Marx Girl

“You didn’t ask me yet, though,” I murmur as I pick up my wine glass.

His eyes meet mine and he raises his eyebrow. “Ask you?”

“Yeah, you know… to marry you.”

His lips twist as he tries to hold his smile and he sits forward, putting his hands together under his chin. “You want me to ask you to marry me?”

I smile, and nod goofily.

“Are you going to say no?” He smirks.

I roll my eyes. “Well, no, because technically we’re already married.” I huff. “Just humour me, will you, Ben?” I mutter into my wine glass. “You’re annoying when you get all logical and shit.”

He smiles sexily. “So you’ve told me once or twice.”

I sip my wine as a smile starts to take over. I can’t even act like he annoys me.

“I’ll ask you when the time is right,” he replies.

Our eyes lock.

“And when will that be?”

“When I say it is.”

“You’re a control freak,” I whisper.

“I only control one thing,” he whispers in return as his eyes darken.

“What’s that?”

“Your body.”

I feel my insides flutter, because he does have complete control over my body.

He says how.

He says when.

He says how hard.

“Speaking of which, what’s your favourite part of my body?” I ask.

I like this game.

“Your heart,” he replies, without even having to think about it.

Of all the things he could have said…

I swoon and pick up his hand to kiss the back of it.

Our eyes are locked.

I love this man.

“No, really, tell me what your favourite part of my body is.” I already know the answer. Ben is obsessed with my boobs. He has his hand on them to sleep, his hand on them to wake up, his teeth on them to fuck, his head on them to relax. Even on the plane, this morning, he had the blanket over us so he could sleep with his hand up my shirt and under my bra.

He’s a complete boob man. Thank God I’m well-endowed in that area.

He thinks for a moment and frowns. “Your face.”

I frown. “My face?”

“When I see your face…” He pauses. “It gives me this… this feeling of happiness deep down inside of me.”

My eyes fill with tears and I smile softly. “That is the most romantic thing that I’ve ever heard.”

“And your face is the most beautiful thing that I’ve ever seen.”

Oh, how I love this man.

“We should go home and have really rough sex again,” I whisper.

He shakes his head softly. “No.”

“No?”

He lifts his chin defiantly. “Tonight, I’m in the mood to make love to my wife.”

My heart melts.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”

His eyes hold mine. “Well, tonight’s the first night I’m ever going to do it.” He licks his bottom lip as he contemplates his next words. “Tonight, I give myself to you completely.”

Goosebumps run up my arms as our eyes stay locked.

Dear Lord, Heaven help me. I don’t think my heart can take it.

It’s go-time.

* * *

BEN

I walk her backwards into the apartment with my hands on her behind, her soft giggles falling against my lips. It’s as if we have crossed another intimacy threshold. I feel so, so close to her.

We’ve done it. We’ve reached the ultimate level of closeness. I need to be nearer, though, so I pin her up against the fridge as we kiss. There’s no urgency to tear each other’s clothes off. We just want to enjoy each other for as long as we can.

The doorbell buzzes.

What?

“Fuck’s sake. Who is that?” I whisper.

She slams her head back against the fridge. Damn it.

I go to the security camera. It’s Greg, my boss. “Jesus. Perfect fucking timing,” I murmur. “Sorry.” I buzz him in.

“Who is it?” she asks as she straightens her dress.

“Greg from work.” I exhale heavily. “I’ll make it quick, half an hour max.”

“Damn it, Ben, I’m not in the mood to be nice to people,” she whispers, clearly annoyed. “The house is still a wreck.”

My eyes find hers and I smile. “Do you need to have a nap?”

She folds her arms angrily. “Yes, I do, actually.”

There’s a knock at the door and I answer it. “Hello, Buzz.” He smiles broadly.

Greg is in his late fifties or early sixties, and I’ve worked under him for the last six years. He’s a good man. “I just had to come over and congratulate you on your mission.”

“Thanks.” We shake hands and I turn to Bridget. “This is my wife, Bridget,” I introduce. “Come in, please… take a seat.”

“Thank you.” He smiles, and falls onto the lounge.

“Can I get you a coffee or anything?” I ask.

“Yes, that would be great. What the hell happened?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I just couldn’t believe it,” he continues.

“The two agents went bad.” I shrug my shoulders. “I somehow got mixed up in it.”

“How?” He frowns.

“Jason Steele sent me this letter with some code on it.”