GetOn

by Regina Cole

  “What is that?”

  “It’s something that can make you feel very, very good, if you let it. Let me.”

  She nodded, eyes wide. “I can barely feel it.”

  He bumped it up to the next setting, barely flicking it over her shoulder. “How about that?”

  “Mmmm.” Her eyes went half-lidded. “I want to feel that all over.”

  “Then you will.”

  He moved the violet wand over her body—her back, her hips, her generous ass, following small licks of electricity with kisses of his own. She moaned and twisted, lifting her ass to him, her body begging for more. His cock strained behind his fly, taking notice of the power differential between them. Mia was all fire, but he was making her burn. She was powerful, headstrong and argumentative, but he had her bound on his bed while he was fully clothed, her body singing under his spell.

  It was a heady damn thing, but he was too smart to believe she’d let him do this forever.

  The third time he brushed the wand past her thighs, she twisted her hips sharply, thrusting her pussy into the path of the globe. She squealed aloud as the arc connected with the tender flesh of her vulva.

  “Did you like that?”

  “Oh god, Garrett, please. This is torture.”

  He grinned. “Good.”

  He put down the wand and stripped. A foil packet ripped then he was on his knees behind her. Bound as she was, all she could do was wriggle against him and beg for more. Which she did, completely without shame.

  “Did you like that?”

  “If you ever,” she punctuated the word with a sharp thrust back, “tease me like that again, you’re going to face consequences.”

  “Am I?” His cock slid deep into her soaked channel and they both moaned.

  As he set the rhythm, her breathy words reached him.

  “Yes. Again. Oh, again.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mia yawned without opening her eyes. Well, he hadn’t kicked her out last night. That was a surprising victory, for sure. And then she remembered what he’d done instead.

  Her eyes flew open. She stared at the gray walls in front of her, dark-blue drapes blocking out most—but not all—of the morning sunlight.

  Holy shit. Whatever that little thing had been, shooting out sparks and turning her on, she wanted more.

  Shifting her feet beneath the covers, she winced. Those leather cuffs had been butter-soft, but still, all the fighting against them had made her skin ultra-sensitive, almost raw in some places.

  She bit her lip as she took stock of her body. Tingly, almost as if she could still feel those tiny licks of electricity all up and down her body, eased and tantalized by Garrett’s knowing kisses.

  She’d given up everything as soon as he’d asked. Control, the one thing she didn’t give up lightly. Without a word, without a complaint, she’d let him hog-tie and electrocute her. Deliciously, but still.

  Mia had been alone for such a long time, it seemed. Fighting to keep jobs she hated, fighting to retain the rights to crappy apartments and crappier cars. Her life was her own, to take care of, to manage, to control. But she’d handed the reins to Garrett last night.

  Why?

  She didn’t have a good answer.

  A soft snore came from somewhere over her shoulder and with a huge dose of trepidation, she rolled toward it. The silky sheets dragged over her nipples as she adjusted position, pillowing her arms beneath her head.

  Garrett faced her, his beautiful mouth open just slightly, dark-blond lashes dusting his cheeks. His brow was furrowed so often while he was awake, as if he was worried about something or always on high alert. Probably both. But now it was smooth, and she let herself lightly rub a finger across it. He didn’t stir.

  The sheet came only to his waist, so she kept up her perusal. That broad chest with its shield tattoo, intricately done, obviously a badge of honor. The thought popped into her head then, and she wondered if he regretted getting it, since he’d been let go from the force. She somehow doubted it. Even though Garrett was no longer an officer, he still obviously valued loyalty and justice above all else.

  She frowned. Why did she trust him? Of all people, why had she let him have control over her for the night?

  Her heart thumped hard just then.

  Shit. It was true. She’d said it last night, only she hadn’t listened to herself. Something was happening between them. Something special. But she wasn’t ready to give it a name yet; it was way too soon for that. Her hand drifted across her chest to rest on her raggedly thumping heart. But there was a little spark there, like one that had come from that amazing toy. And she was willing to see if it would grow.

  It deserved that much, she was sure.

  She was so busy staring at the sleeping man beside her, lost in her own thoughts, that when the doorbell rang she actually shrieked aloud.

  Garrett leapt into action, jumping from the bed, yanking the bedside drawer open and grabbing the pistol inside with seamless movements. He’d trained the gun on the door before he even spoke.

  “What’s wrong?” he barked, looking left and right. Mia had sat bolt upright at his movement, so now, she covered her mouth with the sheet and started laughing.

  He was standing with legs spread wide, bare-assed, with a gun trained at the closed door.

  The doorbell rang again, and Mia got enough control of herself to answer him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to set off the burglar alarm. It’s just your doorbell.”

  Rubbing a hand over his skull and having the decency to look the tiniest bit embarrassed, Garrett replaced the gun. “Sorry. I’ll just…”

  “Yeah,” she said when he trailed off and grabbed his clothes. “I’ll wait here.”

  As he zipped his jeans and left the room, Mia allowed herself another small chuckle. He gave “hair-trigger” a whole new meaning. Good thing he hadn’t shot the door. He’d have really been pissed at her.

  Male voices bled through the door, and Mia took advantage of Garrett’s distraction to head into the large master bathroom and freshen up.

  “Good god.” Her voice echoed in the tiled space. “You could fit my whole apartment in just this shower.”

  It was a little exaggeration, but not much. The marble-tiled walk-in was more than roomy enough for four. A large garden tub with jets beckoned from the corner and even the toilet looked expensive.

  “He really must be a hit man,” she grumbled as she rubbed water over her face. “Nobody should have this much money.”

  Since her suitcase had spent all night on the front porch, she grabbed Garrett’s discarded t-shirt from its pile on the floor. Slipping into it felt forbidden but delicious. She tried out how it felt in her head and decided that wearing his shirts was an okay thing. Well, more than okay. It reminded her of him kissing her all over, which sent tingles up her spine.

  She pressed her ear against the door. It was silent. Probably mail person or FedEx or something. In any case, she was thirsty and close enough to decent, so she twisted the knob and walked into the living room.

  Empty. She hummed a little bit as she ran a finger along the glossy white chair rail and then rounded the corner to the kitchen.

  She stopped dead.

  Garrett, Trent and two guys she’d never seen before were all huddled over some sheets of paper, which were spread out on the counter as if they were the Magna Carta or something.

  Suddenly, Mia was desperately aware that she’d put on neither panties nor bra.

  Her bullshit thousand-watt smile had never come in handier.

  “Hello, boys. Who’s making me breakfast?”

  “Good Lord.” Reg’s clipped accent was even more pronounced, and Garrett couldn’t help but mentally echo the sentiment.

  He’d never stopped being aware that behind his bedroom door was a tousled, naked Mia while he was out here listening to Quentin outline what he’d learned from his contact. But what could he do? He wanted to throttle Trent for bringing her here, but in all ho
nesty, he was kind of glad his friend had taken the initiative.

  At least, he had been until Mia pranced through his house, looking absolutely edible in nothing but his t-shirt.

  “Seriously,” Mia said, propping a hand on her hip. Quentin’s eyes almost bugged out as the hem of the shirt skimmed her upper thigh. “I’m kind of hungry. Anyone here know how to make quiche?”

  Reg started to raise his hand but Trent slapped it down. “Morning, Mia. Sorry to disturb you guys.”

  Garrett cleared his throat, somehow remembering that this was his house. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing…” He was about to say “happened”, but then he realized exactly how ludicrous that bald-faced lie would sound at this point. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

  He bent to the pages Reg had spread out in front of him, trying like hell to get his mind back on the data. Ford. Ramirez. The race. They meant something more, and he had to find out what.

  “I’ll just grab something from the fridge, if you don’t mind,” Mia said.

  He didn’t look up at her, he was too busy focusing on…

  “You know, I make a mean banana-nut muffin,” Quentin was saying as Mia bent down to look in the fridge. “I could whip up a batch if you were in—”

  “Mia, can I talk to you for a second?” The words came from somewhere, but it took Garrett a second to realize he’d said them. Not said. Growled. Like a damn hungry bear.

  Mia’s nod came with a sly little smirk that pissed him off even more. She shook the milk carton at him. “Okay if I get a drink first?”

  He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the living room. The bedroom door shut behind them both with a click, and he rounded on her. Before he could say a word, she’d opened the carton and started to tip it up to drink.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m thirsty, and you wouldn’t give me time to get a glass. Besides, there’s only a little bit left in here.”

  Raking a hand through his hair, Garrett blew out an exasperated breath. “Listen, just give me a few minutes to get rid of them, okay?”

  Mia set the carton down on the dresser and grabbed his hands. Demanding his gaze with little more than a determined look, she spoke. “I went out there because I thought whoever it was had left. It was quiet, I couldn’t hear anything. I seriously didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  He barked a stunned laugh. “You think you embarrassed me?”

  She shrugged one shoulder, which slipped through the neck of his t-shirt. “I guess.”

  He pulled her close and kissed that shoulder. “Anything but. Just so you know, you look delicious in my shirt. But I didn’t like the other guys seeing you look so sexy.”

  “You jealous?”

  The question hung there between them, and he didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t say anything, just pressed a deep kiss on her lips.

  “I’ll be done with them in just a few, okay?”

  She nodded.

  Closing the bedroom door, Garrett sighed. He was twitchy, nervous, like an escaped fugitive. His insides felt exposed. The woman behind his bedroom door had sparked something within him. And she wasn’t going to stop until both of them had discovered what it was.

  “Everything okay?” Trent, ever the voice of calm and reason, met him in the living room.

  Garrett nodded, rubbing a hand over his bare stomach. “Yeah. Sorry about that. So, the plans?”

  He and Trent continued into the kitchen, where Reg and Quentin were comparing pages.

  “Like he was saying before, Quentin’s contact knows a little bit about Ramirez.”

  Quentin nodded at Trent’s statement. “Yeah. He said most of Ford’s product comes straight from Ramirez now.”

  “So he’s buying in bulk from Ramirez, and then piecing it out to his flock of dealers.” Garrett folded his arms, glad that his brain had finally started clicking at semi-normal speed. “Why’s he racing his supplier? Where does Ramirez get the drugs from?”

  Reg pointed at the pages. “That’s what I’m working on. Quentin’s contact gave me a cell phone number for Ramirez. I’ve hacked into the phone records. Lots of calls in Atlanta, several untraceable. But there’s one that keeps popping up.”

  Reg handed Garrett a sheet of paper with the number highlighted, along with a name.

  “Gloria Saavedra?”

  Reg nodded. “From what I can tell, she’s originally from Columbia. She’s supposedly here visiting family, but she’s been seen out on the town with Ramirez. Clubs, fancy restaurants, all that rot.”

  “Not to knock what you’ve done here, Reg, but what does Ramirez’s girlfriend have to do with him and Ford? Do you think she’ll have information?”

  Trent tapped another sheet of paper on the counter. “That’s what we’re thinking. Her phone records have shown untraceable calls, as well as several to this number.” Trent’s gaze flicked to Garrett. “Larry Floyd. He’s newer on Ford’s crew. He’s one we might be able to crack.”

  As realization dawned over Garrett, so did a good dose of shame. “Ah. That might be a little bit tough.”

  The three other men around the counter stared at him, Trent most of all. “Come again?”

  Mentally kicking himself for his stupid stunt yesterday, Garrett ’fessed up. As the story came out, Trent’s face got more solemn. The other guys didn’t say a word.

  “So Floyd is probably on high alert right about now,” he finished.

  “Are you kidding me?” Trent’s volume climbed. “I can’t believe this, man. How careless can you be? What about backup? What about the rules you fucking set for this deal?” Trent slapped the marble countertop.

  Garrett stood taller. “You’re right. It was a stupid stunt. Now an excellent lead is a dead one, and it’s my fault.”

  “I just…” Trent threw his hands in the air and turned his back on Garrett.

  Garrett didn’t move, he just waited. He knew he’d taken a stupid chance and it hadn’t paid off. Trent had every right to be mad, Reg and Q too.

  Trent shoved the papers into a haphazard stack. “We need to think about this.” He started for the door but stopped at the threshold. He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Garrett. “I’ll call you in a few days when we’ve figured out what we can do with this information now. Please, for the love of god, don’t do anything else stupid.”

  Garrett took a step forward, misplaced indignation rising in his chest, but then he stopped. This was all his fault. He bit his tongue.

  “Take care of Mia,” Quentin said as he followed Trent out the door. Reg nodded politely then the three of them were gone.

  “Shit,” Garrett sighed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You know pacing isn’t going to make it any better, don’t you? If it did, you’d have been better three days ago.”

  Garrett didn’t stop pacing at Mia’s remark. He didn’t even glare at her. He’d stopped that two days ago.

  She crossed her ankles, being careful not to smudge her still-tacky emerald toenail polish. After all, it was too beautiful here on Garrett’s screened-in deck to watch the man pace and not enjoy it somehow. There was only so much back and forth a girl could take and not go crazy. It was like watching tennis, but without any of the grunting.

  Mia kinda liked the grunting.

  “Trent will call at some point, you said. So walking back and forth a zillion times helps that how?”

  Garrett blew out an exasperated breath as he rounded the large elephant ear plant for about the twentieth time that afternoon. “It doesn’t. But it helps me burn nervous energy, so I’ll keep doing it.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. The last few days with Garrett had been wonderful, with this single glaring exception. He was more than on pins and needles; he was on fucking pointy live wires. Every few hours he’d come out here and pace, or stare into the dense woods behind the house with a thoughtful expression.

  Last time, Mia had brought the radio and danced up and down the length of t
he deck as he paced. He hadn’t been thrilled. Or even laughed.

  “Hey,” she said, patting the empty space on the wicker seat beside her. “You could come sit down for a few minutes. I’ll only bite if you ask nicely.”

  That, at least, got a little chuckle.

  “Come on—if you’re not chicken.”

  He shook his head but he came anyway, sitting beside her and putting his arm around her shoulders. She settled in close to his chest, loving how his heart thumped under her ear. There’d been a lot of this over the last few days too, but not nearly enough to satisfy her.

  “I’m sorry,” Garrett said, running his fingers through her hair. She sighed with pleasure as he massaged her scalp. “I’m not normally this wound up.”

  “Now I’m sorry.” Mia rubbed his thigh gently, his soft jeans catching slightly on the rough edge of her fingernail. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “No, actually, you’ve kept me from running myself crazy over the past few days.”

  “This is you not crazy? Jesus Christ.”

  He pulled a curl playfully. “Yeah. Smart-ass.”

  She looked up at his face. He was staring straight ahead again, as if the answer to all life’s problems was hidden somewhere in those woods, just beyond his vision. “Then what is it?”

  He sighed. “It’s guilt.”

  “But you haven’t done anything wrong. Well, other than last night. That was cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “That was consensual. You never said your safe word.”

  She pursed her lips. “Doesn’t mean it’s not cruel. You were saying…guilty for what?”

  “I cost us a lead. A potentially good one.” Garrett’s voice wasn’t playful anymore. “I made a rookie mistake, and I could have put myself and the other guys in danger. These aren’t amateurs we’re playing around with, Mia. These are dangerous people. They’re used to killing people who get in their way, and nobody knows that more than me.” He thumped his chest. “I set up the rules for the safety of these guys who are helping me, and I broke them. They’re helping me catch Ford, and I’m acting like a loose cannon who can’t be trusted.”