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

That was when I saw it, just to the side of my Adam’s apple—a noticeable bruise.


And it was the same goddamned spot where he’d injected me the night I’d returned from Paris.


And then I couldn’t help laughing. I’d never been one for swearing, but my association with Mark Vincent, as brief as it was, seemed to have changed that.


Shaking my head, I bent to take a box of Epsom salts from the vanity, wincing as my ass reminded me yet again it had been well and truly fucked earlier.


Next time, I promised myself. Next time it would be me riding Vincent’s ass. It would be me marking his throat.


And it would definitely be me fucking with his mind.


But that could wait for another day. I emptied the Epsom salts into the tub, eased into the hot, cloudy water, and breathed a sigh of relief.


Chapter 93