Then she ran her finger over the swollen head of his cock. His body bucked.
Oh, it was intoxicating to have this power over him. To know she affected him as much as he affected her.
Then she slowly lowered to her knees.
She looked up at him and then licked the head of his cock. His groan was long and loud. She sucked him into her mouth.
“Gemma.” The word was garbled, and his hands clenched in her hair. He tugged her closer.
She took him deeper. She took her time sucking him, listening to his groans. She bobbed her head.
“I don’t want to come in your pretty mouth.” His voice sounded like grit. He yanked her up, and in two seconds, he had her leggings and panties gone. He lifted her onto the counter.
Then he moved his big body between her legs, fitting his cock to where she was wet and achy. He surged forward and was deep inside her in one thrust.
“Boone.” So good. So full.
He started to drive into her, and she gripped the edge of the counter. It was wild, filled with need.
“Jesus, I could stay here forever.” His gold eyes held hers.
For a second, she wanted to look away. She felt like he could see inside her—to every dark corner.
“You fill me up.” She reached down, touching where his girth stretched her to the limit.
“Hang on, Gemma.” He picked up speed. Every thrust wrenched more cries from her. The next few minutes blurred—it was a hot, sexy assault on the senses.
She gripped him tighter, her heels digging into his ass. She heard something get knocked off the counter and hit the floor, but she didn’t care.
Shockingly, her climax hit without warning. She screamed his name.
He pounded into her a few more times, then planted deep, and let out a low, tortured groan. She felt his hot release inside her.
God. Gemma felt wrecked, in the best possible way. She clutched at him to stay upright.
“Gemma. Jesus.” He kissed her.
When they finally separated, she saw the upturned bowl of frosting on the floor. There was sticky, sugary deliciousness everywhere.
“We’ll need to make more frosting,” she said, deadpan.
The sound of his low laugh made her grin.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Okay, so Carruthers is a wealthy businessman who lives in London.” Gemma sat cross-legged on the floor, her hair up in a messy knot, and the laptop on the coffee table in front of her. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
Boone sat behind her on the couch and finished another cupcake. It was his third one, and that was after he’d eaten four muffins earlier. She loved watching his obvious enjoyment of her food. “You like my cupcakes?”
“Best damn thing I’ve ever eaten.” The corner of his lips lifted. “Except for you.”
She felt heat in her cheeks and had to force herself to focus back on her search.
“You might prefer baking, but it looks like you know your way around a computer.”
“The computer science degree comes in handy sometimes. Now, let’s dig a little deeper on Mr. Carruthers.” She made a humming sound. “I have to say, this machine and the secure connection are excellent. Darcy knows her stuff.”
“Carruthers has legitimate businesses, right?” Boone asked.
“Yes. Manufacturing, refrigeration, and air conditioning.” She frowned. “Probably makes it easy to hide nefarious deals in industrial warehouses.”
“Nefarious?” Boone smiled at her.
“It means evil, Boone.”
“I know. I’ve just never heard someone actually use it.”
She poked her tongue out at him. “Oh, Darcy also sent through some data on Carruthers that she’d collated.” Gemma clicked the keys, then she sucked in a harsh breath.
“Gemma?” He pressed a hand to her shoulder.
“It’s a list of the arms sales he’s allegedly made. God. Missiles. Material for bombs.” She felt sick. “He sells to terrorist groups, Boone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You don’t look surprised.”
He shrugged. “I unfortunately came across some shitty people over my years with Ghost Ops. The worst were the ones who put on a good-guy front to the world, while they did the complete opposite in the shadows.”
Gemma whirled onto her knees. “Groups like the Taliban. The people who attack our troops, who took you and killed…”
“My friends. Yeah, men like Carruthers are scum.”
She leaned against his leg for a second, offering him comfort, then swiveled back to the laptop. “Do you think we can find what Carruthers is shopping around for? Maybe that’ll help me work out why he’s coming after me? Do arms dealers have a shopping list or a menu?”
“Vander could get that information.”
“I’ll send him an email.” She hunched over the laptop, then sent off the email. “Now, we just wait.”
“Yes.”
“Waiting is no fun.”
“We can agree on that.”
Gemma rose. “I’m going to get started on dinner. I promised Shep an excellent meal and I’m going to deliver. First up, I have a pie to bake.”
Baking and cooking kept her busy, and kept her mind off the arms dealer hunting her. She lost herself in the pleasure of making the apple pie and getting the crust just right. She made meatballs, and prepped her famous garlic bread.
As dinner time neared, she darted around the kitchen. She wanted the meal to be perfect. As a thank you to Boone and Shep for everything they were doing to help her.
The men were currently out on the porch, drinking a beer and throwing a stick to Atlas. The cool afternoon had given way to a cold evening. The temperatures had dropped, and Boone had the fire roaring.
Smiling, she checked on the spaghetti she had boiling on the stove. She’d doubled the portion she usually made—she was pretty sure Boone and Shep would eat a lot more than she was used to.
The apple pie sat on a plate on the counter. She smiled. She was sure Shep would love it.
She wished they were all just friends, sharing a meal.
She wished she wasn’t being hunted.
Gemma sagged against the counter, her mind turning to Carruthers. Who the hell did he think he was? Ordering men to snatch her? And why?
She sighed. Thanks to her father, she’d met lots of powerful, wealthy men who believed they could do whatever the hell they wanted.
Hands touched her shoulders, and she jumped.
“Take it easy.” Boone was looking at her, worry on his face. She hadn’t even heard him come inside.
“Sorry, I was daydreaming.”
He tipped her chin up. “You mean worrying.”
She blew out a breath. “It’s kind of hard not to.”
He smoothed her hair back behind her ear. “You’re not alone, Gemma.”
“I know.”
“Smells good in here.” Shep walked past them and opened the fridge. He pulled out another bottle of beer. “Is it time to eat?”
Gemma smiled. “Yes, it is. You two sit down and I’ll serve up.”
Soon, she had the garlic bread and salad she’d made in the center of the table. She served the men large plates of meatballs, and a smaller one for herself.
Atlas hovered nearby, but she knew Boone had already fed him. She slipped him a dog treat and his tail wagged.