by Laura Wright
“Will you let me know when she’s in custody?”
Ryland hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure.”
Grant felt as though his head was about to explode as he stalked down the stone steps toward the carriage house. He wasn’t going anywhere near the cottage today. He was ashamed and sickened by what he’d just heard, and he wasn’t about to show his face to the woman that loved him. He wanted to crawl into a hole for a good week and forget the past few months ever happened.
His sister was wanted for the murder of their father.
It was almost too much to bear. Grant felt guilty as hell. Maybe he should’ve sought her out, loved her more as a child, helped her to deal with their mother’s death, helped her to see the right path.
But hadn’t he tried that so many times? And hadn’t he failed just as many times?
When he reached his front door, he didn’t go in. He dropped on the porch steps and put his head in his hands.
A cool breeze kicked up around him, made him feel colder and more alone than he had in that tiny, rank San Francisco jail cell. He wanted to call Ford and Abigail right now, wanted to lean on them for once, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Not yet, anyway. Abigail was in a delicate condition and he didn’t want to upset her. And Ford would want answers, and if Grant didn’t supply them immediately Grant knew Ford would catch the first plane out of here to get them himself. And Ford needed to be there for his sister—it was hard enough that Grant hadn’t been able to go to his daughter. No, Grant thought, he had to wait, wait until he’d seen Grace face-to-face and gotten the whole story.
A dark laugh escaped his throat. If Grace would even offer the truth at this point.
“Can I join you?”
Grant glanced up, up into the beautiful brown eyes of an angel. Dressed in a white sweater and tan pants, Anna’s hair fell soft around her face, she looked pure and sweet, and he thought he’d be doing her a great disservice by having her sit beside him—beside a man with such hate, such disgust and contempt running through his blood.
His fingers scraped against the aging wood of the porch as his hands balled into fists. He hated how his heart tugged, hated how his breathing calmed when Anna was around. He wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, make her sit on his lap and touch his face.
He was a fool.
Realizing she wasn’t going to get an invitation, Anna sat beside him anyway. “I went up to the house after you.”
Ashamed, but not angry, Grant nodded. “So you know what happened then.”
“No. All I know, all I wanted to know, is that you’re okay and you’re still here.”
“That’s right. They won’t be taking me to jail this time around.”
She flinched at the bitterness in his tone. “I’d intended to listen in, help you if you needed me, be there if you needed me, regardless of what you said, but—”
“But?”
She took his cold hand, held it steady in her warm one. “I realized I can’t push myself on you or your life. No matter how much I want to.”
He turned to her. “Anna, you don’t push—”
“So I went to see Jack instead,” she said quickly, obviously not wanting to delve into a discussion that never seemed to go any further than her desires for the future.
“Where is Jack?” Grant asked.
“Still with Rachel and Seth and Jillian.”
“Playing?”
“They were headed to the lake today. And he was so excited to see the frogs and ducks, I didn’t want to steal him away from that.”
But this time, Grant didn’t let her leave the future or her feelings on the roadside of their affair. He wanted—no, he needed to hear how she felt. He was selfish and masochistic, but right now, after months and months of suspicion and then today’s dump of information, he wanted to hear that someone cared. “Was there any other reason you let Jack stay and play at the Vines today?”
She heaved a sigh, smiled. “As always, Grant, I’m here for you if you need me. And I thought you might. I’m here if you need me and if you want me—no pressure, no demands.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, you idiot.”
He chuckled halfheartedly as the words—the three sweet ones—wrapped around him, made him feel as if he could breathe again, made him feel protected and stable. She’d given him so much and he continually asked for more. All knowing full well he would hurt her in the end.
Was he no better than his sister?
Was he no better than his father?
His heart pumping wildly in his blood, he stood up and offered her a hand. “I want to take you to bed.”
Without a word, Anna slid her fingers to his palm, stood up beside him and let him guide her into the house.
Nine
“I want to go slow. Really slow.”
“Okay.” Her shirt and jeans strewn over the chair in the corner of the bedroom, Anna smiled at Grant as she lay back against the cool white sheets and beckoned for him to come to her. Being nude before him no longer held the shades of embarrassment it once did. Over the past few months, she had shared her heart, let him see the deepest caverns of her feelings and given in to her desires—and all of that had freed her in so many ways.
“I want to forget everything that I heard today,” Grant said, inching over her from toe to knee to hip, belly, breasts and lips until he hovered above her, naked and hard.
She held his gaze. “Grant…”
“Just for today,” he said with obvious desperation. “Hell, just for a few hours.”
Anna let her hands travel over his chest, feeling every muscle, every indentation. It was strange and oddly erotic how lean his skin was, how the thickness of his muscles stretched and bunched underneath. Swallowing her desire, she played with his nipple, circling the hard bud lazily, then rolling it between her fingers.
His voice was rough, his breathing a little unsteady as he muttered, “You’ll let me forget then, Anna?”
“Yes,” she said on a sigh. “Let’s both forget.”
“What do you want to forget, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone hoarse with desire.
“That if this case is over, we’re both going home,” she uttered as she bent her head and touched his nipple with her tongue.
Grant sucked in a breath, then grasped her head with his hand and forced her mouth to his. It was a crushing kiss—nothing slow and easy about it. All consuming and desperate, as if he couldn’t hear anything more, didn’t want to hear anything more. His tongue urged her lips apart as he raked his thumb across her nipple. She jumped slightly, the muscles in her womb contracting as wet heat leaked from the opening to her body.
As he nipped and nuzzled her mouth, his hand moved down her torso, down over her belly and cupped her. Need hummed throughout her body, and she squirmed and moaned, her hips thrusting upward, begging him to play, begging him to put her out of her misery so she could start over, go slowly and decadently the second time around.
A very male laugh, a proud growling laugh escaped his throat as he left her mouth and moved his body down, scraped his hot skin over her breasts and belly.
His tongue traced the path, lapping at her navel, her hipbones, his own flesh scented with pure male and salty sweat. A swirling bundle of heat sang in her core as she waited, breathing heavily, wriggling uncontrollably beneath him.
At first, his fingers gently slid between the curls at her center, nudging each fold aside as he searched for her swollen cleft. Anna gasped, her hands wild as she clumsily grasped for his hair.
“I want to stay here for at least an hour,” Grant said, the urgent beats of his breath stealing over her thighs. “I want you to cry out against my mouth over and over, then we’ll start again in any position you want.”
“Just one position?” she whispered, her legs tingling with anticipation.
“God, I hope not.”
Her womb felt heavy and tight and ready, and just when Anna wondered if she coul
d make it another second without his touch, Grant thrust her thighs open and dipped his head.
Anna cried out, tilting her hips up as he fed on her hot flesh, his tongue sliding past the thick curls to the place where she ached.
The bed seemed too small suddenly, the earth seemed unsteady as he flicked and tugged at her sex. Tension surged through her womb, coiling, contracting. She stiffened, words and sounds of desire caught in her throat as the rush of climax thundered through her body.
Grant nuzzled her, softly taking her contractions into his mouth.
“Grant, please,” she uttered, after finding her voice. “Please.”
She didn’t need any more than that. Understanding exactly what she wanted, Grant gave her wet flesh one last kiss before sitting up. With one hand under her buttocks, he lifted her hips and positioned himself above her, his erection long and so hard she could feel the tip pulsing against her thigh.
“Maybe we should have some protection,” Anna said softly.
Grant shook his head, looked pained with need. “We don’t need the barriers.”
“There’s still a chance, Grant. It’s a very small one, but…”
“No.”
“Grant…”
“Just you and me. Nothing else.” His eyes went a strange shade of inky-green and he lowered himself to her, until the hard tip of his erection jutted up against the soft, wet cove of her body.
Anna couldn’t think, couldn’t try to reason with herself or with him. Her mind was a blurry shade of violet, and her legs began to tremble with anticipation. It was like this every time they were together—wondering how he would feel, wondering how she would stretch to accommodate him, hoping he would find forgiveness and love with each thrust inside her.
Feeling suddenly urgent, Anna lifted her hips, causing his erection to slide a few inches into her body. Grant sucked air through his teeth and shuddered. He pushed into her, all the way, until they joined, hip to hip. There, he paused, his mouth to hers, his chest to hers.
He kissed her softly, then began to move. His thrusts were exquisite torture, and Anna couldn’t help herself, she reached around his waist and placed her hands on his backside. A moan curled in her throat at the feel of him, his taut backside flexing with each thrust, each slam into her body.
As he stared into her eyes, Anna felt not only the quaking heat of climax rising once more, she felt an intimacy that rivaled what they’d ever shared before. Grant Ashton was her heart and her soul.
Anna released his buttocks and wrapped her legs around his waist. Grant gave a sad groan of defeat and gave up slow strokes for hard thrusts.
His hand slipped between them, his fingers dove into her curls and found her. He caressed her with quick, light circles as he pounded into her, burrowed deep into the glove of her body as he groaned and murmured her name over and over.
Tight heat wrapped her womb, electric shocks flickered inside the heat and she gave herself over to climax once again, pumping her hips wildly with each shudder. Grant followed, his arms shaking with intensity, his forehead glistening with sweat as he rose up, cried out like an injured wolf and took his release.
Anna wrapped her arms around him, making sure he didn’t leave her. She loved the feeling of his big body on hers, loved the weight of him, loved to feel the pounding of his heart against her breasts, and to listen to his breath transition from uneven to steady as he found his way back to earth.
For Grant, he felt exhausted. His body worn and his mind plagued. And yet, he wanted Anna all over again. He wanted her against the wall, in the shower and riding him. He wanted to be inside her with nothing in their way. No condoms, no boundaries. Exactly how he’d allowed himself to take her just moments ago.
A solid vise of guilt tightened around his gut. His sister’s careless ways obviously hadn’t stuck with him, hadn’t made him irritatingly responsible today.
The chance had been infinitesimal, but nevertheless, there was a chance. For him to be bound to Anna forever.
He despised himself for feeling a grave sense of satisfaction at the thought.
“I can feel you thinking, Mr. Ashton,” Anna said, her mouth curving into a concerned smile. “Do you want to talk?”
Grant heaved a gigantic sigh and rolled onto his back. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe just about what happened with the police?” she prodded gently.
“They believe my sister’s husband killed Spencer, and that Grace was an accessory to the murder.”
“What?” Anna came up on her elbow beside him.
“And they believe it was Grace and her husband who were blackmailing Spencer,” he added darkly.
“But why?”
“I guess when Grace found out that he was alive and living in California, she wanted to make him pay. In more ways than one.” Just walking over the information in the case again had Grant feeling punchy and ready to spring. Taking a breath, he fought for calm. “She took his money in exchange for keeping quiet about his life and his kids in Nebraska.”
“Oh, Grant.”
“But when Spencer stopped paying them, they went to his office to confront him and…well, we all know the rest of the story.”
She sat up beside him, unaware of her nudity or how beautiful and comforting the sight of her was—or how a man, this man, would love to get lost once more in that pale skin and those curves.
Completely riveted on his account of the meeting with Ryland, she asked, “And why did he stop paying them, do you…” She stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide. She licked her lips. “You came to town.”
Grant sat up in a pool of sunlight, dragged a hand through his hair. “Sort of sounds like I’m responsible for this whole mess, doesn’t it?
“God, no. Don’t ever think that.”
“If I hadn’t come to Napa, Spencer would be alive, my sister wouldn’t be wanted for his murder and I wouldn’t have…”
“What?”
He reached up, cupped her face in his hands and grinned a little sadly. “I wouldn’t have met you.”
She leaned in and kissed him.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He nuzzled her mouth. “You and Jack and the family have changed me something awful. I don’t know what I’m going to do when this is all over.”
“Well, first off, you’re going to have to stop feeling responsible for other people’s actions.” She let her forehead fall lightly against his. “I of all people know how that can take over your life, your choices and your happiness.”
“I’m so angry right now, Anna, I want to put my fist through a wall.”
“I know. It’s all right to feel out of control and angry. And it’s all right to feel sad.”
“Sad?”
“She’s your sister, you love her, you don’t want to see her—”
“No.”
She pulled back, found his gaze. “No, what?”
“I’m not angry or sad because my sister might go to jail.” He didn’t know how Anna would react to what he was about to say next, but he owed her honesty above all things. “I don’t love her, Anna. I stopped loving her the day she walked out on her babies and didn’t care who raised them or how.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Grant.”
His throat felt scratchy, and he cleared it loudly. “I know. How could someone not love their sister?”
“My sister wasn’t a saint, either. And I had to work doubly hard to separate myself from her actions. I can see very clearly why you feel the way you do.”
“I tried to care for her when we were kids. I tried to understand her. God knows I did. But she just couldn’t stand me or our grandparents or the life she led. She wasn’t content unless she made trouble. Trouble gave her great pleasure. I tried to protect her, tried to get her to stop jumping in and out of strange men’s beds, but she didn’t want my help.”
Anna wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”
But Grant couldn’t stop. “After she left, I wanted to love her, mostly beca
use Ford and Abigail had her in them. But…” He cursed darkly, let his head fall against her shoulder.
He wasn’t a man for saying what was on his heart, showing his weaknesses, but this was Anna—his Anna—and when he was with her he felt as though he could trust her, and share the darkness of his soul.
“Ford and Abigail have you in them, too,” she said, stroking his hair like a child’s. “You’ve done good, Grant. Those two people are amazing.”
“Yes, they’re good kids.”
“Not kids anymore. You helped them become wonderful adults.”
He looked up, knew he must look like a weak calf. “They’re my life, Anna.”
“I know.” She traced the outline of his mouth with her thumb. “Believe me I know.”
“Maybe that’s not right.”
“It’s not right for me anymore.” She kissed him with all the passion of their lovemaking a moment ago. When she eased back, her eyes were wet and large and hopeful. “I’ve come to realize that I deserve more than just caring for others. I deserve to be cared for, too.”
Grant couldn’t say a damn thing and he hated himself for it. In the midst of this chaos, he didn’t know what he deserved. He wasn’t as enlightened as Anna, hadn’t found the same understanding through their months together.
What he had found was a passion he’d thought he’d lost, a need that scared the hell out of him, and nights of confusion over where he was going.
The phone rang on the table beside the bed, and Grant gave Anna a tense look. “Am I a coward if I don’t want to answer that?”
Anna’s lips twitched with rueful humor. “No.”
He reached for the phone. “Hello.”
“It’s Ryland.”
Grant suddenly felt as if his chest would burst. “And?”
“It’s done.”
“So fast?”
“Yeah.”
“You have them both?” Grant asked.
“That’s right. Grace Ashton and her husband are in custody.”
Ten
This time, Grant had asked Anna to come with him.
And it meant the world to her.