Garrison's Creed (Titan)

by Cristin Harber

  Another shot poured. Another shot down the hatch. He slammed the shot glass on the bar, more than a little jealous that some—

  “Hey, I’ve got a better idea, Cash.” His cowboy hat hung on her head. Too big. Tilted to the side. She wore a too large, barely buttoned shirt. His shirt. And that was all he could see. The tease dancing across her face made the room spin sideways.

  Goddamn, if she didn’t have him at hey. Screw Tom Cruise and Sleepless in South Carolina.

  She was freakin’ gorgeous. All tan and legs and flashes of red lace lingerie. He nodded like she’d asked a question and tried to swallow, but his throat ignored the request. Like the rest of him, it froze in place. His pulse quickened, and somehow the heat in the room flew up a couple degrees.

  Her voice was a little quieter, pulling him to her. “I found this button down in the bathroom. I didn’t even know you wore dress shirts.”

  He’d wear them every single day if she’d walk into a room, giving out half-naked surprises like a Mardi Gras queen. Her sultry smile issued him marching orders. She’s all mine. The words bit through his thoughts and hung on his tongue. Huge steps later, he was on her, around her, and pinning her against the wall, rough and tumble, so damn hungry for her and not at all sure how he’d pull himself away to find a bed.

  An oh twisted from her lips, but it wasn’t a complaint. Hell no. It was a bring-it-on breath. She latched one leg around his thigh and took his weight like a champ. Instinct took over. Cash cupped her rounded ass cheeks and squeezed the soft flesh, lifting her into his embrace. Her hips rolled in perfect reply.

  “Forget Die Hard,” was all he managed, sounding ragged and hoarse.

  Her quick tongue and lips worked their way under his earlobe. Every muscle fiber in his shoulders and neck tightened and tensed. The rest of his body replicated the sensation, a tidal wave of arousal pounding through his flesh.

  “My idea is better,” she purred against his neck.

  “Fuck yes.”

  Nicola locked eyes with him. Intoxicating chocolate eyes. With that hat cocked on her head, like some sexy country pinup girl, he’d walk across hot coal barefoot and sell Miss Betty to make Nic happy.

  Her other leg snaked up his body and locked around his hip. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She felt weightless, like he held nothing and everything at the same time. Cash mentally ordered himself not to drop his pants and slam into her.

  Her lips crashed against his, sucking and biting and erasing, kiss by kiss, his idea to act like a gentleman. Her plan oughta be called cowboy up because this woman was ready for a ride.

  The room was a sauna. She was almost too hot to hold. Almost. He fought for control, wanting desperately to give her something that she deserved.

  His fingers found the brim of the hat. He needed it off. Needed his hands in her thick hair.

  She stopped mid-kiss, forcing his eyes to match her laser-sighted intensity. “That’s mine. Don’t touch it.”

  “My—”

  “Not playing.” Nic bit his bottom lip, refusing to release his gaze, then said, “Try me, and see what happens.”

  Oh, she wanted to play? So did he. His brain buzzed. Her lips branded him. Everything burned stronger than the shots of liquor. Cash went for the cowboy hat. Her hand slapped his away, but he pinned it to the wall. “Not a chance, babe.”

  Her legs squeezed tighter around him, grinding against his throbbing erection. Fuck, yes, sweet girl. Rub me like that. Resolved for another round of smack and grab, he went for the hat again. She slapped with the other hand, and he pinned that delicate wrist. Both hands were restrained high above her head, leaving her immobile and defenseless. He needed her now. More than the moment he first saw her, the moments before in bed. He needed hot and hard this goddamn second.

  The cowboy hat stayed in place, and it looked too good to fuck off. But it’d be fun to try. Not a regular rodeo. A white hot, soul stealing ride.

  “It’s going to be like that, Nic?” he graveled, and she arched against his mouth.

  “I want the hat on.”

  “What else you want, girl?” He switched to the other side of her neck, raking his teeth across her slender neck. “Tell me. I want to hear it.”

  Nicola murmured, her body playing with his.

  “What was that?” The harder he kissed her soft skin, the more he nipped against her throat, the louder her response. Each moan made his dick throb. Each time she twisted against his hold, his throat constricted a little tighter. His breath came faster, and he was closer to losing his mind.

  “I need you.”

  The words sparked a line of fire that ripped through his veins. Cash looked down and admired her gyrating, vibrating body. Breasts overflowed their lacy cups. The supple mountains were taut and demanding his attention. He’d die to bury his face in their valley, to hold and pinch until she cried for more, ravishing them until she came from that alone.

  The vee of space between their chests was his private viewing gallery. The single button still fastened on his shirt didn’t hide her flat stomach or red lace thong. She turned him on in ways he couldn’t have dreamt of, and his imagination wasn’t boring. He lusted for her. Ached for this. His teeth grabbed skin, and his tongue soothed away the sting. She jerked toward him, pushing him for more. More might never be enough.

  “The hat stays on,” she moaned, head dropping back and eyelids fluttering to stay open. A flush painted her cheeks as her hips flexed and rolled. He wanted part of that rhythm in the most ungentlemanly of ways. Craved didn’t describe it. Addiction might. “Do what you want to me, Cash, and it better be hard and fast. But the hat is mine.”

  Heaven help me. He was far from easy right now, but she didn’t want easy. Not at all. One hand grabbed her two wrists, kept them overhead. Her legs flexed apart, wicked heat radiating from between them. Cash worked his belt buckle and zipper one-handed. His cock sprang free and rubbed against her lace-covered mound.

  She bit her lip, groaning at his touch. “Don’t be easy with me.”

  That wouldn’t be a problem. He feathered his fingers over the lace thong. One heavy gasp, then another poured over her full lips. His fingers slid over her sweet pussy, then retreated, reminding him that she may very well be his only damn weakness.

  “You sure?” he asked, scared he’d read this big fucking blast of obvious all wrong. Nah, she wanted him like he needed her. Her body made it more than evident in what her end goal was. Him. In her.

  “Fast and furious. Now.” Her chest heaved. Her voice fed his need, stroking and fueling him. As if he could get any harder. Her stomach, her sex rubbed against him. He bit her neck, right above her collarbone, and she tasted like sweet perfection. “Cash,” she urged him again.

  He tugged his jeans and boxers down, the belt buckle clinked against itself, and he let them fall. Cash reached between them, slipped her thong to the side of her slick folds, removing the barrier between her hot flesh and his. His palm met smooth, hot, wet arousal. Thumbing over her wasn’t enough. Not now. Not like this. And it didn’t matter. Her pussy reached for him. His cock ached to bury itself in her silky tightness.

  “Now. Cash.” She struggled against his palm, flexing into his hold. The heat pouring from her body made him sweat. “Fuck me.”

  If this was what Nic wanted, it was dream-come-true material. Nothing right now should be all sweet and soft. They’d had that before in a bed. They’d have it again later. Right now, this was energy and anxiety. This was fuck-against-the-wall sex. All anger and forgiveness. Loss and lust.

  The head of his cock surged and pressed against her tight entrance. Her breaths were rabid, her head nodding into his shoulder. She begged against his skin, her tongue skimming, teeth biting. He pushed into a lava wave of heaven and thrust. From the base of his cock, to the depths of his soul, he felt Nicola Garrison.

  It was one strong glide with little tease, no prep. She screamed his name and clung tightly. Nothing had ever been so sexy. His eyes slammed shu
t. His jaw dropped to his chest. Their cheeks touched.

  His entire length was gripped by her core. Nic was on fire. Inside and out. He couldn’t move. Her tense muscles grew accustomed to his intrusion. Cash placed his free hand under her ass, then tortured her with a slow withdrawal.

  They gasped together. He plunged into her again, fucking her deep with hard strokes. She moaned long and sweetly for him. When he could take no more, he dropped her wrists, and she encircled his neck. Fingernails clawed his back. Her hands pulled in his hair, and the sting was paradise. He couldn’t possibly get enough of her. He might never let her go.

  Everything felt violently sensitive. Shudders ripped through his muscles. His mind raced to stay in the moment and not come as she called for more and more. He fucked harder, deeper, and she pushed for her release with each roll of his hips.

  Against the wall, in his hat, hadn’t been the plan.

  “More, Cash.”

  But he hadn’t known this Nicola before tonight. And in between her heavy breaths, Cash knew sex with this woman was it for him. Absolutely it. He was ruined for all others. There was no slinking away, no hiding from her or the fireworks that exploded when they tumbled together.

  Her ass lifted off the wall. Their flesh slapped together. Her juices coated him, running between them. Her pleas drove him into her, flagging him toward the climactic goal line.

  The thick air dripped with desire. He tried for deep breaths that didn’t exist. He couldn’t catch his breath and didn’t want to slow enough to try. The heavy beat of her breathing powered him on. She fought against the wall, slammed herself against him, and thrashed her head from side to side. Her long hair whipped his face, lavender scented, sticking to the sweat on his temples.

  Nic’s latched legs ratcheted up another level of corkscrew tight, and she wailed for more and more, biting down on his shoulder. The hat stayed on, God only knew how. The thunder of her muscles began to pulse around his cock. He was starving to feel her come and drove with all his strength, meeting her at every angle.

  Nicola cried out. Her body went taut, then exploded around him, the climax more than strong enough to trigger his release. But, hell no. Once wasn’t enough. He wanted to give her more. Anything to provide for her. To know he could drive her past the burning edge of satisfaction.

  As she came off her high, Cash pulled her to him, spun for the couch, and after a long jeans-tangled step, fell back onto the leather cushions. Beneath her touch, her aftershocks still throbbing, he could stay like this forever. Silky hair hung over her shoulders as she straddled him with a smile. That buttoned-down shirt, hanging on for dear life, had to go. He tore it from her shoulders, and the lone button popped off. Another quick rip, and her thong and bra were lacy goners.

  Cash palmed her stomach, and his hands locked to her hips. Nic rocked, the rhythm swaying her breasts. He loved fucking her, filling her, and he loved those beautiful tits. Cash honed in on the peaked nipples reaching for him. He took the swollen weight of her breasts and clutched his fingers into natural plumpness. She groaned, leaning into his palms. His fingers tightened and massaged. Every time his thumbs swiped her pink pebbled tips, her bottom lip shook, and her jaw hung until he stopped.

  Sweet girl, hot damn. He wanted this woman for himself. Heart pangs rippled through his chest. No one else should’ve ever had the chance to see this view. When her head tilted back, the cowboy hat finally fell off. She didn’t even notice, completely in the midst of losing control. The best thing he’d ever seen.

  She rose up on her knees, dropping onto him. The tickle of her fingertips dusted over his sweat dampened chest. Burning breaths pushed in and out of his lungs. His body more than reacted for her. It dive-bombed into Lake Ecstasy.

  There were no words right now. If he had to say something, he’d ruin it all. Rough and coarse as the wall-to-couch screw-fest was, something surreal was happening, something more than he understood. His insides glittered like sparks against a black night sky, his mind shattering in rapture. The only thing he knew was their release was mission critical. It had to happen. She deserved it. He’d die without it.

  Nicola sucked her bottom lip. Cash’s body jackknifed in a blissed-out frenzy. Liquid fire coated his cock. Perfect pouty lips swelled from his kisses. And she rode him. Hard.

  He gripped her hips tighter, sliding her faster. She came again, forceful and blazing, and locked chocolate eyes on him. They stole his breath. Hell, it didn’t matter. She’d stolen his heart. Whatever the fuck had happened years ago, it wasn’t important. Whatever fucking excuse she had for disappearing, he couldn’t remember.

  She was his.

  And she fucked like she knew it.

  Again, Nicola’s climax started. He could feel it grow around him, surrounding his shaft, and her face was painted in what almost looked like pain. Her reddened lips opened, short gasps escaping as they clawed toward their zenith.

  “Cash!” Nicola’s head rolled back. His name bounced off the walls, echoing around them. Her pussy ground into him as a convulsion blew through her and began the unstoppable quake in him. He grabbed her waist, all his muscles corded. Everything sizzled. Hot streams of his release flowed into her. Silky muscles gripped and relaxed again and again.

  His mind stilled, and all he could do was feel the sparks moving from pecs to glutes. From his boots on his feet to his fingers digging into her sides.

  This was a Nicola supernova. Her brilliant burst of energy, the beautiful illumination of her face, would stay branded in his memory. A deep mouthful of air later, Nic collapsed onto his chest. Her pink-flushed cheek pressed against him. The air smelled like lavender and sex. Of satisfied woman.

  Cash wrapped his arm her, holding her in place, never letting her go. His chest still heaved, but fuck it, he didn’t care. The roar of her gasps slowed. Nicola caught her breath quietly against his lips.

  Seconds. Minutes. Who the hell knew how much time passed? Their bodies needed to be held. Their minds needed rest.

  Late afternoon light had shifted deeper though the windows since they’d walked inside. She shifted under his arms. Her finger traced a path on his bicep.

  He whispered, “Sweet girl?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re in charge of all normal activities from here on out.” Cash stroked her hair, trailing his hand through it, then caressing her shoulder.

  She laughed softly against his chest, and it felt damn good. “No kidding. You were going to make me watch Pawn Stars or something. Don’t lie.”

  Maybe. “Stay here tonight.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  “I have to prep before I meet the butler tomorrow afternoon. We fly out to Turkey for a simple drop and dash.”

  Cash propped up on an elbow. “What? When’d that come through?”

  “Check your messages. I found out on my way out of Sugar’s.”

  “You’re not going anywhere with that asshole until Roman and I suit up and—”

  “Shut your face, Cash. You’re ruining my post-orgasmic glow.”

  Shut my face? Most women clamored for the right thing to say to make him stick around after a quickie. Not Nic. And this wasn’t a quickie. He tucked her back against him.

  He could handle this. He could. And he could do it without killing people for no reason other than to protect her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  There were a lot of ways to wake up in the morning. Nicola turned in the rumpled sheets to snuggle against Cash’s naked chest. Her legs entwined with powerful thighs and calves. One of his arms was pinned beneath her. The other arm drew her closer even though he never seemed to wake. A sleepy sigh blew into her hair, stubble brushed her skin, and her lips tugged into a grin. Yeah, lots of ways to wake up, but this was the best ever.

  “Going somewhere?” his sleep soaked voice asked as he pulled her tighter then kissed the side of her head.

  “Good morning,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the mornin
g quiet. A warm rush of tingles ran through her.

  “Yup, it is, but go back to sleep. You kept me up entirely too late last night.”

  She laughed, recalling the night. They’d lain on the couch forever before he’d baked a frozen pizza. Cash really needed something besides frozen food in his kitchen, but those were the breaks of the job: never knowing when he’d be home. Pizza was the most benign problem he could have in the housing department.

  Nic shook her head, not wanting to think about the sacrifices and decisions their jobs drove them to. Instead, she remembered Cash rocking her world in bed. And in the whirlpool bath. No wonder he was still out. Blissfully numb, Nicola smiled at the ceiling, ready to sink back to dreamland.

  “I don’t want to deal with today yet, Nic. Go back to sleep,” he murmured.

  Today, she’d have to deal with David the Butler and milk enough intel to warrant an on-the-books espionage investigation. At least Istanbul was one of her favorite cities, and she had the opportunity to wear another designer dress, paid for with the CIA’s credit card. Beth would pick out another beauty, arrange for all necessary documents and back story, and have it delivered to her apartment by the time she arrived home. Too bad Cash wouldn’t be able to see her dress. Maybe this one would survive the job, and she could wear it out sometime. Or at least try it on so he could take it off.

  Nic closed her eyes, drifting to sleep, and hoping to dream of him.

  ***

  Cash eased up on the gas. They were closing in on Nic’s apartment, and he wasn’t ready to let her go. Nor was he ready for her to fly halfway around the world with the freakin’ butler.

  “This sucks.” Cash blew out another annoyed breath.

  “Get over it, Cash. You can’t throw tantrums every time I have to work. You knew partnering with me meant that I had to go on assignment with David first.” Nic pointed to the front of her apartment, a first floor balcony setup.

  She really shouldn’t live on the first floor. Too easy for an asshole to slip in, even if the apartment was wired, and she slept with a gun under the pillow.