free." He cradled Victoria against him, studied how she had changed in the weeks since he had seen her last, and completely melted when she grinned at him. He asked her, "Ready to go home, kiddo?"
"Home?" Izzie asked.
Casey looked past his daughter to the other woman. "That's the plan." He explained that the deportation order on his wife had been lifted, and he was there to take his family back to California. Adderly had, apparently, not told her that.
Izzie was true to form. "There's a lot to do, then," she told him briskly. "Since you managed to drag yourself out of your wife's bed, you can take care of Victoria."
He played with his daughter while Izzie gathered and started laundry. Casey told her he intended to take Riah out when the other woman offered to fix them dinner. Izzie suggested he feed his daughter while she straightened the living room, and when he agreed, she told him where to find Victoria's food. Riah had begun feeding her baby food at night, he knew, and Casey couldn't help thinking it was child abuse given the look and smell of it, despite the fact it was homemade.
After Victoria finished her dinner, Izzie took the baby and told him, "Go wake Mariah. I'll bathe Victoria while you make a reservation, and then I'll watch her while the two of you get ready." She named a restaurant, told Casey Riah had mentioned it as one of her favorites, and suggested he try them. After he got a table for eight, he went to do as Izzie said.
Casey slipped back into his wife's room. Riah was curled on her side, still sleeping. After a quick glance at the clock beside her bed he knew he should go ahead and wake her to start getting ready. Instead, he eased on the bed behind her, slipped an arm over her waist, careful to avoid the wound, and just held her. Riah stirred, rolled to face him, and when she opened her eyes, he told where he'd made a reservation.
She frowned at him. "I'm on lockdown. Dad's orders," she murmured.
"I don't work for your dad, and I'm taking my wife to dinner," he told her. While she went to get a shower, he retrieved his suitcase, sorted out what he needed, and then took her place in the bathroom when she came out swaddled in towels.
When he returned to her bedroom to get dressed, he stared. He had never seen the deep red dress she wore, but he heartily approved of the way it emphasized her cleavage and her curves, the way it showed her legs to advantage—until he remembered he wouldn't be the only one seeing it or them. He tried, unsuccessfully, to get her to change, told her she should probably put on something she could wear a vest under. She ignored him, continued to finish her makeup and hair before putting on the diamonds he had given her. He dressed in one of his black suits and coordinating tie. Riah's lips twitched when he holstered his SIG, and his eyes narrowed. He put his arms around her, kissed her, while he ran a hand down her leg and under the skirt of her dress. "You only had to ask," she laughed. At least she was armed, he thought as he released her.
She gave Izzie a few last minute instructions, kissed Victoria, who was still awake, and when Casey had done the same, he escorted Riah out. As they rode the elevator downstairs, Riah handed him a set of car keys. He headed for her Volvo, but she caught his sleeve and redirected him to a sleek Audi roadster.
It had been a long time since he had a night out with his wife. Their Thursdays had been interrupted months earlier when she was deported. Casey tried not to growl at the appreciative eyes that followed his wife as they were led to their table. As they ordered, he beat down the impulse to pound the waiter to a pulp, especially since the man seemed incapable of raising his eyes much above Riah's breasts. Casey had about concluded that he should have just stayed in with her when she gave him a dazzling smile, leaned forward so he could see down her dress, and told him, "If it helps, the women are looking at you much the same way."
"Doesn't help at all," he said, an edge to his voice, and then his wife set out to charm him. Okay, maybe charm wasn't exactly the right word since what she really did was drive him slowly insane. She flirted with him, something she'd never really done before, and she continued making sure he got a good view down the neckline of her dress. Before long, he wanted to pull her onto the table and have her for dinner. Casey went along for the ride, though, plotted her punishment, until she ordered dessert.
Watching her eat it was pure torture as she scooped up her chocolate mousse and licked it off her spoon, those eyes of hers glued to his. Casey could think of far better uses she could put that tongue to than dessert. As her tongue darted out once more, licked the chocolate mousse with torturous slowness from the dessert spoon, he had had enough. He signaled for the bill, paid, left a healthy tip, and was barely able to wait until they were in the car before he engaged her tongue in much more satisfactory action. She tasted of chocolate, and when her hands started sliding inside his clothes, he decided getting caught trying to make love to his wife in a cramped sports car was not the way he wanted to end the evening.
Izzie took one look at him when they entered Riah's apartment and grabbed her purse. She told Riah she'd come by in the morning and breezed out. Casey had Riah's zipper down and was backing her into her bedroom almost before the door closed behind the other woman. Riah pushed out of his arms when they were inside her room, and he fully cooperated with her as she removed his clothes. When she had him naked, she maneuvered him to the bed where he took a seat and watched the show. He watched with single-minded concentration as she removed her loosened dress with a shimmy he'd never seen from her before.
As she revealed what was beneath, Casey wasn't sure he wouldn't die right then. His wife wore that almost underwear she'd been wearing in the photograph she'd sent him.
Slowly, she removed her holster, and he growled his disappointment. There was something about the gun strapped to her thigh that set the black lace off. He liked a woman with a gun, but he could lose a vital part if she kept it on and something went wrong, so he simply watched her remove it and the weapon it held.
Riah met his eyes, held his gaze, and stepped out of her shoes. She stood in front of him, irritatingly out of reach, and slowly removed her jewelry. Casey avidly stared as she removed first one stocking and then the other. What nearly killed him, though, was the way she slid her way out of that strappy, lacy, not-really underwear with a spectacular, inflammatory grace.
That was when he finally remembered what he had wanted to do with her while she wore that.
He supposed he could get her to put it on again later.
It was rare for Riah to be the aggressor when they made love. She initiated sex frequently, but she had generally been happy to let him take the lead. She was apparently becoming bolder—not that Casey intended to complain. The novelty of having his wife take charge kept him seated and attentive. By the time she was fully naked, he wasn't sure he could have moved had he wanted to. Wearing nothing but a smile and the bandage over her wound, Riah walked toward him, stood between his knees and cupped his face before she plundered his mouth. When his hands settled on her hips, she removed them gently. He got the message and let them fall to the bed.
She took her time, explored every inch of him, and he couldn't fault her thoroughness, not when she followed her hands with her mouth. He was especially pleased when she turned her tongue on him, repeated the movements she had used to clean her dessert spoon on him. He didn't mind in the least being a surrogate for chocolate mousse, especially not when she abandoned licking him to close her mouth, hot and wet, over him. She brought him close, released him, slid up his body and took his mouth with hers. This time, she didn't protest when his hands got involved.
They had coupled hard and fast when he first arrived, need overtaking technique. Riah was redressing that haste, though Casey was beginning to think haste had its function by the time she finally slid over him and began to move.
"Were you trying to kill me?" he mumbled when she collapsed on him.
She lifted her head from his chest, kissed him, slowly, and then grinned. "I told you. You're of no use to me dead," Riah reminded him. She kissed him again. This one lingered, but there was no heat in it. "It started as distraction."
"If you had changed your clothes, I wouldn't have needed distracting," he told her. "Not that I didn't appreciate the view."
"You just didn't like sharing it," she laughed.
He rolled her onto her back. "Not in the least," he affirmed.
It was his turn to make her crazy, and he took his job seriously. What the mission lacked in planning, he made up for in execution. Toward the end, Riah was punctuating his name with some of the filthiest suggestions he'd heard outside of his unit after they'd done without women for over a month.
Afterward, as he held her, he asked, "Do you kiss our daughter with that mouth?"
Smugly, Riah pointed out, "You weren't complaining when I was using it on you."
Casey snorted and ignored her statement because he couldn't argue with it. He considered how to ask what he wished. "Were those serious suggestions or just some sort of Tourette's?"
She pulled his mouth to hers. When she had finished kissing him, she asked, "I take it you liked some of those ideas?"
"Riah, if I thought you were remotely serious about any of those, I don't think we'd get out of this bed for at least the next year. Besides I'm not sure either of us is flexible enough for some of your suggestions."
His wife looked thoughtfully up at him. "But you did hear something you liked."
Casey cocked his head. There was a note in her voice that made him think she might actually be interested in some of what she had blurted as he made love to her. Well aware of the lingering trust issues that reared themselves from time to time, he sifted through her suggestions, sought one that might be the least threatening to her. "Riah, where did you get those ideas?"
Deep color rode under her skin. His wife was not a prude, but she was a little funny about intimacy sometimes, so her answer amused him: "I've been reading sex books."
It was so quietly said that despite the fact he was only inches from her, he barely heard it. "Lydia's book?"
She looked even more embarrassed, if that were possible. "Among others."
His wife had been reading about sex while they were separated. Casey held her gaze and wondered why. He also wondered what. "Riah," he said softly and waited for her to meet his eyes. He decided to treat her question seriously. The truth was, she had made a couple of suggestions he did like. He wasn't at all unhappy with their sex life, but like many people, he did, occasionally, like something a little different. "I might have heard something I liked, but I'm not sure it's a good idea."
"Why not?"
He was taken aback. "Riah, some of those involve real risks."
It was more than clear she didn't understand. The one that most interested him he suspected she would actually balk at. He wouldn't blame her, given her history, so he chose it deliberately to make her understand. "Take bondage," he said, and he wondered if his squeamishness actually showed. She'd admitted knowing about Prague and about Carina Miller's reenactment. "It involves restraining one of us, and if we don't plan it right, don't talk it through, one of us could wind up hurt."
Riah had a thoughtful look on her face, and he mentally stepped back. He had actually thought she would say no, had been certain she would back off completely, but it wasn't hard to see she was considering it—seriously considering it. "What is there to plan, other than how one of us is restrained?"
Casey blinked. He searched her face and realized it was an honest question. "Rules of engagement," he blurted, then drew himself up short. It would be hard for him to deny he liked being bound, especially since Carina had managed to get him in that position and leave him to be found twice. He was a take-charge kind of guy, and it always seemed to surprise women that he occasionally liked to have the illusion of having absolutely no control over a situation.
Riah bent her arm and rested her head on her hand. "What kinds of rules?"
Rolling on his back, Casey looked at her. "Whatever rules we want, but usually it's about the limits of what each of us are willing to accept." He paused, searched her face. "It's kind of like running an op—what might we want to do, what might we need to do, what equipment will we need, and a code word."
Her face remained thoughtful. "What equipment might we need?"
His mouth went dry. Riah had flirted on the edges of this a few times before. When push had come to shove, though, she had not been able to take the final steps. That didn't stop him from imagining her as an even more assertive version of the woman who had turned the tables on him the last time he'd visited. That time she had shoved him on the bed and taken what she wanted. Despite two years of intimacy, this was a whole new step, and he wasn't convinced she was quite ready for it. He reconsidered when he recalled that very early Christmas morning when he'd found himself in the floor of her Newfoundland bedroom with his gun in her hand and pointed at his head. Perhaps she might not have as much trouble as he thought taking control—with the right encouragement, of course. Then again, he'd given her the chance several times, but she'd never fully exploited any of those opportunities. "Anything that ties—or we could use my cuffs."
Riah's smile was enhanced by her hand stroking down his stomach to move over the part of him that seriously hoped she'd carry through. "Which one of us gets tied up?" she asked.
Casey looked up at her and said emphatically, "Me." Her brows shot up, and her hand slid off him. She was about to protest, so he told her, "Riah, I don't want to scare you, not in bed, so not you."
Her mouth firmed into a thin line, and then she asked, "So what's the attraction if it's frightening?"
"That's actually part of the attraction for some," he admitted, "but for others it's about control—though a lot of people mistake who's actually in control."
A frown creased her forehead, but then he watched it ease, watched her expression clear and a sly little smile turn up her lips. "I think I get it now."
Watching her, Casey was half afraid she did.
Her body moved, brushed over his. "You get restrained, and you call the shots at the same time."
Casey had always known she was smart. "Well, you get to call some of them."
"Ah," Riah said in his ear as her breasts skated over his chest, "but bound or not, you have the power to stop me."
His hands came up, grasped her hips and his fingers spread over her bottom. "Figured that out," he gasped when she bit along his jaw.
She was on her knees, and he tried to pull her down on top of him, but she wouldn't let him. In a husky, smoky voice that had him nearly to the point of begging, especially since she made soft bites with her teeth down his throat, down his chest, onto his stomach, she asked, "What if I won't play by your rules?"
His hands slid up her body as she migrated south, and he took her hair and wrapped it around his wrist to make sure she didn't miss the correct destination. "I'll play by yours."
Casey sincerely hoped that didn't sound as desperate as he felt.
There was good reason for that desperation since despite his hold on her, she continued moving downward, missed completely the part of him that wanted her attention most. He released her hair, but when she slid off the side of her bed, he groaned his frustration at her ceiling. When he finally looked to see what she was doing, he saw her rummaging in his bag.
Propping himself on his elbows, Casey asked, a hint of irritation in his voice, "Something I can help you with?"
Riah looked over her shoulder at him, and she wore a smile he suspected might not bode well for him. "Your cuffs?"
Holy hell, he thought. She'd been serious. Instinct had him opening his mouth to tell her no, but another, much more eager part of him told her, "Left side. Interior pocket." He watched her unzip the small compartment and tried to remember where the key was, but her nakedness kept distracting him. Fortunately, she didn't need his assistance to find it.
When she returned to the bed, she straddled his waist and looked down at him. His cuffs were hooked over her right index finger. Her arm bent so they were even with her shoulder, and her eyes danced. "Hard or easy?" she asked.
Casey couldn't answer her at first as possibilities danced through his head. "Is that the way you cuff me or the sex you're promising?" he asked roughly.
Riah laughed at that, leaned slightly forward and said, "Your choice."
No, it really wasn't, he thought as he held her gaze and thought quickly. This could get out of hand faster than she would be comfortable with, so he told her. "There are things to talk about first, Riah."
Her tongue-tip slipped between her lips as she considered. "Okay, limits," she prompted.
Though he knew what his answer was, he gave it some thought since he knew she could retreat any moment; she had before when she'd had him at her mercy and willing to comply. "Nothing that hurts me," he told her, then added, "you, either."
Nodding her consent, she asked, "What else?" Before he could answer, she leaned forward and asked softly, "Will I need to get my phone to take a picture?"
"If you want this," he growled, "then you'd be wise not to remind me of that."
She grinned and bent further, licked his ear, bit the lobe, and whispered in what was actually a throaty little moan, "Oh, I want this."
His eyes slid closed and his body begged him to make her simply get on with it. "You know you have to do all the work, right?" he asked.
When he opened his eyes, she grinned. "Who said it would be work?"
If she kept that up, they were never getting to the main event, so Casey met that impudent stare of hers and said, "Pineapple."
Riah laughed, hard. "Seriously? You're bringing the Buy More into this?"
Casey ratcheted a brow up. "Are you likely to talk about pineapples during sex? Am I?"
Sobering, she shook her head. "Safe word, pineapple," she confirmed with a brief nod.
After she sat back up, she put her free hand on her hip and lifted the hand with the cuffs again. She twirled the cuffs on her finger and asked, "Should I just cuff you—fore or aft—or do you want to be fastened to the bed?"
From experience of a non-sexual nature, he didn't want to lie on his bound wrists, and while he wouldn't mind the limited range of having his hands cuffed in front of him, he wanted to see what she would do when he couldn't interfere, so to speak. As a result, Casey shifted so he lay comfortably on his back and stretched his arms toward the slats of her headboard. He wondered if she knew he would likely ruin the paint on the wooden headboard before she was finished with him. Apparently, she did, since she got up and left him there while she went to her dresser and returned with a folded t-shirt which she wrapped around the board before running the cuffs over it and then snapping them closed over his wrists.
Finished restraining him, she sat back on her heels and cocked her head, frowned. "Do you have another set?"
Casey wondered why she asked.
Blushing, she added, "There are more possibilities if your arms aren't right against your head."
Riah very definitely had a point, so he hated to disappoint her by telling her no. He asked, "You?"
"ISI doesn't issue cuffs to analysts," she told him.
"How remiss of them," he offered with a side of sarcasm.
Fortunately, she took no offense. "I'll make sure I point that out during my performance review," Riah assured him.
"About those possibilities," Casey prompted.
Riah leaned in and kissed him. She started softly, slowly. Her mouth pressed soft kisses over his face, down his throat and down his body. She took her time, and he resisted the urge to try and talk her into getting on with it. Apparently, she had torture in mind, but he figured he could take it.
When she finally reached his left hip and began to drift down and to his right, he considered how she had so far only touched him with her lips and tongue, occasionally nipped with her teeth, but he forgot the point when her mouth started up the hard length of him and her tongue hit that spot just below the crown where she nibbled.
Casey's brains ran out his ears; he was certain of it. He was intensely focused on her heated mouth working its way up and down him, pausing near the top to make him lose a little more grey matter, and then she finally took him inside her mouth and sucked.
He might have whimpered.
Riah's hands got in on the act then, stroked up the inside of his thighs and over his stomach. She had him ready to beg, and then she was gone.
Well, not gone. She knelt beside him on the bed, sat back, and crossed her arms over her chest. When she had his attention, she lifted a brow. "It's just occurred to me that there are a number of possibilities completely unrelated to pleasure."
Because he didn't have much cognitive ability at that particular moment, it took a few seconds to consider what she might mean. Then it dawned on him. She'd let him off the hook a little too easily when he'd come to grovel, and from the looks of her, she was about to redress that particular oversight.
Her fingers found his knee, travelled so lightly up the inside of his thigh that he was barely aware of her touch beyond the reaction it created, the way that soft stroke made him want to beg her to return to what she'd been doing. "Tell me, John," she said softly, "why you left that redheaded major out of your list the last time I had you here."
Oh, fuck.
"I thought we agreed to let that go," he said through gritted teeth since her hand had found his balls and taken hold. He probably should remind her of the agreement to do no physical damage to one another. The squeeze she gave him didn't cause pain, but that didn't mean the next one wouldn't. He thought hard, realized he really had overlooked telling Riah about Celia—and not just when he'd been in Ottawa weeks ago.
There was a funny little expression on her face, part skepticism, part amusement. "I'm not letting this go."
Since her hand retained its grip, tightened slightly, he nearly told her game over, but then he caught something on her face. His wife intended to torture him—and Celia was just fodder to do so. "What if I won't tell you?"
The smile had an edge of mean, but her eyes belied it. She leaned forward, squeezed a little tighter. "I'll have to make you."
Casey bit back a smile at her seductive tone. Apparently, this made it easier for her, so he decided it might be interesting to play along, though he wasn't convinced she understood the idea of threat and reward. Perhaps he should give her a few pointers, but then he decided she had to do this on her own. "Do your worst," he told her, remembered her saying the same to him the last time he'd visited her, but he didn't add the or best she had.
Apparently, his wife had the memory of an elephant since she backed up a bit, and he felt Riah's nipple graze his chest. She tipped her head, tsked, and asked, "Not my best?" Her hand tightened again.
"Best is good," he agreed before goading her with, "but I don't think you can make me talk."
That was as good as a dare, he realized, as her expression shifted. What was more, she was clearly going to take it. This time her hand tightened just enough to make him yelp before she relaxed her grip and cocked a brow.
He waited, watched her calculate, and wondered what she intended. She shifted on the bed, and then her mouth was right back where it belonged, to his gratitude. She went down, then up, then released him to look at him. "The redheaded major?"
So the gratitude had been premature. "Celia," he said despite knowing his wife wasn't asking the woman's name. After all, he didn't plan to give in too soon, was curious where she would go with this, and feeding her a bit of information might inspire her to go there sooner.
"Celia," she repeated. "Who is she?"
Oh, the possibilities, he thought. He was going to make her work for it, just as he'd do if he were actually being tortured—though he certainly didn't think he'd ever be in quite this position if it were real torture. "That ship sailed, Riah."
She crawled up his body, made sure her breasts dragged up his torso which made him want just that much more. Riah gave him a distinctly salacious little smile and told him, "Oh, I don't think so," before she bit his nipple just hard enough he obliged her with a grunt.
At least she wasn't doing any real damage, but Casey worried that it turned the desire for her up even more. "You agreed you would let me explain."
She ran her tongue over the nipple she bit and then kissed. "What do you think I'm doing?"
The kisses trailed south. "We dated."
Her teeth lightly bit his stomach. "Was that all?"
No, it hadn't been all, which he was pretty sure she knew, but her tongue was making it difficult for him to decide what to reveal next. "We had sex."
"How many times?" she asked as her mouth finally returned to where it had been before she decided to play interrogator.
The truth was he hadn't exactly counted, but he suspected even a conservative guess might bring her teeth into play in ways he'd rather avoid, hand, too, he thought, as she put it back on his balls. "No idea," he admitted tightly as she sucked.
Her teeth bit gently into his shaft.
He got the message. "A lot."
Her mouth released him. "Define 'a lot.'"
Casey met her gaze and considered options for answers. Despite the potential risk, he decided to provoke her. A slight smile, quirked his mouth before he deliberately drawled, "A. Lot."
Her smile turned knowing. "Ah."
If he hadn't been wondering what she meant by that, he might have noticed her change in expression. He did notice that Riah once more moved up and away from where he particularly wanted her. She straddled his chest. "I think appeasement's in order, then."
He looked up her body at her. "I agree," he said, deliberately misinterpreting her statement. "You owe me for making me admit something that doesn't matter at all to our relationship."
One of her hands grasped his chin. "No, John. You have to appease me for admitting you had a lot of sex with that woman."
"You're not exactly in the right position for that," he told her despite beginning to see where she might be going with this, "and that was the past."
Riah moved closer to his face.
"After all," he added, "you've said several times my past is my past, and Celia is definitely and permanently past."
That didn't stop him from complying when she wrapped her hands around the top of the headboard and placed herself over his mouth. Besides, he was certain her sense of fair play would kick in when he was finished, so he opened his mouth, used his tongue, occasionally stopped to delay what she was after, which made her curse and order him to finish his task. Casey didn't consider refusing, though he still didn't let her completely have her way, made her assert herself a time or two more, and when she was finally appeased, she kissed him rather thoroughly.
"I love the way I taste on you," she whispered, and Casey stared, had never had a woman say anything remotely like that to him before. He had no idea what to say in return.
As a result, he simply blurted, "What did you do with my wife?"
Riah laughed softly. "Good question." She moved to kiss his chest and said, "I definitely see some attractions in this."
"Feel free to explore any or all of them," he told her fervently.
As it turned out, he hadn't been entirely correct about her sense of fair play—or maybe he had. She started him, stopped him until he was begging her to finish him. When she finally took him inside her and rode him until they both had what they wanted, he waited for her kiss. She gave that little purr he'd missed and settled into him. "Okay, I get the appeal."
Casey laughed. "You didn't have to do this to get me to do what you wanted—or for you to do what I wanted."
Her eyes were sleepy. "Celia?"
He told her. Told her how they met, told her how they started dating, repeated his admission he'd slept with the other woman, and told her he'd broken it off when she started to cling, to make permanent plans that were definitely not part of Casey's long-term plans. "I used to say that the women I dated died or I left them." She frowned. "I left her."
Riah sat up, reached for the key and removed the cuffs. He put his arms around her and waited for her to ask. Instead, she settled into him. He was on the edge of sleep when she finally, quietly, did. "Is that why you asked to be reassigned?"
Casey tilted his head so he could see her face. He waited until she looked at him to say, "You had nothing to do with that. I'd been asking since the day Beckman told me I was going to be Bartowski's handmaiden." He rethought his answer. Before he revised it, he kissed her softly. "Beckman only granted the request because, for once, I wasn't interested in leaving, and you weren't dying."
Okay, he admitted, that might be a little revisionist since he'd been a little twitchy when he realized he was a little too comfortable with Riah and the menagerie that were part of Mission Moron. He'd considered running, so to speak, but when Beckman finally granted that request, he'd wanted to refuse.
When Riah shivered, he considered how she had nearly fulfilled that second option and drew her closer to him. Perhaps that was why it was easy to tell her softly, "I love you, Mariah Casey, and I have no intention of either leaving you or letting you die."
"I love you, too, John Casey." She gave him an impudent smile and cocked a brow. "If that is your name."
He rolled her beneath him, kissed her hard. "I might have to change my mind," he threatened though he didn't consider it for a moment.
"I know we were going to keep each other up, but I think I need a little bit of rest first." Her body rubbed his as she stretched, and because he could use a bit of sleep himself, he kissed her again and rolled off her, settled her close and drifted off.
Casey welcomed the hot, bitter coffee Riah brought him just before dawn. He pulled himself up against the headboard, and tugged her onto the bed with him. Neither of them had slept much the night before. His wife reached up and took his mouth, smiled when she released him. Casey was more interested in her lack of clothes.
"I'm glad to see you kept your promise."
He ran a hand along her spine. "It's still dark, and Victoria is still asleep."
Her smile was a little wicked. "I've been thinking," she told him.
"That sounds ominous."
"How did you manage to get in that position twice?"
Perhaps because he hadn't yet ingested enough caffeine, he wasn't sure what position she meant, so he asked.
"Cuffed naked to a bed."
Casey could play stupid, remind her he'd volunteered, but he knew she meant with Carina. It would be easy to play the men become idiots when women get naked card, but he was pretty certain that wasn't exactly the answer she was looking for. After all, her expression said it was a serious question, and something in it told him she was also thinking of her father and Galina Vian.
Setting his cup on the nightstand, he gathered her closer, maneuvered her onto her back and gave her the kind of kiss that usually left her clinging to him. He ran his hands up her body as he kissed her again, careful not to damage the bandage over her wound. Casey slipped a hand down her body, stroked through the curls where her thighs joined, and let his other hand glide up her right arm, gently stretched it so her wrist lay against one of the rails in her headboard before he lifted his mouth and whispered, "Snap. It's that easy."
Riah nodded. She met his eyes and asked, "If I let you bind me, what will you do to me?"
Casey went absolutely stupid for a split second. When he could process thought once more, he thought carefully. He would have to go easy with her—assuming he actually consented and assuming she really was willing to go through with it.
"Whatever you allow," he breathed.
"I trust you," she said, and her expression said she believed it. "Pineapple," she added.
Casey didn't point out she'd just told him to stop. Instead, he left her on the bed and went to her dresser to search though her drawers. He found what he wanted in the second one. "Get comfortable," he told her, and when she assumed the position, he took a moment to appreciate how it lifted her breasts. He used one of the stockings he'd taken to tie her wrist to the headboard, and then he put an end of it in her hand. "If you get uncomfortable," he told her as he started on her other hand, "all you have to do is tug it, and you'll be free."
Just as she had done, he made a thorough exploration of her, kissed, stroked, tasted, and though he teased, he wasn't willing to play that out too long before he entered her, moved within her. Just before she was about to fly, he stopped, met her startled eyes, and asked. "How much?"
Riah gave him a baffled frown.
"How much do you trust me?"
"Completely," she told him, and he caught her mouth and reached up to free one of her hands.
She was about to protest, so he covered her mouth with his, added a bit of persuasion, and then he rolled her onto her stomach and retied her wrist. His mouth was on her nape, and she gave a soft moan as his hands stroked down to her hips. Casey snaked an arm under her waist, lifted her onto her knees, and then wrapped her hands over the top of the headboard before he handed her the ends of each stocking once more.
He fitted his body to hers, kissed along her shoulder toward her neck and then up to her cheek. She turned her head, met his mouth with a smolder that quickly turned to flame. For a while, he simply kissed her, ran his hands over her. He kissed her nape, stroked her with his fingers, and when he had her gasping for breath after she came, he lifted his hand, rubbed a finger over her lips and then kissed her hungrily. "I love the way you taste on you," he told her, and she moaned.
Once more, Casey started over, skated past the parts of her she begged him to touch before he finally shifted her legs a little wider and pushed inside her. She moaned, and as he moved his hips, stroked in and out of her, she got more verbal. He had her on the edge before he stopped.
The profanity that came out of her mouth amused the hell out of him, and after a moment or two, he shut her up by covering her mouth with his and beginning again. She'd mentioned possibilities, and he intended to make sure she saw how teasing someone to their limits could be very pleasurable.
The profanity changed to encouragement, and the encouragement switched to something profane without the dirty words, and as she started to come, she screamed his name.
As he continued thrusting into her from behind, remained intent on getting her through again before he followed, her bedroom door crashed open.