Chapter 8
The rest of the day consisted of watching Amelia and Jack argue or completely ignoring one another. They hadn’t gone back out onto the slopes; they stayed at the café for five hours. Amelia tapping furiously at her phone when she wasn’t hurdling insults at her husband, and Jack trying to connect with his son when he wasn’t shooting back his own.
Agatha and Rio had gotten through two cups of hot chocolate (Agatha got hers with marshmallows just to give to Rio) and two cups of coffee.
Agatha needed to pee…badly. Of course, she could get up and go, but she didn’t want to leave Rio. It wasn’t for concern of her safety. Rio could handle herself and Agatha knew it. It was simply the fact that she didn’t want to miss a second of this time they were spending together.
This was the first time they had been in each other’s company for this long and not wanted to strangle, torment or fuck one another. And neither of them felt the urge to run away. There was nothing wrong with those three things, Agatha was sure they’d get back to that at some point. But she wouldn’t deny that she wasn’t enjoying being in Rio’s presence.
She hadn’t mentioned anything about her past again, but she’d shared other things with her, like how she loves basketball, and her team is the Brooklyn Nets (obviously), and although she’s never been to see them live, she tunes in to every game whenever she can and when she can’t she watches it back the second she has any free time. She prefers to watch films than TV shows although she rarely watches either and she hates olives.
Agatha loves them.
She’d returned the favour. She told Rio she had no interest in any type of sport ever, she also prefers films to TV shows but would happily watch either. If she wasn’t so hellbent on being a federal agent, she was sure she would’ve pursued a career in acting. Rio had laughed, she’d said it made sense because she was so dramatic. Agatha had pulled a face at her and Rio had laughed harder.
The Archibold’s were getting up to leave now. Agatha and Rio waited a minute before following them, keeping track of them by their trackers. They were heading towards their hotel room and Agatha wasn’t complaining. The bed, couch and chairs in their room were far more comfortable than the stiff leather booths they had been sitting in.
Once back in their room, Rio flicked on the TV, and it lit up with live footage of the couple next door.
“Are we still going to dinner?”
Amelia blinked at her husband. “Is that because I run a tech company? You think I’m a robot and therefore don’t need to eat?”
Jack threw his head back exasperatingly. “It was just a question.”
“It was a stupid fucking question. Of course, we’re still going to fucking dinner.”
“Guess we’re going to dinner,” Rio said over the top of Jack and Amelia’s newest argument.
Agatha chuckled. “Guess so.”
***
Rio’s brown eyes glistened in the low lighting of the restaurant. They somehow looked lighter than usual. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the way her smile reached her eyes as she laughed at Agatha’s digs at their waiter.
“You don’t see it?”
Rio nodded. “No, I do. He does like a seventy-year-old man trapped in a teenager's body.”
Agatha threw out her hand as she said, “Thank you.”
She took in the way Rio was staring at her with an easy smile on her lips, took in the way Rio kept fiddling with her wedding ring as she did so.
A sharp clang of cutlery against Chinaware ripped the pair's attention away from one another. Four tables down Amelia was waving her hands around, muffled words spilled out of her mouth. Her husband had his head in his hands.
Back in the room Rio and Agatha had decided not to make contact again. They would wait until tomorrow. Things between the couple had gotten so heated that trying to engage again would probably end in immediate dismissal. They couldn’t risk that otherwise reapproaching would become far more difficult.
Amelia looked up; the whole restaurant had turned to face her family. She slipped on a neutral mask and returned to her eating.
Agatha’s next words to Rio caught even herself off guard. The comment was offhanded, and she hadn’t considered what they meant, how layered her statement was until it had landed.
“I don’t want to ever end up that way with you. Kill me if you think we’re going in that direction, okay?”
She was laughing until she registered the slight shock on Rio’s face.
Agatha’s smile slowly faded, and she stirred uncomfortably in her chair. “I mean…because it wouldn’t be good for our professional dynamic.”
She felt Rio’s foot press against her leg momentarily before it pulled away. “Yes…professionalism is our only concern.”
Agatha almost thanked god for the waiter arriving with their food. He placed steak and fries in front of her and a lasagne before Rio.
“Enjoy,” he said in that gravely shaken way old men spoke with.
Agatha didn’t bother with her knife and fork as she stuffed a handful of fries in her mouth. Food meant she didn’t have to speak. Food meant she had time to think of how to get out of this awkward position she’d put herself and her fake wife in.
She’d gotten carried away with the fries. A heavy boulder of unproperly chewed food was now wedged just below her throat. Agatha thought her eyes might budge out of their sockets as she tried to cough it down. With flared eyes Rio handed her a glass of water and she took it, not stopping to breathe or think as she downed the entire content in one gulp.
Agatha sucked in desperate breaths, rubbing soothingly at her chest, eyes watering.
“You, okay?” Agatha didn’t miss the slight amusement in Rio’s voice.
“Peachy,” it came out strained.
“How about you try chewing next time?”
Agatha narrowed her eyes teasingly and Rio laughed.
“So, they’re good?”
“Hm?”
“Your fries,” Rio said, pointing her knife at Agatha’s plate. “They’re good?”
“Extremely.”
Rio smiled. “I’m glad for it.”
Agatha rolled her eyes playfully. She shifted her gaze back to their mission targets who were now eating in silence, their son still glued to his phone like he always was. Her hand found its way to a fry as she watched. She looked down at it and grimaced.
That was enough fries for today.
***
Rio was alone in their room, her pyjamas on as she sat on the couch watching the TV. Jack was looking at his son who had fallen asleep on the bed in front of him. She’d told Agatha to stay with Amelia as the couple looked like they were going to split. Amelia had ordered a bottle of wine; it didn’t look like she was going to be moving anytime soon. She’d wanted Agatha to order some more food; after nearly choking on her fries, she hadn’t touched anything else on her plate.
Her fake wife had huffed, was going to rebuttal until Rio had shot her a look that it was not up for debate. She was pleasantly surprised when Agatha didn’t argue, she anticipated it, prepared for it…and it hadn’t come.
For something to do, Rio started biting her nails. Jack wasn’t doing much; he’d flopped on the queen-sized bed using his arms as a pillow. After a while he stilled.
Rio huffed. Now what?
Agatha returned to their room an hour and a half later. In that time Rio had showered, changed into a new pair of pyjamas, brushed her teeth, organised her clothes and stared boredly at the TV.
“I need to shower,” Agatha grumbled. Rio could hear her boots falling onto the floor as she took them off.
“It’s all yours,” Rio said from behind the coach. Her legs were hanging off the back of it, her body upside down, her head inches away from the floor.
“You trying out for the Olympics?”
“Huh?”
Agatha’s face appeared above her; she gestured to the odd positioning Rio had put herself in.
“Oh,” she shifted. “Well, how else was I going to make watching a man and his son sleep for two hours interesting?”
Agatha feigned disgust. “This is what you choose to do with your free time? Watching men sleep? Who the hell have I married.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Rio said.
Agatha cackled before disappearing into the bathroom.
Rio twisted herself so she could see the TV upright again. Amelia was stumbling about her room, pulling sluggishly at her coat and boots. She didn’t bother taking off the rest of her clothes before she dived into bed. It took ten minutes of tossing and turning before Amelia fell asleep.
Finally. Rio had, had enough of watching that family for one day. Her bed was calling to her. With the grace of an elephant, she tumbled off the couch, stretching out her neck and shoulders as she made her way over to it.
She approached the bathroom, didn’t think before she drew to a stop outside of it. She’d expected the door to be ajar, what she hadn’t expected was to see Agatha freshly out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body.
Rio watched as the other woman reached across the countertop to wipe at the large mirror before her. The condensation melted away and Agatha stared at herself in the reflection before she huffed, moving to loosen the towel that hugged her form.
Rio swallowed as Agatha’s naked body slowly revealed itself to her. The towel unravelled and her wife let it drop to the floor before she kicked it away. Rio had to force herself to steady her breath, Agatha was so beautiful.
Her eyes wandered lazily up the other woman’s figure. She picked out the jagged scar on the left side of her pelvis, the fading bruise on her rib from their first mission, the flower tattoo on the inside of her right ankle, the toned lines of her back, her sharp collarbone. Rio couldn’t find a single fault on the woman.
She had to dig her nails into her palms to stop herself from giving into the impulse to barge into the bathroom and trail her fingers down Agatha’s bare spine, plant open-mouthed kisses on her neck, mouth and jaw, run her fingers through her long wet hair, get on her knees and-
Rio dug into her palms harder.
Agatha reached for the cream next to her, opened it and started moisturising her skin. It was then Rio became aware of the tightening coil in her lower stomach, of the dampness in between her legs. She should stop watching. She should go to bed and hope that sleep would come quickly so that every thought of Agatha would be erased, even for a moment.
She didn’t move.
The other woman had finished creaming herself. She pulled on a fitted grey long-sleeve sleep shirt and Rio’s disappointment came out as a shaky huff. Agatha’s long dark hair fell over her shoulders as she reached to her left. She disappeared from Rio’s view for a moment before she returned wearing plaid grey and navy pyjama bottoms. A slither of her lower stomach was still visible, and it was all it took to dry out Rio’s mouth entirely. She swallowed again and felt sandpaper.
Agatha pushed at her hair until it was in a messy ponytail. Immediately, Rio’s eyes dropped to where her hair once was. Water had soaked through the areas around her breasts. There was no missing the hard buds that poked through her shirt.
Rio bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She was torturing herself. Unless she intended on acting on her desire to fuck her fake wife, she had no reason to be watching her.
Agatha rested her hands on the countertop, rolling her head back until her eyes landed back on her reflection. She inhaled a deep breath as she stared at herself. Rio watched the way her eyebrows began to furrow, and then her gaze shifted, connecting with Rio’s in the mirror.
She’d been caught.
Rio all but sprinted to their bed, diving underneath the covers and burying her face in her hands. How could she be so stupid? She heaved in shaky breaths, her knuckles pressed against her forehead.
She forced her eyes shut and tried to steady her breathing, willing herself to fall asleep, or for a hole to open up and swallow her whole. Rio would prefer the hole.
Sleep didn’t come only Agatha did.
She heard the click of the big light turning off, felt the bed sink with added weight, felt Agatha’s warmth reach out and envelope her when she got underneath the covers. She didn’t move. Even if she wasn’t asleep hopefully Agatha would think she was. It wasn’t like she could see Rio; she had fully submerged herself beneath their duvet.
Rio was sure she would’ve stayed buried if she didn’t feel like she was going to suffocate. The heat radiating off her body plus Agatha’s was enough to melt glaciers. She pulled timidly at the top of the cover until light streamed into her little layer and cool air poured inside.
It wasn’t enough.
Rio shuffled upwards as discreetly as she could until her head was above the covers. Her hair was pushed in front of her face. She left it there. It was a mask; she would have to deal with the way it tickled her nose.
Minutes passed and Rio thought Agatha had fallen asleep, she hadn’t felt any movement from the other woman. She shifted her legs, biting down on her bottom lip as her left thigh slipped easily over the right. A reminder of how soaked she still was.
Rio squeezed her eyes harder until she saw stars. She needed to get it together. The movement stilled when she felt fingers brushing her forehead. One by one, strands of her hair were being brushed out of her face. Little by little, her skin became exposed to the cool air of the room.
She stifled the urge to moan at how good it felt to feel Agatha’s soft fingers on her face.
Once all of her hair was out of the way, Agatha brought it behind her shoulder, letting her hand skim the edge of her neck, letting her nails trail down the back of her shoulder before resting on her upper arm. Agatha’s warmth seeped through Rio’s skin like a searing brand; she knew she wouldn’t be forgetting that feeling anytime soon.
Agatha’s other hand returning to her face to stroke her cheek had Rio’s eyes fluttering open. The action was so tender, deliberate, how could they not? She was met with deep blue. Even in the dim light of their bedroom, Agatha’s eyes were just as alluring as ever. They slowly flicked between Rio’s as the thumb on her cheek began to move lower.
Agatha’s gaze dropped to watch where her thumb was going, it along with her eyes landed on Rio’s bottom lip. She pulled lightly, the edge of her thumb dipping into Rio’s mouth coating it in her saliva. Agatha dragged her eyes lazily back up Rio’s face until their eyes connected again.
The other woman’s gaze was dizzying and her thumb tugging at Rio’s lip felt so good her eyes drifted shut again. She thought she was going to explode. It didn’t feel human to feel this good.
Rio didn’t think before finally moving her own hands. They sought out Agatha’s body beneath the covers, she exhaled when her hand found her wife’s hip, shifting at her shirt until she could only feel her heated bare skin. With ease, she slid her arm around the other woman’s back and pulled her into her.
Rio felt the press of Agatha’s arm against her chest because of the space she’d closed.
“Rio?” Agatha whispered. She dragged out Rio’s name as if she were savouring it.
“Mhm,” was all she could manage.
“Open your eyes.”
She felt Agatha’s breath hot against her cheek.
Rio did. She choked back tears. Her wife was so fucking beautiful, always, but especially like this.
There was a hunger in Agatha’s eyes, dark and devastating.
Rio knew then, that whenever Agatha looked like this, she would do any and everything she asked of her.
The other woman leaned in, and Rio was ready. Professionalism? Fuck professionalism. She was an idiot for even trying to suppress the urge to taste Agatha. She felt the ghost of her lips against hers, felt the pressure increase-
She has a lover.
The thought stole the breath from Rio’s lungs. She shoved Agatha back, detangling herself from their intertwined limbs.
So stupid. How had she forgotten?
Rio scrambled out of bed, grabbed her phone from her bedside table and ran to their hotel room door ready to pull it open when:
“Rio?” Agatha’s voice sounded pained, betrayed.
Rio’s hand stilled on the door knob. “Don’t,” she hated how raw her voice sounded. She tried again. “Don’t follow me.” She opened the door. “Please.”
And a plea it was.