He’d been mostly silent on the way over in her car, but Lexi knew he’d been uncomfortable in the passenger seat. He was used to being in control, he had it written all over him. And he’d been pissed at having to explain himself when the cops had shown up. He’d owned the small space and even though he’d slumped back in the seat, trying to find enough room for his long legs, she’d been aware of every glance—every hot, sideways glance. And there’d been a lot of them. Of course, it could all have been in her imagination.

Lexi bit back a smile as he wrenched open the door to his hotel room and stalked in, although calling the place a “hotel” was a stretch. He was doing the “if I don’t look at you, maybe you’re not here” thing again.

Who knew hot guys who kicked ass with little effort could sulk? Well tough. She was going to make sure he really was okay whether he liked it or not.

“Unless you intend to put out, get out,” he snapped when he noticed she’d followed him in.

Whew. It was something only a total jerk would say. She laughed. “Oooh, that’s good.”

He frowned and raked her with a disgusted glance. “Jesus, don’t you have any self-preservation instincts?”

She turned back from checking out the shabby room and smiled, thinking the semi-confused look really did him justice. She cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, I do and they’re telling me you’re pretty much all talk.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “Yeah?” he said quietly. “How can you be so sure?”

How did he do that? Draw all the energy in the room and channel it into a single, laser-focused stare filled with such savage intensity that it made her legs tremble, her throat go dry and heat explode low down in her abdomen?

She fought the urge to fidget under that look. “You’re a badass. I can totally see that, but threatening a woman, hurting one? I bet you’re the kind who’d rip his own arm off first.”

He shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“Just got good instincts.” She’d had to learn how to size people up quickly at an early age. Sometimes her safety had depended on it. And him? He was rude and surly and he might be lethal to some, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She didn’t know how she knew that exactly, but she’d bet her life on it, probably already was. She was alone here with him in his hotel room and screams in this area probably wouldn’t attract a lot of attention.

“Jesus, do you mind?”

Lexi smiled again. She’d followed him right into the tiny bathroom. He looked kinda cute with the frown and slightly harassed look, and she’d bet “cute” wasn’t normally a word anyone associated with him.

“If you’re not going to go to the hospital, then I at least want to see your injury.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It bled right through your jeans.”

“It’s a fucking scratch.”

“Then you won’t mind if I take a look.” She put her hand on her hip and glanced at his crotch. “You shy?”

“Hardly,” he snorted.

“Then let’s see it.”

His right eyebrow lifted.

She tried to deflect the color she felt rising into her cheeks, but knew the effort was pointless. What was it about this guy that had her normally “unaffected by a hot guy” self all affected and bothered anyway?

He let out a quick breath, muttered something too low for her to catch and reached for his fly. Her mouth went dry, chalk dry. He jerked at the button and yanked his jeans down his thighs in a quick, rough move.

She’d heard the expression “left little to the imagination”. Had heard it and thought nothing of it. Now all she could do was stare at the dark briefs that seemed to cup and emphasize his maleness rather than conceal anything. Of course, that might have had a lot to do with the fact that he was aroused. Very aroused.

In the quiet of the room she was sure he could hear her heart beating. And her swallowing. It was almost deafening to her.

“Been like this since I saw your vertical sex act,” he murmured.

Lexi dragged her eyes up to his. “My…what?”

“I’m guessing you call it dancing.”

She frowned. He’d been watching her dance? God, why? She was pretty much oblivious when she was dancing and certainly didn’t give a thought to who might be watching.

“Ignore it. I plan to,” he added.

Her eyes widened. “You can do that?”

She’d heard about guys who got off on the adrenaline rush of doing something daring, dangerous and the fight probably qualified as that.

He gave her an unfathomable look. “Look, you wanna see it or not? Then take a good look.”

He sat on the edge of the low tub and spread his legs. Wide.

Holy mother of God.

“The scratch, Alexis, the scratch.”

Color filled her face this time in a fast, hot wash. Damn, but she didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about. The scratch was in the general vicinity of his… Wasn’t it?

Yeah, she wasn’t fooling him. Or herself. Her eyes had been glued to the bulge between his legs and she’d been looking her fill. It was that simple. His thin underwear barely covered what it was supposed to with his legs spread. With the fabric stretched taut she could see every bulge and curve and he was just… He just looked…male. God, it was the only word that came to mind to describe him. He was every inch a man and oh, baby, he had himself plenty of inches.

His thighs were thick with muscle and covered in a sprinkling of dark hair she had an insane urge to trail her fingers through. High up toward the leg of his underwear, right between his legs, his skin was hairless and looked smooth, soft even. It was a hint of vulnerability on a guy who was ripped with muscle, corded with toughness.

She swallowed as she forced her gaze down along the inside of his thigh. He might keep calling it a scratch but the cut was an angry-looking line that had to be three inches long and still seeping blood.

“Ah, you should probably put something on that.”

He jerked his head toward the sink. “Have at it then.”

“Me?”

Her gaze shot to his and she just knew he’d been watching her the whole time. Not just looking at her, but watching her—and cataloguing every nuance of her reaction. His dark gaze was hot and burned into hers, searing her in a wave of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

She’d never been anyone’s nurse and was pretty sure she didn’t exactly have a gentle touch. Or the bedside manner to go along with it. She picked up the small medical kit he’d motioned to and frowned. How many guys carried their own first-aid kit around with them, especially one so well stocked and clearly well used? She saw the challenge in his eyes that said she wouldn’t do it. Yeah, she knew how that went. She unzipped the bag and smiled. If he wanted to be her guinea pig, who was she to argue?

She opened a square of gauze and soaked the soft pad in alcohol. Or at least what she assumed was alcohol. This stuff probably stung, right?

There really was no other way to get close enough, so she knelt between his legs, and was all at once surrounded by him. She could feel the heat coming off his big, powerful body, could smell the faint hint of a woodsy aftershave and it didn’t help the steadiness of her hands that he continued to stare at her with those dark, decadent eyes of his.

“So…” She cleared her throat as she leaned in, hoping like hell she could keep her hands steady. “You got a girl in every port then?”

 

Nash frowned. He didn’t think he’d ever “had” a girl. Ever. Not the way she probably meant.

“No,” he ground out, bracing his body as if anticipating a blow when she leaned closer.

“Fuck’em and forget’em type then?”

He cringed. “Alexis…”

“It’s okay. The only thing I can’t stand more than stupidity? Dishonesty.”

He gritted his teeth when she swiped at the cut with something that stung like a bitch. He should have been able to disarm that bastard with his eyes closed. Served him right for allowing her to distract him. The fucker had been aiming for his balls too. Maybe he should have let her loose on him with those boots after all.

Goddamn it though, his favorite jeans. Sliced, ruined and probably stained for good. He’d felt the sharp, hot sting. He’d known it wasn’t serious. He’d had serious plenty of times and this wasn’t it, not even close. But the jeans…damn.

She leaned down closer and frowned. Alexis. The name didn’t seem to suit her at all and he smiled. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she hadn’t asked him for his. She was prickly all right and not something he was used to. He had a type. He knew it and Jake ribbed him about it often enough. Tall, leggy brunettes did it for him, plain and simple. Always had. Long, dark hair was sexy as hell and he liked a body under his that was more his height. Alexis was almost the exact opposite of what really turned him on so why the hell did she have the power to make him say dumb things and think even dumber ones like…did she like to fuck slow and gentle or hard and out of control?

He eased out a breath because that kind of thinking was going to do nothing for the boner that didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

It wasn’t bragging to say he attracted his fair share of female attention. Sure, he got turned down—plenty—but usually he had his pick of willing, happy-to-please women. And who knew he went for prickly?

She might have a slight build, dark blonde hair and couldn’t be over five-foot-four without the boots, but that description didn’t really do justice to the honey shine of her hair, those killer curves or the sharp clarity of her eyes. He couldn’t get a bead on exactly what color they were. Sometimes they looked sort of blue, other times more gray.

Lexi looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “So, where are you from?”

“Here and there,” he bit out.

“Where do you live?”

He thought about the lumpy bed in the next room where he’d likely spend a restless night and shrugged. “Here. At the moment.”

“No.” She frowned. “I meant, where’s your place? You have a house, apartment, someplace at least you keep all your stuff, right?”

With his schedule, anything permanent hadn’t seemed to make any sense and he didn’t think a storage unit was what she meant. He thought about the majority of his weapons and gear stored in lockdown and his duffel out next to the bed. It had everything he needed. “Nope.”

He watched her, trying to ignore the tip of her tongue he could see between her lips as she worked. When was the last time someone else had taken care of a wound he could have easily done himself? The last time he’d permitted anyone to touch him like this? That would be never. Everything he did was calculated. At least it always had been, but this? He had no clue.

He fought back the urge to adjust himself in the restrictive briefs. Besides, he couldn’t very well do that with the way she was kneeling between his legs. It’d been fun to see her turn from sassy bitch to concerned nursemaid. At first. Now he was having a hard time with it. Literally.

“Look, I don’t have anything to offer anyone anyway, except snatches of time and they’re few and far between.”

Now why had he said that? It wasn’t as if he owed her anything and he swore long ago he’d never answer to anyone but himself so where the hell had that come from? He took what he wanted, when he needed to and that was that. Right?

“Hey, ouch.”

“Don’t be a baby.” She glanced up at him quickly. “Something tells me you’ve had far worse than this.”

He frowned. “Yeah.”

“So what you are? You used some fancy moves on Tracey and his idiot goons. Special ops or something like that?”

He stilled. He never talked about himself and usually let people assume whatever the hell they wanted. It might not be technically correct any longer, but close enough. “Something like that.”

She had an uncanny ability to read him despite the vibe he knew he gave off. And she was undeterred by what Jake called his “sparkling personality”. Maybe she even had one of her own. Part of the reason he’d never even thought about a woman and permanent in the same sentence was that he knew himself too well. He was moody, surly and he bored real easy. Even if you took his job out of the picture, it wasn’t a great combination for a long-lasting relationship. Plus, having seen what his parents had done to each other for most of his childhood, well…who’d want to sign up for that?

Her hands kept brushing against his thigh as she worked. Her knuckles had even grazed his balls a time or two and it’d been hell not to groan out loud. Or jerk his hips in response. The only consolation was that she’d gone red each time. His jaw ached with how hard he was clenching his teeth and that had nothing to do with the sting from the antiseptic. Yeah, this had been a fucking brilliant idea of his.

He’d told her to ignore his hard-on, but no way was that happening, at least not for him. The boner wasn’t going anywhere and he had neither the energy nor the inclination to get back out to do anything about it tonight. And he didn’t feel like taking care of business himself. He’d done so much of that over the last few months it’s a wonder he wasn’t permanently blind.

She slapped a bandage over the wound, running her fingers around the edges to make sure it was secure. Each time he steeled himself because there was nothing he wanted more than to grab her hand and push it a little farther, a little higher, against the part of him that hurt the most and it wasn’t the damn cut. Not by a long shot.

Finally.

He breathed a sigh of relief when she moved back, but as she went to stand, she stumbled in the boots he’d probably have fantasies about long into the night. Before she could even gasp, he’d grabbed for her and ended up with a fistful of tank top right between her breasts.

Her eyes were wide and trained on his and his gut clenched. Blue. Right now they were clear and blue. And she was close, so close he could smell her. Sweet, warm, fresh.

Goodbye short-lived relief.

He glanced down and his breath stopped. The bunched fabric pulled taut across the curves of her breasts. Her nipples were small, hard points against the thin material. God, he’d thought he was hard before but his dick hadn’t known hard until right this minute.

He took in a deep breath, but it didn’t do shit when all he wanted was to see what color those hard points were, to see if they’d bead like that after he’d licked them. He took one long, slow last look before he dragged his gaze back up with an effort.

Her lips were moist, as if she’d just licked them. Damn, he’d missed that, but who could blame him? There was so much visual stimulation he didn’t know what he wanted to look at more.

He leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on her mouth and smiled savagely to himself when her lids eased closed and her mouth parted farther. For him. She leaned toward him too. And sighed softly.

Oh. Fuck. Yeah.

He wanted inside her in a way that shocked the hell out of him.

She opened her eyes when he’d made no move on her. It took a second, but he saw the flash in their depths even before she tried to wretch out of his grip.

He held firm. “You wanted me to kiss you, so I’ll kiss you,” he murmured, holding on to her easily.

“Don’t do me any favors,” she spat.

He smiled. “I just prefer a different kind of kiss.”

She froze when he eased his hold and nudged down the strap of her top until if fell off the slope of her smooth shoulder. He ran his fingertip underneath the edge of the fabric and tugged, slowly but firmly, all the time watching her carefully, gauging her reaction.

She trembled when he exposed a nipple. His heartbeat kicked up and need slammed into him with violent force when he looked down. Dark pink. Small and tight and pretty, so fucking pretty. And she wasn’t making any move to stop him.

He bent and blew against her, smiling when she shivered. He lowered his head and licked her gently, lapped at her nipple until she threaded her fingers into his hair, cupped her hands against the back of his head and urged him into her.

He leaned her back over his forearm until it was the only thing holding her up. He pushed the second strap down her arm until her other breast was bare and he was kissing, licking and biting at her there too, his other hand rolling and stroking the nipple between his fingers.

God, she smelled incredible, especially the sweet spot right between her breasts and all at once he wanted her under him with the ability to use not just his mouth, but both hands on her as well, not to mention what he wanted to do to her with other parts of his anatomy. As it was, he was using way too much effort holding her and trying to stop himself from falling ass backward into the tub and it was cramping his style. And pissing him off.

He needed more of her, needed to run his hands over all of her. And to see if she was as wet as he hoped she was for what he wanted. He urged her to her feet and skated a hand up a smooth thigh, taking the skirt with it.

The panties were a surprise. They were simple and white. Cotton. He smiled. Not exactly what he remembered women wore to bars, but what the fuck did he know anymore? Besides, they were a turn on. Who needed satin or lace or anything fancy? Of course, it probably had a lot more to do with what they covered than what they looked like or what they were made of. And he couldn’t wait to see her for himself.

She drew in a sharp breath when he surged up from the tub, taking her with him, lifting her up high against him, his hands somehow finding the lush curves of her ass. He drew in a rough breath when she clasped her arms around his neck and her legs somehow ended up around his waist, her skirt bunched up around her hips.

Nash took another deep breath, his blood pounding in his ears with the urge, the need to get her to the bed, to get her under him, when he took a step forward. And stumbled.

He reached out a hand to steady himself but still managed to slam her into the far wall, her back thumping hard against the surface and her head banging back.

“Shit. Sorry. You okay?” he managed.

“So,” she gasped. “Not so much with the subtle and you prefer them to be knocked out too, huh? I can see how that’d be less effort all around.”

He wasn’t clumsy, had never been clumsy, could safely say he’d never done a clumsy thing in his life before, but he’d forgotten his damn jeans were still down around his ankles. How could he have forgotten that? Sure, he had the scent and taste of a hot, willing woman all over him. Sex was pretty much a sure thing at this point and he wanted the comfort of a bed to act out what he’d already done to her in his mind twenty different ways, but still…how could he have forgotten?

He’d never been so unaware of his surroundings as he was when he’d been touching her and teasing himself with how he was going to go down on her. His balls tightened in a rush at the mere thought of it and he took yet another deep, steadying breath. Again, it didn’t do shit.

He hobbled out to the bed and dropped her down on it with a move that could have used a bit more finesse. Although the way her breasts jiggled may have just made the whole thing more than worth it.

She might come across as a bit of a ball-buster, but he didn’t think she was as tough as she tried to appear. In fact, he’d guarantee it and he wanted to be sure she knew what was in his head. There was a level of something to her—innocence, sweetness, something—and he didn’t want to be the one to mess with that.

“Just so we’re clear?” he forced out. “I wanna fuck.”