by Sue Wilder
But Garrett didn’t answer, and I turned away, reaching for the hot pads, pressing both palms hard against the edge of the stove before I could stop my fingers from shaking.
I needed to open the oven door. Bend down and feel the heat hit my face. “The hostage might burn.”
Garrett closed in from behind. His hands slid around my waist as he pulled me upright, nuzzled against my nape.
“I haven’t paid the ransom,” he murmured darkly. “What kind of kidnapper are you, if you take it this far and then give in?”
“The frightened kind.”
“I’m frightened, too.” His hands slid beneath the loosely cropped tee I wore, tender and possessive as he traced the curve of my ribcage. “I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”
His palms slid up to massage my breasts through the lacy Demi bra. When my nipples hardened, he tugged the cups down and pinched, rolled the peaks until I bent my head and gave in to the small sounds rising in my throat.
“There’s only one problem,” he whispered against my shoulder, holding me while his hand slid beneath the waistband of the black silk trousers I wore, his fingers gently tracing across my abdomen.
I breathed through the anticipation. “What… problem…”
“This will be second sex, and second sex is always stressful.” His fingers dipped lower, and the electrical jolt in that first contact rocked through me so hard my stomach clenched. “Once you have two experiences, you can’t help but compare them, and I don’t want you disappointed.”
“You might be the disappointed one.”
His finger mimicked the slow licks of his tongue against my throat. “Never. Not with you.”
I thought my bones would melt beneath the sensual heat, the way he understood my body, how hard to stroke, where I was most sensitive. I sagged back against him. My head rolled against his chest and my lips parted shamelessly.
His bare feet bracketed mine, his legs hard with the athletic bunching of muscles. I tried not to squirm when he shoved his hips forward, his erection surging against me while I stood frozen. He growled his dissatisfaction, increasing the torment between my legs until I moaned.
“Move against me,” he ordered, and I thought, wildly, there was something screwed up with me, that I responded so eagerly to his dominance. But I forgot who I was supposed to be when I was with him, how Soleil St. Clair was always the partner in control. I was the one on top, even when I lay flat on my back. I set the pace, determined the amount of seduction I was willing to tolerate. Rolled too eagerly from the bed when the sex was over.
And it hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe, that with Garrett, this wasn’t mechanical sex. One boob grope where I pretended to be aroused.
Every nerve in my body quickened with sparkling tension. Being held the way Garrett held me was a major turn-on. The scent of his skin, the abrasions from his shirt—each sensation was enhanced by the decadent pleasure building between my legs. I reached back, my hands clutching at his thighs for stability. My legs quivered, and the image of making love on a kitchen floor had me dizzy. But I’d do anything for him, if he asked.
The knock on the door was short, sharp, and I jumped away from Garrett like I’d been caught by my parents. He scowled, adorably, and I giggled when we heard the second knock.
Garrett stalked toward the foyer and yanked open the door. His growled “What?” held enough low aggression to make the waiting man step back. I pegged him as part of the security team camped across the street. He wore casual clothes, but his military posture gave him away.
“Sorry to intrude, sir, but we found Mr. Gray wandering around the perimeter of the house. Said he’d been in California and wanted to talk to Ms. St. Clair. Something about his agent, dumping him, and how she’d understand. Claims he got disoriented in the dark, didn’t realize how late it was, and apologized a little too profusely when we stopped him.”
Marsh stood miserably on the front walk. Another man stood beside him. I reached out and lightly touched Garrett’s arm.
“Marsh is harmless,” I murmured. “Socially awkward, but that’s all.”
“No one is completely harmless.”
The security man turned, followed Garrett’s gaze as he stared at Marsh.
“He’s pretty well lit, sir. Popping breath mints when we approached like it was illegal to wander around drunk. We thought you’d want to know.”
“You knew I was here?”
“Yes, sir. We, uh, saw you on camera as you approached the house.” The man cleared his throat while I wondered at the level of surveillance the Ibiza team provided. “Thought it was a training exercise at first… how was the pizza?”
“Highly recommend it.” Garrett didn’t miss a beat, but he continued to stare at Marsh as he added, “Thank you for your vigilance.”
“Of course, sir.” The man took a step back and nodded toward me. “Ms. St. Clair. You forgot to turn the security alarm back on after the pizza.”
My lips twitched. “How… remiss.”
“I’ll make sure Ms. St. Clair resets her alarm.” Garrett was in full-on authority mode that did not allow arguments. “And I’ll be staying all night, in case there’s another security breach. Take Mr. Gray home. Make sure he’s safely inside.”
The man nodded. “Of course, sir.”
“You’re new to the team,” Garrett added before the man could step away. He held out his hand. “Garrett Kincade.”
“Tom Rigger, sir. Riggs for short. Hired on a year ago.” He shook Garrett’s hand with a precise move. “Former Army Ranger. Your old unit from the way-back. An honor and pleasure, working for Ibiza and meeting you, Mr. Kincade.”
I felt Garrett stiffen. “I appreciate your work, Riggs,” he said. “And thanks for the heads-up about Mr. Gray.” A remoteness settled into Garrett’s expression as he studied Marsh. “I’m sure you never thought drunk escort duty was part of the assignment.”
“I handle whatever comes, sir.” I thought Tom Rigger wanted to salute Garrett, but then he simply nodded and turned. His partner held Marsh—who swayed like he needed help to remain upright, and I thought, for a moment, that I should say something. Offer comfort. I knew disappointment and could imagine how Marsh felt after losing his shot at Hollywood. Drunk. Embarrassed. Miserable.
Garrett closed his fingers around my hand as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.
“The hostage is waiting,” he murmured. “Come back inside while we discuss the ransom.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“No,” I giggled around a bite of cheesy pizza. “You were never that un-cool.”
“I was,” Garrett admitted with a crooked smile. “She scoots closer and I lean back, awkward arm-stretch and all, ask if she’s dating anyone. She says she’s really into danger. I’m thinking, this is looking good. I’m danger. Then she smiles and says ‘here comes my boyfriend.’ Figured out pretty quickly what she was into. Max takes a wild swing as the boyfriend charges. Glasses break. Chairs go flying. Bartender is swearing, coming out from behind the bar with a cricket bat. We figured it was time to leave. Then a chair hits from behind and I go down in this pool of beer just as my CO walks in.” Garrett took a bite of pizza and chewed thoughtfully. “Never did go back to that pub.”
“The two of you.” I smiled and licked pizza sauce from my lips. “You’ve burned that image into my mind. Every time I see Max now, I’ll see a bar brawl in Scotland. Did he ever wear a kilt? Because that would be worth watching, Maxton Wells brawling in a plaid kilt with his legs all hairy.”
Garrett’s smile was a heartbreaker. “He was an animal back then, hairy legs and all, fighting to forget his broken heart. Never caught him in a kilt, though.”
“No, not his style, but is he still fighting?” I asked, serious because I’d never seen Maxton with a woman and didn’t like the idea of him being lonely.
Garrett picked up his whiskey and stared at the amber liquid. “He loved a girl once. She didn’t want the
military life, asked him to choose. He couldn’t see himself doing anything else, so she walked. He never got over her.”
We sat on the Aubusson carpet with our backs against the couch, staring at the fire. The pizza box sat between us, but Garrett’s arm brushed against mine when he reached for his share of the slices.
I wiggled my bare toes.
“This is nice, seeing you relaxed,” I told him, stealing a pepperoni round from his pizza slice and sucking it into my mouth.
Garrett watched me, fascinated, as I licked the sauce from my fingers. “I’ve been relaxed before,” he said.
“Not enough. And I’m sorry I’ve messed up your life.”
“You haven’t.”
“But we need to talk and I don’t want to argue—”
His mouth closed over mine, tasting of pizza cheese and bittersweet whiskey—a combination he swore by and I had to agree went well in moderation.
“Ugh.” I pulled back and laughed. “Not fair, Mr. Kincade. You don’t shut down arguments that way.”
“What way would you like?” He plucked an olive from my half of the pizza and popped it into his mouth.
I eyed him warningly. He grinned and reached for another. I intercepted his hand, guiding the olive toward his mouth. His lips parted, and I fed him, catching my breath when his tongue stroked against my fingers.
“I like the taste of you,” he teased when I pulled free. “And you aren’t going after Brand or his crazy ex.”
“I’m supposed to be the crazy ex.”
“You know who I mean.”
Defensive, I shrugged one shoulder. “I’m proposing a misdirection, that’s all. I know Brand, how he operates, and he’ll spin losing that role until public pressure gets it back for him. He’ll make it look like I used you for revenge, and then he’ll smear your reputation, Ibiza, and he won’t stop there. If you think the derring-do remark was the worst of it—”
“No,” he said unequivocally.
“You haven’t let me finish,” I huffed. “I’ll go to the press first, like tomorrow, and get in front of the story. Make it all about me—which I’m very good at, by the way. We’ll call it the revenge of Dacree of Wyvern and reactivate my Instagram account. Marshal my fans and start a campaign—”
Garrett put two fingers against my lips. “Will you listen? Please?”
My mouth curved. “I make you crazy. You call me trouble. We’re sitting here eating insanely good pizza and drinking whiskey in front of a fire. And still… you expect me to listen?”
He leaned closer, his hazel eyes fierce. “I expect you to be smart. For all the posturing, Brand is dangerous. We don’t know where he is right now. Who he’s with, and I don’t give a flying fuck about what he does to me. It’s you I care about.”
“But I can’t care about you?”
“Trouble…” The soft rasp in his voice crushed. The loneliness etched on his face reflected in everything he did, and I wondered why Garrett denied for himself the human comfort he wanted for others. Did he ever pull down the walls he hid behind? Allowed another person in? Loved?
Pushing aside the pizza box, I slid on his lap. The desire to protect him surged with unexpected urgency, but I was facing someone too stoic to let me get close, or allow me to face Brand on my own.
I searched for something to say, to convince him my plan was right. I found nothing, and when he breathed in, I kissed him, wanting it to be simple. He’d kiss me back, and everything would be fine.
It wasn’t simple. His hands settled on my waist. His gaze grew intense.
“No.”
“No?” I echoed. “You have your hands on me. I just kissed you. Do you know how many men wish they could get this far?”
“Don’t cheapen yourself.” He exhaled harshly. “We both know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?” I asked tightly.
“Fighting fear,” he growled in return. “Because you feel out of control, and you’re going to fly apart if you don’t do something. You’re trying to use your body to convince me of something I don’t want you to do.”
The way he saw me turned unbearable. “Let me go.”
Garrett’s grip tightened. “Never. There’s nothing I want more than you. But not this way, Soleil—do you even know how fucked up this is? Me saying no to you because I’ve suddenly found ethics?”
“This is your version of ethics? Shutting me out?”
“It’s my version of sanity. Shit, Soleil.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t want you like this, debasing yourself.”
“Fuck you, Garrett. I’ve already debased myself, chasing after you.” I shoved against his chest, scrambled from his lap. My throat tightened while my heart raced. His expression was rigid, the muscle flicking in his jaw, and I couldn’t look at his beautiful face.
I scrubbed my hands against my eyes. “I came here, never expecting anything, and there you were, turning everything upside down. I didn’t want to weaken, but I did. I didn’t want to trust you, but I did. All those times, when I thought—I thought we connected. We made love, Garrett. And you lied to me.”
“I can’t talk about Brand.”
“Isn’t that my line?” I shot back. “Do you know how it felt, listening to him taunt you about something you should have told me? Trusted me enough? And now I’m using my body? When I damn well don’t need your permission to do anything.”
He rose to his feet with threatening grace and I stepped back, held up both hands. “Go away. Max said what I felt was anger, and the only way I can get through it is to burn my way through. You don’t want to be here when I do.”
“Don’t tell me what I want.” His hands were fierce when he gripped my face. “You don’t get to run this time, trouble. Not from this.”
His mouth devoured mine. I fed off the need, our tongues clashing. The rough pressure from his fingers was a release as much as it bound me. “I didn’t lie to you,” he hissed. “And I’ll take your anger, all of it. Don’t hold back. Just face me.”
With the challenge, I stepped back, stripping off my tee and tossing it defiantly. I expected him to hesitate, but he was right there with me, ripping at his shirt with both anger and determination. When the shirt came off, I stared for so long I forgot to breathe. Like I was starved for air even when it was surrounding me.
Garrett’s fingers brushed against my lips, and he dragged one forefinger down the length of my throat. I felt the calloused texture, but it was male and erotic as he traced my collar bone. My hands went all weak and boneless as I pressed against his heated skin, the curve of his shoulders, exploring the scars that marked his skin. The raised ridges, indents, oddly shaped.
Pain was written there. Memories I’d never have of him, of the life he led. The sorrows that changed him, widened the gulf between who he’d been and who he was now, and deep in my chest, I felt the ache, crushing me. The loss of something important, draining away.
The words trembled on my lips. “Don’t leave.”
“Don’t cry,” he whispered back, and I wasn’t sure what he meant until he swiped his thumb beneath my eye and I felt the smeared moisture. I didn’t feel ashamed though, because with Garrett, I was vulnerable.
My head dropped back as he pulled me to the couch, and I straddled his lap, rose to my knees. He was my new addiction and my veins were on fire.
“Fight me,” I hissed against his lips, reaching for his anger to balance out my turmoil. He made me feel alive and free from the lies, from the losses and hopes I shouldn’t have.
“I am.” Garrett’s breathing grew ragged, his hands stroking restlessly, and my lips bruised his mouth.
“I’m not using you.”
“You’ve never debased yourself, trouble. Don’t think that.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
I hissed when he gripped the roots of my hair and tugged, sending a zing of pain that aroused more than it hurt. He held me in the position he wanted, where he was free to nip and lick while I remained
motionless.
His dominance thrilled me. The ferocity of his hot mouth demanded more as he kissed along the curve of my jaw, down the slope of my throat. A desperate yearning chased after relief and I realized Garrett had his dark side the way I did, both of us fighting demons.
I shifted, whimpering beneath the leashed passion he held with unflinching control. I was on top, but Garrett was dominant, and I traced the ridged muscles in his shoulders, down his arms, angry at the life that marked his skin with scars. Angry that he kept secrets. That I loved him.
In the dim light, the inner battle he fought was visible in his eyes. In the need-driven urgency I felt in his hands. His touch was raw and abandoned. I fought too, torn in two directions, drawing on his strength, even when I knew he’d break my heart one day.
He’d leave—it was there in his eyes. He’d end things the way he did with Maggs, with his hand warm on my back and in privacy when he explained how he didn’t make commitments.
The image shattered me, and if I could banish the future, then I’d do it the only way I knew how.
I sat up, reached behind me to unhook the Demi bra.
As the bra dropped away, Garrett’s gaze became devastating. With skill, he traced the sensitive swell of my breasts until my breathing hitched and I didn’t give a damn about anything but the feel of him. This dominant, passionate man, smoking-hot and nearly nude, who was so aroused I trembled beneath the heat. The building pressure between my thighs.
Sparkles of white-hot pleasure danced, raced beneath my skin. I bent my head. Nipped at his mouth, tugged and tried to devour what I could not control. He rolled us both over, positioned himself above me. The weight of his body, the unbelievably sculpted abs and latent power were an aphrodisiac. Only his touch registered, the tracing of his fingers.
His hands gripped my ribcage. “God—Soleil!”
I arched on a gasp when his mouth moved to my breast. “Garrett—”