Guarding Grayson (9 page)

“Margarita,” Gray said. He was tired of beer.

As the bartender moved off to mix their fresh drinks, Gray caught sight of Brynne across the bar. She was glaring at him. Ha, she was jealous. Let her see what it felt like.

Then Brynne turned away and tipped her head toward the cowboy, saying something that made him laugh and lean in, answering her at length. Probably telling her about his cowpony.

Gray turned back to Sara, or whatever her name was. “What brings you to Magic?”

She gave him a look through her lashes. “Maybe I was hoping to meet you.”

He chuckled and she laughed with him. Again, Gray had to quell the urge to lean away from that laugh, and from the predatory glint in her eyes. Instead, knowing Brynne could see, he leaned in. “Sounds like a good enough reason to me.”

She leaned closer as well, her voice dropping to a purr. “I think so too.”

Seeing a flash of white from the corner of his eye, Gray looked over just as Brynne headed onto the dance floor with the cowboy. He growled under his breath. At least the band was playing a fast number and not a slow, ass-grabbing tune.

The brunette looked from him to Brynne and back, and then leaned in to press her full breasts against his arm, her hand on his thigh. “Like to dance?”

“Sure,” Gray said, on his feet and guiding her to the dance floor, nearly pushing her along in his haste. Brynne was out there with two margaritas in her—and he did not trust that cowpoke not to take advantage.

Where was E’ea when he needed her, anyway?

E’ea struggled to gain her balance as Brynne's body moved around her. She felt too light and yet strangely heavy, unable to focus her powers, as if she was being shaken in a beaker of liquid.

Liquid that smelled wonderful, but there was too, too much of it, as if she was drowning in twilight.

“
Brrynne
,” she moaned. “
Whaat is haappeniing
?”

“E’ea?” Brynne answered, her voice strangely breathless. “Hi! I’m having fun, that’s what. Dancing with a cowboy. Western swing—yee-hah!”

“
Oooh
,” E’ea curled into herself as Brynne’s world swung around her in a dizzying whirl. “
No … stop moving
.”

“No way,” Brynne answered, giggling as her male escort swung her in another arc, maintaining contact with his hand, then pulling Brynne in close and pushing her rhythmically around in their upright position.

E’ea focused just enough to see there were several other pairs of humans engaged in like movements, although seemingly none as athletically as Brynne and her partner.

Coupled with the chemicals raging through Brynne’s bloodstream, it was too much.

“
Whaat have you dooone to meeee
?”

“Relax. I just had a couple of margaritas. Take a nap, I’ll be fine.”

“
Buuut Gray-sonn. Must keep saaafe
.”

Brynne snorted, her anger spiking. “He’s in the clutches of a man-eater, all right. But he walked right into her trap, so phooey on him—he can just get himself out too.”

E’ea tried one last time. “
Must … protect hiiim
…”

But then she lost the battle against the mix of the strange substance drugging her host, and movement. So this was tequila. Stasis was her only hope to survive. Humans put themselves through this voluntarily? Unbelievable.

Not even twilight was worth this.

* * *

Brynne let her dance partner—his name was Rhett or Jett or something like that—pull her close against his lean torso as the song changed from fast to slow. She glared over his shoulder as Gray also pulled his partner close enough that her big boobs were all over his chest.
Jerk
—she hoped he caught a—a herpes, or something. She hoped he couldn’t get it up. She hoped …

Gray glared back at her, and for a long moment their gazes locked. Anger and yearning fought inside her, but a little glow of triumph sat right on top.
Ha.
She was giving Gray back the same grief he gave her, but he was
not
walking away. In fact, he was watching her like a hawk … almost as if he was jealous—
of her!

E'ea was right. This was the way to handle her hot, irritating artist, not lying down and letting him walk all over her.

Then two things happened. The brunette leaned up to say something in Gray's ear, her hand slithering up around his neck where it had no business being.

And the cowboy swung Brynne around and slid his hand down to her ass, pulling her so close against his groin that his big silver belt buckle dug into her middle, and something else pressed against her belly.

She reared back. “Hey!” she tugged his arm higher. “I don’t know you well enough for that.”

He grinned down at her. “Be glad to show you ever’thang about me, sweetheart. Let’s go out to my Ford F-150. Take you for a ride you’ll never forget.”
 

Brynne managed to drag his hand back up to her waist. “I’m sure you could. But not tonight. I forgot my spurs.”

He leaned closer and snickered, his breath smelling of beer and mint gum. “You can still ride me hard as you want, cowgirl.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so!” Brynne planted her free hand on his chest and shoved. “I’m done dancing, let me go.”

“Aww, c’mon, dance ain’t over yet,” he began, when suddenly he flew backward. A strong hand on Brynne’s arm yanked her the other way. It was Gray.

Gray scowled at the cowboy, giving him a shove that sent him stumbling backward, nearly missing another couple. “You got a hearing problem? She asked you to let her go.”

The cowboy scowled, his face reddening as other dancers turned to watch. “All right, all right. Just havin’ some fun.”

“Yeah, well go have it with another woman.”

Brynne’s dance partner jerked his cowboy hat down lower and shoved his way through the crowd.

Brynne leaned gratefully into Gray’s hard bulk. “Thank you. I thought I was going to have to—”

“What the hell were you thinking?” he broke in, his gaze stormy. “Letting him grab your ass like that. No wonder he got the wrong idea.”

Brynne stiffened, narrowing her eyes at him. “I beg your pardon, Grayson Stark. I didn’t let him—he just did it. And I was about to—”

He was glaring down at her breasts. “Coming here in that dress—you’re a menace.”

“So it's my fault he pawed me? You take that back." Then another couple bumped her from behind, pushing her into his arms.

Brynne froze, plastered against him from knees to shoulders and all points in between. He felt wonderful, hard and warm and muscular, and smelling of himself and his shaving cologne and lime from the margaritas.

“You’re the menace,” she said grumpily. “Coming in here in this tight shirt and jeans, smelling all sexy.”

His arm closed around her, strong and protective. He pulled her out of the way of a promenading older couple, into the shadows near the back of the bar. His eyes hooded in a way she remembered all too well for her peace of mind. “You think I smell sexy?”

She looked down, which may have been a mistake, as his broad chest filled her vision. “You know I do. I bought you this shaving cologne.”

His chest quivered on a silent chuckle. “And the shirt. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a new dress. One that will cover you up from here …” he touched the hollow at the base of her throats with the pad of his finger, sending a delicious shiver through her, “… clear to your toes.”

Brynne was about to blurt something stupid, such as she’d wear anything he wanted her to, as long as he’d take it off of her. But over his shoulder, she caught sight of the brunette, watching them with narrowed eyes from the edge of the dance floor. She looked angry enough to fight. And he had let the woman paw him.

“You seem to like
her
outfit,” Brynne told Gray. “Pasted on jeans and all.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he began to move to the new song, a slow plea to '
please come back and try once more'
. She could have written the darn lyrics herself. Brynne moved with Gray, her hands resting on his chest, broad and solid and strong, his hands warm and strong on her waist.

“You told me to keep my distance,” he reminded her. “So why d’you care if I’m looking at other women?”

He was being purposely dense now, trying to irritate her. Unfortunately, it was working.

“I don’t care,” she bluffed, shrugging. “She just looks … hard, that’s all. You can do better.”

“Why thank you, baby,” he said, reversing direction so he was backing her through the crowded floor. “That’s real nice of you to look out for me. Any suggestions?” He made a show of looking around. “How about that redhead over there—she’s very attractive.”

Brynne looked. “Fine, if you like cougars. She’s at least forty.”

Gray nodded. “You’re right. Hey, there’s a pretty one—the one with long black hair.”

“Not unless you want to fight for her. Pretty sure the big guy she’s with is her boyfriend, or husband.”

“You’re picky for me,” he said, turning her in a smooth circle, his thighs brushing hers. “No other women here unless you count the ones at that table over there.”

“Jail bait,” she said promptly.  “Now there’s a nice lady at that table.”

Gray looked, and then shuddered, hiding his face against her hair. “Baby, she doesn’t even have all her teeth.”

Brynne snickered, and he dipped his head and nipped her ear. “Best watch out, or you’re gonna be my only remaining prospect.”

Fighting the shiver of pleasure caused by his warm breath and the tiny sting of his teeth, Brynne shoved at him, pulling out of his arms.

“Gee, just what every woman wants to hear,
‘Guess I’ll take you, babe, you’re all that’s left’
.”

And she was not settling for being the one who was there when he was in the mood—not any more. E'ea had convinced her that she was worth more than that. She'd died, and come back to life, and this time she was living it on
her
terms, Gray or no Gray.

Even if the thought cut like a knife.

Turning on her heel, she stalked off the dance floor and toward the nearest exit. A neon sign pointed the way to the
Gents
and
Ladies
. At the far end of the short hallway, a door stood open into the night.

Brynne veered into
Ladies
. She did her business, washed her hands and emerged into the hallway, only to find a wall of man blocking her escape route.

“Going somewhere?” Gray asked, scowling as usual.

Brynne tried to move around him. “Yes. Home—I mean, back to your place.”

He sidestepped, staying in front of her. “Not without me, you’re not.”

Brynne glared. “I don’t need you to watch out for me, Gray. Go back out there and—and find your brunette to do the nasty with you. I can take care of myself.”

“Are you kidding me?” he demanded. “E’ea told us to stay together, especially after dark. I’m not letting you wander around in a strange town at night—and this town
is
strange, trust me.”

Behind them, the band swung into a fast country song, and a roar of approval rose, chairs scraping and feet stomping. Gray muttered a curse, and grabbed Brynne’s hand. “C’mon, we’ll never get through that crowd. We’ll go out the back.”

“Maybe I’m not ready to leave."

He gave her a look. “Really? You wanna stay and play grab-ass with the cowboy some more?”

No, she did not. She wanted to play it with him, but he didn’t want her—not really. And she wasn't asking, no sirree.

Gray shook his head, not waiting for her to answer. “I’m not leaving you here. You want trouble, I’ll give it to you.” 

“What does that mean?” Her heart thumped with excitement as she followed him out the back door of the bar, waiting breathlessly for him to speak again—or to act.

By the light of a single bulb revealing a dusty alley, two dumpsters and an old pickup truck, Gray led Brynne by the hand down a step and along the alley. Wind gusted, sending Brynne’s skirt swirling up and an empty plastic bag flying by, along with a big tumbleweed.

“Welcome to the desert,” Gray said, pulling her along. Just as they reached the shelter of an old awning over a store’s back entrance, thunder rumbled, long and loud. Lightning flickered out on the high desert, and then again, much nearer.

“Oh, my gosh,” Brynne called over the rumble. “Here comes the storm. We should've gone out the front doors.”

Thunder rumbled around them, and rain began to splatter down, big cold drops that splatted in the dust and hit the canvas over their heads with little thwacking sounds.

Brynne yelped, and Gray tucked her against the wall under the awning, and leaned in over her. “Yup. Looks like it’s gonna be a good one. Have some big-ass thunderstorms here in the southwest.”

Brynne moved closer to him, and he slid his arms around her.

“It’s okay, baby. Just some weather,” he told her. “Cold?”

She shook her head, shivering. “It’s … I don’t know—I feel funny.” And not in a good way. There was some weird vibe out here.

“Maybe it’s E’ea. Where is she, anyway?”

Oh, maybe that was the problem, she was used to having E'ea around. “She’s, um, asleep. Turns out she doesn’t tolerate margaritas very well.”

“Well, hell,” Gray said. “I should’ve remembered about that. Good thing I didn’t let her drink tequila for breakfast like she wanted.”

“I didn’t know, or I would never have had anything to drink.”

“Not your fault, if no one told you. You love margaritas.” He cupped her cheek, his breath warm on her face. “How d’you feel now?”

“Still a little … woozy,” she confided. But that might be his nearness, as much as the alcohol. They were cocooned here in the dark, unable to see each other’s faces, communicating by touch.

“Well, we’re safe and dry here, till the rain stops. C’mere. Can’t have you getting wet and chilled.”

Brynne didn’t answer—she was too busy leaning into him, savoring being held close in his strong arms, with his heat and scent surrounding her. She smoothed her hand down over his chest and across the hard swell of his bicep. Gray wasn’t a body-builder with every muscle defined, he was a hot guy who enjoyed being active, worked and played hard, and it showed.

No, she wasn’t chilled in his embrace … but she was sure a certain part of her was wet.

Brynne wasn’t sure if he moved closer, or if she did—or maybe both of them. Their lips brushed. His were soft, warm and curved to fit hers as easily as slipping into silk. The brush of his tongue against hers was even silkier, and it sent a flash of heat through her so strong and sweet she slid her arms up around his neck and opened her mouth to him.

Gray groaned, his face against hers, dragging his mouth and nose down over her face to taste her earlobe, her throat, then her mouth again.

“We shouldn’t,” he told her over the splatting rain. “It’ll just complicate things—and they’re already as complicated as they can get.”

“I don’t care,” she told him, rubbing her breasts on his chest, feeling her flimsy dress slide to bare one breast so her nipple was abraded by his shirt. It felt so good her sex clenched, empty and needy. “I know you don’t want anything more, and I don’t either—not now, when everything’s so crazy. I just need—I need to feel alive, Gray. Then we'll both walk away.” As soon as this trouble was over, anyway.

He groaned again, kissing her again. “I’m incredibly grateful you’re alive, babe. That we—that you get another chance to live. And I need to feel that you’re alive too.”

The rain enclosed them in their own little world, a cocoon of darkness, where anything could happen between them and be right.

He kissed her again, harder and deeper this time, his tongue tangling with hers, exploring her mouth as his big, artist’s hands stroked down her back, molded her ass then pulled her dress up and delved underneath to grasp her bare bottom.

“What are you wearing, a thong?” he asked, nipping her lower lip.

“Kind of … Topper gave it to me.”

“I approve.” He demonstrated by tracing the fragile fabric down into the cleft of her ass, and beyond. Brynne whimpered as his big, knowing fingers traced her wet, swollen sex teasingly. “You still like that.”

Of course she did. She’d have to be dead again not to like that.

“Gray?” she blurted, a chill racing through her. “Do you—do you think I’m really alive? I mean, what if this is just some weird reanimation phase, where E’ea will leave and I’ll be left just … an empty husk?” What if he shouldn't even be touching her like this? She didn't want to contaminate him or something.

He stilled, his arm tightening. “Yes, and no,” he said slowly. “I don’t get how you got to come back to life, sweetheart, but you
are
alive. You are here.”

His fingers moved again, and his voice deepened to sexy velvet. “And I really,
really
don’t think a zombie husk would be all warm and wet and ready for me down here. But you are.”

He dipped his head and kissed her again, stroking her even more intimately. Brynne moved to accommodate him, her leg hooked up around his.

Oh, yes, she was ready for him … from her sex to her heart, swelling with joy, and all points in between. She could hardly believe that she was in his arms again.

“Love the way you respond to me,” he murmured as he delved into her. “So sweet and slick, like honey on my fingers, and on my cock.”

Brynne clutched at him, moaning as he found a place so sensitive that his light touch made her body clench with yearning.

“D’you need me here?” he asked her, stroking again. “Need me to fill you up, and stroke you deep inside, until you can’t do anything but come around me?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Gray, yes.”

“Good, because I need it too. Need
you
.”

He reached between them, and for a moment they jostled in the dark as he unfastened his jeans and donned a condom. His hard length slapped against her inner thighs and then he positioned himself and pressed into her, sliding slowly and carefully home, giving her time to adjust.

When he was deep as he could go, he kissed her again, his hand cupping her head and then pressing her face into his throat as he began to move, strong yet gentle thrusts that made them both quiver with rising pleasure and relentless need.

“Missed you,” he muttered into her hair. “You drive me crazy, but I missed you all the same.”

Somehow his words sent her over the edge, flying into that delicious freefall that was him, big and hard in her arms and inside her sex, so deep she felt possessed, claimed and marked as his alone.

She came, moaning his name against his throat, clutching him to her as sheer, physical joy centered where they were joined and then burst outward through her entire body.

He stiffened in her arms, thrust twice more and then stilled, a muffled shout of release in her hair.

Then he sagged against her, his heart pounding over hers, his breath gusting hot and damp against her temple, his hands still clasping her bare ass. A silly, sentimental part of Brynne wished they could just stay this way forever.

But she forced herself to loosen her. If he pulled away first, it would hurt even more, she told herself, but her heart didn’t believe it.

Strangely, Gray seemed reluctant to let her go. But then, Gray was always at his most mellow after they’d enjoyed each other, his drive and energy muted, his big body relaxed. And this was the time she always wanted to cling to him, and wish that they could stay in the bubble of sweet aftermath.

But they’d never managed it before.

“Can you please move?” she asked, pushing at his shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered, reaching down to make sure their protection stayed in place as he withdrew.

He turned away for a moment, and Brynne busied herself making sure her dress was righted, the shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Couldn’t do anything about her wet panties until they got home.

Gray fastened up his jeans and turned to her just as lightning split the night, illuminating the alley and them in a weird, green-white light, followed by a rumble of thunder so loud Brynne felt it in her marrow, even as every hair on her body stood on end. Terror flooded her.

“
Gray!
” She grabbed him and yanked him back against the wall with her. “Are you all right? Are you hit?”

He held her protectively even as he peered back over his shoulder at the alley. “No, I’m fine. Not sure where that hit, but I think it was right in the alley. Closest I’ve ever been to a strike—and did you see that weird green flash? I’ve never seen lightning that color.”

Brynne peered out past his shoulder, her heart pounding, the taste of adrenaline in the back of her mouth. “I don’t think that was lightning,” she told him.

He tipped his head, peering into her face by the light from the back door of the Kokopelli. The rain had nearly stopped, and now the only sound was the water dripping from the awning, and down rain gutters on the buildings around them.

“What d’you mean, not lightning?” he asked her.

“I mean, I’ve seen that light before,” she told him, scanning the black shadows along the alley, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream. “The night I crashed my Camry.”

Gray was already on the move, leading her from their shelter, heading back for the bar. “Don’t know what’s going on here, but we need to get you inside, and safe. Then we need to wake E’ea up somehow. And this time, I’m calling the sheriff.”

Turned out they didn’t need to.

As they hurried toward the Kokopelli, a crowd spilled out of the back door. The sheriff’s tall, broad-shouldered, was the first to appear.

“You folks all right?” he asked, scanning them both, and then the alley. “What did you see?”

Gray squeezed Brynne’s waist, so she let him speak first. “Lightning strike, right here in the alley,” he said. “Only we’re not so sure it was lightning. It was a weird sort of green.”

Several of the onlookers gasped.

“Aliens,” one man announced. “What’d I tell you, Marge? They’re here.”

The brunette appeared at Gray’s elbow, reaching to cling to him, her eyes wide. “Oh, I’m so scared,” she cried. “Protect me.”

Right, like none of the other able-bodied males in the crowd would do. Brynne was glaring at the other woman.

“We’ll all be fine,” Gray said. He felt like a bone between two pretty dogs who were showing their hackles. But he couldn’t very well shove the brunette away if she was truly frightened.

Brynne jerked away from him with a huff, focusing on the sheriff, who was speaking.

“All right folks, if you’d all move back inside, I’ll have a look around. Frost and Adan, you're with me.”

The crowd shuffled reluctantly back toward the Kokopelli.

“I could help,” one short, rotund man in a fancy western shirt and jeans complained. “If it’s aliens, I know ‘xactly what them bastards look like. My brother Al was taken up, y’know. Described ‘em to me.”

“Oh, hush, Norm,” his wife scolded, tugging on his arm. “You know Al’s full of beans. Come on back in and let the sheriff do his job.”

Brynne followed the crowd toward the bar, her head high, shoulders stiff.

Gray moved to go after her, but found himself shoved hard, sideways into the inky, malodorous shadows of the dumpsters.

“
Hey
!” he roared with equal parts anger and shock as the brunette shoved him again, slamming his shoulder against the side of the metal dumpster. “What the hell? Not interested, okay? Now
back off
!”