by P. A. DePaul
“For the record,” Grady’s deep drawl boomed behind her, “I’m not a bully.”
She gave up searching for something to stand on and peered over her shoulder. The thundercloud eclipsing his face took her by surprise. “Did I strike a nerve?”
“Hell, yeah.” He crossed his arms. “I detest bullies. I joined the Marines so I could kick the crap out of bullies.”
She slowly turned. “I find it hard to believe you got beat up a lot when you were a kid. Does that mean you were the bully?”
His jaw hardened. “Definitely not.”
“What happened, then?”
A faraway light eclipsed his irises as if he were reliving whatever incident made him react so strongly to her comment. “Let’s just say I witnessed a kid get put in the hospital and ultimately die from brain hemorrhaging when she wouldn’t hand over a music player to the prick who was a grade above her.”
Her heart twinged at the image he painted. Way to be an ass for taunting him. “I’m sorry. Wait. Did you say she was put in the hospital? What happened?”
He shook his head, his eyes sharpening onto hers. “Nuh-uh. You’ve got secrets? Well, so do I. If you want that story, you’re going to have to trade me for it.”
“Of course I would,” she muttered, her curiosity now brimming to the edge. She stood on her toes and raised her arm; she was just able to wrap her fingers around one of the containers and pull. The plastic measuring cup popped off, but nothing else budged. Shit.
“Need a hand?”
“You offering freely or are there more strings attached?”
“This one’s on the house. I figure I’ll throw my stuff in with yours, so it’s win-win.”
She stepped back. “Then by all means.”
The muscles flexed in his arms as he reached up and pulled them both down. His left sleeve had ridden up, revealing part of an intricate tattoo on his bicep. Interesting how she hadn’t paid attention to that before. Next time she was going to see what the design was.
Next time?
You bet your ass, her libido shot back. I have to have him again.
Five minutes later they had their clothes swishing their way to cleanliness.
“I’m going to have to take a rain check on that story,” she finally replied. “I really need to get on the Internet.”
She led the way out of the room and didn’t stop until she was in front of the laptop case. “I’m not even going to ask to borrow this because I’ve already won the right to use it.” She peered at him over her shoulder. “Seeing as how I was able to get to it first.”
“Only one Internet site,” he said, coming to a stop near her. Luckily, the anger from her gaff in the laundry room seemed to have faded. “The second will have to be negotiated.”
She shot him a look.
He shrugged. “You can’t drop bombshells on me and expect me not to react.”
Damn it; that seemed too logical. She let out an exaggerated sigh for show. “Fine. Just put your password in and unlock it.”
He grinned and slid by her. The scent of lemons hit her nose. Interesting. After he typed in the password, he said, “You’ll have to sit here where I can watch over your shoulder.”
“Whatever.”
She plopped into a dining chair, causing the fabric of her towel to split, revealing the whole expanse of her thigh.
He breathed in swiftly, and she couldn’t help but grin to herself. Let him feast on that while she surfed the message boards to see if her team had tried to make contact in the last few days. A long shot since they still thought she was dead, but she had to try. After all, an assassin had tried to kill her earlier. Had to be SBG.
***
The SBG operative crept through the thick trees, his teammate a few paces to the side. Luckily, the leaves hadn’t begun to fall yet this early in September, so he was able to keep his sound to a minimum.
The back of a rustic log cabin loomed large in front of him. Whoever had constructed the house did a fantastic job of blending it in to the surrounding forest. A sliding glass door was open wide with only a screen to act as Wraith’s protection. Definitely not part of her training.
Lights blazed in the dining room, showing a man—Casper Grady—looming behind Wraith, who sat in a chair. Dear God. His heart flipped. She only had on a bitty towel. Like any warm-blooded male, Grady appeared to be trying to sneak a peek down her chest.
Two knives were in the operative’s palms before he took his next breath. He then signaled to his teammate, but the man appeared to be struck dumb. So astonished, it seemed that the guy forgot his training and left himself exposed. I know the feeling.
The operative inched toward his teammate just as the conversation inside wafted to them.
“Paranormal?” Grady asked, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You’re going to a TV show’s fan forum?”
“Yep,” Wraith responded, then stayed silent.
The operative inferred from her finger constantly tapping the mouse button and the frown on her face that she wasn’t finding what she hoped to see.
“Something wrong?” Grady asked. “The main characters didn’t battle enough spookies for you?”
The SBG operative knew exactly what Wraith was doing. She had been searching for a message from her former team, Delta Squad. They used the TV show’s fan boards as a way to send messages to one another without SweetBriar Group finding out. Every squad in SBG had their own system of communicating if they weren’t together to circumvent SBG’s constant monitoring.
He pulled his teammate behind a particularly thick grove of trees. “We need to coordinate how we’re going in.”
***
Sandra slumped back in the chair and scowled.
Grady crossed his arms. “I’ve been very patient, but now it’s time you tell me what the hell is going on.” He squinted at her. “What are you caught up in?”
She searched his hooded eyes. Damn. Damn. Damn. She did not want to get into this now. He was not going to like what she had to say, and she’d rather have multiple orgasms than angry words. “I can think of doing something a lot more interesting than talking.”
“True, but surely you can handle answering a few easy questions before we concentrate on mind-numbing bliss?”
Shit, he was like a goddamn bulldog.
“You’ve already admitted to fabricating your résumé; is anything on it true?”
She licked her lips.
His crystal-blue eyes narrowed onto her mouth.
“Let’s have this conversation in the morning.” She swallowed at the heat flowing from his gaze and shifted in the chair. The towel pulled farther apart, and his gaze shot down to her exposed leg. His shaft hardened in his shorts, which she couldn’t miss as she was almost eye level with it. She gulped.
“It is morning,” he whispered, lifting a hand and swiping the tips of his fingers along the chain of her necklace, then over her team’s symbol. Fire exploded along her skin at the contact. “Where did you go to college?”
She gripped the corner of her towel and stood up. Her breasts grazed his chest since he didn’t move back. “Why talk about that now?” She traced a finger along his pec and over his shoulder.
He grasped her hips and pulled her against his erection.
She pushed up to the balls of her feet and brushed her lips to his. Delicious. He angled his head and pressed his mouth to hers. She parted her lips and he dove his tongue inside. Passion consumed her; she couldn’t get enough. Their tongues danced and twirled, both tasting each other.
“Tell me,” he whispered, kissing her jawline, “did you ever work for Entertainment Technologies?” One of his hands crept up her rib cage and clasped her breast. Damn it, the towel was too thick, but the skin above tingled as his fingers grazed across.
Two could play this game. She had questions of her own she wanted answered. She slipped her hands under his shirt and lifted the material to expose his chest. Her whole body danced at the sight of ripped abs a
nd defined pecs. She leaned forward and licked a trail up his sternum.
He sucked in a breath.
“Tell me,” she countered. “Did you talk to anyone when you were searching for me earlier?”
“What?”
She pressed a line of kisses to his nipple.
“No,” he breathed out. “No, wait a minute, yes.”
She flicked the nub with her tongue. “Which is it?”
He grabbed the tucked corner of the towel and yanked it open. A cool breeze from the open dining room door chilled her skin as he dropped the fabric on the table. “You haven’t answered my questions yet.” He stepped out of her reach and stared down at her naked body. If she had any thoughts of self-consciousness, they fled when he whispered, “Beautiful.”
His T-shirt slid back down and covered his chest.
“No fair. One of us has too many clothes on.”
She reached for him but he dodged, waggling a finger. “Uh-uh-uh. Make you a deal. For every question you answer, I’ll take off an item.”
She ran a finger over her collarbone. “Who says I need you to get off? What if I lay right here”—she spread the towel and hopped up on the table—“and pleasure myself?”
She lay back and let one leg dangle while she bent the other. With just the tips of her fingernails, she scraped through the valley of her breasts.
His eyes blazed. “If you really want to go solo, by all means, have at it.” He reached a hand into his shorts and stroked his cock. “But I think we both can agree it’s more satisfying with a partner.”
Her core spasmed at the raw, masculine picture he made. Oh, God, she wanted him. Now. “Two.” She cleared her throat and tried to speak again without the deep husky sound. “Two questions each. Deal?”
He smiled and removed his hand. “Deal. I’ll remind you of the first one. Where did you go to college?”
“Georgetown University.”
He removed his T-shirt. She loved watching his muscles move as he tossed the shirt aside. She narrowed her gaze to the tattoo on his left bicep and a shot of desire lanced through her at the depiction of a grim reaper standing above a field of skulls. On the scythe were the letters USMC. She shivered. So hot to see on his well-defined arm.
“So that part of your résumé is true?” he asked, pulling her back from her inspection.
“Yes.” She swirled a finger around her nipple. He followed her every movement, making her feel more empowered. “My turn.”
“Your turn? I only asked one.” He stepped forward and grazed his fingertips along the inner calf of her dangling leg.
Her skin pebbled and fire trailed behind his hand.
“Nope. You asked two,” she replied as she moved her finger to her other breast. “Where did I go to college and if that part of my résumé was true.”
He moved to her inner thigh and squeezed. “You know that second one was more of a statement.” His hand smoothed over her leg.
“No way. It was a question.” She rolled her nipple between her fingers.
“Cheater. But I’ll be the bigger of us.”
“Oh yes you will.” Her eyes focused pointedly at his crotch.
“Vixen.”
She sat up and straddled his hips. She kissed his chest and worked her hands under the elastic waistband of his shorts and cupped his delicious ass.
He ran his fingers on the outsides of her thighs. “Better make yours quick. I’m barely holding on here.”
She removed her hands and framed his face and kissed him hard. He didn’t waste a second returning the favor.
“Hurry up,” he said when they came up for air. “I’m dying to get back inside you.”
Her core got wetter. “Okay. You said you talked to someone. Where?”
“At the train station. I tried to see if you bought a ticket from the cashier.” He kissed the area just below her ear.
“Was anyone else nearby?”
“Not really. At the end, I nodded to some dude who was next in line.”
“Did he hear your conversation?”
He gave her a peck on the cheek and stepped out of her legs. She felt his absence immediately. Before she could question him, he moved to his green bag and pulled a box of condoms out. He grabbed a packet and dropped his shorts.
She inhaled. Good Lord, he was impressive standing there with his long, hard cock jutting straight out.
“Can’t say for sure if he heard,” he answered while rolling the rubber down his length. “But I’m pretty sure by then I was done.”
He maneuvered himself between her legs, then leaned down and licked her nipple. She shifted her weight to rest on her elbows and dropped her head back. His tongue alternately swirled around the areola and flicked the peak.
She moaned, sliding her hands into his hair. He tweaked her nipple, and she felt a rush of moisture pool between her thighs.
She had no more thoughts in her head as he took over and reminded her just how good it felt to have him pumping inside her.
Chapter 14
Grady padded down the hall, scratching his stomach absently. After the Dear-Penthouse-do-I-have-a-story-to-tell-you-letter-worthy session on the dining room table, they had moved to the guest bedroom. The pace hadn’t slowed after they hit the bed either. At least once, he should hold back and kiss that woman from head to toe. So far, every time he’d seen her naked, he couldn’t stop his need to drive his cock into her until she cried his name.
His stomach fluttered. Those thoughts weren’t just a fantasy anymore. They were real. After pursuing her for so long, he had wondered if he was ever going to get beyond her wall. His elation balloon deflated a little. She may have finally showed him how much she had lusted for him too, but she hadn’t exactly taken a sledgehammer to the brick layer surrounding her past. And she was definitely hiding something.
At four a.m., she had called for a break and a snack. Not wanting to leave her luscious body but also remembering he hadn’t locked up, he threw on his shorts, T-shirt, and the Beretta and headed out.
His eyes absently swept over the dining room and froze. A dark outline in the shape of a man now sat at the head of the table nearest the sliding door. Grady’s arm instantly reached behind him for his gun.
“MOB holster?” a deep male voice asked, and the shape appeared to move as if cocking his head.
Grady whipped the Beretta out and pointed it at the outline. “Yeah.”
The shadow seemed to bob his head. “Respectable. Middle of back holsters are good at concealment, but leave your chest exposed.”
What?
“Look down,” the voice commanded.
Unable to help himself, he did. Son of a bitch. A fuzzy green glow-in-the-dark ball clung to his T-shirt, right over his heart. He grabbed the ball, smashing it in his palm as a sticky substance coated his hand. His gaze whipped back up to the outline. He hadn’t even seen the blob move.
The dining room lights flicked on and a man stepped from the shadows made by the china cabinet and corner. “That could’ve been my knife.”
“You.” Grady jerked at seeing the same blond man from the train station with the sarcasm T-shirt. “What the hell are you doing in my house? How . . . Did you follow me?”
The man at the table smiled. “Come now. Let’s be truthful. This isn’t really your house, now is it?”
Grady wasn’t one to pay attention to men’s looks beyond a cursory glance, but this man was memorable. He was beyond good-looking . . . and Grady was strong enough in his masculinity to admit it. In fact, both men would definitely score a shitload of numbers at a bar, but the seated man was ridiculous.
Grady clenched the handle of the gun and asked, “Which one of you assholes decided to use us as target practice earlier?”
Good-looking Guy shook his head. “Do you really think you’d be having a conversation with me if I wanted you dead?”
He switched his aim to intruder two. “Then that leaves you.”
“Grady?” Sandra’s voice c
alled from the bedroom.
He gnashed his teeth together.
“What’s taking so long?” she continued. “You turn the TV on or something? Tired already?”
Both intruders seemed to find that way too amusing.
“What’s so damn funny?” he barked at them.
“Hey.” Sandra’s voice sounded closer. “You talking to someone?”
Without removing his gaze from the two men, he called, “Don’t come out here. Stay where you are.”
The seated man tsked. “Wrong move, my man.”
“Yeah,” Lethal Fuzzball Guy agreed. “He’s a little slow on the uptake. Maybe it’s the Southern drawl. Makes him drop IQ points each time he opens his mouth.”
What the hell was with their lackadaisical attitude while he held a gun on them?
“Now she’s guaranteed to do the opposite,” Good-looking Guy added, then exchanged a look with Lethal Fuzzball Guy. At the same time they said, “Rookie.”
“What? Why?” Sandra asked as Grady caught a movement from the corner of his eye. He risked a peek and saw her rushing down the hall. Shit.
“Sandra, stop. Stay there.”
She pulled one of his T-shirts over her head. Thank God for that small blessing.
“Damn it, will you listen to me?” he asked just as she entered the dining room and stopped, her jaw dropping open. “Get behind me,” he tried again.
Of course she didn’t listen. Instead, she did something totally unexpected. She squealed and raced forward right into Lethal Fuzzball Guy’s outstretched arms, crying, “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” After he swung her once, she jumped away and performed the same trick with Good-looking Guy.
Once her feet were back on the ground, the two hulking men crowded into her space and glowered. Lethal Fuzzball Guy bit out, “What the fuck, Wraith? Do you know what you did to the team and to me by pulling that stunt?”
“Cappy had to level his gun at us to get us to clear the area,” Good-looking Guy finished.
“It was the only way,” she replied, her hands out in a pleading gesture.