The Smuggler

by Leslie Georgeson

Alissa walked up to Nate and slipped an arm around his waist. Nate pulled her close, and pressed a kiss to her lips.

  Grace paused in the center of the group. She made no move to approach me. Less than an hour ago, I’d walked her to Tracker’s old apartment and left her there. I’d made it clear to her that I needed time and space. She was obviously giving that to me now. Even so, it was all I could do to not stomp toward her and wrap an arm possessively around her. A part of me wanted her to come up to me like Alissa had done to Nate, and claim me as hers. Should I just stop fighting my fears and give in? See what happened?

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Nate told Alissa. “We were just discussing Darcy.”

  Nate always asked Alissa’s opinion about everything. At first, it had pissed me off. She wasn’t a dreg. But now I conceded she was a part of Nate, and therefore, a part of the group. So if Nate wanted to listen to her opinion, that was fine. It didn’t mean I had to agree with her.

  “Darcy mentioned something about staying at her father’s place in Atlanta,” Grace said, indicating she must have overheard part of our conversation as she and Alissa arrived. She avoided my gaze, instead looking at everyone else.

  That stung. I wanted her to at least acknowledge me. She acted like I wasn’t even there.

  It’s your own damn fault. You pushed her away, you moron.

  Noah typed something into his phone. “I’m sure I can pull up The General’s house on the county tax records.”

  I felt Nate’s gaze on me and glanced up. He narrowed his eyes. Contemplating. Sometimes I really wished he couldn’t feel what I felt. It didn’t allow me any privacy. I didn’t like him knowing how much Grace got to me.

  Of course, I’d felt his feelings for Alissa as they’d hit him, though not nearly as strongly as he did. But he hadn’t fought his feelings the way I was fighting mine now. Why would he? He’d found a woman worthy of him. He was an exceptional guy. I, on the other hand, was the one who wasn’t worthy of Grace. It wouldn’t matter what I did, I would never be good enough for her.

  “Tony, do you have something to share?” Nate asked.

  I shot him a glare, then shook my head. “No.”

  “Got it,” Noah said. “Or at least, I think this is it. The General owned several properties. Most were divided up among his children when the estate was probated through the court. The legal records indicate he had three surviving children.” Noah choked out a laugh that we all seconded. Three? More like hundreds. The General was a sick man. “Anyway,” Noah went on. “Darcy was awarded a home in Atlanta. So I’m guessing that’s where she’s living.”

  “Did you search for any property under Darcy’s name, just in case there’s more than one?” Ryan asked.

  “Yeah. She has an apartment, too. The lease will be up on it next month. So it’s possible she’s still there and not going to move into the big home The General left her until after her lease is up.”

  “We’ll split into teams. One team will hit the apartment. Another team can go to the home,” Nate suggested. “And a third team can go to the facility to see if Darcy is there.” He glanced around the group. “We can head out at nightfall and figure out who to send to what address.” It was only four p.m., so we had several hours before dark. Plenty of time to gather weapons and figure out a plan.

  Fifteen minutes later, everyone seemed to be in agreement about what we would do. We all disbursed, heading off to our apartments.

  I watched Grace as she entered Tracker’s old apartment across the hall from mine. The sound of the lock clicking easily reached me ears. I hesitated, staring at the closed door.

  Don’t do it. Stay away. Leave her alone. You’ll only hurt her. You can’t have it both ways.

  Fuck. I can’t stay away from her.

  I needed space. Time. But more than that, I needed to be around her. She soothed me. She pushed the tortured souls away. Grace had me so mixed up, I could hardly think straight. I wanted, wanted, wanted…

  I glared at the locked door. Did she really think she could lock me out? Certainly she knew better than that by now.

  I was The Smuggler.

  I should just go inside my own apartment and push her from my mind. Deal with my issues first.

  Except I knew I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

  My pull toward her was too strong. I was a selfish bastard. I couldn’t seem to stay away from her.

  The image of myself kissing my way all over her naked body flashed through my mind, sealing my fate. I needed the peace she brought me.

  And I needed it right now.

  I stepped toward her door, ready to claim what was mine.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Grace

  Tony hadn’t said a word to me during the entire exchange in the gym, though I’d felt the heat of his gaze burning into me. I’d refused to look at him, to even acknowledge him. He needed space? Fine. He could have it. I wouldn’t bother him ever again. When he was ready for more than just sex, he knew where to find me. I was trying to be mature about this. To be patient with him. But a part of me feared I’d be waiting forever.

  A knock came at the door only a few seconds after I’d entered the apartment. Thinking it was Alissa, I hurried to answer it.

  Tony stood out in the hallway. Hope filled my chest. Was he ready for more? Had he come to talk?

  He didn’t speak as his dark gaze traveled down my body and slowly back to my face. Lust flared in his eyes.

  Oh no. No, no, no! That wasn’t how this worked. He didn’t get to kick me out, say he didn’t want or need me, and that he certainly didn’t love me…he didn’t get to say he needed time and space, and then expect me to just welcome him with open arms whenever he wanted sex. Feck him. Giving him space didn’t mean he got to use me in the interim whenever he wanted to shag me. No feckin way!

  I slammed the door in his face and locked it. Arsehole.

  A faint, barely perceptible sound from behind me had my hair standing on end. I spun around.

  Tony now stood behind me, a smirk on his face. Bastard. I would never get used to the way he somehow got past locked doors. How did he do that, anyway?

  I was not amused. Not in the least. I pointed at the door. “Get out! I did not invite you in here! You want space? So take it. Go away!”

  He took a step toward me, his gaze never wavering from mine.

  I held my ground, refusing to flee. “Don’t make me have to use Krav Maga on you.” I moved into a defensive stance.

  He snorted. “As if you could stop me. You know I’ll only overpower you. I’ll always win.”

  Feck. He was right. But I wasn’t about to let him use me.

  I lifted my chin and pointed at the door again. “Leave, you big arse! I won’t be your whore!” My breath hitched. Hot tears threatened to fall. I blinked rapidly, forcing them back.

  Don’t cry, Grace. Don’t do it.

  “Why does it always have to be about sex with you? Why can’t you give me more?” I gulped in a breath. I wouldn’t cry in front of him. I refused to show a weakness. It would only give him an excuse to pounce.

  Something flickered across his face, so fast I couldn’t decipher what it was. He strode forward again, his big body pressing into mine. I made a half-hearted attempt to fight him off, but he easily caught my wrists and lifted my arms above my head. Then he walked me backward until I hit the wall next to the door. His gaze locked on mine. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then he drew in a ragged breath, slowly exhaled. “Sex is all I know, Grace. I’m really trying here. You have to cut me some slack. I’ve never been in a relationship before. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. All I know is I want you. And I can’t seem to stay away from you.”

  My heart twisted. Oh, Tony.

  All I know is I want you. And I can’t seem to stay away from you.

  It wasn’t exactly a confession of love, but for now, I’d take it. It meant I was getting to him. That he wasn’t as indifferent as he pretended. Would I, in time, mean more to him tha
n a sex partner? A good time?

  I should stop this right now. Push him away. But he made me weak.

  “I can’t get enough of you.” He groaned softly. “You’re an addiction I can’t fight.” He lowered his head, his mouth trailing hot kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touched me. “I can’t not touch you, Grace, or I’ll go insane.”

  Feck. Why couldn’t I resist this man? I shivered in longing, melting in his arms. All it took was one touch and I went weak in the knees.

  He latched onto the side of my neck and sucked, no doubt leaving his mark. He liked to mark me, and I loved that he did. His little brands of ownership turned me on. I tilted my head back with a soft moan, allowing him better access. I had changed into a pair of sweats and sweatshirt after showering earlier. Nothing sexy. But I felt sexy in that moment, as if I were wearing lacy lingerie. He lifted his head, his gaze taking me in, making me feel beautiful in my plain sweats. He slipped his hands up inside the sweatshirt, his gaze never leaving mine, and cupped my breasts in his palms. I let out a soft moan and closed my eyes.

  He pushed the fabric up, urging me to remove it. “Lift your arms,” he ordered, and I obediently did as he instructed. He pulled the shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Cool air shifted across my naked skin. His gaze zeroed in on my breasts that were clad in a skimpy pink bra. My nipples hardened instantly into aching buds of need.

  He stepped back, his nostrils flaring as he gazed at me. “Fucking gorgeous. You’re mine,” he said simply.

  I didn’t argue. I was his. Only his.

  “Are you going to fight me?” he whispered, his gaze moving back to mine. “Tell me no?” There was a challenge in his eyes that made me wonder what he would do if I actually did fight him. If I said no and actually meant it, would he back away?

  I hesitated, letting my gaze travel down his impressive body. I couldn’t fight him. Not in this. I didn’t want to fight him. He owned my body. He owned me.

  I jerked my gaze back to his, the heat smoldering in his eyes enough to singe me where I stood. I couldn’t say no. Right now, I didn’t want to win this fight.

  But I would never admit that out loud. If he thought I was giving in, he would know he was the victor, and I couldn’t let him think he’d won. This push-pull between us was a major turn on. For both of us. It was a kind of verbal foreplay that ignited the passion between us.

  I straightened my spine, shoving my chest out. “I’ll never give in to you willingly. The battle is still on.”

  His gaze darted back to my breasts. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I can make you give in.”

  My nipples pebbled again, aching for his touch, excited by his words. “Never,” I shot back, though my voice was breathy and filled with anticipation. He wouldn’t have to make me do anything. I was already hot and wet with need. I didn’t know who was winning this round, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t me.

  If I was going to give in, then so was he. He had to surrender something to me.

  His gaze landed on mine again. Hot. Needy. “The harder you fight, the greater my victory when you finally surrender.” He lowered his voice. “Fight me, Grace. I dare you.” His gaze crawled down my body, slowly, then back up until it rested on mine again. He wanted me to fight so he could force me into submission. Heat pooled in my loins. My breath caught.

  He reached out, slowly trailing a finger down between my breasts.

  My breathing quickened. My pulse shot out of control.

  He watched my eyes as he moved that finger around my breast in a slow circle, smaller, smaller, until he was circling the hard peak. I closed my eyes and let out a soft whimper.

  Resist him, Grace. Don’t give in.

  I can’t. I can’t resist him.

  I was already aching with need. I would surrender. I didn’t have a choice. But I expected him to give in to my needs, too. This wasn’t only about him. This wasn’t only about winning.

  “I’ll surrender,” I whispered. “But I have conditions.”

  Satisfaction flickered in his eyes. He lowered his hand. “Of course you do. What are they?”

  I lifted my chin. “You can’t always win, Tony. You need to be willing to compromise sometimes.”

  He hesitated, then jerked his head in a nod. “Name your conditions and we can negotiate.”

  My heart pounded. Was he really going to give in? “I want kisses like last time.” I held his gaze. “Lots of kisses.”

  He let out a soft snort. “That’s a given, Grace. Now that I’ve tasted you, I can’t seem to stop.”

  Desire raged deep in my belly. So hot. O-kay. That had been easier than I’d expected.

  “I want free rein.” I looked into those smoky black eyes that made my stomach go all aflutter. Was I really negotiating sex with him?

  It’s about more than sex, and you know it. This is a power struggle and both of you have to be willing to compromise, to give, and to take.

  Wariness flickered in his eyes. “Describe ‘free rein’ and I’ll consider it.”

  “I want to be able to touch you wherever I want. Kiss you wherever I want. No restrictions.” The last time we’d had sex, it had been amazing. Combustible. But he’d done most of the touching, and then he’d freaked out afterwards, saying he needed space. So I’d never really gotten the chance to explore his body the way I wanted to. I’d never really gotten to enjoy the feel of all those hard muscles beneath my hands. I wanted that now. I wanted to be able to touch him however I wanted, for as long as I wanted.

  A long moment passed while he seemed to fight some kind of internal struggle. Finally, he jerked his head in a nod. “That’s doable.”

  Yes!

  “I have one more condition.” This one was very important. If he agreed to this, then it meant he did care about me, that he was willing to give me something of himself in return. It meant he was willing to let down his guard. At least a little.

  The wariness returned to his eyes. “Name it.”

  “I want you to stay afterwards. I want you to let me hold you. And I want you to hold me.”

  Silence fell.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He turned his head to the side, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “You want to c-c-cuddle?” I fought back a laugh at the horror in his words. He made it sound like cuddling was a scary thing. I guess, for him, it was.

  “Cuddling is not as scary as you think,” I promised. “Can’t you at least try it?”

  I waited breathlessly. Would he agree? Would he walk out? Would he simply take me without agreeing? It wasn’t as if I would stop him if he did. I wanted him. I would always want him.

  “I want you, Tony,” I admitted softly, baring my soul. “I will always want you. I’m not too proud to admit that.”

  He swallowed hard. Then he slowly turned his head back to me, opening his eyes. “Okay. I will give it a try.”

  That was good enough for me. Just a willingness to try.

  A mixture of happiness and relief bubbled in my chest.

  He was agreeing!

  I lifted a hand to the clasp at the back of my bra, releasing it. His eyes darkened as the bra straps fell off my shoulders and I shifted my arms, letting the bra fall to the floor. He stared at me for about two seconds.

  Then, with a soft growl, he attacked me, pressing me back against the wall, his mouth swooping down to claim mine. It was savage. Rough. Possessive. Yet, oh so beautiful. He rocked his hips against mine while his mouth took complete possession of mine. His tongue swept in to claim, to take, but also to give. He gradually softened the kiss, deepening it, his tongue sweeping in again and again to mate with mine in a passionate dance that stole my breath and made me so hot. So needy.

  I moaned, kissing him back with everything I had, pressing closer, running my fingers through his glorious dark hair. I loved this man. So much it made me crazy. He made me crazy. I vowed in that moment that someday, somehow I would make him love me back.

&n
bsp; His mouth left mine to move down. Down. I let out a soft gasp as he latched onto my breast, sucking my nipple into his mouth.

  Tony might seem cold and unfeeling at times, but when it came to sex, he knew how to please a woman. He was all about giving. He’d never left me unsatisfied yet. And I reveled in that, arching into his touch, wanting, needing…all of him.

  I slipped my hands up inside his shirt, feeling along his hard abs. He made a sound in his throat and lifted his head, his lust-filled gaze meeting mine.

  “Take it off,” I urged. “I want to see you.”

  He yanked it over his head without hesitation. I feasted my gaze on his pure masculine beauty. He had a lot of scars, most of them old. A few that were fairly fresh. I’d noticed them before. But now, I really paid attention.

  While he stood still, I traced my fingers over all his scars, then gently kissed each one. He tensed beneath my touch, but he didn’t pull away. He endured my kisses, my gentle touches without a sound.

  Finally, I stepped back, looking into his eyes. “What are the scars from? Bullets?”

  “Mostly. A few are from knives. Others from shrapnel.”

  I couldn’t believe he was finally opening up to me. A few days ago, I doubt he would have offered any information about himself. It might seem small, just talking about his scars, but it was a start.

  Baby steps, Grace. Don’t push too soon.

  “And the tattoo?” I whispered, running my fingers over the dove’s wings, the hat, and then the deck of cards that arched up toward his shoulder. “It’s really beautiful.”

  He lowered his gaze. “Tracker drew it. He’s an artist.”

  I hadn’t yet met Tracker, but I hoped I would someday. “It’s you, isn’t it? A magician?”

  “Yeah.” He lifted his gaze to mine again. There was a raw, vulnerable look in his eyes, similar to the one he’d shown me the last time we’d been intimate. It humbled me, seeing him open up like this. Trusting me. It had to be difficult for him. It was probably time to back off on the personal stuff before I scared him away. I leaned into him, rubbing my breasts against his chest. I lifted my face and pressed my lips to his.