Free Double Down by Gabra Zackman Page A

just to the left of panicking. How could she tell Mahmoud about her fear of small spaces? Ever since her escape through the Odessa Catacombs she’d had a paralyzing fear of being trapped. She could practically feel the wet walls of those rat-infested tunnels closing around her.
    â€œMahmoud,” she said. “I don’t like this—when I’m in small spaces, I start to panic—”
    â€œIs this about Odessa?” he asked.
    Her whole body tensed and she felt like she was choking. “What the fuck do you know about it?”
    â€œI did my research on you, Ms. Tyka. When I first met you, I . . . wanted to know more. Everything. I found out all I could. Which wasn’t much.”
    â€œBut how do you know about Odessa?”
    â€œI have some contacts in the French secret service. Like the woman you saw, who you will never see in my bed again. I promise. She’s a friend. And a good agent. That’s all.”
    She was still having a hard time breathing. “I don’t like you knowing about my childhood.”
    â€œWell, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell you anything you want to know about mine. I’ve told you much about my family, but there’s more there. I’ll share all of it with you. And just so you know, when I heard about you and your mother escaping through the catacombs, I thought it was extremely . . . badass.”
    She smiled in spite of herself. “I don’t like feeling caught.”
    â€œWell, there’s a door right in front of you. What if you pretend it’s a choice?”
    â€œWhat do you mean? Who would choose to— I think it’s ridiculous to—”
    â€¡â€¡â€¡
    Her next words were cut off as he put his hand over her mouth again. “Let me show you,” he said softly. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel in this small space, and then you can choose if you want it to continue.” Without waiting, he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot on her neck he’d found in their previous lovemaking sessions, relishing the sharp intake of breath as she responded to him. He took his time, and used his lips, his tongue, his teeth to lavish attention on every part of her long neck, her throat, her upper shoulder. He grabbed her long blond hair in his hand and pulled; she gasped and threw her head back, allowing him greater access. He pulled her even closer; then trailed both hands up and down every inch of her body, making her moan softly with ecstasy. They’d made love several times with the same precision they used to approach their deadly work . . . fiercely, sharply, efficiently, and without apology. Now, suddenly, it was different; trapped in the closet of the potential mastermind they both sought, held so close together, there was a shift in energy, in style. Mahmoud found himself wanting to discover every inch of Tyka’s body, every undiscovered piece of her taut, strong, feminine landscape.
    He started with her arms. As he continued to feather kisses along her neck and shoulders, he ran his fingers up and down the length of her muscles to her hands, entwining his fingers with hers, gaining excitement from her heightened breathing and low moans of pleasure. Taking her fingers in his mouth and gently sucking on them one by one, he ran his hands across her torso and the lean muscles of her back, and up through her hair to the front of her, her toned stomach and her firm upturned breasts, nipples straining through the fabric of her shirt and bra.
    He turned her around to face him then, just possible in the small space. Mahmoud took her mouth with his, and when she opened to him he deftly inserted his tongue, claiming what he felt was his. He wanted her now more than he’d ever wanted any woman; wanted her body, her soul, her mind; wanted her to be his. Slowly, relishing the moment, he pulled her pants down and deftly slid her underwear down as