Chapter 20 #2
He brought the massage oil toward the table. Toward her. “Occasionally,” Gray confessed. “When I am wrong, it is a colossal screw up.” He stopped in front of her.
She should probably hop off the table.
“Hannah knows that we’re partners. Someone tipped her off,” Emerson said.
He pushed up her skirt. One inch. Two.
“Who do we think t-told her the truth?” A little stutter because his fingers had skimmed the sensitive inside of her thighs.
“Has to be someone who knows that we’re faking our marriage.”
Yes, and that left their own FBI team. The team that was supposed to be watching their back. “The other agents,” she murmured.
His hands moved away.
She could take a deep breath again.
“Yes.” Flat. Cold. Gray opened the massage oil bottle. Poured a bit of oil into his palm.
“Uh, Gray?”
“Your mother knew we were going undercover.”
She jerked.
“So did Owen Porter, her ever so loyal lover and guard.”
He put the massage bottle down. Rubbed his palms together. Got them slick with the oil.
He had really big hands to go along with the rest of him.
“Owen wouldn’t tip off anyone about who we are. I mean, why would he?”
“I notice that you said Owen wouldn’t, but you didn’t deny that your mother might commit such an act.” His hands returned to her thighs.
She gave a little gasp because that must have been warm massage oil in the bottle. “My m-mother isn’t happy with our partnership.” Understatement.
“And if she isn’t happy, she might get her guard dog to do her dirty work for her.” His hands began to rub slow circles on her inner thighs.
Ohmygosh, that feels good.
He’d started those circles about two inches above her knees. But ever so carefully, he was inching up. Staying focused on the inside of her thighs.
“Then, of course, there is Nathaniel,” Gray rumbled.
Her eyes had started to sag closed. “Who?”
He laughed softly. His thumbs pressed deeper into her inner thighs.
She moaned. How can this feel so good? Her hands flew behind her so she could balance on the table.
“Nathaniel Hadaway,” Gray elaborated as his fingers kept working.
“The idiot ex. He knew about the case, courtesy, no doubt, of your mother. He’d want you to fail here.
Both so that he could make you look bad and thus hopefully get your job and so that he’d please the senator.
” His thumbs pressed ever deeper, and then his big hands slid up another inch.
Up and up, smoothing carefully and rubbing, gliding over her skin thanks to the massage oil.
They should stop. They had a case to work but…
We are supposed to be playing the part of a couple that just can’t keep their hands off each other. Gray already set the stage as the possessive and jealous lover.
But he’d confessed to truly being jealous. He’d said the feeling was real.
All of her feelings for him were real.
“Eyes on me, Emerson.”
Her lashes lifted.
She found him staring at her with savage hunger. Burning lust. And… “Gray?”
His thumbs pushed into her thighs. Hit a spot that had been tight on her right thigh and sent a twisting blast of almost pain and ever-so-much pleasure pulsing through her.
“You can’t trust anyone but me,” he told her.
She nodded. She wanted those fingers of his to keep going. Up, up, please.
“I trust you,” he added, voice low and thick and rasping with desire. “I’d trust you to have my six any day of the week.”
“That’s the…” She had to wet her lips. Suck in a deep gasp of air. “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”
His massaging hands rose higher, pushing up her skirt even more. If she’d looked down, she knew she would have seen her panties because the skirt was raised that high. But she didn’t look down. Her eyes stayed on his.
“I’m not nice.” One hand slid under the crotch of her panties. Slid between her folds. Over her clit. Rubbing. Rubbing…
She rocked against his hand.
He dipped a finger into her. First one. Then another.
His left hand kept massaging her. Kept rubbing her inner thigh.
“ Gray. ”
“There’s nothing nice about me.” He stretched her with his fingers. His thumb pushed against her clit. “There’s nothing nice about the way I hunt.” He pulled his hand away from her sex.
No!
“There’s nothing nice about the killers I track.”
He dropped to his knees by the massage table. He caught her panties. Ripped them.
The ripping sound seemed overly loud.
He tossed the scrap of her panties and pushed her legs apart more. His fingers went right back to rubbing her thighs, but at this point, his hands were positioned very, very high up. And when his hands moved the slightest bit upward even more, he was almost touching her core. Almost.
“There’s nothing nice about the way I feel for you.
It’s dark and it’s savage, and I want to take and take when I’m with you.
” His breath blew against her clit. “And there’s nothing nice about what I will do to anyone who ever hurts you.
” Then his mouth was on her. Licking and kissing.
His tongue thrust against her. Then into her even as his hands kept stroking and rubbing along her inner thighs.
Except those big fingers were so close to the center of her need, it felt like he was massaging her sex even as he licked her with his tongue.
His hands were relentless. The pleasure overwhelming, and she couldn’t stop the orgasm that barreled through her.
She barely had time to suck in a breath, to grab for his shoulders and hold on before the climax shattered through her.
A careening release that pulsed and rocked and left her utterly wiped out as it seemed to go on and on.
“Eyes on me, Emerson.”
Her eyes opened.
“You’re fucking delicious.”
He just went down on me in a spa room.
“And you’re mine. Never, ever forget that.” One more caress with his fingers over her quivering thighs. “Something else to never forget?”
The pounding of her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
He rose. Leaned in close, his mouth almost touching hers. “I’m happy to give you a massage any time you want. Angel isn’t the only one who knows how to take you to heaven.”
“I’m…pretty sure the man gives a professional massage.”
“And I’m pretty sure you’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.” He pulled her skirt back down her thighs. “I don’t share, Emerson.”
They were playing a role. This wasn’t real.
Or was it? “When the case ends,” she began.
“We don’t.” Flat. “We don’t end.”
Her eyes widened. “Gray?”
“I don’t want to end with you. I want you.” He backed away. Pocketed her torn panties. “And, for the record, we both think Hannah is guilty as sin, right?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. Guilty as sin.” The woman had access to all of the victims, their locations—not just because of the honeymoon registry, but because she had the power to find their addresses, their credit cards, their lives all with a few clicks on her keyboard.
Hannah could learn everything about the honeymooning guests at the resort.
“Good. Glad we’re in agreement. Now let’s go find the evidence to nail one of our killers…and then we’ll drag her partner out of the dark and send them both to rot in prison.” A pause. “Case closed.”