Tectonic (Double Blind Study Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  While Greta was talking she had crossed the office, rounded the desk and planted her butt on the edge of it. Her blue eyes were bursting from the center like fireworks again and he was reminded briefly of Harmony's blue ones being so flat and... blank.

  Shane wasn't stupid, though. Greta was attempting to distract him from the real subject here. Actually, there were two subjects he was very interested in.

  “That sucks, babe,” he murmured, swiveling his chair to face her more directly. He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “From what I've experienced firsthand, you were probably very good at your job.”

  She gave him a shy smile. “It was a great job. It's where I met Clarke.”

  “I want to hear that story.” He raised a hand to stop her when her mouth opened to tell it. “But first let's talk about the part where you said I'm your man.”

  The slight pink in her cheeks that she'd had when she'd first entered intensified by another shade and she scrunched up her nose while looking down at the floor.

  “I was hoping we could skip that part.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Greta sighed and tipped her head back to look at the ceiling for a minute. Finally, she shrugged and gave him eye contact. “It just came out. I don't really have an explanation. I tend to make hasty decisions.”

  “I'd agree with that.” Shane's lips wanted to smile at her, but he fought against it. “You realize that it's gonna be all over town before you even walk out that door. Harmony has a big mouth.”

  “Right.” She closed her eyes in frustration, then gave him an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry. I'll get it fixed. I promise.”

  Shane felt his body tighten at her words. “How will you fix it?”

  “I don't know. Maybe stage a huge public break-up so the ladies know you're a free agent. Don't worry, I'll be the crazy one so your rep will be clear of any blemish.”

  What the hell? She was worried about his chances of hooking up with a different girl?

  “I was actually thinking how much I liked you referring to me as your man.”

  “Seriously?” Greta was genuinely caught off guard. Her head tilted and she narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Yeah, 'cause that would mean that you're my woman.” Shane watched her carefully. “And I really like the sound of that.”

  The office was silent as Greta processed what he'd just said. He could see the activity behind those bright eyes and he wondered what she'd throw at him next. She didn't give him a look of disgust. She didn't get angry. Instead, she looked hopeful. With a touch of apprehension.

  “I have rules about things like this,” she reminded him quietly.

  Shane stood slowly, maintaining eye contact. He took the one step necessary to enter her space. “Screw the rules.”

  Her eyes widened and he slipped a hand under the heavy fall of her hair, curving his fingers around her neck, his thumb tucked under her jaw.

  “Shane—”

  “Don't try to talk yourself out of it. Don't recite to me the handful of reasons why not, because I'm not going to hear them.”

  His other hand slid up her thigh and came to rest on her hip. She wrapped one of her hands around the wrist near her face and her other hand pressed against his chest.

  “Shane,” she tried again, but her voice came out all breathless.

  “Think about it, beautiful. We're already great together.” His eyes scanned her face, not finding a single flaw. “I don't give a shit about the rules. And I could care less if you think this is a bad idea because you and I make sense together. You get under my skin and you drive me wild, but I have the feeling that I do the same thing to you.

  “And you make me laugh.” He closed his eyes tight for a second. “Dammit, Greta, I never laugh. But with you, I laugh all the frickin' time.” His thumb stroked along her jaw line slowly. “And I know for a fact no one sees your fire the way I do. And no one could possibly want you as much as I do. This is way too fast and way too crazy for it to be anything but perfect.” He licked his lips as he stared at her unmoving face.

  “I'm throwing the plan out the window. I want to see if this is what I think it is. I'm willing to risk it all. No more fear, no more second-guessing, no more games. Because when I'm with you, everything else is out of focus. All I see is you and your intensity. You burn brighter than anything in this world. And maybe it's my ego talking, but I think the real reason you have a hard time kissing guys is because you don't think they can handle you. Not all of you. You're a wildfire burning out of control. No one deserves you, least of all me. But I'm pretty damn sure I can handle you. I could hold you and let you go up in flames without letting you get burned up. And I'd enjoy every scorching second of it.”

  His eyes went back to her slightly parted lips and he dipped his head. At first his lips barely brushed hers, but he felt the slight pressure she returned and he crushed her mouth to his. It was hot, intense and fierce.

  Her hands came up to his neck and then curled into his hair. His hand at her hip curved around her back, pressing her closer while his other hand slid into her hair.

  He wasn't wrong. The heat he had sensed from her this whole time exploded once their mouths made contact. She engulfed him. He couldn't breathe as she burned the oxygen out of his lungs and set his flesh on fire.

  Normally, he was in control of the kiss. He took his time, making sure the other party was enjoying it. Especially in the beginning. He usually started slow and soft, learning what they liked, teaching them what he liked. He had been told, more than enough times, that he was a great kisser. In fact, he'd never had a complaint. All the women he'd kissed were more than willing to let him have the power, control the speed, basically let him do his thing.

  It took less than a second with Greta for Shane's control to slip. He had no focus but one singular burning desire to let this woman have him completely, wholly, to be only hers.

  He tore his mouth from hers, moving his lips across her cheek to her ear and down her neck.

  “You taste like bubble gum,” he murmured into her skin. Her body responded by clutching him tighter. His mouth returned to hers and he took it again. Hard and deep, wanting to taste every part of her, to draw her into himself far enough so that he could have the memory of her sweet taste long after the kiss was over.

  A heavy knock on the door interrupted them. Greta stiffened in his arms and he pulled back. He held her eyes, as he took a step back.

  “Please don't move,” he said roughly, thinking he was going to kill whoever was on the other side of the door.

  He stepped away from Greta and the desk, cracked the door open and scowled at Bo.

  Bo was wearing a shit-eating grin that widened as he took in Shane's displeased face. “Sorry, dude. Garbo and I gotta go. She's my ride. Besides,” he gestured over his shoulder, “you have people here to see you.”

  Shane looked in that direction and saw his mid-morning meeting waiting for him. He let out a frustrated growl and looked at the floor for a second. “All right. She'll be out in a minute.”

  “I'll wait in the Jeep.” Bo grinned again and Shane shut the door.

  He turned back to find that Greta had moved from her place on the edge of the desk and was standing in front of him. Her cheeks were flushed, lips red and slightly puffy, her hair a tousled mess from his hands having just been in it.

  “That was intense,” she whispered.

  He closed the distance between them, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. “Intense enough to give you heart palpitations, make you forget your name, and throw your world into fantastic disarray?”

  Her breath caught at his question and her blush deepened. “All of the above.”

  “Good.”

  “What you said, just before you, we, um...?”

  “I meant every word, babe.”

  “Right.”

  She took a deep breath and her eyes focused on the center of his chest. “So this is happening.”

 
; Shane gave her a crooked smile. “I sure as hell hope so because that was the best kiss I have ever had.”

  Her eyes widened as they returned to his. “Oh.”

  His hands tightened around her. “You okay?”

  Her gaze dropped to his chin, then to his throat. Those eyes were more active than ever. She took a breath and looked back to his face. “I know we don't have a lot of time, but I feel like there is a lot to talk about. I need to know that it's okay if we take this slowly.”

  This was not the cavalier carefree Greta of a few minutes ago. This was someone much more hesitant. He could see it on her face, hear it in her voice and feel it in her body as he flexed his hands around her rib cage. But the wall was still down. She was still present and waiting for his response.

  He thought of what little she'd told him of her last boyfriend in Boston, of what Steve had shared with him a few days ago, of how she was careful to give but never take. Not like she had with the kiss they'd just shared. That had been all about her taking. It was a crack in the shell, a momentary lapse of control. Just like it had been for him.

  Adding that together with Shane's shitty luck with women he cared about, and he could see the appeal of going slow. But not stopping.

  “That sounds like a good plan.”

  Her body melted against his, the tension draining immediately. He liked being able to do that for her, being the one she could relax into.

  Her smile flashed suddenly and he was momentarily blinded by its brilliance. She pushed up onto her toes and lightly pressed her lips against his. “I'd better go. See you later, good lookin'.”

  She made it to the door and he turned to watch her go. She was officially his, for as long as she would allow. It made his pulse thunder.

  “I want to see the tattoo later,” he demanded softly as she opened the door.

  The look she gave him over her shoulder made him want to pull her back into the room, lock the door and cancel all of his appointments.

  “Only if I can get another one of those kisses,” she responded with a flirty smile.

  “You can have anything you want.”

  She laughed as she exited, but Shane didn't. Because he knew how true those words were.

  Chapter 10

  Mix It Up

  “Shane and Greta, sitting in a tree,” Bo sing-songed from the passenger seat.

  “Keep singing that song, Beauregard, and I will eject you from a moving vehicle,” Greta threatened without looking over. Bo burst out laughing.

  “Take it easy, Gret. I'm happy for you guys. You make sense together.”

  That's what she kept hearing.

  Greta didn't respond as she rested her left wrist on the steering wheel and let her mind revisit the past fifteen minutes.

  Shane had asked if the kiss equaled driving the Viper. What he didn't know, what she was having a hard time believing, was that it surpassed everything she'd ever experienced in her whole life.

  Heart palpitations? Check.

  Forgot her own name? Check.

  World muddled? Check.

  And she could also throw in tingly skin, loss of breath, and rendering the laws of time and space meaningless.

  Plus, he hadn't shaved in several days now, and her face was a little raw from his whisker burn. That gave her a different kind of tingle. She secretly hoped he wouldn't shave ever again. His hair was dark brown, but she had never realized that his beard would come in so dark and full. It was lush. Shane Brookings could definitely rock a beard.

  She made a mental note to ask him about his future beard plans later that night when they “talked.” With a quick glance at the clock, she started the countdown in her head to when she could expect that to be. Then she immediately scolded herself internally for turning into a mushy, over-zealous girly-girl who couldn't function until her boyfriend got off of work.

  She took her wrist off the steering wheel, transferred that elbow to her open window and rested her head in her hand. This had gotten weird. Fast.

  Her jeans tugged at the tender part of her tattoo, reminding her of the promise she had foolishly and flirtatiously made before leaving his office. Yep, she was in trouble.

  Shane had indeed thrown the rules out the window. Her rules. Did he even have the power to do that? No, he was a boy, and he couldn't tell her what to do.

  Wait a minute, her inner vixen corrected her. Shane is no boy. He is all man. Have you seen the beard?

  She rolled her eyes. She didn't even know she had an inner vixen until this moment. What the hell was Shane doing to her?

  Kissing you like his mouth was made to fit against yours.

  “Shut up,” Greta snapped under her breath.

  “I didn't say anything,” Bo responded.

  Greta ignored Bo and turned into their driveway, seeing the Volvo immediately. That meant that Clarke was back. Good, she needed to talk to someone reasonable. Someone who would tell her what to do to regain control of this situation.

  Ooh! Don't forget to tell her about that delicious swirl thing that Shane can do with his tongue!

  Greta closed her eyes after parking the Jeep and rested her head against the steering wheel as Bo jumped out.

  “Freaking balls.”

  ***

  As if her world wasn't all topsy turvy to begin with, it got a whole lot more wiggy that afternoon.

  Clarke and Mike were back from whatever adventure they had been on for however many days they were gone. (Greta had lost track, there was a lot happening in her own world.) But they were, like, besties beyond measure.

  While this might seem good at first blush, seeing as how Greta had high hopes for Clarke and Mike's offspring being named after her in the future, it didn't look like it was going that way. They were friendly, they were adorable. They were too freaking comfortable. They'd friend-zoned each other. And pretty damn effectively from the looks of it.

  It was unprecedented. Greta was never wrong when it came to her illustrious matchmaking capabilities. She excelled at picking out the perfect counterpart for the people in her life. She'd introduced Tate and Eddie, for Pete's sake! And they were practically a friggin' fairytale come true. If she had been wrong about Mike and Clarke, there was no telling what other signals she was mixing up.

  Needless to say, this only helped to put Greta even more on edge. She didn't like the edge. She preferred a lounge chair next to a pool with some sort of pink fruity drink within reach while her skin soaked in the sun and her Kindle got the workout of its life. Or the alternative, which was base-jumping from said edge, flying dangerously into a free-fall hoping her chute had been packed correctly, but loving every single thundering heartbeat leading up to her pulling the ripcord. It was the control over her choices that she liked, whether it was relaxing or flying blind. Standing on the edge, without any idea which way she was going to head, was terrifying.

  Then Steve came home from wherever he went during the day with no job and too much money, announcing that Bo had outed Greta and Shane's official status as a couple via mass text message while Greta and Shane had been making out in his office.

  That was when Clarke decided to drag Greta upstairs for an immediate powwow, which Greta was guessing was not going to go her way.

  Greta was thinking base-jumping was the way to go.

  “You promised me that you would tell me the second something changed with Shane!” Clarke hissed as she whirled on her friend in the same instant that they hit Greta's room.

  Greta closed the door with a small kick. “I was going to! But it just happened seven and half seconds ago!” she whisper-shouted back.

  “Whatever! You don't go from being cautious friends to being a declared couple in the span of seconds!” Clarke gesticulated wildly at the end as if to prove her point.

  “Apparently, we do!” Greta returned with similar fervor.

  Clarke's back went straight and she frowned a bit. “Seriously?” she asked, her voice swinging to casual conversation.

  Greta fe
lt her eyes bug out slightly and she grabbed the top of her head with both hands. “Jeez, Clarke! You think I have any idea what's going on? One minute, I'm celebrating my verbal ass-kicking of Harmony Jeffords and the next, Shane has his tongue in my mouth!” She took a frantic breath and emphasized, pointing at her face with both hands, “His tongue in my mouth!”

  Clarke's mouth twitched with humor. “What's that like?”

  Greta sighed heavily before stalking across her room and starting an exasperated pace back and forth. “Amazing. No, it's fantastic. No, it's un-freaking-believable. But I have no idea what that even means! And you've been off gallivanting all over California with Mike Osborn while my life has been getting freakier and freakier all week. Brady made it clear that he was interested if this thing with Shane falls through. Whatever the hell that means! My co-workers seem to think it's hilarious to meddle in my personal life. Harrison told my mother that Shane was coming home for Christmas with me, and that was before Shane's 'Screw the Rules' speech and the Kiss That Launched a Thousand Fantasies! And on top of all that, I have Bo and Steve taking it upon themselves to keep the world updated on my relationship status. Hell, if I was interested in that, I'd just get a damn Facebook account!”

  She ended her tirade breathing heavily and glaring at Clarke's highly amused face.

  “I'm teaching Mike how to surf today. Why don't you suit up and come ride some waves with me, it might help put things in perspective,” Clarke offered soothingly.

  “I can't,” Greta snapped and crossed her arms over her chest. Clarke threw her a confused frown. “I have to wait for the tattoo on my butt to heal first.”

  This was the announcement that got Clarke to look shocked.

  “A tattoo?! On your butt?!”

  It was at this point that Greta realized they had shifted from whisper-shouting to full-on shouting and it was likely everyone in the house could hear them. And possibly the neighbors who lived two houses over. It really followed the pattern of Greta's life choices.

  She could keep a tight hold on her shit for a while. At least up until it hit the fan. And it usually did so at a high velocity. It's not like the fan that it hit was some regular, boring oscillating desk fan that would sputter and die if one were to actually throw a pile of shit at it. No, Greta usually aimed for something akin to a plane propeller. Like that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when the German mechanic thinks he's bested Indy but then gets chewed up by the propeller on the Egyptian airfield.