Free Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) by Lynn Raye Harris Page B

wanted right now.
    * * *
    She’d debated the wisdom of staying downstairs and sharing a pizza with her bodyguard, but she’d really wanted the pizza—and she’d wanted the oblivion of a movie.
    Grace colored as she ate and stared at the screen. Who was she kidding? She’d wanted to be near him.
    And that annoyed her very much, because he’d made it clear she was just a job. He’d kissed her to chase Jeffrey away, nothing more. And then he’d unzipped her dress, his fingers brushing her skin and driving her insane, but he’d never once made an inappropriate remark or gesture.
    She’d told Brooke this man wouldn’t be interested in her, and she was right.
    And really, wasn’t that the way it was supposed to be? She was not the sort of woman who jumped into bed with a man just because he looked good and smelled good and made her heart race with a sardonic look and a light touch.
    Or a soul-searing kiss.
    No, not at all.
    The bad guys set off an explosion, and the hero and heroine raced to escape the burning building. They made it just in time, jumping into the water and swimming away.  
    In the next scene, they were in a hotel room, looking very serious and arguing about what came next. And then the hero kissed the heroine—and all bets were off.
    Clothes flew, and the actors did a very convincing job of playing two people who were desperate for each other. The hero slid down the heroine’s body, burying his face between her legs.
    The actress looked as if she were in ecstasy, biting her lip, moaning and crying out. The scene was erotic and so very hot.
    Grace squirmed, her face heating. She didn’t dare to look over at Garrett. She could see him sitting very still at his end of the couch, a solid block of unmoving stone.
    The scene cut to the characters in bed together, the hero moving frantically over the heroine, his buttocks pumping, her legs wrapped around him, their groans rising with the music in the background. Sweat rolled down their bodies, glistening over her nipples and throat, over his toned chest.
    Grace swallowed hard. Oh my.
    Had it ever been that frantic, that hot, between her and Jeffrey? Her and anyone?
    The characters rolled, and then the heroine was bouncing up and down on top of the hero, her breasts jiggling, her eyes rolling back in her head as she made little mewling noises.
    Garrett rocketed to his feet so fast that Grace let out a little scream.
    He was staring down at her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nostrils flaring.
    “It’s late and I’m tired,” he said, his voice sounding like sandpaper grating over iron. “Don’t leave the house for any reason, got it?”
    She nodded, her heart still pounding as he strode from the room and up the stairs.  

CHAPTER SIX

    GARRETT WAS DOING PUSH-UPS when there was a knock on the bedroom door. He paused, thought about ignoring her, but then decided he couldn’t really do that. What if she needed something?
    He got up and wiped his chest with the T-shirt he’d removed and tossed it on the floor, then strode over in his bare feet and yanked the door open.
    Grace stood there in her baggy T-shirt and black stretchy pants, her hair still piled on her head, her blue eyes widening when she took in his bare chest and all the ink there. Yeah, he’d gone a little crazy with ink, but he liked that his body was a canvas. The pain of the tattoo artist’s needle beat the hell out of punching something when he was pissed off or hung up on something that had happened out in the field.
    It was a kind of therapy for him, at least temporarily.
    “I… um, I wanted to say I was sorry.”
    “For what?”
    Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’ve clearly upset you somehow. It wasn’t intentional.”
    He dragged in a breath. “Grace, you haven’t upset me.”
    Her eyes met his again. “But the way you left… I, uh, I’ve made you uncomfortable. I should have changed the channel.”
    He could only gape at her. “You think I was