Free Lace & Lead (novella) by M.A. Grant Page B

raising it up off the table. She struggled against his grip, trying to rip herself free. He didn’t let go. She held onto her righteous indignation even though his eyes had cleared, even though he was looking at her in wonderment. He began laughing and wrapped his arms around her, pressed his forehead to hers, holding her up against him, her feet dangling off the floor. “You’re something else,” he murmured.
    “Put me down!”
    Or, she would have said that if he hadn’t chosen that moment to kiss her so deeply she felt her toes curling in her shoes.
    Then he set her down.
    “You understand what you’ve just done, right?” he asked, picking up a napkin and attempting to wipe some of the food off his vest.
    She couldn’t speak yet.
    “I’m pushy, stubborn and mean. I yell a lot and swear too damn much. I’m irrational about stupid shit. I will beat a man to death for acknowledging you’re attractive.”
    He’d backed her into the edge of the table. She stared up at him, mute, taking in every movement of his eyes, every change to the line of his mouth. He was watching her with the intensity of a predator.
    “I will worship you for as long as I live and sometimes you will hate me for it.”
    Now she opened her mouth to respond but he laid a finger gently over her lips, stopping her before she could say anything. “And despite all of that, I don’t care if you walk out tomorrow and leave me here,” he said hoarsely, “as long as you’re mine tonight.”

Chapter 7
    His heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest after that admission. He tried to ignore that he’d actually meant every word he’d said. He’d analyse his emotions later. And the way she flung her arms around him and kissed him meant that later was going to be a ways off.
    He somehow got her back to his room, set her down on his bed and knelt beside it, finally pulling his lips away from her mouth. She looked so tiny sitting there, even though he was on his knees. A part of him hoped that this was some kind of joke, a twisted prank, one he’d get over and move on from. But the way she was biting her lower lip, the anxiety and anticipation in her eyes, was sending another surge of adrenaline through his body.
    If this was real, he’d never be able to forget her. If she did walk out, he’d go out on every mission with a death wish.
    “Please.” Her voice was husky. She reached out and put a hand on his forearm.
    He stood up, not bothering to hide his base lust, the aggressive lines of his body, his overwhelming size in comparison to her slight frame. She’d weighed nothing in his arms and still she looked at him like he was the only thing in the world.
    Equipment was thrown hastily in its various places. He stripped off the vest, letting it hit the floor beside him with a dull thud. The tank followed.
    Her eyes widened again and he knew she was looking over his scars. Most women he’d been with had been simultaneously turned on and disgusted by them. But Emma was looking at them with a familiarity she shouldn’t have.
    You were hoping she’d be scared by them. You’re trying to get her to back down , he told himself.
    To an extent, this was true but it was easier to rationalise it as his need to make sure she knew exactly what she’d be getting from him.
    He slid out of his boots, flung them carelessly to the side and popped the top button of his pants. She had a dazed expression on her face. He knew how she felt.
    He was sure he was going to wake up any second.
    “Are you a—” he started, but gentled his voice when he saw the flush of embarrassment rising in her cheeks. “Have you ever—”
    “No.”
    He shook his head, the civilised part of him reining in the little control he had left. “Your first time...it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be with me.”
    She gave him an undecipherable look. “Why not?”
    “I’m not pretty about it.”
    She stood up, closing the distance between their bodies. He fought