Page 127 of Crossfire

Hitting that perfect spot deep inside.

Spine arching, I leaned back, my eyes locked with Grayson’s.

His thumb found my sensitive bud, circling it with devastating precision. I could only surrender to the sensation as I teetered on the brink.

“Now that I have you,” he rasped, his voice a dark promise, “I’ll never let you go.”

That’s all it took for me to break over the edge.

I shattered around him, our gazes locked in a searing connection as I pulsed and quivered with the force of my release. Grayson’s grip on my hips tightened, holding me flush against him as he followed me over the edge with his own climax.

We clung to each other, hearts racing, until the last tremors of pleasure ebbed away, leaving us spent and breathless in the aftermath.

54

IVY

“Where are we going?”

When we left the cabin, Grayson had simply said there was someone who could help us, but he failed to say who. Or where they were. And I’d been too upset to ask. That’s what happens when a sanctioned killer almost ends your life—for a second freaking time. It takes a second for a girl to get her thoughts back in order.

“To my brother’s house.”

“Yourbrother?” I choked. Wasthatwhy he’d let me take a quick shower and freshen up before we left the cabin? If so, I wish I could’ve freshened up again, so I didn’t smell like the sex we’d hadafterhaving left said cabin. “Which one?”

He arched an impressed eyebrow at me. “You remembered I have three?”

He told me this the day we had our first kiss. So, yes, of course I remembered that.

Yet…this wholemeeting the familything felt unexpectedly intimate. Especially when you consider, “I don’t even know what your last name is.”

Grayson hesitated, perhaps used to not giving out information, but I was about to meet his brother at hishome. Anyone could look up public records.

“Lockwood,” Grayson allowed. “Our last name is Lockwood. We’re heading to Hunter’s place.”

“Does he work for the CIA, too?”

Grayson’s attention was glued to the road in front of us as the view of the city grew bigger.

“No.”

All righty then.

“So, he doesn’t know you’re a hit man?”

Grayson’s eyes deepened to the rich hue of twilight-cloaked pines as they raked over me once more—making my pulse skip. I swear, if he kept stealing glances at me like this, his gaze lingering just a little too long, the car would need to develop some serious autopilot skills—and fast. Otherwise, we’d end up wrapped around a tree, courtesy of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Smoldering over here.

“I prefer the termCIA operative.”

Of course you do.

“Does he know you’re a hit man in a tie?”

Based on the icy glare Grayson gave me, he didn’t find my retort amusing.

“No,” he grumbled. “And you won’t tell them.”

See? Grayson knew nothing about women or relationships; if he did, he would know that women like me did not like being told what to do.

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