Wake Up Maggie(10)By: Beth Yarnall
“If you stop now,” I warned, “I’ll make good on my earlier threat.”
“Not a chance.”
He took me hard and fast, right there up against the wall after we’d cranked up the TV and radio as cover. Thankfully it was an outside wall, or his friends next door might have thought we were having an earthquake. Angels sang. Fireworks went off. I might have even died briefly. All that pent-up sexual frustration was ten tons of dynamite packed tighter than a starlet in designer jeans.
One thing about Super Agent, he was incredibly thorough in his investigation techniques, leaving no spot on my body unexplored. The second time on the bed was where Super Agent really lived up to his nickname. I was pretty sure I saw God that time, and he whispered, “You’re welcome.”
We lay in the aftermath, sheets and clothes strewn all around. A fine sheen of sweat coated his body, highlighting the hills and lowlighting the valleys. He looked as though he’d been sculpted from fine stone. Whereas I looked like I’d been molded out of Play-Doh by an art-challenged toddler. My hair, unruly on most days, now lay in tangled ropes around us, but I hardly cared about any of that with the zing of multiple orgasms still jolting my system.
“You’re not going out with that Jonas guy,” Super Agent decreed, barely out of breath. I might have hated him a little for that except I couldn’t muster the energy for it. Or anything else.
I rolled my head to the side to look at him. “Who?”
I snorted a laugh.
“That was a good lead he gave you.” He sounded reluctant to admit it.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“How long have you had me under surveillance?”
He answered without hesitation. “Almost a year.”
I hadn’t expected that answer. It was much longer than I’d ever imagined. He’d seen me at my best and my worst. I considered all the things people did when they thought no one was watching. Except in my case someone had been watching and that someone was now lying gloriously naked beside me. Alarm bells jangled at the back of my brain. Unease crept cold over me, obliterating my warm afterglow.
He must have sensed my agitation. Rolling toward me, he studied my expression. “I hated seeing you with him. I knew what he was into, what he would drag you into. There were times…”
I waited him out. Not because I was anxious to hear what he had to say, but because I was just so stunned. I pulled the sheet up to cover myself, needing that barrier. I was overexposed. He knew everything about me, every detail of my life. I hadn’t thought about that until this moment, not all the way.
He reached out to touch my cheek and I flinched. He frowned. “Maggie…I’m sorry. I wish we’d met the normal way.”
“Normal. I don’t think I’d recognize normal if it walked up and introduced itself.”
He reached for me again, slower this time. I stayed still, but his touch felt different somehow. “When this is all over I want to take you out on a real date.”
I sat up, easing out of his reach, and fashioned the sheet so that only my head was uncovered. “Yeah, I think we might have jumped the shark here.”
He leaned up on an elbow. “What exactly are you saying?”
I tried to look at him, but all I saw was how stupid and impulsive I’d been. I knew nothing about this guy, and he knew everything about me. If I lived a thousand years I’d never learn all of the things about him that he’d known about me for months now. I didn’t have the staff, resources or access the FBI did.
I rose from the bed, gathering the sheet tight. “I think you should leave.”
Alone in my apartment, I tried to watch a movie, then read a book, then twelve other things that didn’t take my mind off Super Agent. In the end, I gathered up the spent condom wrappers, stripped the sheets from the bed, stuffed them in the hamper and had myself a good long cry in the shower.
Some people might have wondered why I’d stayed so long in my unusual relationship with Chuck Puckett. The thing was, it was easy. He was easy, predicable as sunrise. I was happy. Mostly. He treated me well, took me places, made me feel special. He was my best friend. I could tell him anything, and I never doubted myself with him. Well, not until that night anyway. The illusions it had shattered still dotted my life, like shards of broken glass.