The Spy Who Came For Christmas(21)

He rolled her. Had her under him. Caught her leg and put it over his shoulder so he could drive even deeper into her. She didn’t have any control. Her body was open fully to him and when he thrust down…

“Gray!”

He came right after she did. Her sex was contracting around him, she was trying to breathe and she felt the jerk of his cock in her. Her eyes flew open and she saw the pleasure sweep over his face.

The same wild, consuming pleasure that she felt.

She held him even tighter.

And when it was over…when the climax finally stopped making her body shake and quake, Jemma laughed.

Probably not the response she should have after sex but…

Grayson lifted up onto one elbow and stared down at her.

She couldn’t stop smiling. “You said…” Her heart still drummed too fast. “You weren’t a one orgasm a night kind of guy…”

His grin slowly stretched across his face. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not. I like at least two, three really.” He bent to kiss her. “With you, maybe four.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and joy swept through her. There was no fear or pain or shadows from her past. There was only her Grayson and the absolute certainty that he was the man she needed.

The man she wanted.

The man she…loved?

***

Grayson Cole was a man of his word.

Jemma stretched in the bed, her muscles aching, but in an oh-so-good way. They’d had sex again. And again.

She’d come…three times? Four?

I think I’ll make a new chocolate. One for my special reserve. Gray had inspired her. The new treat would be called The Perfect Sin.

The lamp was off. Her clothes were still scattered around the room, and Grayson had his arm wrapped around her. She couldn’t remember feeling this safe before. This…happy.

His lips brushed against her temple, a gentle kiss good night. Her breath sighed out as her eyes slowly closed.

Being with Grayson felt like some kind of dream. A dream after her nightmare.

If it is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.





Chapter Eight


The sound of jingle bells woke Grayson. He cracked an eye open, groaning because—he wasn’t actually hearing jingle bells, was he?

But the bells just kept ringing. He forced his other eye open.

“That’s my phone,” Jemma said. “Sorry.” She crawled over him—and he sure liked that. She grabbed for her phone and his hands settled around the curve of her hips. “It’s, um, the ring tone I assigned to Brad. You know, because he’s Santa and all.”

His lips wanted to twitch so he let them. When was the last time he’d woken up, smiling?

Try never before.

She was wearing his shirt, looking sexy as all hell with her tousled hair, and he really just wanted to tumble her right back into bed. But she’d answered the call. She’d put Brad on speaker so he could hear the sheriff, too.

“I wish I was calling with good news,” Brad said, sighing. “But your mystery guy has vanished. My guess is he’s staying low for now. Trying to wait for our attention to shift so he can get his ass out of the area.”

Not the words Grayson had wanted to hear.

“I’ll keep a patrol near your shop,” Brad added. Voices rose in the background. “And at your house. I’ll make sure deputies are circling by there, too.”

A circle wasn’t going to help anything. They needed to find this guy.

“You would not believe the shit I am dealing with in this town.” Brad’s voice suddenly sounded very tired. “Not just the normal Christmas craziness. Things are in overdrive.”

The only thing that mattered to Grayson was Jemma’s safety. “I’m going to stay with Jemma.” His voice was definite. “Twenty-four, seven. Until we catch that bastard, just consider me her bodyguard.”

Jemma sucked in a sharp breath.

And Brad went dead silent.

Grayson stared into Jemma’s eyes. She was still straddling him and his hands were curled possessively around her hips. He’d come to Holly in order to recharge. To figure out the rest of his life—

Jemma is the rest. She’s everything I ever wanted.

“Like that, is it?” Brad finally asked.

“Yeah, it’s like that.”

Jemma’s brow wrinkled. “Are you two speaking in man code? I hate man code.”

Grayson winked at her.

“If I learn anything else, you can bet I’ll be calling back,” Brad assured them. “And if you need me, call me. Text me. Get me. I’ll always have your back.”

A few moments later, they ended the call. Jemma started to slide off Grayson, but he tightened his hold on her. “You need to tell him.”

She stilled. “Tell him what?”

“Jemma…” He shook his head. “He’s the sheriff. He needs to know about your past.” Though based on what Brad had said to him before, Grayson suspected the guy already did know. Shit, I more than suspect it.

“Gage is dead. Whatever is happening here, it can’t be related to him.” Jemma was adamant. “I don’t know why someone is targeting me, but it doesn’t have anything to do with him. That was years ago.”

“When someone wants revenge, time doesn’t matter. They can wait as long as necessary.” Hadn’t he learned that truth? On his last mission, hell, he’d realized just how wrong he’d been to put his faith in his partner. The guy had been working against the agency all along. Chuck had been furious with the CIA because he blamed them for the death of his girlfriend, a former Russian intelligence officer who’d been gunned down by her own people after a leak at the CIA had allowed them to learn that she’d been trading secrets to the Americans.