Her Rogue Russian(17)

 

"So you got this to …  oh." Rebecca's cheerful face folded suddenly in somber contemplation. Savannah blinked at the sudden change. She had yet to see the happy-go-lucky secretary wear such an expression.

 

"To what?" she prompted. She found herself suddenly realizing just how much Rebecca knew about Maxim outside of what he looked like naked and his inability to see color. Had Maxim told her about their operation? If so, it would be a huge blow to their cover. Even if Savannah suspected she could trust the Hammersmiths, having her true identity compromised-and the nature of her real relationship with Maxim out in the open-spelled the end of the mission before it had even begun in earnest.

 

"I know you're falling in love with Maxim," Rebecca said finally, surprising her. "It's so obvious to me. When I look at the two of you together …  even Travis can't help but notice it, and he didn't even know I was flirting with him until I was standing topless in his bedroom."  

 

Rebecca reached across the desk to lay her hand on Savannah's supportively. "I know everything is new and exciting, but just …  be careful, okay? If you ever want out, you can tell him. You can tell me," the other woman continued. "I know we don't know each other that well yet, but trust me when I say I'm good for this sort of thing."

 

After a measured moment passed between them, Savannah nodded. She had no idea where this was coming from, and the lack of transparency bothered her. Rebecca looked as if she genuinely wanted to help, but with what? How much did the woman know, and how much did she think Savannah knew?

 

There were too many layers at work here. She needed to resume what she had come here to do. She needed to locate Maxim and inform him of their next step-in addition to that, she now had another puzzle to solve, and she was certain the Russian held her missing piece.

 

I know you're falling in love with Maxim.

 

Rebecca had only seen them together a few times. How could she confidently make such a statement? Then again, Savannah mused, Rebecca had likely been in love with Maxim herself at one point or another-maybe there was some projection going on here.

 

Still, she wished it wasn't that phrase in particular that kept cycling through her mind. It was like having some sappy song, totally not her style, stuck in her head. Maybe some fresh air would help her clear it out again. "I'll check back in with you before I leave," Savannah promised, flipping the receptionist a friendly wave. The front desk phone rang, and Rebecca grinned in agreement as she took the call.

 

Savannah exited the shop and looped around back. Rebecca had told her she would find Maxim in the yard working, and she wasn't disappointed with the intel. She saw him sprawled out beneath a half-completed custom cycle, turning a wrench with rhythmic, competent twists of his hand. Most of the frame of the machine was missing, so she had a clear view of the man at work: the broad-shouldered naked torso, sans shirt, and the bulging muscles that collaborated beneath the sheen of sweat to power his body. Not a single movement was wasted; every motion was tightly controlled, working in tandem at the behest of the Russian's analytical mind. The thought of what he could do with that body filled Savannah with mixed feelings of awe and appreciation. There was no man in her department built like Maxim Karev, and she doubted if any agent could win against him in a fair fight. It wasn't that hard to imagine just how intimidating he must have been working as head of security for the Russian Mafia.

 

It wasn't hard, either, to imagine how a man like that might operate in the bedroom. In fact, it was a scenario that was becoming increasingly easy for Savannah to visualize the more she got to know him. What was all that muscle, all that sweat and ink and motor oil, really capable of? Did he work his women like he worked on his machines in the shop, probing and polishing and tightening them to peak performance, or did he engage in sex as rough and dirty as his looks? She imagined it must be a constant battle for dominance, for supremacy, going up against him in an arena where he clearly considered himself the sure victor.

 

What if she was the woman to finally challenge that assumption? Gazing at him sprawled provocatively on his back, it was hard to ignore the tension in her shoulders, the heat in her core. So, she was attracted to Maxim, and she thought about sex with him-she was a hot-blooded woman, and it was only natural. There was an enormous difference between having fantasies about someone and manifesting them, and she wasn't about to risk her badge by embarking on a forbidden affair with a Russian thug.

 

Maybe in another life, she thought wistfully. A life imagined for the two of us by Rebecca, anyway.