The Smuggler

by Leslie Georgeson

  I reached her apartment complex and parked in the south corner beneath a large tree. It was darker there, with no streetlight. Anticipation built inside me. I needed something to distract me, something to make the wait seem shorter.

  All the dregs had met the other night to discuss what to do about the shareholders. We’d all agreed that none of us wanted to sniper out those men, that there had to be another way to deal with them. Then Nate brought up the wanted posters and said we should use Grace to help lure out whoever had posted them, that it might help us take down the shareholders sooner. I’d adamantly refused, and a long argument had ensued. By the time our discussion had finally ended, everyone was pissed at me. But I wasn’t budging. I didn’t want Grace involved.

  So we’d decided to stay in hiding for our own safety, only venturing out when absolutely necessary, until we could come to an agreement about what to do about the shareholders. Which meant: until I gave in and let Grace help. I was the one holding them all back. But I couldn’t involve Grace. I refused to.

  I’d ventured out tonight for Grace. Putting myself in danger.

  I didn’t regret that decision. I would do it again for her. And that kid. I was happy I’d been able to help. Helping that boy had felt good. I’d felt useful, wanted. Needed.

  I got out of my car and silently approached Grace’s building, keeping to the shadows, my senses attuned for danger.

  A slight movement in the shrubs in front of her complex made me pause. A skinny brown dog scuttled out from behind a bush, its tail between its legs. Crouching low, the beast approached, its posture submissive.

  A stray, most likely. Abandoned. Unwanted. Unloved.

  Like me.

  “Hey, amigo.” I knelt in front the scrawny dog and petted it, running my hand gently along its dirty coat. The animal’s tail thumped the sidewalk as he pressed into my touch. Craving attention.

  Something in my chest tightened. I fished into my jacket pocket for a piece of beef jerky. Tearing open the package, I settled back onto the ground, half-in, half-out of the shrubs, partially hidden from any passersby, and fed the skinny dog small pieces of jerky. By the time the jerky was gone, I had a new best friend. Nate would have to fight the dog for that title now. My lips twitched. I’d made a new friend. Me. I didn’t make friends. I didn’t do “nice”, yet I’d just become friends with a scrawny, unwanted dog. A stray.

  We had a lot in common, the dog and I. We’d both been abandoned, unloved.

  The dog nuzzled into my lap, seeking more food. But I had no more.

  “Sorry, amigo. It’s all gone.”

  Once the dog realized there was no more food, he settled down beside me and laid his head in my lap. Giving me his complete trust. Content just to be with me.

  Friends.

  I lifted my hand and rested it on his head, gently stroking.

  Comfort.

  I’d never given anyone or anything comfort before. The word had been foreign to me until recently. Nate’s girl, Alissa, had introduced me to “comfort”, embarrassing the hell out of me when she’d squeezed my hand and then, later, hugged me. Human touch was not something I was used to, and I shied away from it, the idea of touching and being touched making me extremely uncomfortable. I either backed away, verbally warned someone off, or physically removed them whenever they got into my personal space.

  The dog whined softly, burrowing his head deeper into my lap. I didn’t mind the dog so close. He didn’t have any ulterior motives. He just wanted a friend.

  That unfamiliar tightening in my chest came back again, a small squeeze, a slight twist. It was so strange, so upsetting that I swallowed hard and tried to ignore it. There was nothing in my chest except for emptiness, so I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. The damn dog was making me “care”, something I wasn’t used to. Caring. I didn’t care about anyone or anything. Not even this stupid dog.

  Okay, that was a lie. I cared about my dreg brothers. They were good guys. But that was the extent of my caring. The rest of the world could kiss my ass.

  With a soft snort, I leaned back into the bushes to wait for Grace.

  No one else was around at five in the morning. Just me and a lonely, stray dog.

  A few minutes later a car door slammed from somewhere out in the parking lot. Then Grace strode up the sidewalk, dressed in her black cop attire. Fuck, she was hot. Sexy. Authoritative. I wanted to rip that uniform off her and kiss my way all over her soft skin, licking and sucking every single inch of her body, and all those freckles. Damn. I wanted to know if those freckles were everywhere, or just in certain areas. Grace was the first woman I’d ever wanted to touch. In the past, sex had been nothing more than a physical release. Grace made me long to not only touch her, but to hold onto her. To claim her and make her mine. Which was totally unlike me.

  She paused, glancing down at me in surprise. “I see that stray dog found you.” Her lips twitched. “You didn’t feed him, did you? If you feed them, they never go away.”

  I looked into her eyes. “He was hungry.”

  She sighed. “I can’t have pets, you know, or I would have taken him in. What do you plan to do with him now?”

  I shrugged. What could I do with a stray dog? It wasn’t as if I could take him home with me. The underground maze was no place for a dog. “Nothing, I guess.”

  “I’ll call animal control when they open in a few hours. They’ll take him to the pound and try to find him a home.”

  “Or put him to sleep,” I murmured. “Isn’t that what they do with unwanted pets? Kill them?”

  “I know. It’s sad.” She paused. “Well, if you want to come in, follow me, soldier.” Then she winked and strolled up the stairs to her apartment.

  Wiggling myself free from the dog, I tried to ignore the beast’s pitiful whines as I rose to my feet. Animal control would pick him up in a few hours, and I’d never see him again. It was probably for the best.

  I followed after Grace. Anxious. Nervous.

  Anticipation arced through me. I needed to touch this woman or I would go insane. I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head for a week. Once I fucked her, I could let go of this obsession. And get my head on straight again.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Grace said as she strode down her short hallway. “I’m going to shower and change into something more comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  Her bedroom door closed with a quiet click.

  I glanced around the apartment. There was no sign of Darcy having ever been here. When had she left? Was she coming back? If Grace was smart, she’d stay far away from Darcy.

  Make yourself comfortable.

  Didn’t that generally mean get ready for sex?

  I didn’t have to get ready. I already was ready. I’d wanted Grace from the moment I’d first laid eyes on her.

  I finally sank down onto the couch to wait, my fingers tapping my thigh.

  She emerged about fifteen minutes later, wearing a silky black lace nightie that ended high up on her thighs, exposing her long, toned legs. She sauntered toward me, her breasts bouncing slightly with her movements, her hips gently swaying from side to side. Her long copper hair was loose, flowing softly down her back, with several strands falling forward over her right breast.

  My eyes bugged out of my head.

  I hadn’t expected a seductress.

  I gulped.

  Bold and confident, she strolled right up to the couch where I sat, then settled onto my lap, straddling my waist. Before I could stop her, her hands went to my jacket and she yanked the zipper down. She slid her hands up inside my T-shirt, stroking along my abs, then over my pecs, and back down.

  “You’re so sexy,” she whispered.

  Fuck. Me.

  I’d never allowed a woman to touch me like this before. I did all the touching. But I was frozen beneath Grace’s touch. I liked her touch. It made me hot. Needy. Desperate for more. I didn’t want her to stop.

  Though I hadn’t earned the right to
touch Grace, she’d touched me first. She’d started this. So that made it okay. Right?

  I should stop her. Shove her away. Get her out of my personal space. Remind her of my “no touching” rule.

  But I couldn’t seem to move, let alone push her away. I didn’t want to push her away. I wanted to see what she’d do. How far she’d really go. Because if I didn’t stop her, and she kept going, I’d take her right here on the couch. And if she didn’t stop me, then that would mean she truly wanted me, right?

  She pressed kisses along my neck, before latching onto my earlobe and sucking heartily.

  Desire arced through me, hot and fierce. I was done letting her control this. I had never let the whores control how this went down, and I wasn’t about to let Grace control it, either. I had always had a fierce need to be in control of everything in my life. Even sex.

  I let out a growl and pushed her sideways off me, shoving her down onto the couch. I slid my body over hers, pressing her into the cushions, dominating. Letting her know I was in charge.

  She let out a soft gasp, her eyes heating. “Kiss me,” she whispered, lifting her face toward me, her lips brushing mine. “Please.”

  I froze. My mouth tingled from the brush of her soft lips against mine. Pushing her down into the cushions, I leaned back. “No kissing.”

  Hurt flickered in her eyes. “What? Why not? I don’t like your rules. No touching. No kissing. That’s not fair. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment I met you.”

  She had? I didn’t know what to do with that. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block those words out. I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes. “No kissing,” I repeated, grinding my hips into hers. “Just fucking.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, no you don’t, you big arse.” She pushed against my chest, but I didn’t budge. “I started this. I get to say how it goes down. I want kissing and touching.”

  I grunted. “Wrong. I’m in charge here. I say how it goes down. You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you. My way.”

  Her eyes flashed with fury. “If I invite a man into my bed, it’s on my terms. Arsehole.”

  “We’re not in your bed,” I pointed out. Then I lowered my head and kissed between those gorgeous, plump breasts.

  She gasped and arched up against me, her hands falling away. “That’s not fair,” she hissed out. “You don’t get to make all the rules. Sex is supposed to be about sharing. Not controlling.”

  Her words jolted me. She was right. But I had to keep this emotionless. Cold and impersonal. I had to remain detached. In control. Or I might start to care for her.

  Ignoring her, I slipped a breast free of the silky negligee and sucked her nipple into my mouth. She moaned, closing her eyes and giving in. “You bastard,” she whispered.

  She was right again. I was a bastard. I wouldn’t give her mouth-to-mouth kisses. But I wouldn’t leave her unsatisfied.

  Before I left, she would surrender completely to me.

  Tonight, I planned to make her mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Grace

  Feck him. I’d known the moment my eyes had met Tony’s in the mirror that first night at the bar that we would wind up between the sheets eventually. But I hadn’t planned on the constant battle of wills between us, or the intensity of our physical attraction. Or my helpless reaction to him.

  Tonight I had set out with the intention of seducing him, making him lose his composure. I wanted to see him show some kind of emotion, something besides that coldness. I’d wanted to force him to lose complete control and give in to me. So I’d become a seductress.

  But he’d turned the tables on me. And now he was in charge.

  Arsehole.

  I moaned as he latched onto my breast and suckled like a babe. Licking, sucking, gently nipping with his teeth. Desire coursed through me. Heat settled deep into my core, a persistent, merciless throbbing. He kept at my breasts for a long time, ravishing each one completely, claiming me, marking me. I would have plenty of hickies from his mouth later. Love bites.

  He moved his hands down, lifting the flimsy black nightie. His hot gaze met mine. “Take it off,” he ordered. “Or I’ll tear it off you.”

  “Tear it off,” I panted out. “I need you. Hurry.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. Then, with a yank, he tore the fabric, rendering it in two and pulling it apart. Baring me before him. He leaned back, his gaze feasting on me, darkening as it rested on my tender, well-ravished breasts that no doubt bore the mark of his mouth and teeth. Then moving downward to settle between my thighs. There was no mistaking the desire in his eyes. He wanted me.

  I was beyond trying to control this situation. He was in charge now. And I didn’t care. I just wanted him to keep touching me.

  His gaze crawled back up my body until it met mine. “Do you want me, Grace?” he asked huskily, his Spanish accent more pronounced than normal. “Truly?”

  I couldn’t look away from the lust in his dark eyes. I wanted him to take me. Release the ache inside me. Right now. God, yes.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I want you.” To show him I was serious, I reached down and placed my palm over the bulge in his jeans.

  He captured my wrist, pulling my hand away from him. “No touching,” he reminded.

  Feck that. I was going to touch him as much as I could. “I never agreed to that.”

  Our gazes locked.

  “Do you surrender?” His gaze burrowed into mine. So hot. Burning hot.

  My first instinct was to refuse. I’d always been in charge in the bedroom. I’d never allowed a man to dictate what happened in my bed. I’d always been in control, setting the pace, determining what my lovers could or couldn’t do.

  But no man had ever filled me with this all-consuming lust before. All I could think about was getting closer to Tony, feeling his hot, hard body moving against mine. Shagging me. Ravishing me. He was a fire I couldn’t put out. I needed him. I would surrender. And then I’d somehow find a way to get this man to let down his guard, to someday let me in.

  “Yes,” I panted out, staring into his black eyes. “I surrender. Shag me. Please. God.”

  He flipped me over onto my stomach, then pressed me down into the couch. “Don’t move.”

  I waited, the anticipation killing me, my heart pounding as the sound of clothes rustling reached my ears. A quick tearing sound—a condom?—then he growled out, “On your knees.”

  Oh God. I was so hot. So wet. So ready.

  When I couldn’t find the strength to obey, he slipped an arm beneath me and lifted me up onto my knees. Leaning over me, he pulled me back against him so that my ass pressed against his erection. I let out a soft gasp of anticipation.

  Tightening his arm around my waist, he whispered in my ear, “All I need is for you to say you want this, and I’ll take you. Say it, Grace. Say you want this. Say you want me. Give me your permission.”

  I let out a soft whimper. “Yes. I want this. I want you.”

  “Say my name,” he growled in my ear. “Say it.”

  “Tony,” I gasped out. “I want you, Tony. Only you.”

  His hands moved to my hips, and then he thrust forward, taking me, claiming me, making me his. I cried out as he slid home, an orgasm rocking through me, rendering me weak and pliant in his arms.

  Tony did exactly what he said. He took me. Deep and rough. He shagged me. There was no gentleness in his claiming. His hands moved to my breasts, squeezing, cupping, as he continued to thrust, over and over and over. I’d never been taken this way before. From behind. It was hot. Erotic. I forgot all about wanting to be in control. I forgot about wanting to win this battle. For now, I was happy to let him win.

  He slipped a hand down, his fingers expertly stroking another orgasm out of me, before he rammed into me one last time and held me tightly to him as he reached his own release.

  It was over much too quickly. And though he’d made me come twice, I wanted more. This man was a
n addiction I would never get enough of. He’d only given me a tiny taste. I didn’t want just a taste of him. I wanted all of him.

  Finally, he released me and rose from the couch.

  Then, suddenly, he tensed, his head jerking toward the front door. He lifted a hand to his lips to indicate I should be quiet.

  I froze. What was going on? Was someone out there?

  Moving swiftly across the room, he fixed his pants, tossing the used condom into the garbage can in the kitchen. He came out of the kitchen with his gun in his hand. Shite. How did he know someone was out there? I hadn’t heard anything except for our joint cries of pleasure. I had been lost in him, consumed by him, and how he made me feel.

  He must have acute senses or something.

  I sprang into cop mode and sprinted down the hallway. Snatching my robe off the back of my bedroom door, I pulled it on. Then I retrieved my Glock from my nightstand and crept back down the hallway.

  I paused at the sound of the front door clicking shut.

  Had Tony left?

  Or had he slipped outside to investigate?

  I slowly moved toward the living room, my gun held out in front of me, checking for danger. It soon became apparent that I was the only one in the house.

  I lowered my weapon. Now what? Where had Tony gone?

  The front door opened at that moment and Tony slipped back inside. His gaze locked on mine. “Whoever was out there is gone now.”

  “How did you know someone was out there? I didn’t hear anything.”

  He hesitated, his gaze sweeping the room, then coming back to land on mine. “I have acute senses. All the dregs do. I heard someone out there. They were listening against the door.”

  Heat crept into my cheeks. Someone had been out there listening to us having sex? Gross. What kind of sick pervert did that? We both glanced away awkwardly, staring at everything except each other. Silence stretched.

  My phone rang, the sound startling us both.

  I snatched my phone off the kitchen counter. Unknown number.

  “Officer Murphy,” I answered cautiously.

  “Hi Grace,” a female voice greeted. “Sorry to bother you, but we’ve got an urgent situation. A ten-year-old girl in need of immediate placement. Can you take her?”