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Here is another excerpt scene from Tempting Trouble, when Lance decides to get more personal with his methods of finding out more about the mysterious Grace ;).
***********************
Lance caught glimpses of Grace
throughout the evening. She appeared hard at work;
constantly the mouthpiece
for some senator or key aide who had been instructed to
discuss with certain
Chinese aides.
In those clothes, she looked the part, earnest and perfectly conservative, but Lance remembered the curves underneath. She checked out on the guest list, so she was who she’d said she was. However, the coincidence of her being here was still suspicious.
At least, that was what Lance told himself, as he followed her movements whenever she was in the vicinity. There was something about her that drew him to her—that surprising tart sense of humor, the liquid brown eyes that could light up with anger or laughter, the fluid grace. He wanted to know who this young woman was, and he was determined to see her without her current disguise. He quirked his lips. She couldn’t keep running away every time, not when he intended to catch her by surprise.
It was long past her bedtime when Grace unlocked the door to her apartment, humming her favorite group’s latest hit. Whew. Home. Translation was more work than she’d anticipated. Throwing her satchel on the armchair, she strolled into her dark bedroom, impatiently unbuttoning her jacket blouse and shrugging it off. She sat down on the vanity stool and unstrapped her heels, giving a moan of pleasure after discarding the tortuous things. Ugh, how did anyone wear these things for more than three hours? Closing her eyes, she grumbled softly as she rubbed her arches, savoring the feel of her thumbs. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have Tim there to give her a foot rub.
She arched her back like a cat, yawned and blinked sleepily as she went over the events of the night. Lazily, she unhooked the back of her bra. So much to think about—what with debriefing and then trying to understand that mysterious—
Grace froze. Slowly, she turned her head toward the direction of her bed. Her heart started thudding hard when she confirmed the slight movement she’d caught in the darkness. Someone was in her bed. Someone big, lying there with his hands clasped behind his head. She could pick out his outline from the stream of light coming from her living room.
“Pity. I’d hoped to see more of you before you caught me.”
Lance had been lying there for at least half an hour, after walking around her apartment and picking things up here and there to clue himself in about the woman’s personality. He’d enjoyed being in her bed, taking in her slightly fruity scent, imagining her curling up where he was. He refused to picture her there with that boy in the photo on one of the dressers, the one with his arm casually across her shoulders.
Lance hadn’t expected her to drop her top so quickly, and the whole spectacle of her sitting there in the half-darkness with only her bra and skirt, rubbing her feet, her eyes closed, making throaty moans, had kept him silent. Here was Grace O’Connor without her disguise, all sensuous and sexy, with the shadows and light adding an intimacy to her movements. His quick arousal—fierce and sudden—took him by surprise. He’d watched more intimate revelations in his line of business and very little elicited this kind of reaction any more.
But she appeared to have breached that part of him too. He’d silently willed her to take her bra off and when she’d reached back to comply, he was all but ready to stride off the bed and drag her back into it with him. It was both a relief and a disappointment when she finally realized she wasn’t alone.
Grace heard the voice of the very devil she’d been thinking about, and half-naked as she was, she pivoted to make a mad dash out of her bedroom. Her intruder was faster than she’d thought. One moment, he was lounging there on her sheets, all heavy with indolence, and the next he leapt like a big hunting cat and pounced.
She gasped as he gave her a linebacker’s tackle, and as his weight came down, she shrieked in furious protest, pulling herself back enough to try to land a punch into his solar plexus. She didn’t miss her target by much and it was a solid enough punch that produced a grunt from her assailant. Fear and panic gave her the strength to push him off enough so she could roll over to get up. His hand grasped her right ankle as she got to her knees, pulling her off balance. She landed on her front, sprawled every which way. Desperately, she reached down with one hand and pried his third finger out, pulling it back cruelly. He yelped, cursing loud and strong, and let her ankle go.
Breathlessly gasping for air now, Grace made another attempt to stand up, her tight skirt restricting her movements. The door was just a scant few yards away, and if she could just get to it.Lance rolled over like a log against the back of her feet, flipping her backwards as she made her frantic flight. She landed on her posterior, legs flailing as his limbs and hers tangled together in a ball of flesh and clothing.
The next few minutes were a furious rugby-like grapple. In the darkness, Grace wasn’t even sure which part of him she was punching and biting, and she didn’t particularly care. A part of her registered her attacker wasn’t trying to kill her, just subdue her, and her fear turned into anger as she felt him hold her down limb by limb until she lay panting and perspiring under his male heat.
To her humiliation, she realized that they were upside down to each other: his knees held down her arms, his body lay between her legs, his hands were bands of steel around her calves, while his arms gripped her thighs. She was trapped in a classic wrestling pin down, unable to move. She didn’t want to know where his head was.
Her skirt had ridden up during their struggle and she could feel his rasped breathing against the inside of her naked thighs. Oh…shit.
“You little hellcat,” Lance muttered, soft and grim, after he caught his breath. “You just betrayed your training with those moves.” She’d stunned him with her agility. Although he knew she fought him out of panic, part of him refused to allay her fears. She’d almost got him where it hurt. If it hadn’t been for his superb reflexes, he’d be lying flat on his back right now. “So, little Miss Intern, care to tell me what agency you work for?”
In those clothes, she looked the part, earnest and perfectly conservative, but Lance remembered the curves underneath. She checked out on the guest list, so she was who she’d said she was. However, the coincidence of her being here was still suspicious.
At least, that was what Lance told himself, as he followed her movements whenever she was in the vicinity. There was something about her that drew him to her—that surprising tart sense of humor, the liquid brown eyes that could light up with anger or laughter, the fluid grace. He wanted to know who this young woman was, and he was determined to see her without her current disguise. He quirked his lips. She couldn’t keep running away every time, not when he intended to catch her by surprise.
It was long past her bedtime when Grace unlocked the door to her apartment, humming her favorite group’s latest hit. Whew. Home. Translation was more work than she’d anticipated. Throwing her satchel on the armchair, she strolled into her dark bedroom, impatiently unbuttoning her jacket blouse and shrugging it off. She sat down on the vanity stool and unstrapped her heels, giving a moan of pleasure after discarding the tortuous things. Ugh, how did anyone wear these things for more than three hours? Closing her eyes, she grumbled softly as she rubbed her arches, savoring the feel of her thumbs. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have Tim there to give her a foot rub.
She arched her back like a cat, yawned and blinked sleepily as she went over the events of the night. Lazily, she unhooked the back of her bra. So much to think about—what with debriefing and then trying to understand that mysterious—
Grace froze. Slowly, she turned her head toward the direction of her bed. Her heart started thudding hard when she confirmed the slight movement she’d caught in the darkness. Someone was in her bed. Someone big, lying there with his hands clasped behind his head. She could pick out his outline from the stream of light coming from her living room.
“Pity. I’d hoped to see more of you before you caught me.”
Lance had been lying there for at least half an hour, after walking around her apartment and picking things up here and there to clue himself in about the woman’s personality. He’d enjoyed being in her bed, taking in her slightly fruity scent, imagining her curling up where he was. He refused to picture her there with that boy in the photo on one of the dressers, the one with his arm casually across her shoulders.
Lance hadn’t expected her to drop her top so quickly, and the whole spectacle of her sitting there in the half-darkness with only her bra and skirt, rubbing her feet, her eyes closed, making throaty moans, had kept him silent. Here was Grace O’Connor without her disguise, all sensuous and sexy, with the shadows and light adding an intimacy to her movements. His quick arousal—fierce and sudden—took him by surprise. He’d watched more intimate revelations in his line of business and very little elicited this kind of reaction any more.
But she appeared to have breached that part of him too. He’d silently willed her to take her bra off and when she’d reached back to comply, he was all but ready to stride off the bed and drag her back into it with him. It was both a relief and a disappointment when she finally realized she wasn’t alone.
Grace heard the voice of the very devil she’d been thinking about, and half-naked as she was, she pivoted to make a mad dash out of her bedroom. Her intruder was faster than she’d thought. One moment, he was lounging there on her sheets, all heavy with indolence, and the next he leapt like a big hunting cat and pounced.
She gasped as he gave her a linebacker’s tackle, and as his weight came down, she shrieked in furious protest, pulling herself back enough to try to land a punch into his solar plexus. She didn’t miss her target by much and it was a solid enough punch that produced a grunt from her assailant. Fear and panic gave her the strength to push him off enough so she could roll over to get up. His hand grasped her right ankle as she got to her knees, pulling her off balance. She landed on her front, sprawled every which way. Desperately, she reached down with one hand and pried his third finger out, pulling it back cruelly. He yelped, cursing loud and strong, and let her ankle go.
Breathlessly gasping for air now, Grace made another attempt to stand up, her tight skirt restricting her movements. The door was just a scant few yards away, and if she could just get to it.Lance rolled over like a log against the back of her feet, flipping her backwards as she made her frantic flight. She landed on her posterior, legs flailing as his limbs and hers tangled together in a ball of flesh and clothing.
The next few minutes were a furious rugby-like grapple. In the darkness, Grace wasn’t even sure which part of him she was punching and biting, and she didn’t particularly care. A part of her registered her attacker wasn’t trying to kill her, just subdue her, and her fear turned into anger as she felt him hold her down limb by limb until she lay panting and perspiring under his male heat.
To her humiliation, she realized that they were upside down to each other: his knees held down her arms, his body lay between her legs, his hands were bands of steel around her calves, while his arms gripped her thighs. She was trapped in a classic wrestling pin down, unable to move. She didn’t want to know where his head was.
Her skirt had ridden up during their struggle and she could feel his rasped breathing against the inside of her naked thighs. Oh…shit.
“You little hellcat,” Lance muttered, soft and grim, after he caught his breath. “You just betrayed your training with those moves.” She’d stunned him with her agility. Although he knew she fought him out of panic, part of him refused to allay her fears. She’d almost got him where it hurt. If it hadn’t been for his superb reflexes, he’d be lying flat on his back right now. “So, little Miss Intern, care to tell me what agency you work for?”
***************************
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1 comment:
How did I not know about this? Soooo out of every loop--life is busy these years, in a good way. But wow, I open my blog reader, see your post, read the excerpt and bam. One click buy for my Kindle. :-) Color me happy. Enjoy your holidays Gen!!!
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