Wallbanger by Sable Jordan Page A

praying
Plan B worked so he wouldn’t have to leave her with Sacha. Plan A
didn’t consider her feelings at all. He should have left it at
that. He was slipping.
    He noted the clothes she’d set out. She’d
gone through his things, probably in search of 3-19. She wouldn’t
find it here. Either way, the violation angered him—a firm reminder
that, bottom line, Kizzie was a secret agent trained to complete
missions no matter the method. She didn’t trust him, and acting as
his submissive or not, he shouldn’t trust her.
    Xander ignored the suit and went to the
closet to choose his own. “I can dress myself.”
    “I understand, Sir, but if I have to do this
for Sacha, I need the practice.” She shrugged and added, “Lots of
experience getting a man out of his clothes—back in…”
    He ground his teeth, let that info roll off
his shoulders. She peeked at him, and he caught the wicked gleam in
her eyes just before her head bowed again.
    What game is she playing? Was she just
trying to get him in bed? The honey trap was such an old tactic,
but definitely effective. A man usually lost his senses after sex.
Shoot your load then shoot off at the mouth. A woman like Kizzie
had probably run the con time and time again to get Intel from a
target, and he wouldn’t be another notch in that bedpost. That’s
why he stopped toying with her when he had—it left her in the
vulnerable position.
    But now it seemed she was challenging his
restraint. Fine by him. Kizzie wanted to really play at being his
sub, he’d let her. He could guarantee she’d be the one who cracked
first. He’d have her spilling secrets in a matter of minutes.
    Strolling back to he, he let the towel fall.
“All yours, Princess.”
    Kizzie hesitated a half second, then grabbed
the bottle of lotion from the bed.
    She started at his chest, warming the thick
liquid between her hands before her palms smoothed up his abs,
passed over his pecs in luxurious strokes. Firm pressure provided a
nice massage, and she dug a little deeper into his shoulders. His
arms were next for the delightful treatment; extra time on his
hands.
    And then things got hairy.
    The chafe of lotion against her skin and then
her palms cuffed his right ankle, working their way up his calf.
She smoothed up his thigh, rubbing and kneading, and the long
division he started on in his head wasn’t enough to distract him.
His abs clenched. “Kizzie…” he growled in warning.
    “Hmmm?” Her response was all bubbly
innocence, attention still lingering on his inner thigh. “Is this
okay, Sir?”
    The little wench . The back of her hand
brushed his cock, twice, and he fought the instinct to toss her on
the bed and sink into her. She wouldn’t win. Period. Four
thousand, two hundred twenty-eight divided by three hundred
thirty-four….
    A few more agonizing caresses and she was at
his other ankle, stroking up his calf, fondling his thigh. Shit.
    Her lips pressed to his groin and he couldn’t
take anymore. Gripping her upper arms, he snatched her from the
floor. The astonished look on her face would have been hysterical
if he wasn’t another type of “h” altogether.
    “Enough.” Soft breasts mashed to his chest
made the word come out less harsh than he intended.
    “But your back isn’t—”
    “Don’t play with me, Kizzie, ‘cause you’re
this close to…” he trailed off, shaking his head. How she kept that
doe-eyed look he didn’t know.
    “‘To’, Sir?” Pillowy lips twitched.
    “Glad you two are playing nicely. Expected to
come back to a crime scene.”
    Xander looked to see Phil looming in the
doorway; scooped up the towel and wrapped it around her.
    “No fair!” Phil objected, “Covering up such a
nice view.”
    Kizzie chuckled against Xander’s shoulder and
whispered, “I think you just bowed to your sub, Sir.”
    He didn’t need this right now. He had a stiff
cock, an insubordinate sub, and a pain in the ass for a best
friend—And a stiff cock. Shoving the