The Spy Who Came For Christmas(5)

“I—”

“Jemma…are you crying?” His hand freed hers. His fingers lifted and brushed over her cheek.

A tear had escaped, despite her efforts to hold it back. I hate this. All I wanted was to go out and have fun with him.

“Stay here,” Grayson ordered. “I will go and make that drunk bastard wish—”

“No!” She caught his hand again and held tight. “Forget Matthew. He doesn’t matter. I’m just sorry that—that you got caught up in all of that.” Then she made herself let him go. Jemma stepped back. “I get that you probably want to skip dinner now. And, that’s okay. It was…really nice to meet you, Gray. I hope you—you enjoy your stay in Holly.” After managing to get those words out, she turned on her heel and nearly ran down the sidewalk.

Only she didn’t get to run far. Because Grayson was there—locking his hand around her shoulder and spinning her back around to face him. Caught off balance, Jemma tumbled against him, but he caught her, holding her easily and bracing her against his body.

His strong, warm, muscled body.

His arms were around her. His head tilted down toward her. She could feel his warmth. His power. And—

“I want to kiss you, Jemma White.”

It was really hard to breathe.

“May I kiss you?”

She managed a quick nod. She should have been running away. Leaving as fast as she could, but instead, Jemma was pushing up onto her toes and parting her lips.

What could one kiss hurt?

His mouth touched hers, softly, carefully at first. She didn’t really want careful—she’d had that for years. But she enjoyed the press of his lips to hers. Enjoyed the warmth that uncurled within her.

I thought there would be more than just warmth, with him. I’d hoped—

“That’s nice,” Grayson murmured. “But may I have more?”

And then…then something changed. The kiss wasn’t so careful. Wasn’t so light. It was hard and hungry. Rough and wild. His tongue thrust into her mouth and he just seemed to feast on her.

Sexy. Hot.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her nails dug into him as she held on. Her breasts were aching, her knees doing a jiggle, and she couldn’t get close enough to him. He was sucking her lower lip and Jemma moaned. He bit that lip and her body shuddered. His arousal pressed against her and she—

“Jemma.”

She jerked away from Grayson and saw that Brad was there, glaring at them both.

“What is happening here?” Brad demanded.

“Uh, buddy, if you don’t know…” Grayson began, his voice gruff, heavy with desire.

I did that. I made his voice sound that way.

“I got a report of a fight breaking out in the restaurant.” Brad had his hands on his hips again. His…I-Mean-Business pose. “Want to tell me what hell you’re raising already, Gray?”

“Just taking care of some jerk who didn’t have manners.” Grayson rolled one shoulder in a careless shrug. “No big deal.”

“Less than a day,” Brad gritted out. “You’re here less than a day and you’re already getting into fights?”

Jemma cleared her throat. “It wasn’t his fault. Matthew just…Matthew Vail had too much to drink.” She pointed down the cobblestone road. “He’s that way, if you want to talk to him.”

“If I want to…” Brad’s words ended on a frustrated rush of breath. “Jemma, let me just take you home.”

What? But…she wanted to stay with Grayson. Maybe get back to that awesome kissing they’d been doing.

“Brad.” Grayson braced his legs apart and kept his hands loosely at his sides. “Do you make a habit of interrupting Jemma’s dates?”

“I…I was called in. The restaurant manager was concerned about Jemma—”

“I’m okay.” She straightened her shoulders. “Like I told you, Matthew was drunk. He tried to cause some trouble.”

“By saying shit that he shouldn’t have,” Grayson added. “But we dealt with him, and hopefully, the dumbass is at home, sleeping the booze off.”

Brad looked at Grayson, then Jemma. Then Grayson. “I’ll talk to him,” he said, voice tight. “He knows better than to try shit like this in my town.” He spun on his heel. “Free gym membership or not, he doesn’t get to pull crap like this,” Brad muttered as he stalked off.

Jemma released the breath she’d been holding. At least Brad had stopped talking about taking her home. Seriously—what was she? Twelve? So maybe she didn’t go on a ton of dates, but she didn’t have to be coddled like that. And while Brad was her friend, he didn’t control her life.

No one did.

I won’t let anyone control me. She shivered, the memories from her past trying to sneak forward, pushing up—

No. “Come home with me,” Jemma blurted.

Grayson’s body stiffened. “What?”

And Brad spun around. Figured he’d be close enough to overhear what she’d just said.

“I, um, you want dinner right?” Jemma said, making herself smile. “I told you I knew another great place in town. Well, that place is my kitchen. So how about we have dinner at my house?”