Exploited
Page 23

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Dinner consisted of a round of question and answers. I’d ask her something; she’d either answer or dodge it completely. Hannah was adept at changing the subject when it suited her.
“So tell me about your job. You said you work for the CEO of Western Railways. What’s the craziest thing you’ve had to do as his admin?” I broke off a piece of my roll and popped it in my mouth.
Hannah took her time cutting into her steak. Slow, precise incisions. “It’s pretty boring, mostly. Making his appointments. Keeping up with his emails and correspondence. Answering his phones. Nothing really crazy, I’m afraid.”
“You said he was bratty, though. You can’t use that description without a reason. Come on, Hannah, spill the beans.”
Hannah fiddled with the napkin in her lap, smoothing it and folding it and smoothing it again. “I may have been overly dramatic about it. He’s no worse than any other CEO, I’m sure.”
She didn’t want to talk about her boss. I picked up on that quickly. I sympathized, understanding all too well about shitty bosses.
“So you used to be a hardcore techie. Do you miss it?” she asked, deftly changing the subject.
“Sometimes. It was a lot easier when I only had to write some code and deploy it. Though you don’t get the adrenaline high from building an app that categorizes company email, that’s for sure.” I hadn’t been lying when I told Hannah I was a tech dork. There were times I missed the simplicity of my old job. There wasn’t a whole lot of time for programming now that my life was consumed with all things FBI. I still read trade magazines and kept current on trends and new technologies. I had to in order to keep up with the ever-evolving world of hacker technology and security.
“I’m sure being an FBI agent is a hell of a lot better than your standard nine-to-five. I’m jealous.” She took a bite of steak, taking her time chewing, watching me the entire time. The restaurant was busy, but I felt as if we were the only ones there. Hannah had a way of making me feel like the only man in the room. It was heady and powerful. It catered to my masculine need for control and domination.
Damn, she knew exactly what to do to get me going.
“What about your boss? What’s he or she like?”
She was careful in her questions. I liked that she didn’t pry overtly. That she was considerate of the limitations in the things I could share. Her queries were still probing, but in a way that didn’t send up red flags. She was simply curious about the man she was on a date with.
“He’s kind of a prick, actually. So it seems that’s something else we have in common.” I took a drink of my beer. “I’m pretty sure he has it in for me.”
Hannah drank deeply from her glass of wine. She was on her second glass and her cheeks were rosy from the alcohol, her eyes bright. It was clear that she wasn’t used to drinking.
“Why do you think he has it in for you? That sounds a little paranoid, don’t you think?”
“He stuck me with a hopeless case. One that he knows I can’t solve—” I stopped talking abruptly. Hannah made it too easy to reveal things I shouldn’t.
I liked it.
It worried me.
“A hopeless case, huh? Those are the best kind.” She reached across the table and briefly laid her hand on top of mine. I felt the tip of her shoe run along the side of my leg. All my blood ran south.
I forgot about my steak. I forgot about how fucking hungry I had been.
I wanted only one thing.
One person.
And she was sitting entirely too far away from me at the moment.
I turned my hand so that I could thread my fingers through hers. “You wanna get out of here?” I asked her softly.
I noticed a fine tremor in her hand. I squeezed just a little.
“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they were molten. Burning hot.
Fuck.
How was it possible to be so turned on just by a look?
I lifted my other hand, the one not holding hers, and waved down the waiter. “Check, please.”
Chapter 8

Hannah
We left the restaurant quickly after Mason paid the bill. What was I doing?
Was I really going to go home with him?
On the first date?
He held my hand tightly in his as we hurried across the parking lot to his car.
I had been giving off the vibe I knew he’d pick up on. The one that said what I wanted.
And that was him.
He drank it in. Men were so easy. Show him a little cleavage. Lick your lips. Lean into him. He was all yours.
But I didn’t do first-date sex.
I wasn’t that sort of woman.
Could I be that woman now?
For Mason Kohler?
Was that what he would expect from me?
I knew I wasn’t his type. I had figured that out the very first day.
I had to make up for it in other ways.
Because I needed him to want me.
I hid most of the parts of me that I didn’t want him to see. To him I was an overworked admin, nothing more.
Revealing I worked in IT could have easily planted a seed I couldn’t risk growing.
I revealed only what advanced my agenda. What made me appealing on all levels to a man like Agent Mason Kohler.
It seemed to be working.
We stopped once we reached his car. Mason turned around and backed me up against the door, pinning me in.
My legs started to wobble; my heart hammered in my chest.
“Are you sure?” he whispered. His breath came out in tiny puffs. He shivered. Because of the wind?
Because of me?
His eyes were dark and hooded. I could barely see him in the shadows. But I could feel him.
Everywhere.
Was I sure?
He was so handsome.
I liked looking at him.
And surprisingly, I liked the feel of him pushed against me. All hard edges and soft touches.
I was attracted to Mason. I hadn’t predicted that.
There was calculation here.
But there was also lust.
A lot of it.
Did I want this?
Was I sure?
I gripped his shirt in my hands, pulling him even closer, our chests smashed together. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I murmured.
He framed my face with his hands, a disquieting, gentle gesture that almost shattered my resolve.
Then he kissed me.