Authors: Sasha Combs
Laced Impulse (15 page)
“
Bianca... Please... This isn’t bad news but I know that the Director hasn’t informed you either.”
“
Has something happened?”
“
Yes... Well, if you were wondering why I haven’t been around... When you started your treatments, and it was determined that the serum would detox your body. I needed to do something productive. I’m no good to anyone when my hands are idle.”
She nodded, waiting to learn something that was sure to be important.
“
When Richard promised Henrik that he wouldn’t kill him... That was Richard’s promise. I never made any assurances to Henrik.”
“
You killed him?” her voice trembled. When it came to Henrik, she had so many conflicting feelings and she didn’t know why. Thomas said...
“
Let’s just say that... Henrik won’t be causing any trouble where he is. Also... The people that financed his little operation... We disrupted production at three of their factories. The designer drug trade has suffered a setback and on the surface; Henrik is partly to blame for hundreds of deaths caused in this country, not including thousands of lost lives around the globe.”
“
You set him up. You made it look like he was a double agent. When you disrupted their drug production, it must have looked like Henrik leaked the information.”
“
Something like that. But, since we’ve provided him a safe place away from his ex-employers... Henrik has been very helpful. With what we’ve learned, a few of our agents will be extremely busy. But, that isn’t why I told you this. I just wanted you to know that you don’t need to worry about Henrik anymore.”
“
Thanks... That’s nice to know.”
They were skirting around an obvious subject. A topic involving them and what they'd done while at the safe house outside of Paris. Him arriving unexpected, she'd been caught off guard. For weeks she'd rehearsed a set of lines but each time she said the words, no sentence articulated her true emotions. When the time came and she finally faced him; Bianca wanted to appear in control. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been rambling, under the influence of the drug. That isn't how she wanted him to see her now. She wanted his impressions to be an accurate portrait, demonstrating her strengths and not her weaknesses. Her time spent with him had been incredible. She wished he could have experienced his orgasm in the same way she had. One moment, she was grounded to the mattress, sheened in their combined sweat. Then in the next second her brain had lifted her out of her body. She was flying in the air, headed toward the sunset. In the distance she could see flickering shimmers, glistening off the lakes surface. Gulls floated below clouds like suspended fixtures with wings. None of it was real of course. This was her mind playing games, tricking her to believe she was someplace else with Mot and not in the bedroom. This is what she'd wanted to say. This is how she'd wanted to explain what being with him had been like. But she couldn't. If she were ever to ensure a future with him, he couldn't know about this. Not now. Maybe never. But perhaps she would tell him when nothing mattered more to them than the love they shared.
"Bianca..." His green eyes lay heavy on her; brows raised in question. "You're thinking about that night. Did you use your therapy sessions to discuss the night we spent together?"
He crossed a line. Approaching the topic antiseptically. Mot knew no other way. All along, he'd known broaching a subject that spoke of their intimacy. It wouldn't come easy for her. Bianca's hip shifted forward on the couch. She'd not meant too but she was speaking louder than she'd intended.
"No!" In perfect timing, her hand circled her neck; a true show of her shock. "That night.... That was something private. It had absolutely nothing to do with my job. Not to mention the obvious. I could never talk about a subject as sensitive as that, with my therapist."
She didn't understand what possessed him to suggest this. Mot sat, calmly admiring her when he said...
"Your sessions are private. You should feel free to discuss whatever you want."
"I do and I have. But not about that." She insisted.
"Bianca..." He said her name with such care. "I hope you're not using
me
as your reason to remain silent. If you need to make sense about anything that happened, I would completely understand."
"Oh.... You would, would you." She said mockingly.
He laughed while saying...
"All right. I deserved that. But I am serious. You may need to talk about that night to someone impartial."
"Are you saying that I can never discuss that night with you?"
He waited before answering her. By his expression she knew he'd thought long and hard; deciding how best to talk about a subject she closely guarded. He cleared his throat, reaching for his glass, he stole a drink; sipping the cold cola. Thomas said...
"I wasn't sure if I'd be the best person to talk to."
"Why wouldn't you be?"
He rested his arm along the back of the sofa. His green eyes considered her. He wondered if she knew the power she held over him. Thomas said...
"Question. Do you regret making love to me?"
His directness shocked her but she regrouped then pelleted him with her response and the same question.
"No. I have no regrets. What about you. Do you regret what we did?"
His mouth curled into a crooked smile. He lowered his eyes, recalling what they'd done and all the ways they did it. No; he thought, while shaking his head.
"No Bianca. I have no regrets. But tell me... Do you remember what you told me? Your exact words. Do you remember what you said?"
She knew the phrase he was referencing. Blood rushed to her head, turning her cheeks a rosy hue. She blushed, then said the words.
"I said... I told you that I love you."
He leaned into his question.
"And, what led to this epiphany?"
He was deliberately goading her. Asking in a way that would force her to unearth reasons or hidden secrets. His question inferred that he wasn't persuaded that she genuinely loved him. The implications were far too many to contemplate but she was certain his query sprouted due to the drug. But she did love him. She phrased her words, being just as succinct as he'd been.
"Just for a moment, let's pretend I wasn't under the influence. For arguments sake, let's assume that even now, I'm making sense."
He smiled, then laughed his amusement. She wasn't sure which sentence had humored him. Regardless, she continued, determined to persuade him.
"I supposed you think...like my mind; my heart is divided, into before and after. Well it isn't. I loved you before and I loved you after. The drugs had nothing to do with my heart or my emotions."
"But it did." He said. Thomas moved closer, removing the distance that separated them on the sofa. He was so close she could feel the heat from his breath. In every word she sensed his need to hear her honesty.
"Bianca.... If you didn't have that drug in your system... Would you have shared your feelings? Or would you have maintained your silence? For months, you sat at your desk, hiding behind Director Vance; avoiding my stares. You used your job and The Agency as your excuse not to tell me how you felt about me."
"What about you?" She shot back. "I could say the same about you!"
"We're not talking about me. I wasn't impaired. My brain hadn't been poisoned by a mind altering drug."
He had a point. She'd turned her head, thinking of ways to spin this in her favor but she couldn't. She felt his finger caressing a line down her face. When she turned to meet his gaze, his eyes weakened her resolve but his voice comforted her.
"Bianca... When I made love to you... I knew exactly what I was doing and I knew why I was doing it. I've wanted to be with you for a long while. I shouldn't ask but...."
"But...you want to know about me. You want to know if I was aware of my actions." She grasp hold to his hand, moving it from her face. Lacing their fingers, she placed both hands over her heart.
"Mot..." she misspoke, but for nearly a year, this is the name she'd come to know. It's the name she'd learned to love. No other name described him best.
"If things had been different. If I hadn't been drugged, I don't know when I would have told you how I feel but I do know at some point, I wouldn't have been able to contain the emotion. If there was one good thing that came from that experience, it would have to be the way the drug freed my tongue. Mot..."
He smiled, hearing his agency name formed on her lips. She said...
"That drug gave be confidence. It allowed me to say what I'd known all along. I love you. I've loved you for months and I'm not sure when or how it happened. I just know how I feel."
"Good. Because, I know how I feel."
Thomas drew her close in his arms; pulling her into a kiss. He twirled his fingers in locks of her hair.
"Mmmmmm." Her sultry sound led him to say...
"You know.... When we made love.... You were heavily drugged. With you sober, I'm not sure if I'll have the same affect on you."
She drew back, elbowing him in his side. But he wasn't ready to let her go. With quick hands, he pulled her back to him. Her eyes bathed him, longingly. She said...
"Why wonder. I think we should put it to the test."
She wiggled free, to stand. She lowered her hand, forming a hook with her littler finger; she caught his appendage. She'd been half joking and half serious, and at any minute she expected him to say some offhand remark; refusing her advance. But when he didn't, her face softened because she truly wanted this.
Thomas rose from his seat. He pulled her close, then wrapped her in his arms. He kissed her soft and gentle before raising his head. Dear Lord, those green eyes. His gaze seared her heart; a depth of feeling. He spoke a hairsbreadth from her lips. Wafts of air nearly weakened her knees.
"Are you sure? Because you don't have to prove
anything
to me."
She drew nearer, then kissed him. Unyielding hands held firm the curve in her spin. A sigh of bliss herald words that expressed honest desire.
"Right now, I'm sure of one thing. I want you. And I'm not trying to prove anything."
When they finally made it to her bed, his touch felt so familiar. She wasn't surprised when their lovemaking was the same because nothing had really changed. In her heart, when he'd touched her that first time; even then she'd wanted him. Just like now. In her head she could still hear Sven's melody. But even this didn't stir hints of worry. She was in touch with her reality. She could feel and taste him. Tom or Mot spelled backwards. In the end, it didn't really matter what he called himself. When faced with his desires; he'd made his choice, crossing a line, bringing them together. Her first mission would always remain in her mind as a memory to treasure. She'd won Mot's heart. And she could never forget the coral gown, and Sven's romantic composition. These memories would forever be etched in her brain.
For more romance
Visit
Shadow Romance Books
