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

He would expect me to go after him, to retaliate quickly. After all, that was how the WBIS worked. And I’d been so fucking hot for him the other night, he’d think I’d never be able to resist him.


And dammit, there was my cock, agreeing wholeheartedly with that.


But I was also the son of Nigel and Portia Mann. Coolness and cunning had been bred into my bones.


I sat on the edge of the bed and made sure that my alarm was set to go off at the correct time, then swung my legs up onto the comforter. I pushed up my pajama top and rubbed my fingertips over a nipple that was already pebble hard.


Wouldn’t Vincent be pleased to know that? But he wasn’t going to know that.


I slid my hand past my waistband. My cock was fully erect, and I ran my fingertips along its hot length, teasing myself higher. I drew random patterns around the crown with the precome that oozed from the slit.


Chapter 62