Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) (16 page)

Her smile was a touch sad. “So your balls are on the line just for hugging me, huh?”
 

She took a step back, and he missed her warmth so deeply it was as if someone had ripped a part of his skin away.
 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.”

“Grace, I—”

She held up a hand, silencing him. “No more words… No more words.”

* * *

She was a coward for running. She knew it, and she did it anyway. Because how could she stand there with that tough, beautiful man, seeing the pain on his face when he told her about his brother, hearing the agony in his voice, and not want to soothe him in any way she knew how?

But he didn’t want her to soothe him—or, more precisely, she was another complication he did not need. She hadn’t offered anything, not exactly, but he’d turned her down anyway.

So she fled, because yes, it hurt to not be enough—again—for someone. Even if all the enough she turned out to be was a hot night of sex. She could handle that.

Or she thought she could.

But Garrett didn’t think so. He thought she wanted picket fences and happily-ever-afters, and he wasn’t going to set foot on that path.
 

She went inside the door to the first bedroom she came to and stood with her back to it once she’d closed it. What an idiot. She couldn’t even get the sex-and-seduction thing right, assuming that’s what she’d been doing in the first place.

Brooke would have gotten it right. Brooke would have been naked with that man in ten seconds flat, and there’d be no question about
anything
but a good time for them both.

Why wasn’t
she
the sort of woman who had hot one-night stands with handsome men? Maybe it was her inherent shyness, her need for solitude, and her inability to put herself forward when rejection was such a strong possibility. She wasn’t a cute little package like Brooke. She wasn’t petite. She was tall and awkward and ordinary.

And she was a coward. She’d never in her life leapt into a man’s arms just because she wanted to. She took her time, got to know someone, and had the most boring sex imaginable.

Just once, she wanted the hot, no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners, rock-her-world sexual experience.
 

Grace swiped angry, frustrated tears from her cheeks. Damn Garrett Spencer and his decency. She didn’t want decent.

But she didn’t know how to get what she wanted, so she went over and stripped the covers back on the bed. Then she lay down and tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t happen. Thunder sounded in the distance, and a flash of light lit up her room, followed by another, much closer peal of thunder. She got up and padded over to the sliding glass door. It opened onto a deck that ran the length of the cabin. She stepped outside, the cool air cutting into the silk of her pajamas.

But she didn’t care, because she was hot and frustrated and the coolness felt good. Her nipples beaded against the fabric, and she went over to the railing and gripped it tight. She couldn’t see what was out there until the lightning flashed. Woods. Lots and lots of trees.

“What the fuck are you doing out here, Grace?”

His voice was a growl in the darkness, and she whirled to find Garrett approaching. She hadn’t heard him come outside. Or maybe he’d been out here all along, and she just hadn’t realized it.

Her temper spiked. “Waiting to place my order for a sandwich—what do you think?”

The lightning flashed again, illuminating his face. His jaw was like granite as he glared at her. “You need to stay inside. It’s too cold to be out here in your pajamas.”

She closed the distance between them and poked her finger into his chest. “You are not in charge of everything around here, mister. If I want to step outside, I will. And if I want to sleep on the table or… or stand on my head, I
will
. You don’t own me, Garrett Spencer. You get to tell me what to do as it pertains to my safety—but that is
all
. Do you follow me, or are you too stupid to get what I’m saying to you?”

A splat of rain landed on her face, and then another and another.

“Get the fuck inside, Grace,” he growled, “or I’ll carry you inside.”

The sky chose that particular moment to open up. She stood there in shock at the cold as the deluge plastered her pajamas to her skin. But Garrett was only shocked for a moment. Then he was stooping and putting his shoulder into her midsection. Another second and she was hanging upside down, his hand firmly on her ass as he turned and carried her back through the door she’d come out of.

The rain stopped stinging her skin as he entered the house. He slid the door shut and locked it, and she started to kick her legs and thump his back with her fists.

“Let me go!”

One broad hand smacked across her ass, and the sting was enough to shock her into silence—but only for a moment.

“How dare you! How fucking dare you!”
 

She screamed and wiggled and Garrett held her with both hands firmly on her hips. He slapped her again, harder this time, and she stilled.

“I’m going to kill you,” she growled, even as something deep inside her leapt in excitement. “Just as soon as you put me down, I’m going to tackle you and pound you into the ground.”

He laughed. And then her world tilted and she dropped onto the mattress in her wet pajamas. True to her word, she launched herself at him.

But she didn’t hit him. Instead, she grabbed his wet jaw with both her hands and dragged his mouth to hers.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

GRACE FULLY EXPECTED HIM TO PUSH her away, to politely end the kiss and tell her—again—that he couldn’t cross that line with her. She knew he was going to reject her, and yet she’d kissed him anyway.

Kissed him when she’d meant to knock him over and thump him good for spanking her. What the hell was the matter with her anyway? As if she hadn’t let herself be humiliated enough.

But she was all in now, her frustration to the boiling point. His mouth was warm and hard against hers—and then his tongue slipped into her mouth and he groaned softly. Her heart leapt as his fingers tightened on the wet fabric of her pajamas.

A shiver rolled over her, and she plastered herself tighter to his body. He broke the kiss, and she nearly wailed with frustration.

“You’re cold.”

“No, I’m excited.”

“You should take these clothes off and get into the shower.”

“You can keep me warm,” she whispered, kissing him again.
 

He kissed her back, his tongue stroking against hers so hotly that her heartbeat rocketed higher. Her skin was on fire, and her sex grew wetter the longer he kissed her.
 

He cupped one of her breasts in his hand, his thumb gliding across the hardened tip of her nipple. Grace gasped into his mouth and he kissed her harder.

Any second he would come to his senses. Any second he would stop this before it began. She knew it, and she didn’t want that to happen.

Grace reached for his belt, tugging it open before unbuttoning his jeans and reaching inside to take him in her hands. He made a noise as she touched him, a groan that reverberated through her and sent waves of need pounding through her body.

“Grace, you shouldn’t—”

“Shut up, Garrett. Just shut up.” While he was still too surprised to react, she shoved his jeans down his hips and dropped to her knees. He filled both her hands, his cock soft and silken and so very hard at the same time.
 

Grace took him in her mouth and he stiffened, swearing. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste and feel of him. He jerked against her tongue, and she tasted the salt of his pre-come. She began to stroke him, sucking as she did so. Her heart pounded and her body felt impossibly tight, like her skin had been stretched over a drum.

She wanted to make him come—and she wanted to come too.
 

Suddenly he reached down and pulled her up, and she let out a noise of frustration. His eyes searched hers as he held her so near and yet so far at the same time. Her fingers curled with the urge to grab him and pull him to her.

“You’re a bad girl, Grace. So prim and proper—and so fucking hot underneath the bun and glasses. Telling me in that superior voice of yours that you’ll tattle on me to your daddy one minute and then sucking my dick like a porn star another.”

“What are you going to do about it,” she whispered, her blood racing with heat and need, her pussy tightening and aching for his touch.
 

He reached for the bottom of her pajama shirt and ripped it up and over her head. “What am I gonna do? Every fucking thing I shouldn’t, cupcake. Because I’m a man with a hard-on, and my give-a-shit factor is pretty low right now.”

He let her go and she went for his T-shirt, tugging it over his head and then dropping it. His mouth was on hers, her breasts in his hands—and then he dropped his head and took one tight nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while she clutched his shoulders and gasped.
 

Another moment and he stripped the sodden pajama bottoms from her body until she was completely naked. Goose bumps rose on her skin as his hot mouth moved from one nipple to the other. Then he scooped her up and dropped her on the bed, coming down on top of her as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

He was big and solid, pressing her into the mattress, and she shivered with anticipation.

“You’ve pushed me to the edge, Grace, I hope you know that.”
 

She didn’t know that, but it was nice to hear. “I’m glad.”

“No finesse right now, none at all,” he muttered. He reached past her, fumbling in the dark for something. She heard the tearing of a wrapper, and then he was rolling on a condom, the head of his cock pressing into her entrance. She was too elated to even wonder at how convenient it was he’d had a condom at hand.

Her body clamped around him, resisting his invasion as he pushed deeper into her—but oh, how she wanted it.
 

It had been months—so many lonely months—and Jeffrey certainly hadn’t been, well, as endowed as this man.
 

“God, you’re tight,” he said.

“And you’re big.”

His laugh was half-broken. “Grace… God.” He grew really still for a moment, and her heart throbbed as she thought he must be fighting with himself.

Intending to stop, even though they were more than halfway gone.

She wrapped her legs around his hips more tightly and arched her back, forcing him deeper inside her body. She moaned with the pressure—good pressure, but still—and prayed he would start to move. That instinct would take over.

“Garrett… please… please…”

He dropped his mouth to her neck, sucked the skin there. Infuriatingly, he didn’t move. “Please what, cupcake?”

“Just
please
.”

“You know what I’ve been dying to hear you say?”

Her brain could hardly credit that he was having a conversation at a time like this. “No.”

“Tell me to fuck you in that prim voice of yours. Tell me that, and you own me for the night.”

It was that simple? And that difficult, because Grace had never said such a thing to a man. The mere thought made her blush. But for him she would. For
this
, she most definitely would.

She ran her fingers over the hot, hard muscles of his back.

She lifted her head and kissed him lightly, and then she put her mouth to his ear, nipped his earlobe for good measure. “Please,” she said in her best Helena Voice while her heart thumped, “if it’s not too much trouble… fuck me, Garrett. I really,
really
want you to fuck me.”

A shudder rolled through him. “Damn, cupcake, that was hot.”

He flexed his hips then, sliding deep inside her before pulling out and slamming into her again and again. His mouth fused to hers and his body drove hers, riding her hard.

But she loved every second of it. Every soul-destroying, pleasure-giving stroke. She thought he would take her to the edge and let her tumble over, but he didn’t do any such thing. He
kept
her on the edge for so long, her body coiling tighter and tighter, her breath gasping from her lungs, until she realized that those sounds she heard were her voice—her, begging him to make it last, begging him to make her come, begging, begging, begging.
 

She’d never begged during sex before. She couldn’t imagine doing anything differently with him, however. Garrett was the sort of man you begged for more. So much
more.

He kissed her again, his mouth taking hers, hard and hot. She lifted her head, trying to get more of his tongue, his lips, his taste and scent.

Sex had never felt so good, so necessary to her existence before now. Anything he wanted, she would give him. Anything, just to feel one tenth of the pleasure she felt right now.

Her hips rose to meet him with every stroke, their bodies sliding together wetly, the rain and her juices making everything so slick and hot between them.

He changed tempo suddenly, and she cried out in protest. The tension in her body was at the breaking point, and he kept withholding the reward. She would kill him if he didn’t kill her first.