Quinton Mann is CIA through and through. Mark Vincent is WBIS for life. There is no way they could end up as anything other than adversaries -- and yet, Quinn takes Mark out to dinner on his birthday -- the one no one is supposed to know about -- and gives him one hell of a present in the restaurant's restroom. Mark, not to be outdone, has decided to escalate this game, because it has to be a game, right? There's no way it can be anything else.<br><br>But as the game continues, as Quinn shows up to a WBIS funeral, as a friend of Mark’s penetrates the CIA computer network to get information on Quinn, as Mark breaks into Quinn's house and gives Quinn a very interesting encounter, both Quinn and Mark realize that this is becoming the most real thing in their lives.<br><br>Can they find a way to do their jobs and keep this surprising, intriguing connection?

Houseboat on the Nile

If I had the breath, I would have cursed him and my unruly flesh, but my breath was coming in harsh pants, and I was so hard that once again I was shaking with the need to come.


Vincent began working his way down my body, pausing to tug on my nipples. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”


I jerked at his words, and fought wildly against the cuffs. The only time I had done that had been years before, with my first lover, the young man with whom I’d fallen headlong in love. Armand. Oddly enough, I hadn’t thought of him in years. He had been a Frenchman too, and slightly older, almost seventeen to my almost sixteen. I’d had no experience, and he only slightly more.


His parents had objected to the liaison, however, and I’d never seen him again after that giddy, sex-drenched, emotionally wrenching summer….


The cuffs bit into my wrists, and I was unable to stifle a cry.


Chapter 42