For him.

The thick support of one of the cushions that covered the lounge chairs met her back. Graham covered her, his hips pressing and rubbing into the vee of her thighs.

“Damn you,” he growled, his lips moving from her mouth to her neck, placing stinging kisses as the short length of his beard rasped against her flesh.

The erotic abrasion had her lifting to him, needing more. Fingers tightening in his hair, she held his lips to her neck, encouraging his teeth to scrape against it. His lips and tongue drove her insane as they stimulated the oversensitive nerve endings and responsive flesh.

“Damn clothes,” he snarled suddenly. Lifting his weight from her he pushed the silken top over her breasts.

Unbound, her nipples pebble hard, the swollen curves felt too tight, too sensitive as he cupped one with his palm and lifted it to his lips.

The sound of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” sang from the kitchen, the ringtone instantly pulling Graham’s attention from the needy tip of her breast.

“Fuck!” he bit out.

Jumping up from the lounge chair, his jaw tight as his gaze raked over her in hungry regret, he rushed to the kitchen.

—

Every cell in his body was screaming in outrage as Graham stomped to the kitchen and jerked the cell phone from the table. Activating the call, he brought the device to his ear with a sharp, “What?”

“You have friendlies entering the driveway,” Elijah hissed. “And don’t cuss me. I just found out myself when Cranston called Doogan. Now call Doogan and get me the hell out of here.”

“And how did they know where she was, Elijah?” Graham asked carefully, anger tearing through him. “Just how loud did you squeal?”

“Hell no,” Elijah retorted, the denial sharp. “I didn’t tell them shit. But I’m pretty damned sure Doogan might have texted Cranston. I saw him texting. Twenty minutes later the alarm coming into your property activated an image of Campbell’s truck racing past. Now get me the hell out of here.”

Graham disconnected the call.

Staring back at Lyrica as she stepped into the kitchen, her expression questioning, he couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t for the best.

“You’re about to be rescued,” he stated as he shoved the phone into the holster he’d taken it from earlier. “Your brother-in-law and god knows who else is pulling into the drive now.”

She didn’t speak; she just watched him. Damned if he could read that look, either. Somber, intense, expectant. What the fuck was he supposed to say or do? He was so damned hard he could drive spikes with his dick. The need to fuck her was like a hunger that burned and raged through his senses.

“Don’t leave, Lyrica.” He forced the words past his lips, and dammit, that was more than he’d ever given any other woman. He’d never regretted seeing one leave before, and he’d never wanted to ask one to stay longer.

“What would staying accomplish?” she asked softly. “I’ll end up in your bed and you’ll break my heart. Is that something either of us wants or needs, Graham? Do we want that between us?”

“And you think you can just walk away from it?” he asked, almost amused at the idea of it. “Son of a bitch, you really are too damned innocent for this, Lyrica. Otherwise you’d know it’s simply not that fucking easy.”

A frown pulled at her brow as she pushed her hands into the pockets of the jeans she wore and stared at her feet for a long moment. As her head lifted, her lips parting to speak, a hard fist landed on the front door.

“The cavalry,” he said, mocking her softly. “You’ve been rescued, baby.”

Turning, he strode from the kitchen and along the hall to the front door. Checking the security monitor at the entrance, he glimpsed Brogan Campbell’s hard features as well as Chief of Police Alex Jansen. Behind them, former special agent Timothy Cranston of the Department of Homeland Security.

He could sense Lyrica behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her at the kitchen entrance, still watching him with those dark, solemn emerald eyes. She wasn’t going to say a damned thing, was she? No protest, no regret. She was ready to leave, plain and simple.

Turning back, he jerked the door open and stepped back.

“There she is, safe and sound,” he snarled back at the men, ignoring their surprise. “Take her the fuck home and see if you can’t keep her ass out of trouble long enough to find out who the fuck is trying to kill her.”

He’d be damned if he’d watch her walk out of his house. Hell, he didn’t know if he could watch her walk away. He’d end up throwing her over his shoulder like a damned captive and trying to hide her away until he could get his fill of her.

Instead, he turned, moved to the stairs, and stalked up them quickly.

“Graham.” The sound of her voice stopped him just before he reached the last step.

He couldn’t help but turn. She stood in the foyer, staring up at him, her expression tightening his chest even though he had no idea why it should fucking hurt.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said softly, her hands pushed into the front pockets of those damned jeans again. “For not hesitating.”

“It’s no more than I’d expect one of your family to do for my sister,” he stated coldly, his hand lifting to the banister, his fingers tightening on it furiously. “It’s what friends do. Right?”

Pausing, heavily lashed lids blinked over damp emerald eyes before she finally nodded. “Yeah, it’s what friends do.”

Graham slid his gaze to the men standing behind her.

They knew. He could see it in their eyes, in the narrow-eyed suspicion and the gleaming anger reflected in them.

“Stop glaring at me, gentlemen,” he said derisively. “I promise, she’s not in the running for flavor of the month. She turned me down flat. You’d be real damned proud of her.”

They could see themselves out now.

Turning his back on them, he finished the final steps before striding quickly to his bedroom. Hell, he didn’t have time for this bullshit anyway.

The crack of the bedroom door slamming into the frame wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he thought it would be.

—

Lyrica flinched at the sound of wood crashing into wood as she stepped from the front door, her heart jumping into her throat at the sight of a half-dozen police officers standing at attention, rifles held ready in their hands as sharp gazes swept the area carefully.

Alex was in front of her, blocking the view of her, Brogan behind her, while Timothy and Jedediah Booker each covered a side.

“Brogan?” Pure terror crashed into her system at the sight of the security they’d left outside.

“It’s just a precaution, sweetheart.” Tim was suddenly there, his voice amused, affectionate. “Come on, we have to do the drama thing or Dawg would think we weren’t taking this seriously. You know what a damned bitch he can be when he thinks we’re not watching after his baby sisters.”

He was holding her close to his side, though, the four men keeping near to her as they escorted her to the waiting black SUV with the back door open at the bottom of the rock-lined steps that led to Graham’s front door.

She was shaking.

As Alex stepped aside from the open door and helped her into the SUV, his expression was far too serious and intent. This wasn’t just precaution.

Timothy followed her as she slid in, pushing her to the passenger side of the seat as Jed and Brogan moved into the front seats and Alex slid into the back row, directly behind her. She should have stayed in Graham’s house, she thought. If she had, then her sisters’ men and her mother’s lover wouldn’t be here protecting her and risking their safety.

“Did Graham call?” she asked Timothy, rubbing at the fingernails of one hand.

“No, Graham didn’t call.” Tim couldn’t hide the steely anger in his voice as he spoke. “He should have.”

She swallowed tightly. “Someone messed with my phone. And Kye couldn’t call me from hers. She used Graham’s because hers was acting so weird when she tried to call last night. He was afraid the numbers on my contact list might be compromised.”