“I know,” he says and his mouth comes down on mine, his tongue licking long and deep, and he tastes of possession, of demand.
His hand slides under my jacket and he drags it down my shoulders, trapping my wrists behind my back. “Grayson,” I murmur, not sure if I’m objecting or requesting. “We’re at the office.”
“And when we leave, it will be with the taste of you on my tongue.” He lifts me and sets me on my new desk, and his eyes, those intense green eyes, burn with passion, with hunger, and my body wants what he offers.
“I don’t think—”
“Good,” he says, sliding my skirt up my thighs, and inching my knees apart. “I don’t want you to think.”
“We’ve never done this here.”
“There’s a cure for that.” He goes down on one knee, and kisses my knee through the thigh-high hose I’m wearing. My breath is raspy, my body tingling, every nerve ending I own on fire, alive. I’m so alive with this man in a way I wasn’t without him.
I want to tell him he has nothing to prove. I want to tell him he’s everything and Kevin is nothing but a friend, but I know he knows. He knows. This is about more than Kevin. This is about three months that he can’t control. Three months that he won’t be fully in control. And what he wants and needs right now, is just that: control.
His hands slide up my thighs and when his thumbs settle on the bare skin above my thigh-highs, I suck in a breath. He strokes a lazy finger along the delicate skin and I clench against the sensations. He catches my knees and kisses them. “Relax, baby.”
“What if someone comes in?”
“I locked the door.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he repeats, his really wonderful lips quirking, lips that are about to be in the most intimate part of me. He eases my legs apart again and inches my skirt all the way to my hips. He leans in closer, his breath a warm whisper over my sex. My nipples pucker, my breasts are heavy. My sex is pulsing and my hands are tied. He gives my clit a lick. I lean back, catching my trapped hands on the desk. And just in time. He yanks away my panties.
I gasp and before I can fully recover from the shock, he’s suckling me and I’m gasping all over again, sensations trembling through me.
His fingers slide along the slick sensitive folds of my body and—oh God—slip inside me. I’m arching into his touch, unaware of anything but his hands and mouth teasing me, driving me wild. He’s punishing in the most delicious of ways with his exploration, flicking my clit with his thumb while his tongue is delving in and out, licking here and there. And those fingers, those talented fingers stretch me, stroke me, press deeper and harder, exploring every sensitive part of me. I can hear my pants, feel the rasp of my dry throat, and I want to reach for him, but he pulls me forward, drapes my legs over his shoulders, forcing me to hold myself up with my hands. It’s about control and he has it. And I like when he has it.
I trust him. I can forget when he’s in control. I can let go when he’s in control.
Blood roars in my ears, and the sweet spots he touches ignite, cool, and repeat. I know nothing right now but his touch, his control, my need for his control, but pleasure builds and suddenly there is a tight hard clenching in my stomach that darts lower and claims that control. Grayson suckles my clit and I’m there in that blissful place of no return. I cry out and my sex spasms hard around his fingers. My vision blacks out and pleasure rocks my body so hard I can feel it in my bones.
Unable to hold myself up, I’m falling backwards, but somehow Grayson is there, catching me and pulling my jacket back into place. I’m sitting up, cradled by his hand between my shoulders blades when he kisses me, his tongue salty against mine. “Now, I taste like you,” he murmurs. “And now, my world is right again.”
My hand settles on his strong jaw. “You own me, Grayson Bennett. That used to scare me, but not anymore.”
He catches my hand and kisses my knuckles. “You own me, too, baby.” He lifts me off the desk and sets me on the floor, righting my skirt for me, and I can feel the edge in him has eased. But it’s not gone. But how can it be? We’re under attack by a dead man.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Grayson
With Mia on my tongue, I do indeed, feel better. The pleasures of a woman you love are too often underrated, usually by those who don’t know what it means to love a woman. Lord only knows I found out just how impossible it is to replace her when I lost Mia. I needed her. I need her. I won’t lose her again. I damn sure won’t let anyone take her from me.
While Mia freshens up, I grab my briefcase, check out for the day with Nancy, and Mia and I meet in the lobby. We exit to the elevator banks to find Blake waiting on us. As usual, he’s dressed in jeans and a Walker Security collared shirt that he manages to make look rich in all kinds of ways. He’s a man of confidence, skill, and wealth but what I like about him besides that skill, is his values, his morals, the love he has for his wife. The way he is who he is no matter who I am or who is around.
“I’m pleased as fuck,” he greets, “to report that the reporters are gone. The police pushed them back so far they just left.”
I arch a brow. “Why do I believe you had something to do with that?”
“They needed something from me,” Blake replies. “I told them I needed something from them. I know you legal folks know all about quid pro quo. Eric’s still at our offices. He was running some number sequence and I was afraid he’d have a damn seizure if I made him stop.”
Mia laughs that sweet musical laugh of hers and fuck me, I feel it in my chest. I own her? She fucking owns the hell out of me and I don’t even care. That’s how much I love this woman. The way my father loved my mother. “Just like old times,” she murmurs. “Eric and his numbers.” Her voice softens.
“And his loyalty.”
She’s right. Eric’s a good friend. One of the only people who knows just how not good I was without Mia. One of the few people I can say would die for me, and me for him. A real friend and a man like me can’t be confident anyone is a friend, except Eric. And Mia. A man appreciates the value of such things in times like these and therefore I count myself lucky as hell.
Blake motions to the hallway. “I’m still recommending we exit through the side door. We don’t need any company following us to the meetup with Reese.”
“I cannot wait until we can just live our life again,” Mia murmurs.
My hand slides to her lower back, but I don’t comment. At this point, it’s not about what I say. It’s about what I do and what I have to do is to make this go away, now, not months from now. The three of us make our way to the service elevator. Once we’re inside, with the door shut, I hand Blake the file. “Kevin Murphy gave this to me. He claims they’re all connected to Ri and dirty. All of them ex-employees of Ri’s we hired.”
Blake accepts the file. “We’ve already scouted out that group, but I’ll give it a look-see. You met him?”
“I did,” I confirm.
“And what’s your read on him?” He eyes Mia. “I know you got some weird vibe.”
“I did,” she says, “and I don’t know what to think. I never felt weird about him until today.”
“Could be nerves,” he comments.
“He told us that Ri killed his fiancée,” she adds. “because she was reporting him for evidence tampering and he wanted revenge. I never heard a word about a dead fiancée that worked at Ri’s firm. Granted I kept to myself but that still feels off.”
“If it’s true,” I add. “Revenge-seekers concern me. You never know when they might find a new target.”
“His fiancée did work with Ri. And she is dead. As for revenge, my fiancée before Kara was murdered,” Blake says. “And I damn sure wanted revenge. Tried damn hard to get it and Kara pulled me back to sanity when my brothers could not. My question would be what was Kevin doing to seek revenge and what’s his present state of mind?” He lifts the folder. “The contents of this folder, to me at least, do not constitute a plan for
revenge. We need to know more.”
“Do we just ask him?” Mia asks.
“I’ll find out,” Blake replies. “I’ve got this.”
Another thing about Blake I like when he says, I got this, he’s got this.
The elevator halts and we exit, loading up in an SUV driven by one of Blake’s men with Blake in the passenger seat, and Mia and I in the backseat. “I pray I didn’t bring a problem with me by hiring Kevin.”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. If he’s a problem, we might not have seen him coming if not for you bringing him over. If he’s a friend and helping us, we’ll take the help.”
Blake leans around the seat. “If these people in this file,” he says, indicating the folder, “are the bad eggs, then he did us a favor. And he might not have done it if you wouldn’t have given him a reason to protect Grayson, like a job.”
I kiss her hand. “It’s all going to be over soon, baby,” I say, but the worry in her eyes doesn’t fade. Three months doesn’t feel like soon, not to her or me. In this moment, I’m still battling with that need to just take her away somewhere for three months, where we can get lost in each other, and where she’ll be safe. But I have an equal need to be right here, fighting this invisible enemy—making this go away forever. And Mia wants to be home, in our home. She’s been alone too long. I didn’t bring her home soon enough.
And that’s what’s going to happen.
We’re going home.
I’m ending this one way or another, sooner not later.
And I’m going to marry her, sooner not later.
The entire idea of eloping sits heavy and insistent inside me. I want her to be my wife and I have no idea why that feels as damn urgent as it does. She’s back in my life. That should be enough and yet it’s not. Not even close.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mia
Our lunch is at the restaurant and bar in the building where Reese and Cat actually live, and not far from the courthouse. Grayson and I, along with Blake, meetup with them at the hostess stand and while Blake knows them and can point them out, they’re also hard to miss. Reese Summer is tall, dark, and gorgeous in a dark suit, and his wife Cat is a stunning petite blonde in a pink pantsuit. They fit in ways I can’t explain. They’re perfect together. I also happen to know that Cat writes the syndicated “Cat Does Crime” column that I adore, which makes my fangirl moment hard to contain but I manage, barely.
“Grayson Bennett,” Reese greets, shaking his hand as the hostess looks for a properly-sized table. “Not often I represent a competitor though I understand you have done some work with my brothers-in-law, Reid and Gabe.”
“I have,” Grayson confirms, “And I don’t see them or us as competitors.,” he adds, and he means it. Like his father before him, Grayson isn’t cutthroat. He’s competitive, but in the right ways and in the proper context.
“Blake assured me that you’d not only say that but mean it,” Reese replies. “From my research, it seems you might be one of the rare few who really are honest and sincere.”
“My father set a certain expectation from the day I could walk,” Grayson assures him.
“And his father was his hero,” I say, catching his arm. “He still is.”
“I met him once,” Reese replies. “I liked him.”
“As my father would say,” Grayson replies. “We’re warriors fighting the same battle. And in this case, I need an impartial warrior who I trust.”
“I’m going to head to the bar and let you four chat and get to know each other,” Blake interjects, eyeing Grayson. “I’ve updated Reese on everything, but if you need data or confirmation of data, I’ll be here.” He saunters away.
A few minutes later, Grayson and I are at a wooden table across from Reese and Cat, and in the middle of the intimate seating area. Clusters of tables sit nearby but are empty, with televisions hanging in plentiful locations. And with Cat directly across from me, I can no longer hold back my admiration. “I adore your column,” I gush. “I read it religiously, even when I’m too swamped to read not much else. It’s so very Sex in The City meets Criminal Minds. I love the way you question ethical choices and challenge new thinking.”
“Thank you,” she says. “I love what I do and,” she looks between me and Grayson, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m here. I work sidebar, so to speak, for Reese on a regular basis.”
“Two for one,” Grayson replies. “As long as I don’t end up in your column.”
“Oh no,” Cat replies quickly. “I’d never write about you unless you wanted me to write about you and even then, I’d still have to feel good about it. I don’t write what people want me to write. I write what I feel passionate about.”
Reese laughs. “We met when she was following one of my cases in her column. Even then, she was challenging me, and scolding me when I didn’t think out of the box.”
Grayson squeezes my hand under the table and says, “I understand that completely, which is why I’m happy to have Mia joining our corporate team.”
My heart warms with the words that I’d once have been too insecure to accept as sincere but not anymore. It’s amazing what a year can change.
“Reese thinks out of the box on his own just fine,” Cat replies. “But getting him to fold the laundry is another story.”
We all laugh and the waitress arrives. We order drinks and bread. When she’s gone, Reese gets to the point. “Blake told me everything and holy hell, man. I don’t even know where to start. Knowing your operation’s been infiltrated, I understand why you want outside counsel. And this three-month payoff deadline to bring you down that Ri set-up with this underground group—I’m back to holy hell, man. Three months living under a threat with an enemy potentially in every office is rough.”
Grayson releases my hand and reaches for the whiskey the waitress sets in front of him. “From Blake,” she offers, and eyes Reese. “He said you and Cat have court. He’ll owe you.” She glances at me. “And you don’t handle your whiskey well.”
We all laugh. “He’s not wrong.”
Grayson lifts his glass at Blake and sips before he dives back into the conversation. “My biggest concern is one of those enemies being planted with the Feds or in the DA’s office.”
“I’d like to say I don’t believe that could happen,” Reese replies, “but I’ve seen enough, and been around enough, to know that it can. The FBI and the DA need to be working with Blake’s team to take down your attackers. I suggest we set-up a meeting and get everyone on the same page, then ask for you and Mia to be given immunity.”
Grayson hands me his drink and I take a sip. “Grayson talked about doing an sit-down interview to shut down the press obsession, something in-depth.”
“God no,” Cat objects. “You think a sit-down interview will be controlled, even scripted with pre-approved questions, but they’ll go off script. The press are monsters, but that’s why I’m here. If you decide to go public, which my gut says you should not, use me. And believe me, when we heard about this situation, we talked about me helping with my column in some way.”
“Before we explain that idea,” Reese replies, “the bad actors don’t know you know they exist, correct?”
“They do not,” Grayson confirms.
“Then as far as they’re concerned,” Reese continues, “they can move about and plot against you freely. In theory, that allows Blake to watch them and catch them.”
“Except we’re dealing with an advanced hacking operation,” Grayson counters. “Blake’s good at what he does, but this breach is apparently widespread across operations and states.”
“So if we expose the underground operation in my column,” Cat says, “we might scare them off and that would let them know we’re onto them, but that idea comes with negatives.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, when Grayson suggested doing an interview, it was more about answering questions about my attack and just getting the fascination with us and me over
with. If we actually expose this plot, it doesn’t necessarily get rid of the bad eggs. In fact, it might encourage them to stay to avoid notice. A rapid departure might indicate guilt, but I suppose at least it suppresses any bad actors.”
Cat sighs. “Yes. That could happen. It’s a ridiculous catch twenty-two situation. In which case, you end up with all these dirty eggs rotting away inside your operation.”
“No to exposing the plot to take me down,” Grayson says, his tone steel. “That could come with consequences.”
Reese narrows his eyes on him. “You’re afraid they’ll act hard and fast before you shut them down.”
“And decisively,” he says, and I know Grayson. I don’t even have to ask what that means. He’s afraid they’ll act against me. He’s afraid the hired hacks will succeed where Ri failed and kill me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Mia
Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.
The room fades to white noise as I remember Grayson talking about eloping. I know him and understand his urgency. This man seems to have the world—money, power, friendship and more, afraid of nothing except losing someone else he loves, and that means me. How did I ever think this man cheated on me? How? I’m such an idiot. Neither of us has dealt fully with Ri’s attack. For me, I’ve consciously, and perhaps to more of an extreme, unconsciously, used his fear to suppress Ri’s attack for both our sanity, but unbidden, I’m back there now. I fight it, I do, but I lose. I’m there. Living that hell all over again.
He lunges for me and I turn and try to run, but it’s too little too late. He grabs my hair and all but rips it out as he yanks me around to face him. “What do you have in your bag?” He reaches for it, and I punch him, giving help time to arrive, I hope, but it does no good.
He reaches into my bag that I stupidly didn’t zip and grabs the folder. “You little bitch.” He drops it on the ground and shoves me against the wall. “I should have known you were still fucking him. That will never get out of this building.”
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