He wasn’t worried, though. That was the strange part of it. “Okay. Well, I’m clean. I had my last health check a couple of months ago.”
She was still blushing furiously. It was adorable. “Me too. Like I told you, I haven’t been with anyone else.”
Shit, and now he wanted to push her back against the sheets, lose himself in her, forget all about that asshole in his basement.
But he couldn’t, settling for another hard kiss instead.
When he finally did get back down to the shooting range, the guy was furious at being cooped up. Furious enough that he ignored the food Lucas gave him and, apparently heedless of his own safety, started hurling curses.
Lucas was debating the merits of knocking the asshole out just to shut him up when his phone buzzed with a call. He almost expected it to be Van and was trying to decide whether or not he was going to accept it when he glanced down at the screen and saw it wasn’t Van but Wolf, his younger brother.
Hitting the answer button, Lucas raised the phone to his ear, stepping out of the shooting range and out of earshot of his prisoner’s curses. “What is it?” he asked curtly.
“Van send you that video?” Wolf asked without preamble.
“Yes. I saw it.”
“What the fuck is going on? Did you know anything about this?” His brother sounded furious.
“No, of course I didn’t.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Wolf muttered. “She’s ten years younger than he is and our goddamn foster sister. And marrying her doesn’t make it right.”
Lucas stilled. “Marrying her? What do you mean?”
“You didn’t see the front page of the paper today? It’s splashed all over the fucking thing. Van is marrying Chloe and he’s taking over as CEO of Tate Oil.”
Lucas stared at the harsh brick wall in front of him. He was very rarely taken by surprise, but he couldn’t deny the actual shock that pulsed through him now.
Feelings are like turning on a tap. You can’t just turn them on to let one out, leaving the rest in the pipe. They all come out whether you want them to or not.…
The edges of his phone dug into his palms. “Explain,” he demanded.
Wolf muttered another curse. “Read the fucking paper yourself.”
“Give me the short version.”
There must have been something in his voice that gave his shock away, because Wolf sighed. “Okay, I only know what I read and that was there’s this video of Van and Chloe kissing circulating on the Net, but apparently it’s not such a big deal because they’ve been lovers for a while and are actually getting married. Oh, and Van’s getting out of the Navy and assuming control of Tate Oil.”
“No,” Lucas said, because Van hadn’t mentioned a word of this to him, not during the entire course of rescuing Chloe. “That can’t be right.”
“It is, man. Read the fucking paper. It’s all there in black and white.”
“Van said nothing about it to me.” The familiar anger was beginning to rise inside him, the anger he’d felt yesterday when he’d seen that video, and this time it came far more easily. Frighteningly easily. He tried to push it back. “I had no idea he was sleeping with Chloe.”
“Yeah, well, too late now.” Wolf’s voice dropped, becoming even rougher and more gravelly than it normally was. “This is de Santis’s fault. If Chloe hadn’t been in danger this would never have happened.…” He paused. “We need to take that son of a bitch out.”
Wolf wasn’t wrong. Except Lucas couldn’t spare any time to discuss that with his brother, not now. “And we will,” he said coldly. “But right now, I’ve got my own situation to deal with.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Wolf muttered. “I hear you. Fuck, if you want to do something right you’ve got to do it yourself.”
The call abruptly disconnected.
Lucas looked down at his phone, part of him tempted to call his brother straight back and demand he tell him what the hell he meant by that.
But a muffled curse sounded from behind the door to the shooting range, reminding Lucas that he didn’t have time to dick around with his brother. He had some serious shit of his own to handle.
Pushing thoughts of both his brothers out of his head, Lucas shoved his phone in his pocket and went back into the shooting range. The fake cop was sitting on the floor, with his back to the wall, dried blood from where Lucas had shot him staining his uniform and his arm.
Lucas came over and stood right in front of him, staring down at the man. “You’ve got two choices,” he said. “Either I call the cops and you get your own cell. Or you go back to your employers and deliver a message for me.”
The guy’s eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck would I do that for you?”
“Did I mention you had two choices? There’s actually a third.” Lucas drew his weapon and aimed the muzzle directly at the man’s forehead, right between the eyes. “It’s a bullet with your name on it.”
The man’s jaw tightened. “Like I said, you crazy fucker. I’d rather die here than have to go back to them empty-handed.”
“But you won’t be empty-handed.” Lucas tilted his head. “I want you to tell them that Grace Riley hasn’t got their money.” He allowed himself a slight smile that had nothing to do with amusement. “I do.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Grace ate a piece of bacon standing at the kitchen counter, her coffee mug steaming gently on the counter beside her plate.
Lucas had been down in the basement a long time and she was getting nervous. In fact, she was getting nervous about everything.
After he’d left to go deal with their prisoner, she’d slipped out of bed and had a shower, then dressed, her hands shaking as images from the night before kept playing out inside her head. Erotic images. They made her body heat, made the ache between her thighs get even more intense, and yet for some reason they also twisted the unease that had been growing inside her ever since she’d talked to Lucas about her father.
She still couldn’t believe she’d let all that painful shit out, told Lucas all the things she’d never told Griffin. The things that hurt. That made her feel vulnerable. That made her feel as small and ugly and as talentless as her father had once told her she was.
But Lucas hadn’t looked at her as if she were small and ugly and talentless. He’d looked at her with bright anger in his eyes and she’d known it was on her behalf. But that too had made her uncomfortable, as had talking about her reasons for not telling Griffin, and so she’d tried, belatedly, to protect herself.
Part of her had been glad when Lucas had suddenly remembered about the prisoner in the basement and had left, yet another part of her, the weak part of herself, had felt oddly let down. As if she’d wanted to spill her guts to Lucas completely. Tell him all about how alone she was. How sometimes at night, when she couldn’t sleep and the darkness encroached, she would wonder whether her father had been right. That she was talentless, a pointless waste of space. And maybe, if she’d been different, he wouldn’t have been so angry with her, so vicious and cruel. That maybe his lack of success and his subsequent anger, his bitterness, was somehow her fault.
Grace swallowed her bacon and picked up her coffee mug, and sipped staring sightlessly in font of her. Had she ever felt this nervous with Griffin? This unsure? She kind of had, since her experience with men had been limited. But it hadn’t lasted long, since he’d been extremely kind to her.
Lucas was so different, though. He was like a bonfire. She wanted to get close enough to warm herself against the flames, but she was also terrified of getting burned.
He will consume you if you let him.
She shivered, the strange agitation getting worse. Perhaps she should push this aside for the moment and get some paint on that canvas, because standing around brooding wasn’t going to get it finished any quicker.
As she turned toward the kitchen doorway, she heard the elevator doors open and her heartbeat started to race. Lucas was back. The needy part of her wanted to run to
him, throw herself into his arms, but for reasons she didn’t want to examine, she remained where she was and waited.
Eventually he appeared in the kitchen doorway, his gaze raking over her in a way that made her breath catch. “Why aren’t you upstairs and naked in my bed?” A thread of heat ran through his cold, cold voice, making her tremble a little.
“Coffee.” She lifted her cup. “I needed it.”
His gaze narrowed and she had the odd feeling that he’d seen right through her. Seen her agitation and knew exactly the reason for it.
“What did you do with our guest?” she asked, knowing she sounded tense yet unable to help it. “Fill me in.”
“I let him go.” Lucas moved toward her, coming fast, and she found herself backed up against the counter before she’d even had a chance to breathe. “I’ve got a plan for getting those assholes off your tail.” He reached for the coffee mug she held in her fingers and took it off her, placing it on the counter instead; then he took her hand and slid it down over the front of his jeans and held it there. “But first, we were interrupted this morning and I’d like to continue where you left off.”
He was already hard; she could feel him underneath her palm, heat burning through the denim. Her breath shivered in her throat and for some reason she couldn’t look at him. “Why did you let him go?” she asked instead, concentrating on that because it was easier than the intense, desperate pull she felt deep inside her whenever Lucas was around.
“It’s better if you don’t know the details until I get some more information.” The pressure of his hand increased, pressing her palm harder against his fly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”
She focused on the beat of his pulse at his throat. It was steady and yet hers … Hers was racing the way it always did when he touched her. It made her afraid. Before he’d taken her to bed, their chemistry had been intoxicating and intriguing and she’d been so fascinated by how she’d managed to get under his skin that she hadn’t thought about what would happen if they finally consummated the attraction between them.
Now they had and it had been … overwhelming. She’d never experienced passion like it before in her life. Never experienced such need. And then she’d started spilling her secrets to him, secrets she’d never even told her husband of three years, and it felt … too much. Too fast. Too everything.
Lucas let go of her hand, then gripped her chin, tilting her head back, and she found herself looking up into his razor-sharp gaze. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me ‘nothing.’”
Grace swallowed. “I don’t … I can’t—”
Abruptly he gripped her hips and lifted her up onto the counter, that intense blue gaze inches from hers. “You look scared. Why?”
She’d never been one to be afraid of emotional honesty and she didn’t know why she was having trouble with it now. There shouldn’t have been anything hard about telling him how she felt. Yet it was like she had to force the words out. “B-because I am,” she began hesitantly. “This is … a lot for me. You are a lot for me. And this is going so fast and I’ve never felt this before, and I…” She trailed off, knowing she was sounding ridiculous and yet unable to explain it any better than that.
Lucas put his palms on either side of her hips and leaned against the counter. “This is just sex, Grace. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
Just sex. Did he really think that? Really and truly? Because it didn’t feel that way to her. And maybe that’s why it felt so frightening, why she felt so overwhelmed. She’d always been drawn to him, to the intensity that lived beneath the surface. And now the sex had made that pull even more compelling. She was fascinated by him, wanted to know him, and that terrified her.
“But that’s the thing.” She didn’t want to reveal more, didn’t want him to know how afraid she truly was. Yet he had to know before he drew her any deeper. “It isn’t just sex. At least it isn’t for me.”
He stared fiercely at her. “What do you want?”
“I … don’t know. I meant what I said, I want more of what we did last night. But … I’m afraid.…” She hesitated, then made herself go on. “I’m afraid of you. Of what you do to me. Of what I feel around you.” I don’t want to give pieces of myself to someone. Someone who might not want them. Who might screw them up and toss them in the fire …
Something in that hard, intense gaze softened, making her breath catch because she’d never seen that in his eyes before. “I would never hurt you, Gracie,” he said quietly. “I’ve told you that.”
“You might not mean to. But that doesn’t mean you won’t.”
He didn’t move, didn’t look away, and she could see the heat in his eyes. Almost as if he was deliberately showing her. “I don’t know what I can give you. Or what other assurances you want, because I can’t offer you anything but what we have right now. And once this is over I’m heading back to base.…” He paused. “But … while I’m here, whatever you want, it’s yours.”
His honesty was inexplicably painful, especially since there was no way she wanted any kind of relationship with a man like Lucas Tate. She didn’t want a relationship, period. Not so soon after Griffin’s death. But at least Lucas was honest with her. At least she knew where she stood.
It was oddly freeing, made the strange agitation that had gripped her somehow less acute. Because now she knew, she could protect herself, couldn’t she? She could have him and this crazy intensity without giving parts of herself away.
It’s what you did with Griffin for years after all.
She didn’t like that thought but knew it was true nevertheless. She hadn’t given Griffin everything she was. For some reason she’d always held a part of herself back. So surely this thing with Lucas could be the same? She’d protected herself from even her own husband. She could keep herself safe from a guy who was mostly a stranger.
Tell yourself that. Give yourself all the excuses in the world. You just want him.
Of course she did. But she wouldn’t fall for him. Not now she’d been warned.
Grace lifted her hand and touched his chest, ran her fingers down the hard plane of it, feeling his abs tighten as she brushed over them, reaching the waistband of his jeans. Then very deliberately she brought her palm back over the front of his fly, cupping him through the denim.
The blue in his eyes flared, his cock, still semi-hard, hardening even further. “Is that what you want?” he demanded, the dark thread of heat running through his voice. “Tell me.”
“Yes. That’s what I want.”
“Be specific, Grace.”
She swallowed. “I want your c-cock.”
He didn’t move. “Then take it.”
She’d never asked for anything like this before. Never taken it because she couldn’t help herself. Never thought she’d even want to. Griffin had asked her a couple of times if she’d use her mouth on him and she’d always refused, finding the idea vaguely unpleasant. He hadn’t pushed and she’d been relieved. Yet at the same time there had been a small part of her hiding under that relief, a hurt, confused part that had found his easy acceptance painful.
Griffin had never demanded anything of her. He’d simply accepted her refusal as if it were no big deal. As if she what she had to offer wasn’t good enough to argue for.…
But Lucas was different. She could see the demand in the hard, hot look in his eyes. He wouldn’t let her refusal go without a fight.
Her breath caught as an idea wound its way through her head. What would happen if she did refuse? What would he do? Would he fight? Would he insist?
Her breathing began to get faster, her heartbeat beginning its usual spiral out of control. She couldn’t actually bring herself to move her hand because that rigid warmth pressing against her palm was far too good, but she gave him a glance from beneath her lashes. “What if I don’t?” Her voice had gone hoarse and shaky. “What if I just want to go back to my painting?”
The heat in his eyes seemed to build, getting ho
tter, more fierce. “Then I might have to insist.”
There was an ache between her thighs, deep and wild. He was so big, so powerful. He was caging her on the counter, his hard body between her thighs. He wouldn’t let her run. He wouldn’t shrug his shoulders and turn away. He wanted her and he’d take her the way he had yesterday.
Her heartbeat pulsing loudly in her head, Grace tried to slip off the counter, not even understanding why she wanted to push this, but wanting to anyway.
Lucas’s hands came down on her hips as soon as she moved, his grip unbelievably powerful. It made her breath get even shorter, panting almost. She loved the strength in that grip, how it could make her feel small and delicate and feminine. How it made her feel wanted.
She looked up into his face, the ache between her thighs getting demanding.
“You want me to chase you?” Lucas’s voice was soft. “Because believe me, I will. I won’t let you run. I’m a hunter and I’ll hunt you down.” His grip tightened, nearly painful now, that change coming over him again. Turning from ice man into a man of fire, blazing with desire, with passion. “I’m very patient, Gracie. I can wait forever, stay motionless for hours. Slow my heartbeat to thirty beats per minute in order to hit my target.” Slowly, he leaned in close, intensity pouring off him, magnetic, compelling. “But not with you. My patience is very, very thin with you. So, how about you get on your knees before I lose it altogether.”
Naturally, that insane part of her wanted to see what would happen if he lost it. But the pressure between her thighs, the hunger inside her, wouldn’t be denied any longer, so she simply did what she was told and slipped off the counter to kneel on the hard wood of the kitchen floor in front of him.
He’d taken a step back to give her some room, but it didn’t feel like she had any at all. His very presence seemed to take over every particle of the air around her, overwhelming her with him. His scent, his heat, the sheer force of him. It made her hands shake as she reached for the button on his jeans, fumbling to get it open. He said nothing, but she could tell he was looking at her, the pressure of his gaze like a heavy stone pressing down.
The Wicked Billionaire--A Billionaire SEAL Romance Page 19
