CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

When Nic bounced back into Cash’s ride, she wasn’t the woman he’d left with Sugar. She had a glimmer in her eyes that warned of trouble. She pushed past her seat, grabbed him by the shirt, and nailed him with a kiss that might’ve peeled the leather off his boots. If he hadn’t been positive there was a security camera aimed at his truck, he would have undressed her and gotten down to business in less than twenty seconds. Hell, less than ten.

Making a dumbass excuse to himself for not fucking her in the parking lot, Cash hit the road. With Nicola tucked under his draped arm, he needed to focus on anything but the swell of her breasts. She hadn’t moved far when he’d said they had places to go. Even now, her hand traced invisible patterns on his thigh.

She smelled of burnt gunpowder mixed with the flowery scent of her shampoo. Who didn’t like a woman who could hit a shot three hundred yards away with an unfamiliar long gun and still remind him of the shower where he’d made her moan his name?

“Was that your peace offering?” He had to know what brought about the smoking kiss that still burned on his lips.

She paused her finger on his thigh, and Cash wished he hadn’t opened his mouth. “I thought we weren’t fighting. Peace offerings aren’t needed for work disagreements.”

Her laugh made him want to pull her closer. “I don’t care what you call it. As long as you do that after every I’m-right-you’re-wrong moment.”

Nic laughed again. She went back to connecting imaginary lines and dots on his leg, and he sent up a prayer of thanks. With her under the crook of his arm, the radio playing some summertime tune, and the open road reaching away from the outskirts toward the mountains, Cash was sure this was what people wanted in life.

Life was a long-assed time. Since Nic had tumbled into his line of sight, his clusterfuck of broads and blowjobs seemed pathetic. What’s done is done. This was one of those fuck it and drive on moments. He had to let go of that lost time and embrace life with the safety always off.

He’d given up the idea of a woman to kick it with lifelong when she’d died, when he had that ring and no one to give it to. Was it even possible for him to think long-term, or rather, think about someone other than himself long-term?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

He’d boxed up that part of his brain ten years ago and shipped it off to some unknown address.

Whatever. Nicola wasn’t going anywhere. She also needed to chill out, completely forget about work, and he’d make sure that happened. Downtime was a Cash Garrison specialty. He intended to make sure she knew the full reach of his getting down skills.

The sun sank into the Virginia hills. His truck powered and growled around another bend. The straight-to-the-skies incline disappeared into a green canopy of trees. Truth: he loved this truck almost as much as he loved his new digs. Not that his last place was bad, but the new one was badass.

He flicked a glance down at Nicola. A pang of pride exploded in his chest. When he’d bought the place, he had no idea she’d ever see it—her being dead and all—but now she was about to and that was… unexpected. It was pretty damn cool.

They hit the driveway. Gravel spun in the wheel well. She’d been sniper quiet, her finger tracing stopped, exhausted into a simple hold. Her gaze fell absentmindedly out the windshield. That private Sugar convo must’ve been a heavy one. Or a bitchy one. Nothing telling either way.

Finally, they arrived. A world away from Winters’s madhouse, Tyson’s Corner, and Sugar’s House of Guns.

“This isn’t your folks’ place.” She looked out the window. Her eyes were wide, her tongue flicking over the bottom of her lip.

“Nope. It’s not.”

His house hid tight in the thick, green woods. The area looked untouched, but he’d had Titan ’n Boys hotwire the thing NSA-style. Breaching this place would be like burrowing through the impenetrable layers of the Pentagon with a pencil sharpener. Here, if a deer so much as sneezed, Cash could check a readout and know what time and why.

They were alone. This wasn’t just a man cave, it was his man castle. Him and her, and nothing to do… but relax. Relax. That was the point of this trip. Nothing to do with that teasing tongue and lips that made him want to jump out of his hide. Nothing to do with that drop-and-get-me-naked kiss in the parking lot that made his blood surge even now. Cash took a breath, trying to resuscitate his voice of reason.

He stopped at the gate, entered a code, and pressed his finger on a scanner. The high-and-wide swung open.

Shifting under his arm, Nicola took another sweeping glance from driver to passenger side. Her hand brushed dangerously close to his cock. “This isn’t where Titan bunkers down?”

“Nope. Guess again.” He had a sense that she knew where they were when her hand caressed him. That her innocent act is anything but. Yeah, they’d end up in bed together. He had no doubt. But seriously, he had to show a little something besides an interest in banging her. Right? A little restraint.

They weren’t strangers. They were far too familiar. Yet here he was, hoping she liked his digs, wondering how much was too much. All things he knew nothing about. Things that meant he was totally feeling her.

They crunched over a few rocks. The front side of his house came into view. It was a log cabin on steroids. All timber façade and picture windows. As broad as it was tall. He’d had no idea what he was supposed to do with all that space. For now, Miss Betty had a room to spread out in, and the living room rocked a billiards table and fully stocked wet bar.

Oh, and the hot tub on the back deck. Maybe he’d convince Nic to take a dip. Her hair might be piled on top of her head. Her cheeks might be flushed. And alone in the woods, hot water bubbling around them, there wouldn’t be a hint of clothes. Her full breasts bobbing on the water line, her toned arms wrapping around him. Thoughts of her in there with him, the sway of the trees, the sun going down behind her, made Cash shift in his seat. His cock wanted out of his jeans, hardening with mental images of Nic in his arms.

Not yet.

He hit an overhead button. The middle garage door rose.

“This is your place?” Her voice had a twinge of holy shit, and his chest swelled with an old fashioned, “hell yes.”

But instead, all he offered was a nod. “Yup.”

The garage door shut behind them as he turned the ignition off. Florescent lights flicked on. Nothing but space to fill. A whole lot of potential. If they didn’t make it into the house, if he had her up against the hood of his truck, their voices would echo around them. Their names. Their breath. The sounds would bounce empty wall to empty wall, screaming their satisfaction back to them. He realized his fingers were trailing up her sun-kissed bicep and the slope of her neck.

Nic met his gaze, now not looking at all like they had the same thoughts. She eyed him, a splash of confusion on her face. “Between this place and Winters’s… did you guys win the lotto or something?”

He laughed, definitely not thinking about the hood of the truck. “Private sector always pays better, babe.”

“Oh.” Her hands smoothed across the top of her long legs. “Your house is gorgeous.”

He took a stabilizing breath and tried shake the lust from his voice. “I promised you normal stuff, and I intend to pay up. You should see my DVR. I’ve got great taste in TV.” He got out of the truck, hating the cold sensation when he left her side, and she followed him through the garage.

Maybe he should’ve parked in the front and got out under the wall of pine trees. The needled-scented breeze always made this feel like home. Maybe next time.

They walked into the living room. He slid his keys onto the table and unholstered the concealed .38 from his waist. “There was a Die Hard marathon last week. I have to squeeze in my yippy-kay-yay motherfucker fix. Probably a few episodes of—”

“Cash?” She glided around the kitchen, one finger trailing over the granite island that separated the kitchen and living areas. Huge leather couches wrapped around the great room. Her eyes bounced from corner to corner, while his snaked from her melt-his-heart gaze to the legs he’d die to have wrapped around him.

“Yeah?” The urge to christen his kitchen pulsed under his skin. He moved behind the couch, keeping his erection to himself. Normal stuff, he chanted silently. Movies and reruns. Popcorn and frozen pizza.

“What do you think of our two projects converging in Maine? Your team? My team?”

Work. She wants to talk shop. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore thoughts of what she’d look like naked in his bed and how damn close they were to his king sized mattress. His new king sized mattress, that’d only slept him, alone.

“I think no good decision ever came from bureau chiefs creating plays from their swivel chairs while drinking no-foam lattes.” He was rambling. That was a lot of words to say the bureaucrats fucked shit up, and it didn’t make him think any less about his empty bed.

“Not what I meant.” She locked eyes on him. “Do you believe in…” Her gaze, so intense, so goddamn gorgeous, almost brought him to his knees. “Point me to your bathroom.”

Believe in what? He sucked a breath and focused on powering down. “Down the hall, to your right.”

He believed in the power of bourbon. He needed a drink to quick-cool his fired up impulses. Jumping her in the kitchen wasn’t the right move. Just like it hadn’t been in the parking lot this afternoon.

Wining and dining. Fancy party dresses and cocktail hours. She might’ve been a spy, but working the Smooth angle had been all high society and hobnobbing. The tuxed-out men making moves on her had buffed fingernails and chauffeurs. He was nothing but a man with a reputation that’d make a sorority girl blush and a hard-on that all but had Nic’s name tattooed on it.

Maybe he’d nix the Die Hard marathon and find something more like Sleepless in… Cincinnati? No, that wasn’t right. NYC? Los Angeles? No, that was some lawyer-cop show. Maybe he’d find that ‘had me at hello’ movie about sports agents. Didn’t Tom Cruise rappel out of a skyscraper in that? That’d be cool and wouldn’t have him begging for a kiss.

Shit, he shouldn’t have thrown away that Netflix advertisement.

Cash poured the shot of Jim Beam and swallowed it. Assessing his boots, jeans, and t-shirt, he decided to hate Nicola in the field even more. All those Gucci-clad GQ fuckers could kiss his trigger finger. He went into the field, covered in camo and caressing Miss Betty. Nic worked an entirely different angle. He thought of her in the gold dress, hanging on Antilla Smooth, and his stomach turned.

Another shot poured. Another shot down the hatch. He slammed the shot glass on the bar, more than a little jealous that some—

“Hey, I’ve got a better idea, Cash.” His cowboy hat hung on her head. Too big. Tilted to the side. She wore a too large, barely buttoned shirt. His shirt. And that was all he could see. The tease dancing across her face made the room spin sideways.

Goddamn, if she didn’t have him at hey. Screw Tom Cruise and Sleepless in South Carolina.

She was freakin’ gorgeous. All tan and legs and flashes of red lace lingerie. He nodded like she’d asked a question and tried to swallow, but his throat ignored the request. Like the rest of him, it froze in place. His pulse quickened, and somehow the heat in the room flew up a couple degrees.

Her voice was a little quieter, pulling him to her. “I found this button down in the bathroom. I didn’t even know you wore dress shirts.”

He’d wear them every single day if she’d walk into a room, giving out half-naked surprises like a Mardi Gras queen. Her sultry smile issued him marching orders. She’s all mine. The words bit through his thoughts and hung on his tongue. Huge steps later, he was on her, around her, and pinning her against the wall, rough and tumble, so damn hungry for her and not at all sure how he’d pull himself away to find a bed.

An oh twisted from her lips, but it wasn’t a complaint. Hell no. It was a bring-it-on breath. She latched one leg around his thigh and took his weight like a champ. Instinct took over. Cash cupped her rounded ass cheeks and squeezed the soft flesh, lifting her into his embrace. Her hips rolled in perfect reply.

“Forget Die Hard,” was all he managed, sounding ragged and hoarse.

Her quick tongue and lips worked their way under his earlobe. Every muscle fiber in his shoulders and neck tightened and tensed. The rest of his body replicated the sensation, a tidal wave of arousal pounding through his flesh.

“My idea is better,” she purred against his neck.

“Fuck yes.”

Nicola locked eyes with him. Intoxicating chocolate eyes. With that hat cocked on her head, like some sexy country pinup girl, he’d walk across hot coal barefoot and sell Miss Betty to make Nic happy.

Her other leg snaked up his body and locked around his hip. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She felt weightless, like he held nothing and everything at the same time. Cash mentally ordered himself not to drop his pants and slam into her.

Her lips crashed against his, sucking and biting and erasing, kiss by kiss, his idea to act like a gentleman. Her plan oughta be called cowboy up because this woman was ready for a ride.

The room was a sauna. She was almost too hot to hold. Almost. He fought for control, wanting desperately to give her something that she deserved.

His fingers found the brim of the hat. He needed it off. Needed his hands in her thick hair.

She stopped mid-kiss, forcing his eyes to match her laser-sighted intensity. “That’s mine. Don’t touch it.”

“My—”

“Not playing.” Nic bit his bottom lip, refusing to release his gaze, then said, “Try me, and see what happens.”

Oh, she wanted to play? So did he. His brain buzzed. Her lips branded him. Everything burned stronger than the shots of liquor. Cash went for the cowboy hat. Her hand slapped his away, but he pinned it to the wall. “Not a chance, babe.”

Her legs squeezed tighter around him, grinding against his throbbing erection. Fuck, yes, sweet girl. Rub me like that. Resolved for another round of smack and grab, he went for the hat again. She slapped with the other hand, and he pinned that delicate wrist. Both hands were restrained high above her head, leaving her immobile and defenseless. He needed her now. More than the moment he first saw her, the moments before in bed. He needed hot and hard this goddamn second.

The cowboy hat stayed in place, and it looked too good to fuck off. But it’d be fun to try. Not a regular rodeo. A white hot, soul stealing ride.

“It’s going to be like that, Nic?” he graveled, and she arched against his mouth.

“I want the hat on.”

“What else you want, girl?” He switched to the other side of her neck, raking his teeth across her slender neck. “Tell me. I want to hear it.”

Nicola murmured, her body playing with his.

“What was that?” The harder he kissed her soft skin, the more he nipped against her throat, the louder her response. Each moan made his dick throb. Each time she twisted against his hold, his throat constricted a little tighter. His breath came faster, and he was closer to losing his mind.

“I need you.”

The words sparked a line of fire that ripped through his veins. Cash looked down and admired her gyrating, vibrating body. Breasts overflowed their lacy cups. The supple mountains were taut and demanding his attention. He’d die to bury his face in their valley, to hold and pinch until she cried for more, ravishing them until she came from that alone.

The vee of space between their chests was his private viewing gallery. The single button still fastened on his shirt didn’t hide her flat stomach or red lace thong. She turned him on in ways he couldn’t have dreamt of, and his imagination wasn’t boring. He lusted for her. Ached for this. His teeth grabbed skin, and his tongue soothed away the sting. She jerked toward him, pushing him for more. More might never be enough.

“The hat stays on,” she moaned, head dropping back and eyelids fluttering to stay open. A flush painted her cheeks as her hips flexed and rolled. He wanted part of that rhythm in the most ungentlemanly of ways. Craved didn’t describe it. Addiction might. “Do what you want to me, Cash, and it better be hard and fast. But the hat is mine.”

Heaven help me. He was far from easy right now, but she didn’t want easy. Not at all. One hand grabbed her two wrists, kept them overhead. Her legs flexed apart, wicked heat radiating from between them. Cash worked his belt buckle and zipper one-handed. His cock sprang free and rubbed against her lace-covered mound.

She bit her lip, groaning at his touch. “Don’t be easy with me.”

That wouldn’t be a problem. He feathered his fingers over the lace thong. One heavy gasp, then another poured over her full lips. His fingers slid over her sweet pussy, then retreated, reminding him that she may very well be his only damn weakness.

“You sure?” he asked, scared he’d read this big fucking blast of obvious all wrong. Nah, she wanted him like he needed her. Her body made it more than evident in what her end goal was. Him. In her.

“Fast and furious. Now.” Her chest heaved. Her voice fed his need, stroking and fueling him. As if he could get any harder. Her stomach, her sex rubbed against him. He bit her neck, right above her collarbone, and she tasted like sweet perfection. “Cash,” she urged him again.

He tugged his jeans and boxers down, the belt buckle clinked against itself, and he let them fall. Cash reached between them, slipped her thong to the side of her slick folds, removing the barrier between her hot flesh and his. His palm met smooth, hot, wet arousal. Thumbing over her wasn’t enough. Not now. Not like this. And it didn’t matter. Her pussy reached for him. His cock ached to bury itself in her silky tightness.

“Now. Cash.” She struggled against his palm, flexing into his hold. The heat pouring from her body made him sweat. “Fuck me.”

If this was what Nic wanted, it was dream-come-true material. Nothing right now should be all sweet and soft. They’d had that before in a bed. They’d have it again later. Right now, this was energy and anxiety. This was fuck-against-the-wall sex. All anger and forgiveness. Loss and lust.

The head of his cock surged and pressed against her tight entrance. Her breaths were rabid, her head nodding into his shoulder. She begged against his skin, her tongue skimming, teeth biting. He pushed into a lava wave of heaven and thrust. From the base of his cock, to the depths of his soul, he felt Nicola Garrison.

It was one strong glide with little tease, no prep. She screamed his name and clung tightly. Nothing had ever been so sexy. His eyes slammed shut. His jaw dropped to his chest. Their cheeks touched.

His entire length was gripped by her core. Nic was on fire. Inside and out. He couldn’t move. Her tense muscles grew accustomed to his intrusion. Cash placed his free hand under her ass, then tortured her with a slow withdrawal.

They gasped together. He plunged into her again, fucking her deep with hard strokes. She moaned long and sweetly for him. When he could take no more, he dropped her wrists, and she encircled his neck. Fingernails clawed his back. Her hands pulled in his hair, and the sting was paradise. He couldn’t possibly get enough of her. He might never let her go.

Everything felt violently sensitive. Shudders ripped through his muscles. His mind raced to stay in the moment and not come as she called for more and more. He fucked harder, deeper, and she pushed for her release with each roll of his hips.

Against the wall, in his hat, hadn’t been the plan.

“More, Cash.”

But he hadn’t known this Nicola before tonight. And in between her heavy breaths, Cash knew sex with this woman was it for him. Absolutely it. He was ruined for all others. There was no slinking away, no hiding from her or the fireworks that exploded when they tumbled together.

Her ass lifted off the wall. Their flesh slapped together. Her juices coated him, running between them. Her pleas drove him into her, flagging him toward the climactic goal line.

The thick air dripped with desire. He tried for deep breaths that didn’t exist. He couldn’t catch his breath and didn’t want to slow enough to try. The heavy beat of her breathing powered him on. She fought against the wall, slammed herself against him, and thrashed her head from side to side. Her long hair whipped his face, lavender scented, sticking to the sweat on his temples.

Nic’s latched legs ratcheted up another level of corkscrew tight, and she wailed for more and more, biting down on his shoulder. The hat stayed on, God only knew how. The thunder of her muscles began to pulse around his cock. He was starving to feel her come and drove with all his strength, meeting her at every angle.

Nicola cried out. Her body went taut, then exploded around him, the climax more than strong enough to trigger his release. But, hell no. Once wasn’t enough. He wanted to give her more. Anything to provide for her. To know he could drive her past the burning edge of satisfaction.

As she came off her high, Cash pulled her to him, spun for the couch, and after a long jeans-tangled step, fell back onto the leather cushions. Beneath her touch, her aftershocks still throbbing, he could stay like this forever. Silky hair hung over her shoulders as she straddled him with a smile. That buttoned-down shirt, hanging on for dear life, had to go. He tore it from her shoulders, and the lone button popped off. Another quick rip, and her thong and bra were lacy goners.

Cash palmed her stomach, and his hands locked to her hips. Nic rocked, the rhythm swaying her breasts. He loved fucking her, filling her, and he loved those beautiful tits. Cash honed in on the peaked nipples reaching for him. He took the swollen weight of her breasts and clutched his fingers into natural plumpness. She groaned, leaning into his palms. His fingers tightened and massaged. Every time his thumbs swiped her pink pebbled tips, her bottom lip shook, and her jaw hung until he stopped.

Sweet girl, hot damn. He wanted this woman for himself. Heart pangs rippled through his chest. No one else should’ve ever had the chance to see this view. When her head tilted back, the cowboy hat finally fell off. She didn’t even notice, completely in the midst of losing control. The best thing he’d ever seen.

She rose up on her knees, dropping onto him. The tickle of her fingertips dusted over his sweat dampened chest. Burning breaths pushed in and out of his lungs. His body more than reacted for her. It dive-bombed into Lake Ecstasy.

There were no words right now. If he had to say something, he’d ruin it all. Rough and coarse as the wall-to-couch screw-fest was, something surreal was happening, something more than he understood. His insides glittered like sparks against a black night sky, his mind shattering in rapture. The only thing he knew was their release was mission critical. It had to happen. She deserved it. He’d die without it.

Nicola sucked her bottom lip. Cash’s body jackknifed in a blissed-out frenzy. Liquid fire coated his cock. Perfect pouty lips swelled from his kisses. And she rode him. Hard.

He gripped her hips tighter, sliding her faster. She came again, forceful and blazing, and locked chocolate eyes on him. They stole his breath. Hell, it didn’t matter. She’d stolen his heart. Whatever the fuck had happened years ago, it wasn’t important. Whatever fucking excuse she had for disappearing, he couldn’t remember.

She was his.

And she fucked like she knew it.

Again, Nicola’s climax started. He could feel it grow around him, surrounding his shaft, and her face was painted in what almost looked like pain. Her reddened lips opened, short gasps escaping as they clawed toward their zenith.

“Cash!” Nicola’s head rolled back. His name bounced off the walls, echoing around them. Her pussy ground into him as a convulsion blew through her and began the unstoppable quake in him. He grabbed her waist, all his muscles corded. Everything sizzled. Hot streams of his release flowed into her. Silky muscles gripped and relaxed again and again.

His mind stilled, and all he could do was feel the sparks moving from pecs to glutes. From his boots on his feet to his fingers digging into her sides.

This was a Nicola supernova. Her brilliant burst of energy, the beautiful illumination of her face, would stay branded in his memory. A deep mouthful of air later, Nic collapsed onto his chest. Her pink-flushed cheek pressed against him. The air smelled like lavender and sex. Of satisfied woman.

Cash wrapped his arm her, holding her in place, never letting her go. His chest still heaved, but fuck it, he didn’t care. The roar of her gasps slowed. Nicola caught her breath quietly against his lips.

Seconds. Minutes. Who the hell knew how much time passed? Their bodies needed to be held. Their minds needed rest.

Late afternoon light had shifted deeper though the windows since they’d walked inside. She shifted under his arms. Her finger traced a path on his bicep.

He whispered, “Sweet girl?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re in charge of all normal activities from here on out.” Cash stroked her hair, trailing his hand through it, then caressing her shoulder.

She laughed softly against his chest, and it felt damn good. “No kidding. You were going to make me watch Pawn Stars or something. Don’t lie.”

Maybe. “Stay here tonight.”

“I can’t.”

“Wrong answer.”

“I have to prep before I meet the butler tomorrow afternoon. We fly out to Turkey for a simple drop and dash.”

Cash propped up on an elbow. “What? When’d that come through?”

“Check your messages. I found out on my way out of Sugar’s.”

“You’re not going anywhere with that asshole until Roman and I suit up and—”

“Shut your face, Cash. You’re ruining my post-orgasmic glow.”

Shut my face? Most women clamored for the right thing to say to make him stick around after a quickie. Not Nic. And this wasn’t a quickie. He tucked her back against him.

He could handle this. He could. And he could do it without killing people for no reason other than to protect her.