The Proviso

24: Hammer of the Gods

He released her as suddenly as he had captured her, arms wide, coolly stepping back, watching her expressionlessly. She drew a shaky breath as she stared at him. She had accepted that he'd demand a decision tonight, but not like that.

Her shoulders stiffened and her chin rose in the air.

"We've spent a whole, what? maybe half a day total with each other, if that?" she finally said.

"Yes."

"This would be very stupid."

"Yes."

"If we do this, it's done and there's no going back. I lose my virginity, you break your covenants. That's a slap on the wrist for me, but excommunication for you."

"Yes."

For a few minutes more she stared at him, her eyes narrowed, before she made up her mind.

"You know what this means to me," she said flatly, "so you don't get the luxury of fucking me and leaving me in the morning. You stay with me until we're mutually sick of each other or we decide we can't live without each other."

"I already told you I was going to keep you."

"Sunrise makes everything look different," she sneered.

"Two years' worth of sunrises without you has been pretty fucking bleak," he snapped back.

After one moment more of staring at him, attempting to suss out any deceit or ulterior motives, she turned and continued toward home, he beside her. A block later, she snatched his hand to pull him into a run toward her house.

By the time they had reached the front door, they were out of breath and he crushed her between his body and the front door for a scorching kiss, his fingers wrapped in hers against the door over their heads.

She needed this man, brash and bold, powerful and brilliant, exotic and hot-blooded. She needed him to want her that badly.

Giselle broke his kiss, turned and punched her code into the keypad by the door, then opened it when it clicked. Thundering percussion and operatic voices hit them when they entered the house, the walls and floor vibrating from the bass.

"What is that?"

"Carmina Burana. Sebastian's downstairs working. He only plays it when he's upset."

Leading the way to her bedroom, she closed the door behind him. Then, suddenly unsure, she dropped her shoes and just stood there, wondering what was next.

Not for long. Bryce knew exactly what to do.

There was no mindless fumbling for buttons and such. In one smooth move, he slipped her jacket off, ripped the dress zipper down her ribs, slid the straps off her shoulders, and let the dress fall to the floor.

His gaze swept down her almost-nude body to see her holster and weapon he surely must have felt when he'd grabbed her. She bent to take it off, but he growled, "Leave it on."

Giselle couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

Bryce deftly unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor while lifting her so that he could suck on her nipple. Giselle's back arched and her head dropped back.

"Wrap your legs around me," he demanded. He pressed his cock up into the V of her legs, stopped only by two or three layers of fabric. "You want that?"

"Yes," she whispered, barely able to think, much less talk.

He lowered her just until her mouth was level with his, her arms wrapped around his neck. One big hand cupping her ass, he pressed her tight to him so she couldn't forget how hard he was. The other big hand cupping the back of her head, he pulled her to him for a kiss.