by LENA DIAZ,
She didn’t remember taking off the rest of her clothes. She didn’t remember him taking off his. But she definitely remembered the first moment his hot, naked skin met hers. She whimpered with pleasure at the hard, heavy feel of his wiry-haired chest crushing her breasts as he pulled her legs around his hips. They didn’t make it to the bed. They only made it to the wall.
With one hand beneath her bottom to support her, he fit himself to her entrance then stopped, groaning deep in his throat, his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes tightly shut.
“We can’t,” he rasped. “I don’t have protection for you.” His words sounded wrung from him as if he were on a medieval torture wrack being pulled apart.
“Don’t you dare stop. I swear I’m healthy. You?”
“That won’t stop you from getting pregnant.”
Why did the idea of having Jace’s child make her hotter than before? Good grief, she adored this man. And she wanted him so much she wouldn’t have cared if she were protected or not. But he needed to know not to worry.
“It’s okay,” she gasped, unable to stop from squeezing her legs, desperate to pull him inside her. “I’m on the pill, to regulate my cycle. It doesn’t matter. Just, please, don’t stop.” She squeezed her legs again.
With a shuddering groan, he covered her mouth with his. And then he surged forward, filling her, spreading her, setting her on fire all over again. If he hadn’t been kissing her, she’d have screamed her pleasure for the world to hear—or a handful of Equalizers in the basement. As it was, her cries became moans, and his answering groans had her digging her fingers into his shoulders and meeting each thrust with an answering arch of her hips in a rhythm as old as time.
Just when she was about to go over the edge, he broke their kiss and pulled out of her completely.
“Jace,” she whimpered.
“Slow down, sweetheart. I want to make this good for you.” He turned with her and carried her to the bed.
“Trust me, it’s good. No need to go to any extra trouble. Just finish what you started.”
He laughed and laid her far too gently back on the bed. She wanted him rough and hard and fast like he’d been, but suddenly he was gone. She propped herself up on her elbows to see where he’d gone, wincing at the sharp pain that zinged through her hurt arm. But then she saw his gorgeous, tight, beautiful rear as he strode in his naked glory toward the door, and she promptly forgot how to breathe.
Wow.
With the door shut, and locked, he shut the light off. She was about to complain that she really preferred to see every yummy inch of him when the bed creaked beneath his weight. And before she could utter her complaint about the light, he kissed her—
There.
She dug her heels into the mattress and arched off the bed as fireworks went off behind her closed eyelids. “Holy cow!”
He laughed again, his hot breath washing over her thighs. And then he focused all of his considerable talents on the very center of her, kissing her, loving her, stroking her until she cried from the beauty of his lovemaking, begging him to let her touch him the way he was touching her.
The mattress shifted, and the angle of his kisses and his incredible, wonderful, roving hands, changed. And in the dark, she found him, and began loving him the way he was loving her. She’d never, not once, done this before, shared at the same time in the same way that he was sharing with her. Had never wanted to, and yet, nothing had ever felt so right. Giving and taking, stroking and being stroked, tasting . . . and being tasted. The sensations were so incredible, so over the top, she knew she couldn’t last much longer. And from the way he was shaking, obviously holding himself back, she knew he was just as close.
“Jace,” she whispered.
He stroked her with his tongue, making her arch off the mattress again. One last, hot kiss against her hip and he was turning and moving up her body, planting kisses as he went . . . on her belly, his mouth lightly sucking her skin. Then underneath each breast as his hands stroked, cupped, molded.
“You’re killing me,” she gasped, as he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.
He swirled his tongue around her, then kissed her before letting go. “No, sweetheart. I’m showing you how to live.”
And he was right. Because she’d never felt so alive before.
He pulled back, his hands skimming down her sides to her hips. Then he was lifting her, fitting himself to her, angling them both for the deepest penetration. And then he surged inside.
She climaxed instantly, her cries of joy smothered by his mouth suddenly covering hers. He broke the kiss and drew her to his chest as he sat back, still buried deep inside her. His powerful thighs supported her bottom and he wrapped his arms around her back, surging upward with deep, powerful strokes.
Clutching his shoulders, she drew up her knees, rocking against him, taking him impossibly deep. He shuddered and reached down between them, stroking her in an entirely different way, bringing her up to the same fevered pitch as before and keeping her there, hovering on the edge, until she was whimpering, begging him to end it.
“So beautiful,” she cried as she rode each thrust. “So beautiful.”
“Yes, you are,” he growled next to her ear. “And I want to make this perfect for you.”
“It is,” she gasped. “It already is. So close. I’m so, so close.”
And then he lifted her again, but instead of sending her over the edge, instead of filling her one last time to end the exquisite, wonderful torture, he turned her around. She marveled at his strength in holding her, and then he was surrounding her with his heat, her bottom against his groin, her back pressed to his chest, his arms holding her secure beneath her breasts.
“Jace? I don’t know what to—” She sucked in a breath as he surged up inside her again, the angle so perfect, the pressure so intense that she could have sworn fireworks really did explode behind her eyelids this time. Never in her life had she imagined it could be like this. Every pulse, every push, every pull was amplified a hundred times over until she was biting her fist to keep from sobbing out his name.
It was so beautiful that hot tears splashed onto her hands, onto his hands. He drew her tighter against him, riding her hard, his hand sliding down her belly to her center, cherishing her, drawing her pleasure out to the breaking point. And then he whispered the most erotic suggestions in her ear, telling her what he would do to her next time. And the wicked things he whispered had her melting all around him, clamping down on his hand, on him, in a near frenzy of desire.
One last, deep stroke, and he was pulsing inside her, his entire body stiffening. One wicked, swirling movement of his clever fingers against her core, and she went over the edge with him, convulsing and drinking in every shudder of his powerful body deep inside her until they both fell exhausted and wonderfully sated to the mattress.
She’d barely recovered from the most intense lovemaking session she could have ever imagined before he was making demands of her body again, and taking her to new levels of sensation she hadn’t thought possible. Afterward, they showered together, and he ever-so-carefully tended her arm, using disinfectant and bandages he found in the bathroom. And insisting she take some of the over-the-counter meds that were also in a bathroom drawer, to stop the throbbing that had started in her arm from their vigorous lovemaking.
And then he’d carried her back to bed and gently laid her down. Spooning himself behind her, Jace wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked his body around hers protectively, forming a warm, loving cocoon of safety. She’d fallen asleep with his lips against her neck and a smile on her face.
The next time she awakened, it was early morning. Since heavy, steel shutters blocked the light from the window, she only knew it was morning by the sounds drifting up from the basement below: deep voices, laughter at some joke, metal scraping the concrete floor, probably the cots being moved. The Equalizers were getting up, getting ready to begin their missions.
She should h
ave immediately woken Jace, so they could get dressed and start their own mission of logging onto the computer and searching for the information that could be the key to finding the Councilmen. But he was sleeping so soundly, worn-out from lavishing her with such attention during the night, that she chose not to disturb him while she brushed her teeth and tamed her hair.
She would have gotten dressed, too, but since Emily Buchanan was going to drop off some fresh, clean clothes for her, she didn’t want to put on her old, dirty ones. So, instead, she sat on the bed beside Jace, wrapped in one of the bath towels, and debated whether or not to wake him.
His face looked so handsome and youthful in the soft glow from the bathroom light. And even now she could feel desire curling through her just by looking at him and breathing in his scent. But it wasn’t desire that had her feeling confused as she studied him. It was the fierce protectiveness that swept through her, making her nails bite into her palms at the thought that this warm, strong, noble man might have to face any of EXIT’s enforcers. It was fear that had her shaking as she clasped her hands against the urge to grab him and hold on to him and never let him go. She wanted him, yes. So much that it was almost painful. But it wasn’t just physical desire that pained her. It was so much more, this powerful wanting, because it came from a place completely unexpected.
Her heart.
She pressed her hands against her chest, her breath leaving her in a surprised rush. How? How did this happen, and how did it happen so fast? When had her physical desire become something . . . more? And how was she supposed to survive knowing she’d foolishly managed to lose her heart to the one man who could completely destroy her?
It wasn’t fair. She’d thought she was safe. She’d thought desire was all that she felt for him. But somewhere along the way, it had changed.
She covered her face with her hands. What was she going to do? This was a disaster. She couldn’t . . . no, she wouldn’t put a name to these feelings. Whatever she felt for Jace was impossible. Because it had happened too fast to trust. And there was no way they could ever plan a future together even if he felt the same way toward her.
They might have the same goal—to save innocent lives. And that might mean destroying the company she’d worked so hard and long to build and grow. But she could never stand by while Jace, or anyone else, destroyed the man who’d raised her, the man who’d loved her no matter what, the man who’d spent his whole life trying to keep her safe and happy. Regardless of what her father had done, of who he had become, she still loved him. And, somehow, she had to protect him, even if that meant going against her newfound friends—the Equalizers—and the man she was falling in love with. Somehow, she had to find a way to bring her father to true justice, the kind meted out in a court of law, not by some well-intentioned vigilantes. She had to find a way to stop him but also to save his life. But to do that, she knew she’d probably have to trick or betray Jace. And that was killing her inside.
Warm strong hands tugged hers down from her face. Jace’s gray eyes were filled with such concern that she wanted to weep.
“What’s wrong?” His thumb gently stroked her cheek.
She forced a smile. “Nothing. Everything is fine.” She shoved up off the mattress, grasping her towel tightly around her. “I, ah, got ready, but I’m waiting for that go bag you promised me, the one Emily is supposed to bring.”
His frown told her that he didn’t buy that everything was fine, but in his thoughtful, wonderful way, he gave her the space she needed and didn’t pry. Which only made this new wound in her heart hurt all the more.
He scrubbed the stubble on his jaw and stood. “I don’t hear anything downstairs.” He grabbed his phone from where he’d left it on top of a box last night and checked the time. “I should have been down there an hour ago. The others have probably already left.”
“Sorry,” she said, and meant it. “I should have woken you when I got up.”
He leaned down and pressed an achingly sweet kiss against her lips. “Don’t apologize. I’m a grown man. I’m responsible for waking myself up. I should have set the alarm.” He grabbed his go bag off the floor. “Be back in a few.”
She plopped down on the bed as the bathroom door closed. Handsome, smart, brave . . . add thoughtful to the list. And nice. So damn nice. A lot of men she’d known would have been angry with her for not waking them. Instead, Jace was matter-of-fact about it being his own responsibility to get up on time. How sensible and mature of him. Which only made her ache for him even more.
Flaws. He had to have a flaw or two, right? No one was this perfect.
Yes, he had a flaw. A huge one. It was the same fatal flaw that she had: their diametrically opposed views about justice, about her father.
And that was an impossible flaw to overcome.
JACE HURRIED THROUGH his morning routine, then stuffed his toothbrush and shaver into his go bag. As he yanked his dress pants on and tucked his shirt in, he berated himself for sleeping so late. Normally, he could set his internal clock and wake up without an alarm—courtesy of his Navy SEAL training—but last night . . . he shook his head, unable to stop a grin as he threaded his belt through his pants loops. Last night had worn him out. In the most amazing, wonderful way.
He’d known he was falling for Melissa Cardenas long before he actually met her in person. And he’d tried to steel himself against her, knowing that his work for the Equalizers meant there was nowhere to go with those feelings. But the inevitable was happening. He wasn’t just falling anymore. He was free-falling without a parachute.
And he wouldn’t have stopped the fall even if he could.
Knowing her father’s role in EXIT had seemed like an insurmountable obstacle in the beginning. But not anymore. Melissa knew what Cyprian had done. Well, not everything, but enough to understand that he had to be stopped. They were on the same team now. And they would face the future together.
He yanked his boots on and brushed the lint off his carefully folded suit jacket before shrugging into it.
A light knock sounded on the bedroom door, from out in the hall. Jace grabbed his holster and gun from the counter and hurried into the bedroom just as Melissa was reaching for the doorknob.
“Hold it.” He snapped the holster onto his belt and drew his pistol.
She blinked at the gun and backed away. “Okay, but impenetrable fortress and all that. And it’s just Emily with my clothes.” She waved toward the towel covering her as if to remind him that she was nearly naked.
He tried not to think about the luscious body beneath that towel. Her safety was what mattered. He pointed the gun down at the floor. “Who is it?” He motioned for her to get behind him.
“Emily, Devlin’s wife,” a feminine voice answered. “I brought Miss Cardenas some clothes.”
“How did you get inside the house?” Jace asked.
“Austin let me in.”
“Jace,” Melissa whispered. “Isn’t this a little ridiculous?”
“Austin? Are you out there?”
A pause, then, “I’m here. Open the door.” Another pause. “I don’t have all day.”
Jace smiled and shoved his gun into his holster. “Now that sounds like the Austin I know.” He opened the door and froze.
Tarek’s surviving evil twin, Sebastian, stood in the hallway pointing a .357 Magnum at a woman whom Jace presumed was Emily Buchanan. He’d only ever talked to her over the phone and had never met her in person. She stood with her right wrist handcuffed to Austin’s wheelchair. Austin’s left hand was cuffed to the same bar, effectively rendering him helpless: a fact that was highlighted by the combination of embarrassment and fury turning his face red.
His glare was no less heated than the one Emily was aiming at Sebastian. Both of them looked like they would have tackled him, in spite of the handcuffs, if it weren’t for the gun pointed at her head. But it wasn’t the .357 that Sebastian held that had Jace going cold inside.
It was the Remington 870 shotgun in S
ebastian’s other hand, the one aimed at Jace and Melissa.
If it had been a pistol pointed his way, Jace might have taken his chances and lunged at Sebastian to try to knock the gun out of his grasp. But one shot from that Remington would pepper the room in a deadly spray of pellets. If by some miracle none of them hit Melissa from that first blast, a second shot would.
Jace slowly raised his hands.
Chapter Twenty
When Jace raised his hands in the air, Melissa’s stomach dropped as if she’d just stepped off a cliff. What was going on? She couldn’t see past him into the hallway.
“Don’t move,” a gruff voice ordered.
Melissa leaned to the side. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see, but it wasn’t Sebastian Smith pointing a wicked-looking shotgun at Jace and pointing an equally terrifying handgun down the hall, where Austin and Emily must be.
The blood drained from her face, leaving her cold. She had to do something. She clutched the towel and glanced around the room, looking for something, anything, to use to defend them. But other than the gun holstered at Jace’s hip, there was nothing but boxes shoved up against the wall. Why hadn’t she insisted he give her a gun last night? The Equalizers had plenty to spare.
“Miss Cardenas,” Sebastian ordered. “I need you to very slowly take Mr. Atwell’s gun and slide it across the floor to me.”
“Jace?” She refused to follow Sebastian’s orders. But she’d follow Jace’s.
“He’s not the one telling you what to do here.” Sebastian’s knuckles whitened around the shotgun. “The gun, Miss Cardenas.”
“Go ahead,” Jace reassured her. “Do what he says.”
Sebastian didn’t look happy that she was following Jace’s instructions, so she quickly stepped forward to placate him. After securing the edge of her towel so it wouldn’t fall down, she reached for Jace’s gun, swallowing hard as she slid her fingers around the handle. She hated to give away their only weapon.
“It’s all right. We’ll be all right.” Jace’s voice was calm, sure, his eyes devoid of fear, which gave her the strength she needed to follow through.