Calculated Collision

by C. A. Szarek

  Nate wasn’t going to have to wait after all.

  Not if the dare in her eyes was any indication.

  “We both know if you didn’t want to be under me, you’d put your knee in my balls.”

  Lee smirked. “Wanna try me?”

  “C’mon, angel. You would’ve done it already.”

  She didn’t call him on his statement, but Lee lifted her knee and pressed it into the crotch of his jeans. Instead of hurting him, she rubbed his erection until a moan fell from his mouth.

  “Nate.” His name on her lips made his need to taste her surge.

  “No more denial?” he whispered, making himself wait. He wanted to hear her admit it.

  Lee shook her head.

  “What about last night?”

  “Truce, remember?” Irritation was nowhere in sight when their gazes collided. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, desire in the deep brown depths. Her breathing uneven, the rise and fall of her breasts was more pronounced. She lifted her face and brushed her lips against his.

  It was all the invitation he required. Nate dipped his head down and deepened the kiss, twining his tongue around hers. Lee kissed him back with a demand he wasn’t about to refuse. His cock pounded against his zipper. He needed inside her.

  “Let go of my hands,” she breathed into his mouth.

  “Are you going to kick my ass?”

  “I need to touch you.” Her words came out as a moan that sent an unmanly shiver down his spine.

  He’d waited too long for this. He wanted her. Needed her. Once he got her again, Nate wasn’t going to let Lee go.

  After releasing her hands, he put his own to work. Nate pulled her shirt out of her jeans and opened all her buttons. Lee lifted up so he could shove it off her shoulders. When her arms were free, she yanked his shirt out of his jeans and unbuckled his belt.

  His eyes skimmed her gorgeous frame. Her black bra barely encased her full breasts. He could see her nipples straining against the fabric. Nate itched to taste every inch of her beautiful, light brown skin again.

  He froze when he spotted the large bandage on her right side. “Lee?”

  “It’s nothing.” She shook her head, working his zipper.

  “Doesn’t looking like nothing.” He clenched his jaw, but when he went to move off her, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “I don’t want to stop.”

  “I don’t either, angel. But I don’t want to hurt you.” He caressed her cheeks.

  “You’ll hurt me more if we stop. Blue balls are no fun.”

  Nate laughed and kissed her. He thought better of mentioning the pair she’d left him with last night. “There’s my Lee.”

  She paused, their eyes locking. When she swallowed, he wanted to kiss her throat. He waited for her to call him on the possession, but she didn’t.

  “We can find a bed. Whatever room you want,” Nate whispered, his mouth hovering over hers.

  “I’ll take you anywhere I can get you.”

  His heart skipped, but he chided himself not to take stock in her words. His woman wasn’t hearts and flowers in the least. Desire and passion didn’t always mean honesty, especially since she’d been so firm in her denial the night before.

  Take what you can get for now.

  “What happened here?” He distracted himself with the reality of her wound. Nate laid his hand over the white gauze.

  “I got shot.”

  “Shit, Lee. Then we shouldn’t do this now.” Once again he tried to pull away, but she held him tight with her legs and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I’m fine. I want you, Nate Crane.”

  His head spun with the words he’d longed to hear from the moment he’d seen her in the hotel lobby. But he wanted her heart and soul along with her body.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” The repeated phrase sounded lame as the words fell from his mouth fragmented, because Lee chose that moment to trace his lips with her tongue.

  She crushed her mouth into his and rocked her hips against him, hitting his cock in just the right spot to make them both groan. The kiss went on until they both shook with need.

  “Too many clothes,” she whispered, tugging on his shirt.

  Nate pulled away for a split second and ripped the tee off. When he turned back to her, she’d lost the bra. His mouth went dry. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “You’ve seen me naked before,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

  He ignored her, skimming his hands down her torso. Nate caressed her breasts, teased her nipples, and dragged his fingers down her stomach until her muscles jumped under his touch.

  Lee squirmed, but he ignored her, slowly lowering her zipper and pulling her jeans down. Her panties were simple white bikinis, making her naturally tan skin stand out even more.

  Nate ran his hand over her covered sex, groaning at her heat. She was burning for him. It made his blood sing.

  He teased her through the thin material, rubbing her clit. Feeling the moisture beneath. She was soaking wet already.

  “Nate,” she panted, her perfect breasts heaving. “Quit being a tease.”

  Flashing a smile, he dipped in for a kiss.

  Lee kissed him back, shoving her hand into his boxers and gripped his cock. She stroked him until he was gasping against her lips.

  “Who’s a tease, angel?” Nate breathed.

  She kissed him in answer, squeezing his dick. “Lose the rest of your clothes and I’ll show you how to seal the deal.”

  He yanked her panties down and pushed his jeans and boxers off his hips. Nate was back in her arms in seconds, regretting not taking a moment to look at her laid out before him, fully naked. “Oh, I know how to seal the deal.”

  Lee smirked and nipped his bottom lip. “Prove it.”

  With a growl, he pushed inside her, filling her completely with one long stroke. She moaned and arched her back, pushing her breasts into his chest.

  He paused. He had to, or he’d lose it like a horny teen. But it gave him the chance to savour every inch of her bare, hot skin against his. Supple, smooth, all muscled curves. She felt the same. Familiar, but just as right as before. Lee was his.

  Nate thrust forward and she kissed him, holding him close as they started to move together. The stairs gave him leverage, but he was worried about hurting her, so he lifted her bottom with both hands and planted his knees on the steps. He took their weight and cushioned her head with his T-shirt.

  The angle allowed her to take him deeper and she closed her eyes as she met him thrust for thrust. Pleasure washed over him. Nate was finally back with his Lee.

  The rhythm of their bodies took over as she demanded more and he gave her what she wanted. They’d both have bruises later, and maybe a rug burn or two.

  Lee’s heels dug into his ass as she urged him faster, each thrust more frantic than the last. She moved with him, then against him, their rough tempo giving them both what they needed.

  She threw her head back and gripped his forearms, nails digging in. Her body tightened and her jaw clenched.

  “Angel, don’t hold back. Come for me. Let me see how I make you feel,” Nate demanded.

  Her body loosened and she whispered his name as her sex clutched his.

  His balls jolted and his spine tingled. Orgasm roared over them both. His release shot into her, his arousal jerking, tearing a moan from him.

  Lee pulled him closer, demanding a kiss.

  Nate pressed his mouth to hers, slanting to taste as much of her as he could. It melted into something more. Deep and languorous. Meaningful.

  When their eyes met, he had to swallow back the three word phrase that threatened to tumble out.

  He bit back a gasp. He’d come after her. He wanted her. But love?

  Yes. I love her.

  Something of his feelings must have shown in his face, because Lee’s expression tightened ever so slightly. An unnamed emotion flickered across her eyes. Then it was gone, and her mouth curved in a lazy,
sated smile. “I guess I missed you, too.”

  He chuckled. “Let’s go upstairs, angel.”

  “We weren’t so good at that the first time.”

  Nate grinned and scooped her up into his arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  Anger and grief boiled in his veins and Jeremy roared. He pitched his iPhone across the room in his apartment, watching it crack and splinter as it hit the wall and slid down, landing on the carpet soundlessly, as if he hadn’t just destroyed it.

  “Finish him.”

  The parting words of a conversation that hadn’t gone as planned.

  For Beth and the girls to live, Evan Roberts had to die.

  Caselli had even threatened Jeremy’s sixty-four-year-old mother. His poor mom, suffering from two different types of cancer, and no health insurance. He paid for chemo with the money he’d earned from the mob boss.

  “Fuck.”

  He closed his eyes. A tremor started in his spine, spreading over his limbs until his knees shook and he wobbled on his feet. Jeremy buried his hands in his dark hair. Didn’t fight the urge to hit the carpet.

  The first tears fell as his ass landed on top of his boots. His thighs smarted from the weight, but he didn’t move. Didn’t try to get comfortable. He didn’t deserve it.

  Miranda Parker lay in the morgue because she’d picked the wrong hotel to have lunch in with a potential client. His best friend lay in the hospital with collapsed lungs and a nicked heart valve because he’d been ordered to protect her.

  “No way. Own up to it.” Jeremy tugged his hair and rocked. “She’s dead. He’s hurt. Because. Of. You.”

  Evan hadn’t come around yet, either. Coma they’d said. In some ways it was a relief—unconsciousness meant he couldn’t ID Jeremy as the assailant.

  Jeremy had always been a piece of shit. If he hadn’t been, Beth wouldn’t have divorced him. He wouldn’t have to see his girls only twice a month and every other holiday.

  Evan was the only person who could halfway stand him. What did he do? Fucking shoot him.

  “Fuck you, Caselli!” He shouted the three words over and over until his throat was raw and his neighbours were likely to call the police.

  Jeremy wiped his face and called himself a few choice words.

  He struggled to his feet, clinging to the sting and burn in his legs. He needed it, needed more.

  Pain.

  Yanking the Glock from the holster, he stared at the cool black metal. Imagined all the blood on his white carpet if he were to put it in his mouth and pull the trigger.

  He turned the gun over and over in his hands.

  “Coward, you can’t even do that.” Jeremy reholstered, blowing out a breath and wiping his face.

  Caselli had ordered him to go to the hospital to kill Evan. ‘A man for a man,’ he’d said. Funny, he didn’t give two shits that if Roberts woke up he could identify Jeremy. Caselli just wanted to make Jeremy pay for killing Michael Bellini.

  The asshole wasn’t too pleased about the FBI radio and cell silence, either. He’d ranted and raved about Jeremy not being privy to Nate Crane’s new location.

  Jeremy hadn’t had much luck threatening to handle things his way. The company of the bastard’s men wasn’t at Jeremy’s discretion.

  ‘You don’t get to choose.’

  Caselli’s words bounced around in his head.

  So he had two missions, whether he wanted them or not. Kill Evan Roberts. Find out where Nate Crane was, report back to Caselli and go kill him. Leave Dawson alive. Believe it or not, the gangster wanted him to avoid another FBI casualty, but Jeremy was not to get caught or be tied back in any way to Caselli.

  Good luck.

  Jeremy snorted. Dawson was sharp and a crack shot. How he was going to get her witness was a plan for another day. However, he needed to figure it out. Fast.

  If he failed in either mission, his family was dead. His wife and mother. Caselli, the bastard that he was, had said he’d make an accommodation for Jeremy’s daughters. He would take over their care, he’d termed it.

  Translation—he would sell them. For sex.

  Another roar filled Jeremy’s living room. He screamed until his throat burned. Dry and swollen, it ached for liquid of any kind. He didn’t give in. Wanted to suffer.

  Because his duty weapon had been confirmed as the one to end Michael Bellini’s life, Jeremy was on administrative leave. The Glock at his side was a replacement given to him when his had been taken for ballistics testing. Though they were through, he couldn’t have it back yet.

  Bobby Smythe was in charge of the investigation, and should have it wrapped up in a few days, but until then, Jeremy was grounded. Everyone agreed it’d been a good shoot. Hell, Dawson and her witness had backed him up.

  No lies required.

  He had to steer clear of the office until he received a call to come back to work. His supervisor, Special Agent Olivia Barnes, had told him to take a few days, and it wasn’t a suggestion. Talk to someone about Evan, because obviously she assumed he’d blame himself for not being there. For his partner being injured and the witness being killed.

  Jesus, if she only knew.

  Liv had made him an appointment with the shrink for nine a.m. the next morning. Once again, not going wasn’t an option. At least he didn’t have to fake his grief over Evan. However, he was going to have to watch what he said. He couldn’t be discovered as the shooter. Nor could he risk the psychiatrist diagnosing him as being as crazy as he felt.

  Jeremy paced, pulling his hair again. He needed to hit something. No he needed to be hit.

  Needed pain.

  Someone to beat the shit out of him until he bled. Until he felt as bad on the outside as he did on the inside.

  Needed his skin torn open and oozing. Throbbing. Damaged.

  He rubbed his face and disarmed, leaving his replacement duty weapon on his coffee table. After strapping his backup weapon to his ankle, he tucked his jeans around it, making sure it was concealed. Jeremy slipped his FBI ID out of his wallet and dropped it beside the Glock.

  If he had any balls, he’d leave the apartment without a weapon entirely, but it was against his programming. Not having a gun made him feel naked.

  There was a bar down the street. He’d get piss drunk and start a fight. With the normal crowd that frequented Molly’s, it shouldn’t be hard to find someone bigger, meaner than him.

  Someone willing to kick him in the face, in the nuts. Anything to make him forget.

  Make him hurt.

  Maybe something would go right for him today, after all.

  * * * *

  Lee stared at Nate’s sleeping form and her heart leapt. She shut down her mind’s idea of happiness and chided herself.

  They’d been at the safe house for three days.

  And she’d done it again.

  That first afternoon, instead of telling him to go to hell, she’d wrapped herself around him and let him take her on the stairs. Then again in the borrowed bed. They’d shared that bed all night—and every one since—and Lee had been getting the best sleep since she’d been away from her own place.

  After day one, she’d promised she’d stay away from him. Keep her hands to herself. But she couldn’t let it go. She had to have him.

  Just like Texas.

  They’d met two years ago when he’d prosecuted Carlo Maldonado for killing two of Caselli’s goons who’d followed him to Texas when he’d fled the FBI in New York.

  She’d been partnered with now former FBI agent Cole Lucas, who’d ultimately stayed in Texas and married the detective, Andi MacLaren, he’d been working the Maldonado case with.

  Lee had liked Nate from the moment she’d met his hazel eyes, despite the fact he was a few years younger.

  They’d resisted their mutual draw to each other at the time.

  When she’d made it back down to the small city of Antioch to go after another of Caselli’s thugs, Luciano Marchetti, Lee and Nate had run into each other again.
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  She’d been partnered temporarily with Pete, Nate’s older brother. Pete, an Antioch police detective, had invited her to their parents’ home for Sunday dinner one weekend.

  Seeing each other again had been explosive for both Lee and Nate. She’d taken him back to her hotel that night. They’d fallen into bed and not been far from each other’s side for the rest of her stay in Texas.

  Until he’d told her he thought they had something other than just sex.

  The past is the past. You can’t go back. You have him again.

  For a little while.

  The problem was, now that she’d spent three nights in his arms again, Lee didn’t want to let him go.

  She closed her eyes and cradled her face.

  Why is it different with him?

  Better with him?

  Why did Nate matter?

  He made her break all her rules.

  Lee never slept over. Ever. Sex happened. Then she was out. Couldn’t stand to be coddled, cuddled or touched. And no condom? Only with Nate.

  Back in Texas, she’d told him she couldn’t have kids, which was true, but still… She always used protection, no matter how many times she’d been with a lover. Six months ago, they’d shed the condoms after only being together once. With him, it was a separation from his body she couldn’t stand.

  Never let a man go down on her, either, even for her pleasure. Yet, here she was, in Nate’s bed. He’d tasted her not once, but twice. Before and after the shower they’d shared.

  She wanted him to hold her. Cuddle with her. Touch her. Put his tongue in places that made her eyes roll back in her head.

  Protective custody forced them to stay together, especially after the attempt on his life at the apartment, but like Nate had said, the townhouse had five bedrooms. She could find her own place to sleep. She should…but she didn’t want to leave him.

  Merely looking at him made her want to snuggle into his side, have him pull her close.

  Make love to her?

  “Angel?” His voice was heavy with sleep, but his hazel gaze was concerned when their eyes met.

  “Why do you call me that?” she whispered.

  Nate smirked and it made her want to kiss him. “Because you’re anything but.”