A Maine Christmas...or Two (6 page)

They broke apart, panting and gasping for breath, staring at each other like they wanted nothing more than to tear each other’s clothes off to get closer. Grady nearly groaned at the thought of being skin-to-skin with her, losing himself in her softness.

I need her so damn much.

He and Emily were in the shadows, but he could see some people looking on with smiles and he heard some wolf whistles, approvals of the show he and Emily had just put on. But he didn’t care. Something feral inside him wanted her drenched in his scent, warning every man in the room that she was his.

“I guess
everyone
doesn’t think I’m the Amesport Beast anymore,” he said gutturally, still trying to get his ragged breathing under control.

Emily looked at him, stunned. “You knew people called you that?”

“Of course I knew,” he answered hoarsely. “I cultivated the image with my charming personality. As long as people left me alone, I didn’t care what they called me.”

Emily smacked him on the arm. “I’ve done everything I can to repair your reputation for the last few weeks. The whole town knows you donated the money to improve the programs here and that you’re responsible for us having this party. I thought you were being very unfairly maligned. You were my hero.”

Grady liked that thought, and he grimaced at the fact that she had used the past tense in her statement. He wanted to always be her hero, but he shrugged. “I’m not exactly…social. I’m an asshole, and all I really had to do was be myself.”

Emily sighed and took a breath to respond, but the words never left her lips. Her face suddenly filled with terror as screams began to fill the room and people scrambled. “P-Paul?” Emily stammered, trying to move out of Grady’s arms. “What are you doing?”

Grady’s gaze shot to a man standing about ten feet to the side of them, a handgun aimed directly at Emily’s head. The guy was wavering, his hands shaking as he held his arms straight in front of him, the lethal weapon slightly tilted. A lunatic, cold, and lifeless gaze trained on Emily told Grady several things at a quick glance: the man was drunk or high, desperate and determined to die.

Oh, fuck no!
He’d just found Emily, and he wasn’t losing her. The bastard could go screw himself. Shifting their positions, he shielded Emily with his body. He could feel her resistance, but she was no match for his brute strength and the adrenaline pumping through his body. The asshole would have to go through him to get to her.

“This your new boyfriend, Emily?” the gunman asked, taking a few steps closer and waving the gun toward Grady. “Grady Sinclair, the billionaire genius. Did you know he’s had agents on my ass for two weeks? I’ve had to hide like a rabbit, in some of the dirtiest holes imaginable. The police never would have found me without you and your boyfriend’s help. This place is going to be surrounded in a few minutes and I’m not going to prison. I’d rather die. But I’m taking you and your asshole boyfriend with me,” Paul said, his voice high, desperate and slurred.

“Paul, don’t do this. You don’t need to shoot anyone,” Emily cried, panicked. “We can walk out of here right now. I’ll go with you as a hostage so you can get away—as long as you don’t use the gun.”

Grady gritted his teeth, his jaw tight, turning her further into safety while his eyes never left the dull, dead eyes of the criminal beside him. His arm gripped like a steel band around Emily’s waist. “Over my dead body,” he growled loud enough for her to hear him.

The bastard might take her, but he’d kill her. Grady could tell by the look on the man’s face that he was determined to die and would be more than happy to take him, Emily, and anyone else who got in his way, along with him. In fact, that was exactly what he wanted. The guy had obviously snapped, his sanity gone. The gun that was swaying in Paul’s hand was a Beretta semi-automatic and Grady shuddered at the number of kids in the building. Luckily, people were pouring out the front door, taking their children out of danger. “Get ready to run like hell and don’t look back,” Grady ordered Emily in a harsh whisper, mentally wishing everyone would hurry the fuck up and get outside. But not everyone was leaving. There were men in the building who had taken cover, but it was mostly the women and children who were exiting. The men were staying as back-up, but sending their women and kids out of harm’s way.

“Close those doors. Nobody else leaves,” Paul screamed in a high-pitched voice.

Go. Go. Go.
Grady could see the last of the women stream out the door with the kids, the door slamming shut behind them.

And then, there was silence.

The only thing he could hear was his heart thundering in his ears, his rage at the fact that Emily was still in danger barely leashed. Grady’s eyes narrowed as Paul stepped closer, now about five feet from his woman. He watched as the gunman’s finger started to twitch on the trigger, the wail of sirens making him edgy. Gut instinct was making the call for Grady, and he knew the time was
now
.

“Run!” he demanded urgently, blocking Emily with his entire body as he lunged for Paul.

The gun fired once as Grady took the asshole down, but it discharged as the two of them were falling, and he took solace in the fact that Emily should be long gone. Finally, Grady let go of the rage that had been simmering inside of him, tearing the gun from Paul’s hand and sliding it far across the wooden floor for one of the other men to retrieve. He was seeing red, his entire focus on the man who had hurt his woman, and put her in danger again tonight.

“You’ll never hurt her again,” he growled, slamming Paul’s head against the hardwood floor.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

The sound of the bastard’s skull hitting the floor was so satisfying that Grady never felt the punches Paul was giving back as Grady pummeled him, not wanting to stop until any threat to Emily was gone, the man beneath him dead.

Several uniformed officers came between them, two pulling Grady off the battered gunman, and two more rolling Paul over to cuff him.

“Easy, man. Let us take over,” one of the officers told him as they laid Grady on his back. “You’ve been shot.” The police started holding pressure to Grady’s side, his expression somber. Raising his head slightly, Grady could see blood. Lots of blood. He wished it had come from the asshole the police were carting away, but he knew it hadn’t. It was his, and he was finally coming out of his haze enough to feel the pain from the wound.

“Oh, God,” Grady heard Emily cry out as she dropped to her knees beside him, handing a policeman the weapon she had obviously recovered when he had slid it across the floor. “Grady! Talk to me, love.”

“I told you to run, woman. Don’t you listen? Are you hurt?”

“No. And I wasn’t leaving you. I wanted to shoot him, but I was afraid I’d hit you,” she replied, her voice tremulous and scared, making Grady wish he could beat the shit out of Paul all over again.

If Grady wasn’t so pissed that she hadn’t taken herself out of harm’s way, he would have been more touched that she’d been so worried about him that she hadn’t run away. “Could you try listening when I’m trying to keep you safe? Stubborn woman,” he grumbled, flinching as the cop applied a little more pressure to his wound.

Emily took his hand and threaded her fingers through his, stroking his hair back from his forehead as she answered, “What am I going to do with you?” she asked, forlorn.

“Keep me,” he answered, his vision starting to blur. “And don’t give me any more hassle about the new truck.” Okay…he was taking advantage, but he’d use every bit of leverage he could get at the moment.

“You’re going to use the edge you have right now to get me to agree?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yep.” He was using whatever he could get.

“Okay,” she whispered agreeably. “If it will make you happy, I’ll do it. Whatever you want right now.”

It made him fucking ecstatic, or as joyful as a guy could be who had just gotten shot. He felt her lips on his forehead right before everything started to fade to black, and decided right then and there that being fussed over by Emily wasn’t a bad way to go out.

E
mily decided almost
immediately that Grady Sinclair was probably the worst patient to ever enter their small-town hospital. He’d wanted to leave the minute the doctor had sutured the gaping wound in his side. Luckily, the bullet had just grazed his flesh, but it had left a substantial laceration.

She had cried like a blubbering child when the doctor had said Grady would be okay with some suturing, antibiotics, and an overnight stay for observation. It might have been amusing that Grady had actually been trying to comfort her when he was the one in pain if she hadn’t been so shaken and relieved.

It had been her fault—Paul was
her
crazy ex-boyfriend—but Grady had risked his own life to save her anyway. Honestly, Emily didn’t think he had even given a thought to his own safety. He had only cared about hers, and the fact that he’d been willing to sacrifice his life to protect her completely floored her. No man she’d ever known, except maybe her father, would have protected her without a single thought to their own safety. Now, she was determined to take care of Grady.

Keeping him in the hospital had been a challenge, and she had gotten desperate and threatened to break her promise to spend Christmas with him if he didn’t follow the doctor’s orders. He grumbled and protested, but he had finally given in. He’d gotten even grouchier when she refused to leave him, telling her to take her ass home and get some sleep. She slept in the recliner beside his bed, not only because she wanted to be with him in case he needed anything, but because she was afraid he’d get up and leave if she didn’t keep him in the bed.

Emily breathed a sigh of relief as she got him back home the next afternoon, more than ready to be away from the hospital and the thoughts that kept racing through her mind about what could have happened to Grady.

“You didn’t tell me you got a tree,” Emily exclaimed as they entered the house, noticing the huge Christmas tree in the corner of the living room for the first time. It was a beauty, full and lush, and at least seven feet tall. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d arrived yesterday, probably because she had been too busy arguing with Grady. And then, too preoccupied with letting him kiss her senseless.

“You like it?” he asked cautiously, grimacing as he moved. “You said you wanted one.”

“You’re hurting. Do you want some pain medicine?” she asked him anxiously.

“No. Do you like the tree?”

“It’s beautiful. I’ll decorate it later. Right now I just want to get you to bed.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, careful not to put pressure on his wound.

“Sweetheart, those are words I’ve wanted to hear from you since the moment I met you. And I’m not going to bed unless you come with me,” he replied obstinately, raising a teasing brow at her as he added, “Seriously? Do you really think you’re going to hold me up if I swoon?”

“Yes. I’m stronger than I look,” she told him defensively. Okay…maybe she couldn’t hold him up, but she could make his trip to the ground less painful.

“Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Feel free to get as close as you want to get,” he told her playfully as he moved slowly toward the stairs.

Emily walked him up the staircase, staying close to him because she needed to be there. She followed him to his bedroom, ready to put him into the enormous bed that looked incredibly inviting.

“Bed,” she insisted.

“Shower,” he said gruffly. “Are you planning to come with me? I could fall and hit my head. Or I might get dizzy.”

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. She had no doubt Grady was in pain, but he was playing this for all it was worth. “I’ll wait outside the door.”

“But what if I need you?” he argued with a weak but wicked grin.

“I’ll be close,” she said sternly, her hands lifting to start unbuttoning his shirt, knowing the motion to do it himself would be painful for him.

“Not close enough,” he said hoarsely. “It’s going to take me awhile to get the image of that asshole pointing a gun at your head to go away.”

Unfastening the last button, she opened his shirt and had to force herself not to gape at the mouthwatering sight of his bare chest and ripped abdomen; his smooth, warm skin stretched over sculpted muscle had her struggling not to salivate.

I need to be clinical. I have to help him. Grady needs me.

She slipped the shirt over his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. “Um…can you handle it from here?” She gulped, looking at the jeans sitting low on his hips, and the fine trail of hair that ran down into the waistband of his jeans. The man had a body that would tempt a saint, and she certainly wasn’t that angelic.

“Nope. Movement hurts. You’ll have to do it,” he said, deadpan.

Her eyes shot to his face. His expression was stoic, but his eyes were pure wicked heat. Her nipples hardened, and fire slithered from her belly and came to rest between her thighs. Even injured, Grady Sinclair was all masculine temptation for her, an alluring mix of demanding male and boyish mischief who had her wondering if she should laugh or be completely mortified.

“Grady,” she warned, licking her parched lips as she looked up at him.

“I need your help, Emily. Please.”

She couldn’t deny him, and to be honest, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to touch him. Her hands were trembling as she reached for the button of his jeans, grateful that there was only one button with a zipper. Honestly, she knew this task would hurt him, the movement required to shower probably excruciating. The arm movements required would pull at his sutures, and the last thing she wanted was for him to reinjure himself. He might be challenging her, but she was knee-deep in this task because she couldn’t stand to cause him another moment of pain.

Her decision made, she pushed him toward the master bath that she had seen as they entered the bedroom. His face flashed a moment of surprise and great deal of longing as he moved obediently.

Once in the bathroom, she lowered the zipper down on his jeans, unable to keep from noticing that she had to work around a very large and hard appendage as she started pulling them down and off his hips, taking a pair of silky boxers along with the pants. “You’re going to let me do all the work. You stand there and let me help you,” she demanded as she motioned for him to step out of his pants now that they were down to his knees.

Before she could think about it and change her mind, she whipped her sweatshirt over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her jeans followed, leaving her feeling completely exposed in only a skimpy bra and panties. After seeing his body, she tried not to fidget with discomfort as she felt his gaze on her. She was body conscious, and wasn’t particularly fond of parading around almost nude. But right now, her insecurities weren’t as important as Grady.

The shower was fancy, and she had to fiddle with the various controls to get the settings correct, but she managed. Holding open the door of the enclosure, she motioned to a naked Grady. “Get in.” His wound was already covered in a protective waterproof bandage, but she’d have to be careful.

He didn’t move, his eyes roaming over her body, and filled with desire. “God, you’re so beautiful it hurts to look at you.”

Emily reached up, pulled the clip from her hair, and let the locks fall haphazardly to her shoulders.

She heard Grady groan, and she knew it wasn’t from pain. He really did find her nearly irresistible and attractive. Feminine power surged through her body, her insecurities falling away as she looked at his fierce eyes caressing her body like she was the only woman alive. And God, it was intoxicating.

“Get in the shower, Grady,” she told him forcefully, knowing she needed a moment to get her thoughts together. “I have to take out my contacts.”

It was the break she needed. She dashed down the staircase in her underwear and grabbed her suitcase, bringing it back upstairs with her so she could get her lens case. Her hands shook as she removed her lenses and placed them in the plastic container, taking deep breaths and trying to remind herself that she was taking care of Grady. He needed her right now.

Stepping back into a bathroom that was now foggy with steam, she heard a groan from the shower and yanked the door open. “I told you not to move,” she scolded, completely forgetting anything else except her need to keep Grady from hurting himself. She snatched the soapy sponge from his hand and dropped it to the shower floor. Reaching for his masculine-smelling soap, she lathered her hands and started stroking his body with long, languid strokes, starting with his back, massaging the tense muscles as she worked.

Every inch of Grady’s body was solid muscle, and as she moved down to his ass, she could feel the incredibly toned glutes that she’d only admired from afar and covered by denim. They were so much hotter and so very real beneath her fingertips, flexing as she smoothed the soap over them.

Get him clean and into bed.

Finishing the back of his body, she washed his hair, pushing his head forward to rinse. “Turn,” she asked him quietly.

He turned compliantly, and she started on his front, nearly moaning as she stroked over the sculpted muscles of his chest.

“Strip,” Grady said huskily. “I want you naked right now. If I can’t fuck you, I at least want to see you.”

“I’m washing you. I don’t need to finish undressing—”

“Take it all off or I’ll do it,” he warned dangerously.

Emily knew he’d do it, and he’d hurt himself. Really, did it matter? She was nearly naked anyway.

She set the soap on the ledge and unhooked the front catch of her bra, pulling the soaked garment off her body. Her panties went down her legs easily, her hands still slick with soap. “I’ll smell like you,” she told him jokingly, feeling suddenly vulnerable before him. Wringing out the lingerie, he hung them over the door and picked the soap up again.

“Good. I want my scent all over you.” He reached out and pulled her against his body, stroking his hand over her back and down, his strong fingers cupping her ass and bringing her aching core against his engorged cock. He moved forward and pinned her body between the tile wall of the enclosure and his overwhelmingly masculine form. “I want you underneath me, moaning my name while I bury myself inside you. I want to watch you come,” he said harshly, his breath coming hard and fast.

“Don’t,” Emily cried, the sound half worry and half longing. “You’ll hurt yourself.” She pushed lightly on his chest, trying to get him to release her.

“Then I suggest you don’t move,” he answered in a hoarse, tortured whisper. “Because I have to touch you. I need to touch you. The pain of not touching you is killing me.”

Emily released a tremulous breath, staying still as he backed up slightly, their eyes meeting and holding. His were filled with a fierce, covetous need that made her entire body quiver and burn like an inferno. Desire clawed at her, some unknown force locking and fusing them together, making her crave him, wanting him to take her in the most carnal ways possible.

His hands moved over her body, while his gaze stayed locked with hers. He cupped her breasts and his thumbs circled and stroked her nipples into hard, sensitive peaks. It was as if the caress of his fingers fired every nerve ending in her body, making her rock her hips, moaning softly as her whole body trembled. She bit her lip, trying to hold back her pleasure, but it wouldn’t be contained.

Grady took his time, exploring the valley between her breasts as one of his hands moved lower, his fingers moving in erotic circles on her sensitized flesh.

“I want to be fucking you right now, but I’ll settle for this.” His hand moved between her thighs, his fingers delving slowly between her wet folds. “I’ll watch you come.”

Emily’s hands slapped against the tile, her knees weakening as Grady explored leisurely, his fingers stroking from her anus to her clit, over and over again. Each time, his finger barely brushed the tiny bundle of nerves, the bud engorged and needy. Her moan escaped her lips completely, and she whimpered, “Please.”

His eyes were blazing with liquid heat as he finally moved his thumb over her clit, but the pressure wasn’t enough. Emily’s eyes fluttered closed, and she thrust her hips forward, begging for relief from the erotic torture. He rotated from breast to breast with his other hand, pinching her nipple hard enough to send a jolt of electric pulsation through her body, followed by a smooth caress.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he demanded, his heated breath caressing her neck, his mouth close to her ear. “Tell me.”

“You,” she moaned, her chest heaving as Grady finally moved his fingers over her clit with more pressure, more urgency.

His mouth covered hers, stealing her breath as his tongue invaded, taking away any will of her own. She was consumed by Grady, and he was stoking her body to a fevered state that left her helpless to his marauding tongue and his demanding fingers.

Over and over, his fingers rubbed over her clit, every brush taking her higher. His tongue was mimicking what he’d like to do with his cock, thrusting in and out of her mouth like a man possessed.

Finally, Emily couldn’t take it anymore. She moved her hand down to cover his, desperate for a rough, vigorous touch that would send her over the edge.