Page 74 of Garrison's Creed

“I think no good decision ever came from bureau chiefs creating plays from their swivel chairs while drinking no-foam lattes.” He was rambling. That was a lot of words to say the bureaucrats fucked shit up, and it didn’t make him think any less about his empty bed.

“Not what I meant.” She locked eyes on him. “Do you believe in…” Her gaze, so intense, so goddamn gorgeous, almost brought him to his knees. “Point me to your bathroom.”

Believe in what?He sucked a breath and focused on powering down. “Down the hall, to your right.”

He believed in the power of bourbon. He needed a drink to quick-cool his fired up impulses. Jumping her in the kitchen wasn’t the right move. Just like it hadn’t been in the parking lot this afternoon.

Wining and dining. Fancy party dresses and cocktail hours. She might’ve been a spy, but working the Smooth angle had been all high society and hobnobbing. The tuxed-out men making moves on her had buffed fingernails and chauffeurs. He was nothing but a man with a reputation that’d make a sorority girl blush and a hard-on that all but had Nic’s name tattooed on it.

Maybe he’d nix theDie Hardmarathon and find something more likeSleepless in… Cincinnati? No, that wasn’t right.NYC?Los Angeles? No, that was some lawyer-cop show. Maybe he’d find that ‘had me at hello’ movie about sports agents. Didn’t Tom Cruise rappel out of a skyscraper in that? That’d be cool and wouldn’t have him begging for a kiss.

Shit, he shouldn’t have thrown away that Netflix advertisement.

Cash poured the shot of Jim Beam and swallowed it. Assessing his boots, jeans, and t-shirt, he decided to hate Nicola in the field even more. All those Gucci-clad GQ fuckers could kiss his trigger finger. He went into the field, covered in camo and caressing Miss Betty. Nic worked an entirely different angle. He thought of her in the gold dress, hanging on Antilla Smooth, and his stomach turned.

Another shot poured. Another shot down the hatch. He slammed the shot glass on the bar, more than a little jealous that some—

“Hey, I’ve got a better idea, Cash.” His cowboy hat hung on her head. Too big. Tilted to the side. She wore a too large, barely buttoned shirt. His shirt. And that was all he could see. The tease dancing across her face made the room spin sideways.

Goddamn, if she didn’t have him at hey.Screw Tom Cruise andSleepless in South Carolina.

She was freakin’ gorgeous. All tan and legs and flashes of red lace lingerie. He nodded like she’d asked a question and tried to swallow, but his throat ignored the request. Like the rest of him, it froze in place. His pulse quickened, and somehow the heat in the room flew up a couple degrees.

Her voice was a little quieter, pulling him to her. “I found this button down in the bathroom. I didn’t even know you wore dress shirts.”

He’d wear them every single day if she’d walk into a room, giving out half-naked surprises like a Mardi Gras queen. Her sultry smile issued him marching orders.She’s all mine.The words bit through his thoughts and hung on his tongue. Huge steps later, he was on her, around her, and pinning her against the wall, rough and tumble, so damn hungry for her and not at all sure how he’d pull himself away to find a bed.

An oh twisted from her lips, but it wasn’t a complaint. Hell no. It was a bring-it-on breath. She latched one leg around his thigh and took his weight like a champ. Instinct took over. Cash cupped her rounded ass cheeks and squeezed the soft flesh, lifting her into his embrace. Her hips rolled in perfect reply.

“ForgetDie Hard,” was all he managed, sounding ragged and hoarse.

Her quick tongue and lips worked their way under his earlobe. Every muscle fiber in his shoulders and neck tightened and tensed. The rest of his body replicated the sensation, a tidal wave of arousal pounding through his flesh.

“My idea is better,” she purred against his neck.

“Fuck yes.”

Nicola locked eyes with him. Intoxicating chocolate eyes. With that hat cocked on her head, like some sexy country pinup girl, he’d walk across hot coal barefoot and sell Miss Betty to make Nic happy.

Her other leg snaked up his body and locked around his hip. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She felt weightless, like he held nothing and everything at the same time. Cash mentally ordered himself not to drop his pants and slam into her.

Her lips crashed against his, sucking and biting and erasing, kiss by kiss, his idea to act like a gentleman. Her plan oughta be called cowboy up because this woman was ready for a ride.

The room was a sauna. She was almost too hot to hold. Almost. He fought for control, wanting desperately to give her something that she deserved.

His fingers found the brim of the hat. He needed it off. Needed his hands in her thick hair.

She stopped mid-kiss, forcing his eyes to match her laser-sighted intensity. “That’s mine. Don’t touch it.”

“My—”

“Not playing.” Nic bit his bottom lip, refusing to release his gaze, then said, “Try me, and see what happens.”

Oh, she wanted to play? So did he. His brain buzzed. Her lips branded him. Everything burned stronger than the shots of liquor. Cash went for the cowboy hat. Her hand slapped his away, but he pinned it to the wall. “Not a chance, babe.”

Her legs squeezed tighter around him, grinding against his throbbing erection.Fuck, yes, sweet girl. Rub me like that. Resolved for another round of smack and grab, he went for the hat again. She slapped with the other hand, and he pinned that delicate wrist. Both hands were restrained high above her head, leaving her immobile and defenseless. He needed her now. More than the moment he first saw her, the moments before in bed. He needed hot and hard this goddamn second.

The cowboy hat stayed in place, and it looked too good to fuck off. But it’d be fun to try. Not a regular rodeo. A white hot, soul stealing ride.

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