by Peggy Jaeger
With eyes wide open, his lips pressed against hers, gently, just a slow, thoughtful graze. He thought she’d push him away, verbally castigate him—or worse. But she didn’t. She leaned into the kiss. Soft and smooth and warm, the feel of her lips pulled him closer. He wanted more than just a simple taste he realized in that moment. He wanted to devour her.
A tiny sigh pushed from somewhere deep within her. Gemma slid her hands around his waist again, her lips exploring his—sampling, wanting.
He could feel her heart jackhammering against his chest, or was that his own pounding against her?
A quick swipe with his tongue and she opened for him, inviting him in, the warmth of her accepting response urging him on. He tasted spice and sugar, arousal and need all mixed together in a heady blend that had him reeling.
The hands at her back slipped down to cup her perfect ass, molding her to his body, showing her everything that was happening to him. He nipped at her mouth, skimmed his lips down her chin, across her jaw. He swallowed a chuckle when she palmed his head between her hands and dragged his lips back to hers, telling him what she wanted without words.
And he was happy to give it to her.
He felt her tug his shirt from his pants, the feel of her soft, strong hands on his bare flesh sending him into orbit. He hissed when she raked her nails across the small of his back and then slipped them under his waistband to hold on, grinding her body against him.
Her hot and impatient mouth never left his, her tongue caught around his own as she sucked it into her mouth. He pushed her back until she hit the counter and then snaked his knee between her legs. A whimper whistled from her lips when he ground his thigh against her heat and felt her pulsing response.
Ky snaked his hands up under her shirt, up her torso, sliding his thumbs across hard and pebbled nipples through her bra. Her breasts were heavy in his hands, filling them with each breath she took. While his tongue wound around hers pulling her deep into his mouth, he squeezed those perfect mounds of flesh and felt Gemma’s response when she double fisted his hair and tugged.
Every warning bell he possessed sounded and pinged in alarm, but he ignored them all. This is what he wanted. She was what he wanted.
It would be so easy to simply haul her up in his arms and to his room where he could help them both disappear into one another for a few hours. Just as the thought to do so bloomed, they were wrenched apart by the piercing shriek of the house alarm blasting through the air.
“Wha—?” Confusion drenched her face when Ky pushed her out of his arms and immediately grabbed his gun from its holster.
He yanked on her hand and tugged her behind him. “Where’s your weapon?”
“Up-upstairs, I—”
“Get up there. Now. Lock the door.” He pushed her toward the staircase.
She wouldn’t let his arm go. “What—?”
“Don’t argue Go. Now.” He shoved her up the first riser, then ran to the front window. He hit the light switch next to the door and the room was thrown into late afternoon darkness. The sound of Gemma’s feet as she ran up the staircase was muffled under the continued boom of the alarm.
The bedroom door slammed shut.
He spied the incandescent glow of a vehicle’s lights as it came slowly up the gravel drive. Whoever their visitor was, he wasn’t trying to hide his arrival.
A bold tactic, or a stupid one?
The engine cut and the driver door opened. Ky’s Glock was ready as he stood behind the front door, waiting, his muscles tensed, his breathing sparse.
The automatic lock shifted on the door.
Their visitor knew the entrance code.
Ky had only a moment to consider that before he flattened himself against the wall. The door pushed open and a large figure crossed the threshold.
Without waiting, Ky struck.
Jumping from behind the door he slammed into the figure’s back, shoving him to his knees.
“Don’t move!” he barked, the Glock aimed at the man’s head.
His command went unheeded.
An arm as thick as a tree trunk shot out and swiped at Ky, clipping him behind the knees. He fell back, flat on his ass, knocking a table lamp to the floor, his gun bouncing out of his hand. Before he could right himself, the behemoth straddled him, his ham-sized hands pressing Ky’s shoulders into the floor. Unable to move his arms or use his hands, he arched his back, lifted his pelvis and scissored his legs. The hulk barely moved, but Ky was able to shift him so the grip on his shoulders slackened and the man fell forward. Without waiting or taking a breath, Ky shoved, shot up and spun around him, twisting his arms around his neck in a chokehold.
The man flailed, trying to grab and smack at Ky’s face. Ky locked his knees together and tightened the hold.
“Who sent you?” he snarled into the man’s ear.
An elbow with as much force behind it as a speeding train, slammed into his midsection. A loud “oof” blurted from him, and he strained to keep his stronghold. Another jab, this time a little lower had Ky shifting back to avoid any damage, and his attacker took that split second of movement to toss Ky over his shoulder.
Flat on his back again, Ky reached out and grabbed one of the man’s forearms, rolled with it and repositioned himself on the man’s back, shunting his arms around the massive chest, imprisoning his attacker’s arms to his sides.
The room was thrown into stark light, stunning him. Just as Gemma pounded down the stairs, screaming something he couldn’t make out clearly due to the alarm’s unceasing squawk, the giant pried Ky’s arms apart and shot both his elbows back, knocking Ky back again.
Instinct and training waved through him like a tsunami. Ky jumped up and back onto the intruder, who was still on his knees, his hands flattened on the floor, his breathing harsh and labored.
A right hit to the man’s temple knocked him over onto his back. As he’d had done to him, Ky straddled his legs and dropped two quick hits to a massive jaw.
All the while Gemma continued screaming behind him. A gunshot exploded in the room, paralyzing Ky from landing his next hit.
With one hand gripping the intruder’s collar, the other poised to deliver another punch, Ky looked over at the fireplace where a large, round and jagged hole pierced the brick overlay, dust and mortar blowing from it.
He was dumbfounded when he spied Gemma, glaring down at them, the Glock in her hands.
“I’m charging your sweet ass for that,” he heard the man tell her. “Can you please disable the alarm,” he added. “I’ve got enough of a headache now from being pummeled.”
“Oh, my God, you’re bleeding!” Gemma ran to the kitchen, the gun still in her hand.
It was then he realized what Gemma had been screaming since she flew down the stairs.
Their invader wasn’t a threat.
She came back into the room, a dish towel in her hand, shoved her Glock at Ky and then pushed him out of her way, taking his place.
“Here.” Gently, she pressed the towel against the man’s bleeding cheek.
He reached up and laid his hand over hers while she held it in place. Ky’s eyes narrowed at the tender gesture and his immediate, irrational jealous response to it.
“Thanks, but you’re still paying to fix my fireplace, Cleo,” he said.
Gemma sat back on her haunches and shook her head.
“What are you doing here, Rick?”
Chapter Eleven
“I think this needs stitches,” Gemma said once she’d secured the bandage over the deep cut on Rick Bannerman’s cheek. “Otherwise, you’re gonna have a scar.”
He smiled and grabbed her hand, kissing the knuckles. “A scar is always a great conversation starter,” he said. “I’ll get a lot of pick-up mileage out of it.”
She smacked his arm and pursed her lips. “God help the members of my sex
.”
When she looked up from her brother-in-law’s business partner, she found Ky leaning against the kitchen counter, watching them.
Unlike Rick, Ky’s face was unmarked from the fight, but she’d noticed him rubbing a hand across his abdomen a few times while she tended to her friend.
Lord, she’d never been so scared in her life as when she’d cracked open the bedroom door, the gun secured in her hand, to see the looming hulk of a man come through the front door. Ky had him on his knees in a heartbeat and it was then she saw the dim light from the late afternoon sun cross his face and realized it was Rick Bannerman who was getting the crap beat out of him.
“Are you okay?” she asked Ky.
“Fine. Mind explaining why you’re here?” he asked Rick in a tone that told her he wasn’t hurt as much as pissed off.
Bannerman fingered the bandage at his face and flicked his gaze from Gemma to him and then back to Gemma.
“Josh wanted to make sure you two got here okay, encouraged by Kandy, I’m sure. She’s worried about you, Cleo.” He dragged the finger down Gemma’s cheek.
She wasn’t sure, but the sound that came from over her shoulder sounded a little like a growl.
“You need to stop calling me that,” Gemma told Bannerman.
He winced when his smile burst fast and easy. “Ow. I think you might be right about the stitches. Anyway, after you two got in touch and Josh set you up here, he realized he had no way to make sure you’d arrived safe and sound, or to check on you. Since I’m between jobs at the moment, and this is my place, he asked me to come. Sent me with supplies, too. They’re out in the car.”
He turned his attention to Ky. “I was surprised you’d found and programmed the boundary line alarm. I didn’t set it the last time I was here.”
“Good thing I did, then,” Ky said. “We knew you were coming.”
Bannerman considered him. “I’ve never had it go off when I’ve been here. How much warning did you have?”
“Thirty seconds, give or take.”
“You got the drop on me pretty quickly, then. Good job.”
Gemma couldn’t tell if Ky was pleased by the compliment or not. The unreadable expression on his face never wavered.
Cop face, again.
“He found your weapons stash, too,” she said, a little pride singing through the words.
“Okay, so now I’m impressed. And a little ticked off. I thought that room was well hidden.”
“I’m going to assume all those weapons are licensed and registered.”
Gemma’s head whipped around to glare at him. Why was he acting like such an asshole?
Rick’s response was to shrug good naturedly and smirk. “Free country. You can assume anything you want. How’d you find it?”
“The dimensions in the pantry seemed off.”
Bannerman nodded. “Good eye. I added it when I got the place a few years ago. Seemed like a good space to hide a room.” His eyes went to half-mast. “I may have to reconsider that, now.”
When Ky didn’t respond, Gemma jumped in, uneasy with all the testosterone floating around the room. “You said you brought supplies?”
The men glared at one another for a moment, then Bannerman nodded and turned back to her.
“In the trunk of the car. I told Kandy I only stocked emergency rations here, so she sent some stuff. Josh did, too. I’ll go get it all.”
“I’ll help,” Gemma said.
“Hang on a sec.” Ky reached out and grabbed her arm.
Bannerman looked between them.
“Go ahead. I’ll be right there,” she told him.
Just a simple touch from Ky had her breath catching. The memory of what they’d been doing when the alarm sounded jumped back to her.
“You didn’t stay out of sight like I told you to,” Ky said, his mouth flat, nostrils flaring, when they were alone.
Gemma glanced down at his hand and then back up at him.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t,” she said, tugging her arm away. She might as well have been trying to pull it through hardened concrete. He didn’t let go. “You could have killed Rick if I’d stayed up there and then where we would be?”
Ky shook his head, took a deep breath, and Gemma could see for the first time he wasn’t as much pissed off as he was furious.
“You didn’t know that it was Bannerman—”
“Yes I did.”
His eyes narrowed. “How?”
Gemma bit her bottom lip. “I-I opened the bedroom door when I heard the fighting. I could make out Rick’s face from the light coming through the front door.”
“You opened the door and looked out?”
“Y-Yes.”
“After I specifically ordered you to lock it and stay out of sight?”
Her back shot up straight at his tone and word choice.
“Yes, I did. Why are you so angry at me?”
Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you disobey me? Why, after all we’ve gone through the past few days, would you disregard what I said, knowing we were potentially under attack again?”
“But we weren’t. I—”
“Why, Gemma?”
She stared at him with her mouth wide open, the response dead on her lips. It was the first time he’d ever spoken her name aloud and the sound of it across his lips made her knees shake.
He took a step closer and wound his free hand around her other arm, pulling her square to him. “Answer me,” he whispered.
His eyes had turned to twin daggers, piercing straight through her.
“B-because I thought you were in trouble. I heard…the fighting…I was…worried.”
“About?”
Gemma’s lips slammed together.
He gave her a tiny shake. “About what?”
“You, damn it! I was worried about you!”
Ky stared down at her. From the way his brows lifted and his eyes widened, she knew hearing her statement had surprised him as much as it had her to declare it.
Gemma licked her suddenly parched lips. “We’re all alone here. You have no backup. No one to cover you. No one to fight with you. Damn it! I wanted to make sure you were okay. I wanted to help.” She squirmed against his grip, realizing her voice had a slightly hysterical pitch to it. “Now let me go.”
He didn’t. In fact, his hands tightened around her arms as he stepped so close she had to tilt her chin up to see him clearly. Those gorgeous hooded eyes softened under his glare. He cocked his head to one side and took a breath so deep, she felt the air around her pull into him. When he let it out, it fanned, hot and moist, against her face. She felt her nipples tighten, her stomach muscles go slack, as he continued to stare at her.
Good Lord, the man made her want.
He opened his mouth to say something just as Bannerman called into the house, “You coming to help me or not?”
* * *
She’d done it because she was worried about him.
Ky couldn’t get that statement out of his mind.
Or, how she’d felt in his arms.
And let’s not forget the way she tasted.
She’d disobeyed him, risked her life, because she had his back.
Ky didn’t know whether to be mad, glad, or worried.
It was his job to protect her, not the other way around. He was responsible for her safety and well-being.
But Jesus, she’d purposefully put herself in potential danger by opening that bedroom door without any consideration for her own safety. She’d admitted she hadn’t known their intruder was Bannerman until she’d seen his face. Until that moment she’d been prepared to fight the threat with him.
Funny thing was, he k
new she could. Gemma was more than capable with a firearm, as she’d proven to him, and equally as able with hand-to-hand maneuvers.
The second her words penetrated through him, all his anger flew, replaced by something overwhelming. He wouldn’t put a label on what he felt, it was crazy to, but something had changed between them. Something he was powerless to fight against and, truthfully, didn’t want to.
Her response when he’d taken her in his arms had been surprising. Not to mention mind blowing. She’d never given him one single indication she found him desirable, in fact, until she’d kissed him back, he thought she considered him barely tolerable. But that kiss hadn’t been one of tolerance. No, she was fully invested in it and if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d been as turned on as he had.
If the alarm hadn’t sounded he’d have tossed her over his shoulder and run into his bedroom, dropped her onto the narrow bed and climbed on top of her.
Then again, they might not have made it that far. The kitchen counter certainly looked sturdy enough for what he’d had in mind.
Her giggle pulled him out of his musings. She was standing in the kitchen, her arms leaning on that same counter he’d been thinking about, watching her friend eat the remaining pasta she’d cooked for dinner. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed.
“So when are you gonna marry me, Cleo?”
Ky’s senses went on hyper alert, his insides clenching.
“You are so easy.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “Give you a hot, home-cooked meal and you pledge your eternal devotion. That’s so lame.”
“I’m not easy, I’m smart. I know a good thing when I see it.”
“Easy.” She nodded and pointed her finger at him. “You don’t want someone you might have to—God forbid—share emotions and feelings with. You don’t want a wife, you just want someone around who’ll feed you and clean up after you. Get a maid.”
Bannerman laughed and shoved another forkful of pasta into his mouth. “You know me too well, Cleo.”
“And remember what they say about how familiarity breeds contempt,” she shot back, with a smirk.
