CHAPTER 4

Emily was on her back on the couch, Grady pinning her body to the leather, before she even knew what had happened. Startled, she stared at the fierce expression on his face, looming right above hers, with trepidation. He’d switched positions so fast that her mind was still whirling.

“It’s only money. And don’t ever say you aren’t worth it and that you aren’t beautiful,” he rumbled angrily. “I grew up with money, I’ve always had it, and now I have more than I’d need in a hundred lifetimes. I don’t give a shit about money. It doesn’t make people happy. Rich people can be pretty damn miserable. Maybe it would be worth it to me to actually experience a different kind of Christmas for a change. I think you’re worth every stupid thing I give you and a hell of a lot more.”

She gaped at him, his words touching a place in her heart that made it ache with sadness. Because right at that moment, she realized that this man wasn’t happy, and probably never had been. The fact that he hated Christmas should have tipped her off, but she’d been too busy wondering why he was doing anything for her to realize that he was actually hurting. Somewhere deep inside, Grady Sinclair had wounds that weren’t visible, but were obviously painful. She’d been too caught up in the money to realize that there was so much more to his behavior than money. In fact, she believed him. The money really did mean nothing to him.

“You don’t have to give me anything to spend Christmas with me, Grady. I want to be with you,” she answered, feeling the truth in her words. “You didn’t need to give so much to the Center, and I don’t need an expensive truck. I’m alone this year too,” she whispered quietly.

“Not anymore,” he answered fiercely. “You have me.”

Emily sighed and her body relaxed beneath his. She could have protested that they barely knew each other, that they hadn’t had more than a spectacular kiss and a long phone conversation. But, the truth was, she had felt the connection between them from the very moment she’d looked up at him from her undignified position on his front porch. But she was a practical woman, and she was afraid that Grady Sinclair was heartbreak waiting to happen. “Did you really think I was a prostitute? Do you . . . um . . . do that a lot?”

“No. But my younger brother Jared seems to think not getting laid on a regular basis makes me irritable,” he replied, his eyes still boring into her, his expression intense.

“Does it?” she asked curiously, wriggling a little to see if she could escape her prison, or at least get her arms loose.

“Not any more irritable than I usually am. But it doesn’t stop him from trying occasionally.”

Emily’s arms finally broke free from between their bodies, and she wrapped them around his neck, aching to try to relieve some of the turmoil she could see in his smoky eyes. “Where is all your family?”

His eyes grew darker. “None of us particularly like the holidays. My father was a drunk, and the holidays weren’t a good time for my family. Evan is conveniently on business in another country where they don’t celebrate Christmas, and my other brothers are working too. My sister is in Aspen with her latest loser boyfriend whom none of us can talk her into dumping even though all he wants is her money.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me,” she told him lightly, stroking the silky strands of hair at the nape of his neck. This man deserved a happier experience, and she was determined to give it to him.

“You’re taking the truck,” he mumbled stubbornly.

“I’m putting up a Christmas tree,” she warned him. “And I’m baking cookies. You have to listen to Christmas music for a whole week.”

He grimaced slightly, but answered, “I don’t care. As long as you stay, and keep the truck, I’ll negotiate.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers.

Every nerve in Emily’s body was vibrating with need, and it was more than just physical. Grady was holding the majority of his weight from her body with his arms, but his muscular body was still plastered against hers from knees to chest, and she could feel the heavy, hard length of his cock pressing against her core. The heat of his body and the scent of his arousal surrounded her, and all she wanted was to melt against him and . . .

Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong.

The huge wall clock struck six o’clock, shaking Emily from her sensual thoughts. “Oh shit . . . the party!” She’d been so distracted that she’d completely forgotten that they needed to get to the party at the Center. She wriggled in earnest, knowing she was already late.

Grady sat up, looking like he was extremely reluctant to move. “What party?”

Emily hopped off the couch and to her feet. “The Christmas party at the Center is tonight. I told you I had to be at the annual Christmas party.”

“You’re not leaving me already?” Grady grumbled, coming to his feet.

“Of course not,” she answered excitedly. “You’re coming with me.”

“I hate parties,” he replied with a reluctant expression.

“You won’t hate this one,” she promised, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Most of the town shows up.”

“I’m not dressed for a party,” he argued.

Emily eyed his jeans and tan cable-knit sweater that looked and felt very much like cashmere. He looked good enough to eat and she’d savor every bite. “It’s casual. You look gorgeous.”

He shot her a wicked grin that sent incendiary heat directly between her thighs.

Grady Sinclair was an unholy temptation no matter what he was wearing, and she had to tear her gaze away from his to even make it out the door.

Grady went to the party, unable to stop himself from following Emily wherever she led. The woman was like a Pied Piper who led him around by his swollen cock. But the moment they arrived at the YCOA, Emily had to circulate and do her job, so he headed straight for the patio. The guests for the party were already arriving and filling the recreation area of the Center. Wishing he hadn’t left his leather jacket at the door, he paced the small patio area to keep warm, reminding himself that he wasn’t a kid anymore.

I can do this. I need to do this. If being near Emily means I have to conquer my fears, then damn it, I will.

Striding determinedly toward the glass patio doors that he’d slipped out of earlier, he stepped inside and stopped abruptly, the music and noise hitting him instantly, and his gut started to roil with apprehension.

He could see Emily on the other side of the room, helping Santa pass out gifts to the crowd of children around a massive tree. Some of the adults were dancing on the wooden floor, swaying to a sappy old Christmas tune coming from a set of speakers near the dancing area. Grady suspected that this enormous space was probably a basketball court or a sports area for the kids when it wasn’t being used for a Christmas party. Honestly, he didn’t have time to look that closely because he was overcome with dizziness and nausea, the floor tilting, his vision blurred as he broke out in a nervous sweat.

Fuck! Not now. I can’t do this right now.

Grady’s hand grasped the frame of the door to steady himself, cursing his own weakness.

“Grady? Are you okay? Are you sick?” Emily had come over and was standing right in front of Grady.

“Hate parties,” he reminded her, his voice graveled and weak.

Emily cupped both sides of his head and tilted his gaze to her. He stared into her gorgeous blue eyes, his vision clearing as she said sternly, “Look at me. Don’t look anywhere else. Focus on me.”

Her concerned, compassionate, beautiful face turned the world upright again, and his hungry gaze looked at nothing but her. Suddenly, everything else faded, and there was nothing but Emily.

Walking backward, she took his hands and led him into the room, her eyes never leaving his. Grady didn’t even notice where she was taking him until she halted at the edge of dance floor.

“I need you to dance with me, Grady. I need you to touch me. Can you do that?” she asked in a sultry, fuck-me-right-now voice.

She needs me.

All Emily had to do was say that she needed him, and he snapped to attention. If she needed, he was going to provide. He wrapped his arms around her with a masculine sigh, his body relaxing as he felt her warm, curvy body mold itself against him, making everything right with the world. Closing his eyes, he inhaled against her temple, the silky strands of her hair caressing his cheek, her warm breath hitting his neck in comforting puffs of air.

“Emily,” he mumbled incoherently, every nuance that was uniquely her enfolding him as she wrapped her arms around him, stroking his upper back and the nape of his neck. There was no better feeling than holding this woman in his arms. The Christmas music was even louder here, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care about the crowd of people he didn’t know or what they were thinking. There was only Emily and the way she fit perfectly against his body.

She didn’t ask what was wrong; she just held on to him, clung to him, sinking into him like they’d been doing this forever, and Grady savored it. He moved to the rhythm of the music automatically, and Emily followed, the two of them lost in their own little world.

The songs changed, but they still danced, Emily finally tilting her head and whispering to him, “Okay now?”

Grady opened his eyes and looked around him. Some people were looking at him curiously, but mostly all he could see was people genuinely enjoying themselves. The kids were squealing over their presents, showing them off to one another. And the adults were laughing jovially and talking, gathered together in groups around the food tables. Somehow . . . he was able to see everything as an adult, and it was just . . . a party. It was a gathering of people who truly seemed to be having a great time in the company of people they actually liked. There wasn’t a designer gown or tuxedo anywhere in the room, and these were not the same people who had humiliated him in the past.

“Yeah,” he answered gruffly. “Yeah, I am okay.” How could he not be absolutely fantastic when he was holding the most gorgeous woman in the room, a woman so warm and sweet that he wanted nothing more than to devour her? “Thanks,” he added quietly.

She tilted her head back to look at him with a naughty smile. “No need to thank me. I wanted to dance with the most handsome guy in the room.”

Grady grinned. “And you think that’s me, huh?”

“I know it is.” She winked at him and smiled.

His cock was already hard enough to split diamonds just from holding her. Unable to grow any more engorged, it twitched eagerly, making him swallow a groan. There was nothing he wanted more than to bury himself to the hilt inside Emily and never leave her heat. Dropping his hands to her lower back, he nudged her against him. “I want you so badly I can hardly breathe,” he admitted, not caring who heard him.

Her expression turned beautifully aroused, her eyes heated as she glanced back at him longingly. “Kiss me,” she demanded breathlessly.

“I’m afraid,” Grady answered, falling further under her spell.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop.”

He felt her body trembling, and he couldn’t deny her or himself any longer. He swooped down and captured her tempting lips, wanting to brand her as his, make sure she never escaped.

Mine!

The kiss was a declaration for him, a fierce possession to let her know he had no intention of ever letting her go. All pretense of dancing stopped as he threaded his fingers through her hair with one hand, holding her head hostage for his marauding mouth. Then he pressed her hips hard against his groin with his other hand, doing a primal dance that had nothing to do with the holidays.

He demanded, and she gave, submitting herself to his possessive embrace, making him completely lose it.

She’s mine.

Grady’s need was primitive, and all-consuming, his desire fueled by her submission and passionate response. She clung to him like he was her life raft in the middle of the ocean, and he relished it. All he wanted to do was shelter her, protect her from anything and everything that might harm her, make her smile every single day for the rest of his life.

They broke apart, panting and gasping for breath, staring at each other like they wanted nothing more than to tear each other’s clothes off to get closer. Grady nearly groaned at the thought of being skin to skin with her, losing himself in her softness.

I need her so damn much.

He and Emily were in the shadows, but he could see some people looking on with smiles and he heard some wolf whistles, approvals of the show he and Emily had just put on. But he didn’t care. Something feral inside him wanted her drenched in his scent, warning every man in the room that she was his.

“I guess not everyone thinks I’m the Amesport Beast anymore,” he said gutturally, still trying to get his ragged breathing under control.

Emily looked at him, stunned. “You knew people called you that?”

“Of course I knew,” he answered hoarsely. “I cultivated the image with my charming personality. As long as people left me alone, I didn’t care what they called me.”

Emily smacked him on the arm. “I’ve done everything I can to repair your reputation for the last few weeks. The whole town knows you donated the money to improve the programs here and that you’re responsible for us having this party. I thought you were being very unfairly maligned. You were my hero.”

Grady liked that thought, and he grimaced at the fact that she had used the past tense in her statement. He wanted to always be her hero, but he shrugged. “I’m not exactly . . . social. I’m an asshole, and all I really had to do was be myself.”

Emily sighed and took a breath to respond, but the words never left her lips. Her face suddenly filled with terror as screams began to fill the room and people scrambled. “P-Paul?” Emily stammered, trying to move out of Grady’s arms. “What are you doing?”

Grady’s gaze shot to a man standing about ten feet to the side of them, a handgun aimed directly at Emily’s head. The guy was wavering, his hands shaking as he held his arms straight in front of him, the lethal weapon slightly tilted. A lunatic, cold, and lifeless gaze trained on Emily told Grady several things at a quick glance: the man was drunk or high, desperate, and determined to die.

Oh, fuck no! He’d just found Emily, and he wasn’t losing her. The bastard could go screw himself. Shifting their positions, he shielded Emily with his body. He could feel her resistance, but she was no match for his brute strength and the adrenaline pumping through his body. The asshole would have to go through him to get to her.

“This your new boyfriend, Emily?” the gunman asked, taking a few steps closer and waving the gun toward Grady. “Grady Sinclair, the billionaire genius. Did you know he’s had agents on my ass for two weeks? Everywhere I go, at every one of my usual hiding places, my friends tell me that Grady Sinclair has had his private security force there looking for me. I’ve had to hide like a rabbit, in some of the dirtiest holes imaginable, because I can’t stay in my usual hideouts. The police never would have found me without you and your boyfriend’s help. He put private investigators everywhere, and they report everything to the police. There’s nowhere left for me to hide anymore. This place is going to be surrounded in a few minutes and I’m not going to prison because his employees are breathing down my neck now along with the police. I’d rather die. But I’m taking you and your asshole boyfriend with me,” Paul said, his voice high, desperate, and slurred. “The police never would have found me without his money and power to put so many people on my ass that I couldn’t escape.”

“Paul, don’t do this. You don’t need to shoot anyone,” Emily cried, panicked. “We can walk out of here right now. I’ll go with you as a hostage so you can get away—as long as you don’t use the gun.”

Grady gritted his teeth, his jaw tight, turning her farther toward safety while his eyes never left the dull, dead eyes of the criminal beside him. His arm gripped like a steel band around Emily’s waist. “Over my dead body,” he growled loud enough for her to hear him.

The bastard might take her, but he’d kill her. Grady could tell by the look on the man’s face that he was determined to die and would be more than happy to take him, Emily, and anyone else who got in his way, along with him. In fact, that was exactly what he wanted. The guy had obviously snapped, his sanity gone. The gun that was swaying in Paul’s hand was a Beretta semiautomatic, and Grady shuddered at the number of kids in the building. Luckily, people were pouring out the front door, taking their children out of danger. “Get ready to run like hell and don’t look back,” Grady ordered Emily in a harsh whisper, mentally wishing everyone would hurry the fuck up and get outside. But not everyone was leaving. There were men in the building who had taken cover, but it was mostly the women and children who were exiting. The men were staying as backup, but sending their women and kids out of harm’s way.

“Close those doors. Nobody else leaves,” Paul screamed in a high-pitched voice.

Go. Go. Go. Grady could see the last of the women stream out the door with the kids, the door slamming shut behind them.

And then there was silence.

The only thing he could hear was his heart thundering in his ears, his rage at the fact that Emily was still in danger barely leashed. Grady’s eyes narrowed as Paul stepped closer, now about five feet from his woman. He watched as the gunman’s finger started to twitch on the trigger, the wail of sirens making him edgy. Gut instinct was making the call for Grady, and he knew the time was now.

“Run!” he demanded urgently, blocking Emily with his entire body as he lunged for Paul.

The gun fired once as Grady took the asshole down, but it discharged as the two of them were falling, and he took solace in the fact that Emily should be long gone. Finally, Grady let go of the rage that had been simmering inside of him, tearing the gun from Paul’s hand and sliding it far across the wooden floor for one of the other men to retrieve. He was seeing red, his entire focus on the man who had hurt his woman and put her in danger again tonight.

“You’ll never hurt her again,” he growled, slamming Paul’s head against the hardwood floor.

Crack!

The sound of the bastard’s skull hitting the floor was so satisfying that Grady never felt the punches Paul was giving back as Grady pummeled him, not wanting to stop until any threat to Emily was gone, the man beneath him dead.

Several uniformed officers came between them, two pulling Grady off the battered gunman and two more rolling Paul over to cuff him.

“Easy, man. Let us take over,” one of the officers told him as they laid Grady on his back. “You’ve been shot.” The police started holding pressure to Grady’s side, his expression somber. Raising his head slightly, Grady could see blood. Lots of blood. He wished it had come from the asshole the police were carting away, but he knew it hadn’t. It was his, and he was finally coming out of his haze enough to feel the pain from the wound.

“Oh, God,” Grady heard Emily cry out as she dropped to her knees beside him, handing a policeman the weapon she had obviously recovered when he had slid it across the floor. “Grady! Talk to me, love.”

“I told you to run. Don’t you listen? Are you hurt?”

“No. And I wasn’t leaving you. I wanted to shoot him, but I was afraid I’d hit you,” she replied, her voice tremulous and scared, making Grady wish he could beat the shit out of Paul all over again.

If Grady weren’t so pissed that she hadn’t taken herself out of harm’s way, he would have been more touched that she’d been so worried about him that she hadn’t run away. “Could you try listening when I’m trying to keep you safe? Stubborn woman,” he grumbled, flinching as the cop applied a little more pressure to his wound.

Emily took his hand and threaded her fingers through his, stroking his hair back from his forehead. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked, forlorn.

“Keep me,” he answered, his vision starting to blur. “And don’t give me any more hassle about the new truck.” Okay . . . he was taking advantage, but he’d use every bit of leverage he could get at the moment.

“You’re going to use the edge you have right now to get me to agree?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yep.” He was using whatever he could get.

“Okay,” she whispered agreeably. “If it will make you happy, I’ll do it. Whatever you want right now.”

It made him fucking ecstatic, or as joyful as a guy could be who had just gotten shot. He felt her lips on his forehead right before everything started to fade to black, and decided right then and there that being fussed over by Emily wasn’t a bad way to go out.