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

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “Make him go away,” she said softly. “Please.”

  It was the please that undid him. “I can do that, cupcake—but you have to trust me, okay?”

  She nodded. And then her eyes widened as he cupped her jaw in both his hands and tilted her face up to his. He took a step nearer, closing the distance between their bodies—and then he lowered his mouth to hers and took her lips in a searing kiss.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  TRUST HIM, HE’D SAID. Grace’s heart pounded as her hands came up to grip his biceps—whether to hold on for dear life or push him away, she wasn’t sure.

  But his mouth—oh, his mouth. His lips were firm and somehow soft as well. His hands on her face were hot, his skin sizzling against hers—and then he let go of her face, and his hands slid down her bare arms and then around her waist, tugging her into the heat and hardness of his body.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, one of her hands spearing into his hair as she pulled his head closer to hers. Their teeth clashed, and he made a noise in his throat—but then his tongue dove into her mouth and slid against her own.

  Grace’s knees melted. And her body lit up in ways it hadn’t in a long time. She felt herself growing wet, felt the ache of desire throbbing in her core as blood rushed through her body and made her want.

  Her heart fluttered like a trapped moth in a jar, and her skin was the epicenter of an electrical storm. She didn’t know this man from Adam, but she suddenly wanted to get naked with him on a bed somewhere—or maybe a floor or table, who cared really?—and feel his powerful body moving inside hers.

  What would it be like to have sex with a stranger just for the hell of it? That was something she’d never done—never been able to do because of who she was—but this one… oh God, this one was in her house, under her roof, responsible for her safety. He was there anyway, and she could have him in her bed if she desired.

  If she were brave enough to take what he was offering her.

  That was the problem, wasn’t it? She wasn’t all that brave when it came to taking big chances. Maybe Jeffrey had been right—maybe she’d been more focused on her work than she’d been on him, and maybe that made her dull and uninteresting. He’d said she no longer excited him, that sex with her was like comfort sex—the kind of vanilla stuff you did when you wanted to get off, but nothing very exciting or interesting.

  It still smarted.

  But now, right now in Garrett Spencer’s arms, she felt alive and on fire. Like a living, breathing flame, ready to incinerate in his embrace.

  He fed on her, drinking her in, his tongue stroking and sucking and licking her mouth. She arched her body against his, and his grip on her waist tightened. He was big and beautiful—and rock hard. She could feel the length and size of him pressing against her, and her belly did a slow flip.

  Whatever this was, it wasn’t just her. And that thought excited her even more.

  But then his hands at her waist stiffened—and he set her away from him, stepping back and looking down at her with stormy eyes. His jaw was hard, and his expression was harder—and her heart fell into a chasm as fresh heat bloomed over her skin.

  It wasn’t the heat of desire this time, but of embarrassment. He’d found her lacking in some way—the same way Jeffrey had—and he’d pushed her away.

  She told herself that was ridiculous, but she couldn’t shake the feeling as he closed his eyes and shoved a hand through his hair.

  “Is he gone?”

  Grace blinked, her lips still tingling and slightly swollen, her brain muddled and unsure. Gone? Was who gone?

  And then it hit her that he meant Jeffrey. That he’d kissed her to make Jeffrey go away. She peeked around him—the hallway was clear. Even while she wanted to cry with frustration that the kiss wasn’t real and now it was over, she had to keep it together.

  She nodded, and he took her hand and pulled her back toward the ballroom.

  It was an act. Just an act.

  He’d kissed her to make Jeffrey go away, and it had worked. Back to business.

  And yet she wanted to ask him why he’d kissed her so thoroughly when it hadn’t been necessary. Why he’d been hard, because she hadn’t imagined that bulge under his tux.

  All he’d needed to do was press his mouth to hers and pretend. Why the tongues? Why the heat?

  It was a mystery she wasn’t going to solve. She stopped as they passed the ladies’ room and he let her go.

  “I…I need to go inside and fix my lipstick.”

  “Of course.”

  He was back to being the iceman, the glacial bodyguard who had nothing but professional coolness to offer her.

  Grace turned and hurried through the door, hot tears of frustration and embarrassment clogging her throat and pissing her off. There was no one inside the ladies’ room, and she sank onto a couch near the mirror with relief. It was quiet. Lovely, lovely quiet.

  She looked at her reflection, gasping a little as she did so. Her mouth was definitely red and swollen. Her skin was flushed, and her eyes looked so wide and blue. She looked like a woman who’d lost her head just a little.

  She worked to fix her mouth, refreshing her lipstick and liner, and then she got a paper towel and dampened it before running the coolness over her bare skin. She patted her face with it and threw it away before straightening her dress and taking a deep breath.

  She had to go back out there, like it or not. And she had to go sooner rather than later, or Garrett would probably come looking for her.

  Grace emerged from the restroom with her head held high and her veneer back in place. Garrett was leaning against the opposite wall, looking so handsome and dangerous it made her heart skip a beat. He straightened and came toward her, his brows drawing low.

  “Everything all right?”

  “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  He shrugged. “No reason. You ready to go back in there? Face the vampires again?”

  She snorted a laugh in spite of herself. “An apt way to describe some of them.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Yes, I’m ready.”

  He searched her gaze. “Another hour and you can have that pizza you wanted.”

  It shouldn’t mean a thing that he remembered, but it did. “Lead on, vampire slayer, and then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  He grinned, and her heart flipped. “You’re funnier than I gave you credit for.”

  Funny. Just what a girl wanted to hear when she’d been kissed within an inch of her life. Kissed so hot and sexy that she’d seriously thought of having a naughty one-night stand for the first time ever.

  “Thank you,” she said because she couldn’t think of any other response.

  He studied her for a long moment, and she thought he might say something else. But he took her arm, tucked it into his, and escorted her back inside the lion’s den.

  Game on.

  *

  He shouldn’t have kissed her. That was pretty much a boneheaded move, and he’d be paying for it later when he remembered how she’d lit up like a flame, how he’d wanted to sink into her and drown. He’d be paying because he’d be hard and aching—and alone in his bed with nothing but his fist for company.

  Garrett kept his eyes on the crowd, scanning for any trouble, but everything was as ordinary as he supposed a Washington power event should be. He let his gaze drift to Grace, and his gut felt like he’d been kicked by a horse.

  She was talking to her father and another man, her elegant fingers gripping the stem of her wineglass, her lips turned up in a polite smile. He’d stepped away to give her space, but he remained close if she needed him.

  He’d kissed Grace because he’d felt sorry for her, because she’d looked so hurt and panicked when she’d been worried about her ex finding her, and because he’d wanted to make it better.

  But kissing Grace Campbell was rather like deciding to step into the kiddie pool just to cool off—and finding out you’d actually stepped off the deep end instead. The seri
ous scientist who hated crowds, who would rather hide in her room with a pizza and a book—or a movie—burned hotter than a lightning strike.

  And he wanted to burn with her, which was a most definite nonstarter. He had his orders, and he wasn’t about to defy them. No screwing the protectee, even if his dick was harder than it had ever been in his life with the thought of doing just that.

  Another man walked over to Grace and her father, and Garrett did a double take. The man was tall, dark-haired, and all smiles as he shook Senator Campbell’s hand and then Grace’s.

  Garrett hadn’t seen Ian Black since that night in Ras al-Dura when they’d swept him up along with everyone who’d been trying to leave the Russian consulate after Victoria Royal and Brandy had killed the rogue scientist Igor Chernovsky. Black had walked away after a few hours, however, when the order came down from above to let him go.

  Garrett watched Black carefully. He didn’t seem overly familiar with Grace or her father, but he definitely knew them. Garrett was torn between watching or returning to Grace’s side. Black probably wouldn’t recognize him considering he’d been wearing an assault suit and had his face covered in greasepaint, but there was always the chance.

  Did he care? Did it matter?

  Black had disappeared after that mission, yet here he was, in the middle of DC and hobnobbing with the power brokers. Obviously, Garrett would be reporting this to Mendez later. But right now he had a woman to protect and a reason to be at her side.

  He strode toward the little group. Black looked up first. If he recognized Garrett, he didn’t betray himself. Senator Campbell glanced over at Garrett and then back to Black. Grace didn’t look at him as he came to her side.

  He put his hand against her back. That made her stop talking and look up at him.

  “The car is ready when you are,” he said. “You have an early day tomorrow.”

  She licked her lips, and his groin tightened. “I… uh, yes, you’re right.” She turned back to her father and Black. “It was so nice to see you, Ian. I hope you don’t disappear on us again.”

  Ian smiled. “I hope not too. But I can never tell where the job will take me, so anything is possible.”

  Her father kissed her, and then her mother came over and fussed a bit over her, telling her to be careful and to be sure to eat. It took another half hour, but Garrett finally ushered her from the room and down to the front entrance. Flash had called to tell him it was safe, that the press had mostly decamped at this point. There were one or two of them left, probably tabloid reporters looking for something juicy, but Garrett hurried Grace from the building and into the car before they could get past hotel security and get close enough to ask questions.

  Then they were inside and Flash was speeding away from the hotel and down the street toward the Potomac and the bridge that would take them back to Virginia.

  “What’s your favorite pizza joint?”

  Grace glanced over at him. “Uh, it’s a local place. Da Tony’s in Old Town.”

  Garrett looked up the number on his phone and then dialed. “What do you want on it?”

  “Cheese.”

  “Just cheese?”

  She sniffed. “Is that a problem?”

  “Nope.” He preferred meat on his pizza, but whatever. He placed the order for a large cheese pizza and hung up again. Then he told Flash to stop by the restaurant on the way to Grace’s house.

  Grace had her head turned, looking out the window, and Garrett had a strong urge to reach for her and make her look at him. But he didn’t.

  “How do you know Ian Black?”

  Flash’s gaze met his in the rearview. He knew the importance of that name.

  Grace turned. “His parents are big supporters of my father. They own a furniture chain in South Carolina.”

  Garrett figured this was info Mendez already knew from his files, but it was news to him. And the fact Grace knew Black didn’t make him happy, especially considering what he knew about the man’s dealings in Qu’rim. Yeah, he’d left the vials of smallpox behind for HOT to destroy, but that didn’t make him a nice guy.

  And Grace was a researcher in a medical laboratory. Working on fucking viruses, for God’s sake.

  Grace’s brows drew down. “Wait a minute—how do you know Ian?”

  “You meet a lot of people in my line of work.”

  “He didn’t seem to know you.”

  “He might not remember me. Or he might not have wanted to admit he did. It’s not a big deal.”

  She shrugged. “With Ian, one never knows.”

  “Probably best if you don’t ask him about me, cupcake.”

  Her gaze shot to his again. “I don’t have his number in my phone, and I don’t speak with him often. Though he did suggest we meet for coffee sometime.”

  Ice ran down Garrett’s spine. “Not while I’m with you.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

  “Grace.” Garrett blew out a breath and resisted the urge to slide his palms over his face. “It will make this job more difficult is all I’m saying. I’d rather you didn’t. Ian Black isn’t what he seems, so just trust me, all right?”

  She faced straight ahead, her pert little nose turning up as she thrust her chin in the air. So haughty. He should want to strangle her for it, and yet he had this vision of her tied up on a bed and at his mercy instead. He’d love to hear her beg him for his cock in that superior voice of hers.

  Down, dude.

  “Fine.”

  The way she said fine got under his skin like a mosquito bite. Itching and nagging until he just wanted to scratch it away and damn the consequences. Or, in her case, kiss her again and damn the consequences.

  They reached the pizza joint, and he went inside to pick up the pizza. A few minutes later, after he’d checked her house for any signs of entry, he escorted her and the pizza inside and set it down on the counter.

  The house was quiet after the noise of the ballroom and the tension in the car when Flash was listening in. He almost felt like he could breathe again.

  Almost, but not quite.

  Grace stood in her kitchen in her pretty black dress, her shoulders bare where her wrap had slipped down to reveal skin. Her strappy little shoes were sexy as hell, and she somehow managed to look sweetly pretty and damn uncertain of herself at the same time.

  “Why don’t you go change? You’ll be more comfortable eating pizza in something that’s not cinched around your body like that dress.”

  She disappeared, her shoes tapping on the stairs as she went up. He let out the breath he’d been holding and loosened his tie. Then he followed her up the stairs, heading for the guest room where he was staying.

  Her door opened as he took the last step onto the landing. She was standing there in her dress, her feet bare this time. She was shorter now, not quite on eye level with him like she was when wearing those heels.

  “Brooke zipped me into this dress,” she said, her voice smooth and soft. “I can’t get it undone.”

  Fuck. Garrett walked over to her door, and she turned around. The light from the lamps in the hallway spilled onto her shoulders. Her skin gleamed so pale and white—and so beautiful, like silk in the soft glow of the lamps.

  He wanted to lower his mouth to her skin and lick it.

  Instead, he reached for her zipper, tugged it slowly down her back while his dick throbbed in response. He tugged it farther than he needed to for her to reach it, but once he started, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to keep going, wanted to see what kind of panties she was wearing, but he stopped when he reached the small of her back, his fingers almost shaking with the effort.

  His gaze slid over the skin he’d revealed. He’d thought she might be wearing a strapless bra, but her back was smooth and bare, and his cock grew harder at the thought of her breasts released from their confinement.

  She didn’t move, and he couldn’t. But then she shot him a quizzical look over her shoulder.

  “The hook?
”

  Garrett dragged his gaze to the back of the dress. Of course, the fucking hook. He’d released her from the dress, but he’d left it hooked at the top. He took both sides of the dress, the backs of his fingers brushing against her skin, and worked the hook free.

  The dress fell open, revealing much more of her back than he’d already seen, but she spun around, holding it up to her chest. Her eyes were wide as they met his.

  “Thank you.”

  He had to clear his throat. “Anytime.”

  She gave him a smile and then closed the door in his face. He hobbled his way to his room, his body aching with thwarted need, and briefly considered jerking off before going back downstairs to eat pizza with her.

  Or maybe he should just stay right here. Keep away from the temptation altogether. Part of him wanted to laugh—temptation? Since when had Grace Campbell gone from spoiled pain in the ass to temptation?

  In the end, he changed out of his tux, dragged on jeans and a T-shirt, and made a quick call to Matt Girard to report about seeing Ian Black tonight. He knew Richie would pass it on to Mendez. Then he went back downstairs to find the pizza box gone and the sound of a television coming from the media room. He walked inside to find her curled on one end of the couch, a paper plate with a slice of pizza on it in her hand, and a movie starting on the screen.

  He grabbed his own slice and went to the opposite end of the couch. “What’s the movie?”

  “I don’t know. Something with explosions.”

  Garrett propped his feet on the ottoman and lifted the slice to his lips. Explosions. Just what he wanted right now.

  *

  She’d debated the wisdom of staying downstairs and sharing a pizza with her bodyguard, but she’d really wanted the pizza—and she’d wanted the oblivion of a movie.

  Grace colored as she ate and stared at the screen. Who was she kidding? She’d wanted to be near him.

  And that annoyed her very much, because he’d made it clear she was just a job. He’d kissed her to chase Jeffrey away, nothing more. And then he’d unzipped her dress, his fingers brushing her skin and driving her insane, but he’d never once made an inappropriate remark or gesture.