“Sure glad to have you here with us today. And thanks for kicking everyone out. I wanted to in the worst way.” He nodded toward Claire, who was in the kitchen with her mother and stepfather and Mel, cleaning up. “I think in a lot of ways this whole thing is hardest on her. She needs some time alone.”
Gage nodded, not bothering to disagree. Although being alone wasn’t going to be an option for her tonight, and not for the next few nights at least if he had anything to say about it. “Do you need a ride home?”
Wayne gave a sad, weary smile that reminded Gage too much of Danny, but at least he wasn’t drunk. He broke eye contact before answering. “I only had three beers, I’m good.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, cleared his throat as he looked around Claire’s living room and shook his head. “Helluva thing, isn’t it? I always thought I’d be the one to eat a bullet instead of Danny.”
Not what Gage wanted to hear. He waited for the older man to look at him again and pinned Wayne’s gaze with his own. “You’re stronger than he was. And you wouldn’t do that to Claire.” A not-so-subtle reminder that he better not think of doing any such thing.
The older man’s chin came up, and in his eyes Gage saw a spark of the former SF operator. Strong, determined. “No. Figure I’ve done enough damage to her already.” With that comment he patted Gage’s shoulder again and headed for the kitchen.
Gage followed and took the dishtowel from Claire’s mother, being as polite as he could under the circumstances, and exchanged a knowing look with Mel, who nodded. He wanted them all out, now, so Claire could decompress without an audience. “I’ve got this. Y’all go on back to your hotel, try to get some sleep.”
She gave him a small smile. “Thanks.” Her eyes looked bruised underneath, heavy with the shadows of grief. “Shall we?” she said to her husband. After hugging Claire goodbye, they left. Claire’s father followed them a moment later.
Claire hugged Mel, shut the door behind everyone and took a deep breath, her back to him. Gage had already braced himself for her reaction once they were alone and he didn’t have to wait long.
Pushing away from the door, she whirled around to nail him with an angry glare. “What the hell was that, ordering everyone out of my house?”
“You were thinking it. I just put it into action.”
Shaking her head, she stormed past him to snatch the last few plates and cutlery from the coffee table in the living room then stomped into the kitchen to set them on the counter with a thud. “It was rude.”
He followed, careful not to crowd her. “No,
they
were for not noticing they’d overstayed their welcome.”
Her caramel-colored hair rippled down her back as she shook her head in irritation. “My house, Gage, my guests.
My
decision.”
He walked up behind her to help clear the counter of the dishes Mel had washed and she began wiping a damp cloth over it with sharp, angry movements. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes sparking with temper. He was glad to see the fire in her again, but knew she probably wasn’t even aware of what was causing it. His kicking everyone out might have annoyed her, but she was angry about Danny’s death and looking to take it out on someone.
He could feel the anger seething inside her, almost feel it pulsing from her in waves as she did her best to repress it. Gage didn’t mind taking the brunt of the explosion if it gave her the chance to vent some of the confusion and grief.
When he didn’t respond to her statement she stopped to glare at him over her shoulder. “You gonna answer me?”
“What do you want me to say?” He calmly began loading the dishwasher.
Claire stared at him, her mouth falling open. “How about you’re sorry, for starters.”
“Nope. Cuz I’m not.”
That seemed to stun her into silence for a moment. She recovered fast, throwing the cloth down with a fleshy plop to fold her arms across her chest, over her rapidly rising and falling breasts. Her breathing was erratic, her eyes spitting sparks. “Well you should be, because you’re acting like an asshole! You come in here and just take over everything without even asking me what I want.”
“Okay, what do you want?”
Her chin came up, eyes flashing with a tumult of emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher but was pretty sure he could guess at. “I want you to leave.”
“No you don’t.”
The flicker of anger in her gaze burst into a full on blaze as she rounded on him, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. “Yes I do! And don’t tell me what I do and don’t want. Don’t. You. Dare.” Her voice cracked and she blinked fast, a sure sign she was about to lose it.
Rather than back down, Gage shut the dishwasher door and closed the distance between them, advancing on her until he called her bluff and she took a hasty step back. Her spine hit the edge of the counter and still he kept coming, until he was toe to toe with her and she was forced to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. She swallowed, the sound overly loud in the tense silence. This close he could see the fine tremors in her muscles, hear the uneven catch in her breath.
“Back off before I do something we’ll both regret,” she warned in a low voice.
“No.”
“I mean it, back
off
.” She punched the heels of her hands into his chest with surprising force. He didn’t budge because he knew she needed this. She was spoiling for a fight and he was more than willing to give her that release.
He leaned even closer, placed his hands on the counter on either side of her to cage her in, all the while holding her gaze. “No,” he said again, softer this time.
A spurt of panic flickered in her eyes. She tried to duck out from under his arm but he blocked her easily, pinning her hips with his own. Her head snapped up, those wide gray eyes filled with shock as she felt his erection pressing into her belly. She jerked her eyes away, swallowed again. “Let me go. Right now, Gage, I mean it.”
She was strung so tight she was on the verge of shattering. A volcano about to erupt. And God, he’d love nothing more than to incinerate in the ensuing explosion with her. He wasn’t worried about her hurting him. Whatever she could dish out, he could take it and more. “No.”
His calm tone acted like a trigger. With an inarticulate sound of rage, she twisted and shoved at his shoulders. Gage caught her wrists and quickly shifted her away from the counter, backed her up against the kitchen wall and pinned her there with his weight. He had only a moment for his brain to register the feel of her soft curves molded to him before she began struggling, trying to shove him away. Not happening.
He held her there, refusing to back down. Her teeth were bared, eyes narrowed, breath coming in short gasps. Low, animal sounds came from her throat as she fought and got nowhere. He could tell it infuriated her more that he’d subdued her so easily, overpowered her with his greater strength. Recognizing she couldn’t win, after a minute or two she stilled, quivering with fury, every line of her luscious body rigid with anger and outrage. With him so close she was forced to tilt her head back to look into his face. The warm puffs of her uneven breaths bathed his skin.
“Fuck you, let me go,” she snapped, her voice ragged, tight with emotion.
Hands holding her wrists on either side of her head, he waited for her to calm down and meet his gaze. At last she did and he could see the turmoil written there. All the anger and pain, the physical need she was trying to hide from him. Her sweet citrus scent, intensified by her increased body heat, swirled around him. He could get drunk on her so easily. Just lean down and put his mouth to the rapidly thrumming pulse in her neck, taste that soft, fragrant skin.
Holding her gaze, he let one heartbeat of charged silence spread between them. Another. Letting her know without words that he was fully capable of keeping her like this for as long as he wanted. His body was primed, begging him to grab her, tear that tight black skirt and top off her and force her to vent everything that was eating at her from the inside, replace it with white-hot sexual release.
The throb between his legs bordered on painful. He shifted his hips against her and bit back a moan at the feel of her against his erection, noting the way her pupils expanded and her nostrils flared. The evidence of her arousal kicked his lust into high gear. Gage forced himself to take a single, calming breath, waited until the roar in his ears subsided. If this was the last time he got to have her, he was going to make it one hell of a goodbye.
Staring straight into her eyes, he released her wrists and murmured, “Turn it loose.”
Claire was so lost in the dizzying fog of rage engulfing her that it took a moment to realize he’d let her wrists go and for those soft words to penetrate. When they did and his meaning hit home, the breath halted in her throat. Fight him? As in,
really
fight him? It was ridiculous. He outweighed her by at least seventy pounds of solid muscle and had trained most of his life in hand to hand combat. She didn’t want to fight him, she just wanted… God, she didn’t know what she wanted. She couldn’t fucking
think
with him this close.
His eyes were so blue, so intense. “Do it,” he taunted, more forcefully this time. She could practically feel the leashed energy humming in his big frame, every muscle coiled and ready, making her body respond in turn.
Her compressed lungs expanded in a sudden gasp and she drew in a painful breath of air. The pain came rushing back. It hurt. All of it. The funeral, the fallout with what was left of her family, the Taliban cell’s threat hanging over her head and being constantly reminded that she’d thrown Gage out of her life. She shook her head tightly, growing frantic, afraid of what she might do if he kept pushing her. Because part of her
wanted
to fight. Something he’d obviously recognized long before she had.
Her heart pounded a hard, frantic rhythm against her breastbone. Her mouth was dry. He was blocking her in, preventing her from escaping and venting her pain in private. She was on the verge of losing control, teetering on the brink and she didn’t know how to pull back. Gage was like warm steel against her, the hard length of his erection pressed tight to her belly. She could feel him waiting for her decision, poised and ready for her first move. And she knew he wouldn’t back down until she gave it.
Staring up at him through narrowed eyes, her breathing quickened once more. His arms and body caged her so tight there was no escape except to fight. Anger rose, swift and hot. The toxic cloud of emotions closed in, suffocating her in a layer so thick it was all she could do to breathe. A funny sound came out of her throat, a mix of rage and grief that knotted her up inside. Still he refused to ease up. Instinct kicked in. She felt the moment the last of her control snapped, a wire pulled too tight. She attacked.
She twisted to lash out with her fists and knees, screaming her fury. Gage merely grabbed her around the waist and leaned in closer to take away her leverage. Absorbing her blows rather than stopping them. She was too enraged to care if she was hurting him. She kept fighting, desperate to get away from him and lock herself behind a door until she could calm down and vent the ugliness inside her. He wouldn’t allow it.
Pushed beyond all restraint, she reared back to take a swing at his jaw. He caught her fist in one hand and pivoted, swinging her around in front of him as he swept her feet out from under her with a well placed shot from his foot. She threw a hand out to break her fall but Gage caught her easily and flipped her so that he took the brunt of the impact, rolling to his side and winding up on the rug in the dim hallway.
Shaken, she scrambled to her hands and knees. He followed instantly, covering her with his weight before she could gain her balance. Trapping her beneath two hundred ten pounds of muscle. There was nowhere to go. Her mind rebelled, but her body was done. She sagged, sucked in air through her nose as her body quivered, then stilled.
Gage was poised behind her, his strong thighs bracketing hers, thick arms braced on either side of her head. Heat radiated from his torso, pressed tight to her back, the thickness of his erection rigid against her buttocks. He was barely breathing hard, completely unfazed by her attempts to get free as he bent his head until his warm breath brushed over the side of her face.
“Better?” he murmured against her ear.
Goose bumps immediately erupted across her skin, a torrent of sexual desire ripping through her, replacing the anger. Her nipples beaded against the cups of her bra, suddenly hyper sensitive to the barest whisper of fabric against them with every breath she took. A hot pulse ignited between her legs.
Oh, Jesus. The position, the feel of him snug against her, so hot and ready, had her about to incinerate. A puff of warm air gusted over her temple as he nuzzled her there with his nose, lips so close to her skin. If she turned her head just a fraction, they’d be kissing. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing, let her muscles relax. It didn’t help. A voracious hunger clawed at her, twisted her insides with a pounding ache so intense she shuddered.