Page 49 of Avenging Jessie
“There is if you wash them down with bourbon.”
His mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “Are you trying to get me drunk so I don’t yell at you? Or so you can take advantage of me?”
Gah. He was intolerable. And so was her traitor of a pulse. It had sped up to a ridiculous beat, and she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off his pecs, his abs. “You wish.”
To get a better angle, she shifted to sit next to him. Her fingers faltered, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were, how her knees brushed his thigh. She should’ve moved away. She didn’t.Focus. “You’re lucky you didn’t break it completely,” she said. “Or your fingers.”
“Would’ve been worth it if I’d at least put Hastings down for good.”
Her mouth tightened. “Or you could’ve avoided getting hurt in the first place if you’d just let me handle it my way.”
His eyes sharpened, the warmth from a moment ago cooling fast. “Your way got you cornered in a room full of hackers and a man holding a gun to your head. I got you out alive.”
“I was nevernotgetting out alive,” she snapped.
He leaned in, bracing his left hand on the couch beside her hip. “That’s the problem. You think you’re untouchable. That nobody can corner you, outthink you, or break you. Newsflash, Jessie—you’re not.”
Her breath came faster, anger and something darker twisting together. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t lived it? I’ve been broken, Spence. I’ve been used. And the only reason I’m still here is because I stopped letting other people decide how I play the game.”
They were nose to nose now, the air between them charged and tight.
He didn’t back down. “You’re here because the swans caught you and forced you out of the situation with Brewer. Otherwise, you might still be under his thumb.”
That was technically true, but… “I had a plan to get away from him and protect Tommy, too. You guys just showed up before I got to enact it.”
“Sure.” His voice was dismissive. He didn’t buy it. “Well, one of these days, you’re going to push things too far and I won’t be there to pull you out.”
The words should’ve pissed her off more. Instead, they hit like a sucker punch, because buried in them was something she hadn’t expected.Fear.
He was scared. For her.
Her voice dropped a notch. “And yet, you’re still here.”
His gaze zeroed in on her mouth. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “I am.”
She didn’t remember who moved first—maybe it was both of them—but the distance vanished. His good hand slid to the back of her neck. Her fingers fisted in his short hair. And the kiss landed like a collision neither of them could stop.
His mouth was hot and demanding, tasting faintly of coffee and adrenaline. She met him with equal force, months of tension and unspoken need igniting all at once. His hand slid down her spine, fingers splaying at her lower back, pulling her closer until she was straddling his lap, her knees pressed into the couch cushions on either side of him.
The bandage on his wrist brushed her hip. He hissed—not from the pain, but from the way she ground against him.
Her pulse thundered. “Tell me this is a bad idea,” she whispered against his lips.
His eyes burned into hers. “It’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.” His thumb traced the line of her jaw. “But hell if I’m stopping, luv. If this is whatyoutruly want.”
She kissed him again, deeper this time, letting go of the last of her defenses. He tasted like every dangerous thing she should’ve walked away from and didn’t. Her hands roamed over his chest, mapping the hard planes there, soaking up the warmth of his skin.
He groaned, low and rough, and shifted them, pinning her beneath him. His weight came over her—solid, steady, protective. For once, she didn’t resent it.
Her T-shirt was gone before she realized he’d even tugged it over her head, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just below her collarbone. She arched into him.
“You drive me mad,” he murmured against her skin.
“Good,” she breathed, her nails grazing his shoulders. “Just so you know, this is only the beginning.”
His laugh was short, almost disbelieving, before he claimed her mouth again. Every kiss was a battle for control, and neither of them was willing to lose.
His injured wrist kept him from stripping off her pants and his, but he allowed her to do the honors. When they were both naked, it didn’t stop him from touching her everywhere. And she let him, because in this moment, there was no Brewer, no Hastings, no summit in Berlin. Just them, and the fire they’d been holding back for far too long.
