Cash nudged her hair away from her ear and whispered, “’Cause I can leave if that’s what you want, babe.”
“Don’t.” Yeah, her voice quivered and trembled with the acoustic equivalent of her stomach’s reaction to his whisper.
His lips skimmed across her cheek, hovering over hers. His breath tickled. Fire exploded under their lazy, brushed kiss. “Say that again. Not sure I heard you.”
Her head dropped back. Sensations tingled in her cheeks and slalomed down her back. Slow, heavy breaths purred out, the warmth crashing against his very close face. “Don’t you dare leave this room.”
His body eased onto the bed, forearms above her head. Pinned in place, Nicola lifted her chin and closed the distance. His mouth took hers. His temples slid to her cheek, and he pulled her into his kiss. He groaned, and deep within her belly, Nicola needed him all the more.
The covers shifted, and he lost the shorts, sharing with her the bulge that fabric hadn’t hidden. Heavy and hard and hungry. Cash swaddled the covers around them, drowning her in a fury of deep kisses. Her legs shifted, and his body fell into place. The silky smooth glide of his shaft rolled between the vee of her legs.
The taste of mint remained in his mouth. She probed with her tongue, needing and searching for more of him. Pangs of desire flushed through her. He cupped her body to him, tenderly caressing her breasts, thumbing her nipples. With each delicious flick of pressure, she readied for him. Silky moisture dampened her sex.
Her hips reached for more contact. Her pussy ached, rocking against his bare shaft. The build-up was too much. When it seemed like her desire couldn’t jump any higher, his talented fingers slid between them, over her mound, and into her juices. He danced over her nerve endings, driving her to the edge of sexual insanity.
Sweet Cash. “I need you,” she said on a gasp. “I don’t want to wait any longer. It’s been too long.”
She felt his torturing hand fall back and position his erection against her, stealing her breath. She wanted to beg and fought to move, but in that moment, she could only stare at his perfect face.
“Nicola.” He breathed out her name, eyes closed, body pressed against her wetness. The blunt head of his erection tested entry. She was ready for him, wanted him more than she could understand. He whispered, “I missed you.”
And I love you.
Her mouth shut to make sure she didn’t say that aloud. He didn’t jump away, so love was only in her brain. His hips rolled forward, inching into her. Her opening parted for him, muscles melting away at his command, starting the luminous ecstasy that only he could create.
Love. Love and sex were confusing. Love and sex were often mixed up. Cash withdrew his shaft from her, and her mouth hung open. Gasping for breath, she prayed for his return. Her hips flexed. The need for him to fill her again overwhelmed her. He did. Again and again.
He thrust and kissed, and everything became clear. She loved him. Always had and never stopped.
Her fingers laced into his hair, and she smiled from the inside out. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He moaned into the curve of her neck, biting and kissing. His blond stubble scratched and marked her. A tornado of nerve endings twisted alive from her flesh to her core, starting the unmistakable build she craved.
Nicola mouthed his name. She thrashed for more, needing his strength and power to push her to climatic heaven. She felt the rhythm of their perfect dance. Sapphire blue eyes locked onto hers, Cash took her hands in his, threading their fingers together.
They drove in sync and on fire, deeper and farther than Nicola remembered possible. Her building ripple of muscles tightened around his erection. She cried out, he pulled away from her, and she fought it, needing him. I won’t ever leave again. And she held on tightly, pushing into him. Her orgasm exploded. Her body vibrated, every muscle taking its turn, clenching and releasing around him.
He came with her, in her, reviving her climax.
One breath, and then a longer one. Her eyes opened in lazy satisfaction.
Panic.
She saw wide-eyed, mouth-open panic. He’d turned to stone, unmoving, breath held. The color shattered from his beautiful face.
“Cash?”
“Oh God.”
“Wh—”
“I wasn’t thinking. Then I couldn’t—”
What?
Oh. She hadn’t been thinking either.
Nicola framed her hands around his cheeks, still catching her breath. “We’re fine.” She’d never heard him like that before. He was terror-stricken. “You’re okay. Birth control. We’re okay, Cash.”
He didn’t move, frozen, cemented, stuck in time.
Oh no.
Her stomach dropped. “Are you okay-okay?”
“Yeah. Yes. Of course.” Well, that snapped him to attention. He sucked down a gasp, then a calmer breath. “So we’re okay.”
She smiled, nodding, and he moved. A sensitive flash of nerves reminded her that she was more than okay. Cash’s forehead dipped down, touching hers. He relaxed and, finally, a deep breath fell from his lips.
Cash rolled to her side. Strong arms gathered her up, her back to his chest, and held her close to him. A powerful leg locked over her thigh. He tugged the blankets around them and smoothed her hair.
“I’m sorry, Nic.” His voice was heavy and low. He twisted a strand of her hair around his finger.
“Why?”
“You deserve romance and flowers and stuff, and all you got was Jared hitting the fast forward button and me freaking out.”
She stared at the mocha-colored wall, feeling Cash stroke her hair. “That was both of our faults. But it isn’t a problem. Right? So we move on.”
“I should’ve—”
“Stop.” She turned to him. “We’re not that couple on a first date. We’re not playing by the normal rule book.”
He smiled. “Very logical, Nic.”
She gave him an I’m-super-clever grin and laughed. “Nope. Just observant. I observe. I conclude. I react. You might say it’s my specialty.”
They laughed together, and she turned back to the wall, snuggling into his hold once again. He kissed the back of her shoulder. “Smartass.”
“I thought it was sweet girl.” She looked over her shoulder with a smile and wrinkle of her nose.
He kissed her softly. “Smartass. Sweet girl. Perfect woman. Whatever works—”
Knock, knock, knock.
Go away, Jared.
“Nicola, don’t make me ask if Cash is in there.” The muffled voice bled through the door.
Nope, not Jared. Go away, Roman.
Cash kissed her again. “I think that’s my cue. I’m sorry, Nic.”
She shrugged a naked shoulder. “It’s part of the job. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime. Morning meeting, I guess?”
He shook his head. “My morning would be a hell of a lot better if I woke up next to you.”
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Go away!
“But I gotta run. Go to sleep. Soon as I’m done, I’m crawling back into this bed.”
“I sleep with a gun under my pillow. That might be a bad idea.”
“So look before you shoot.”
“All right.” She laughed, snuggling down in the covers. “I’ll look first.”
He snagged his shirt and shorts off the ground, threw them on, and loomed over her in bed. “Night, Nicola Garrison. Sweet dreams.”
Garrison’s Creed: Chapter Fourteen
Nicola woke up to the scent of her shampoo and the heavy weight of solid muscle draped over her. Cash. A warm rush swirled in her stomach, and a blush heated her cheeks. He'd sneaked back into bed during the night without waking her. Then again, he was a sniper: an undetectable liquid shadow.
“Morning, Nic.” Arms that had caged her to the bed last night pulled her against his warm chest. This was a deep-sigh kind of nice.
“Morn—” The alarm clock read thirty-three minutes after it should have gone off. Had she set it? Shit. “Oh my God, I’m
late. We’re late. We have to—”
“We don’t have to meet for another half hour or so.”
Nicola sprang up and out of bed, tearing through her overnight bag. “I have to get ready.”
“Throw on some clothes.”
“I can’t just throw on clothes. I have to get ready. It’s a chick thing.”
“It’s just a bunch of dudes. No one to impress.”
She smirked at him. Grabbing a brush, she combed her ragamuffin bed-head into a bun.
“Cash?”
He relaxed against the headboard, and his eyes twinkled as he enjoyed the show.
She moved around like a woman on speed, desperate for her missing makeup bag. “What are you looking at?”
She was still naked. Running around, naked and crazed. Clothes. Must find clothes.
His smile said it all. He didn’t have to open his mouth. “Just watching. Better than a cup of coffee.”
“Get up. Get dressed. We’re late.” She tugged on fresh panties and a matching bra. They were a little flashy. Maybe subconsciously, when she’d packed them, she’d hoped to wear them for him. Well, he saw her now and looked thrilled. “Cash! Come on.”
“All right, all right. I’m up.”
He stood up, just as naked as she’d been. And he was up. Oh, Lord. Her stomach dropped to the floor. Every womanly part of her body screamed for her to hold him. Whoa, that was a hell of a reaction.
“Nic, you’re staring. Not complaining, but you should know I’m down with going back to bed and earning a slap on the wrist for rolling in late.” He winked at her, and her stomach jumped, only to fall back down.
No. Concentrate. For all intents and purposes, this was her first day at a new job. Even though the CIA still owned her, she was on loan. New co-workers. New people to size up and make an impression on. Rolling in late, when everyone surely knew her history with Cash, would be catastrophic.
“Put your clothes on. I can’t be late.”
“You can be whatever you feel like, sweet girl.” Cash stretched, and every muscle in his body rippled.
“Well, I feel like holding on to my reputation.” Ouch, that was harsh. She knew his standing with ladies well enough. He didn’t flinch, though. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I’ve tried hard to make every man I work with see me as capable. Just one of the guys.”
“Nah. I get it. I’ll leave you to get dressed. You show up when you do, looking however you do. Gorgeous, I’m sure. And I’m gonna mosey to the great room, meet up with everyone, and get some coffee.”
Her shirt hung in her hand. Cash scooped his clothes off the floor and turned for the door to the adjoining room.
“Wait,” she said, causing him to pivot. “You like?” She modeled the lacy red bra with a spin.
“I like.” He paused. “Come here.”
She was in his arms in a second. Wrapped against his bare chest, his fine chest hair tickling her skin, she found a good argument for running late. He slanted his mouth over hers and ran his fingers into her messy bun. The tender touch elicited a sigh. This was definitely a lets-run-late morning kiss. His smile broke the intensity as he pulled back. His fingers petted her cheek. “Do your thing. I’ll see you downstairs.”
She continued to stare after he’d shut the door, wondering how this was possible and if it was too good to be true.
* * *
Rocco, Roman, and Brock were kicked back on the large leather couch, wolfing down steak and eggs. The smell alone was almost enough to drag Cash out of Nicola’s bed, but when she gave him the final push, he’d high-tailed it downstairs to get some Mia-style cooking.
Voices in the kitchen drifted into the room. Winters. Jared. Some of the other guys. Breakfast was set up family style on a large table in the great room. Big, juicy-looking steaks. Heaping piles of scrambled eggs, knowing Mia, filled with sharp cheddar cheese. Biscuits and a bowl of gravy. God love Mia Winters. Holy hell, she could cook.
Plate piled high, he perched on the oversized chair and chowed down. Jared grumble-laughed from the kitchen. At least the bastard wasn’t in a terrible mood. Maybe someone had been able to find his stupid, flippin’ ammo. Green tracer and all. He and Roman hadn’t, and they’d searched while Cash had been away from Nic’s bed. It was almost eight in the morning. If Jared was still here and laughing, the morning meeting wouldn’t be as bad as Cash’d guessed it might be.
Nicola rounded the corner. A freakin’ vision of tough girl beauty. She didn’t overdo the makeup, didn’t show off the lacy bra that had almost brought him to his knees. No, she rocked a tight pair of jeans over those skyscraper legs. He noticed a small bulge at her ankle. Ankle holster. That was hot, no questions asked. And that shirt loved her curves. Cash looked at the guys. All of them but Roman noticed too.
Roman lifted his chin to her. “Morning.”
She said her hellos, joked with the boys, and grabbed a plate and some coffee. She was perfect, the picture of ease, and gave the impression he was sure she wanted. Smart. Stealthy. And lethal. She had the I-can-kill-you-with-a-toothpick look. Dead sexy. Whether she tried or not, wanted others to notice or not, the woman was an attention grabber.
“Cash.” She nodded, treating him just the same as the others, as if they were a secret. This was fun. She was fun. He could handle this game.
He played along. “Nicola.”
Roman rolled his eyes. Rocco watched today’s version of their reality show unfold. Brock watched Nic. More curious than interested, but Cash would have a talk with Brock about that later.
Jared and Winters walked into the room. Jared looked like the grumbling asshole he always was. Winters looked like he could use a shave, the way he always did. Same old thing, just another Saturday morning when half the guys were shipping off somewhere for some job that required a green tracer, and a few others were readying a plan to smoke out a CIA mole.
Jared interrupted the breakfast chatter. “Morning, assholes. And lady.” He nodded to Nicola, who nodded back. “Those going with me, we leave soon as that fuckin’ ammo arrives. Fucking desk jockey, wannabe commandos, and their color requests. The rest of you are working with Cash and Nicola, who’s from the CIA.”
Cash liked the sound of them working together. In the last twenty-four hours, his opinion of her in the field had changed. Slightly. He still wasn’t thrilled. He hated the reality of it but, hell, she was doing it with or without his permission. With or without him by her side. So fuck it. Better to be on her side.
Right?
Maybe?
She could shoot. She could hold her own at hand-to-hand. She could throw down with the toys and the training the CIA gave her. She was good. Impressive. He liked the calculating, sparring Nicola, the adult Nicola, the woman who knew what worked for her and wasn’t afraid to embrace it. And spy games worked for her, so he’d deal. Kinda.
He stood up to stretch and put away his plate. Something to concentrate on besides Nic.
Jared continued, “So who here hasn’t met Miss CIA-herself? Nicola Garrison. Anyone?”
Roman shot coffee out his nose. Whoops. That probably didn’t go the way Nic had planned. Roman was on his feet. “Excuse me? Garrison?”
Cash felt his cheeks catch fire and stole a glance at Nic. She wasn’t fazed. Didn’t respond, other than a roll of her eyes.
Roman stepped toward Cash. “What the fuck? I thought you said you weren’t sure about her. That sounds pretty fuckin’ sure.”
Goddamn it. He told Roman he hadn’t been sure if they were really done because he didn’t know what was going on with her. Damn it, he was sure that he was interested in finding out. Then he had found out, and everything fell into place. Shit was working out. But coming from Roman’s lips, it sure sounded like he wasn’t sure about Nicola.
Her face was tight. Imperceptible to anyone but him. He knew that face too well, and she was hurting. Damn Roman.
“Why is it that I’m always refereeing high school drama with you guys?” Jared growled.
“Princess, explain yourself. Roman, sit down. Cash, I don’t care what you do. Keep standing for all I care.”
“CIA gave it to me, Roman. Cut your shit out.” That Nicola sounded pretty damn tough and to the point. Props to his girl. His girl. That sounded good.
“So you aren’t…” Roman gestured.
“What, Cash and I ran off to Vegas last night? Give me a flippin’ break.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, jumpy asshole.
Rocco threw a handful of biscuit in his mouth like he was at a movie theater munching on popcorn. Winters laughed, looking confused but loving the drama. And Cash wanted everyone to mind their own business.
Winters’s cell went off.
Jared smiled. “That’d be my ammo. I can’t wait to get away from you assholes.”
Winters answered his phone, telling the delivery boy how to get through the NASA-like security gate and to his front door. He ended the call with, “—and the door is open.”
Good. Get Jared the hell out of here so they could map out Operation Catch-the-Butler with less of a headache.
Jared’s cell buzzed. “What the fuck? Hold on.” He stomped out of the room and slammed the door.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Heels clicked down the hall. Bright lipstick and fuck-me hair rolled around the corner carrying a big box marked EXPLOSIVE.
Fuck me.
Her trademark Girls Love Guns shirt was pulled over a set of fake tits he knew too well. Painted on leather pants were held up by a belt buckle of dueling silver pistols. Pretty much her uniform of a guy’s wet dream.
Sugar.
Fucking Sugar.
Well, fucking Sugar was the problem. Damn it.
Cash looked at Winters and whispered, “What the fuck, man?”
Winters shrugged, obviously not having a flippin’ clue. “When you guys came up empty-handed, I called Sugar.”
Cash had once tried to set Winters up with Sugar, but not really. He knew the guy wouldn’t take the bait, and Winters was being such an asshole that someone had to show him the only woman in the world he wanted was Mia. Cash did that for him. They should name their first baby Cash—boy or girl—because he pretty much considered their make-up and marriage his doing.
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