Celestia is Falling (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 1)

by Morgan Kelley

  When the teapot whistled, it brought him back to reality. Greyson prepared her tea in a big mug, and decided to see if she needed any help. She’d been in there for a while, and he could still hear the water running.

  It occurred to him that Emma may wish to be alone, and then he didn't care. No, he was going in to face her, so she realized just how close they came tonight. He grabbed the mug of tea and headed for the bathroom door. Croft knocked, calling for her.

  “Emma, I have your tea.”

  Silence.

  “Honey, are you okay?” He started to get that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then he noticed that not only was it locked, there was wetness seeping from beneath the door. Panic and alarm took over.

  “Emma, I’m breaking the door down.”

  It took two tries but the door was no match for his shoulder. The wood around the lock splintered on the second assault. Croft pulled his gun and pushed the door open with his foot.

  For the second time in one night, his whole world fell out from beneath him. Rushing in, he saw Emma’s prone body lying unconscious on the floor. Water was flowing over the side of the tub, cascading to the tile. Moving to the spigot, he turned it off and dropped to his knees beside her, pulling Emma into his lap.

  “My God! Emma! Honey, please wake up. It’s me, Grey,” he pleaded desperately. Patting her on the cheek, he stared at the water on the floor. It was tinged pink. His heart began pounding as he rolled her more into his lap and checked her body. Croft found what he was looking for. Emma didn’t just land on her deputy at ‘The Crossing’.

  She’d been shot.

  The bullet had grazed her hip, giving her a decent flesh wound. Already, the vicious bruising had begun along her side and ribs from landing on them.

  “Emma, honey, come on!” He patted her cheek harder.

  When she still didn’t respond, he knew she needed medical attention. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Doctor Brooks to make a house call.

  As he waited for the man to arrive, he began planning. This was his sign. One way or another, they were both getting out of Celestia, and soon.

  He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  Tuesday early morning

  Emma could feel the fog slowly lifting, and her awareness coming back. She had no idea how she got there, but she knew the scent and feel of her own bed. It was a mix of Croft’s cologne and her lavender. She was dizzy and totally disoriented. Moving in bed, there was a flash of pain, and then her memory slowly began returning. As she opened her eyes, it was completely dark outside. Her hand slid across the bed and found it empty. Croft wasn’t beside her, and that didn’t bode well at all.

  “I’m here, Emma,” came from the darkness of the room.

  “How did I get into bed?” she asked, as she slid her hand to her hip, finding the bandage.

  “I found you nearly drowned on your bathroom floor, passed out, and bleeding.” It was said with an icy chill.

  Emma knew he was shaken up over it all. The way he was talking to her, showed he was barely holding onto his control.

  “I called Doctor Brooks, and he drove out here to clean up the bullet wound and the scratches on your legs, arms, and face. He gave you a mild sedative.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” It was the final cut to his control. “Is that all you can say?” He surged out of the chair he was sitting in. “I’ve been sitting here for three hours watching you and wondering if I had waited even longer in the kitchen, if you’d have bled to death.”

  “Grey, I don’t…”

  He cut her off. “You don’t know what to say, or you don’t know why I am mad? How about you put yourself in my shoes when I had to break down that bathroom door to find you lying in a puddle of water and blood?” He shouted storming around the room like a lunatic.

  Emma didn’t move or breathe. She let the storm rage through him, feeling her own storm brewing in her body but it wasn’t anger. It was sadness and pain.

  “Well, Emma? Which was it? Want me to tell you what I felt seeing you there on the floor, bleeding? How that affected me?”

  There was silence in the room at what just came from his mouth. Emma could feel the sting of his words to her heart.

  She finally went to speak, but words wouldn’t come out. This time the tears won out.

  Croft’s stomach twisted into a tight knot as he listened to Emma weep. Walking over to the side of the bed, he sat watching her.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I’ve had a few too many scares tonight. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not angry at you, I’m furious with this asshole killing people, and at me for letting you get hurt.”

  He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, and Emma for the first time, moved away from his touch. Right now, she didn’t want his words or caress. Now, she simply wanted to be alone.

  It cut at his heart that she pulled away from him, but he supposed he deserved it. Greyson didn’t want to lose her. If he did, he knew he’d lose himself. Without Emma, there was no chance at a future--only desolation and loneliness void of love.

  It was a while before she said anything. “I do know what it’s like to walk into a room and see someone you care about laying in their own blood on the floor.” It was all she had to say for it to hit its mark.

  He suddenly realized what he had said earlier.

  “Oh Christ, Emma,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his weary eyes. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that to you.” He reached for her and she again shirked his touch. “Please don’t pull away from me. I don’t think I could survive knowing you despise me that much that you’d never let me touch you again.”

  There was such pain and desperation in his voice.

  The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. She understood the anger and the pain he was feeling. It lived in her too. The mere fact that he uttered those words meant one thing--he’d stopped seeing her as a victim. Croft only saw her as the woman she was, inside and out.

  That she appreciated. It meant the world to her.

  “Emma, I’m sorry.” Greyson wasn’t sure she’d ever trust him to not hurt her again. His words replayed repeatedly in his mind, and Croft wished he could take them back to heal her soul.

  Rolling over, she rested on her good hip as she faced him.

  He stared into her eyes as he took the first step by kissing the tip of her nose. When she didn’t push him away, he pulled her against him and rested his lips against her forehead.

  “Emma, please forgive me.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Grey,” she whispered against his neck as she breathed in his scent. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

  Croft made what sounded like a cross between a snort and a laugh. “Worried? Honey, I went beyond worried to terrified, and then right to scared to death.”

  “Grey, it’s my job,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t get mad.

  “I can’t help it, honey. It’s my job too, and I know what can happen on the job. I don’t want anything bad to ever touch you,” he sighed.

  “I trust you to keep me safe.”

  It meant everything to him, that she’d put that much faith in him. He was one-step closer to saying the words and asking the big question.

  “You should get some sleep, Grey. We’re going to have a long day in the morning,” she said, running her lips over his throat.

  His body began stirring at her mouth sliding across his neck. “God, Em,” he whispered, as her hand began exploring too. “You’re killing me. How can I think about sleep now?”

  Emma knew she wasn’t in the mood to sleep either. Doctor Brooks had to have given her something for the pain. Right then, she had the feeling of floating. It was like being tipsy from drinking.

  “How sore are you?” he asked, trying to think about her needs first.

  “I don’t feel anything,” she reassured, as she nipped at his flesh, pulling a moan from his chest. “I think I could muster some lovemaking,” she admitted. Her body may be tender, but she wanted
to feel tonight. Instead of fear, Emma wanted to experience warmth and heat. It was only something Croft could give her.

  He was her salvation, and she knew it.

  “I think I can manage to give you what you want, Emma,” he whispered, rolling her to her back, all the while being cognizant of her hip.

  “Yes, please,” she purred, running her hands down to his boxers. As she began to explore, he moved in for a kiss. It stole her breath.

  Whenever Emma touched him, his body burned hot. It was the silky feel of fingers over flesh, lips caressing lips, and the need to warm himself in her heat. “Honey,” he gasped, breaking the kiss as she cupped him and stroked at the same time. “Oh God,” he muttered, closing his eyes and praying he could pull off slow, easy lovemaking. His body was on the verge of combustion, and what he wanted was frenetic coupling. She always drove him beyond his control.

  Emma stared up at him and couldn’t help but grin wickedly. “Kiss me, Grey,” she ordered, and was met with his desire. It ripped through them both. Tongues did battle as teeth tormented and teased his lower lip.

  His heart pounded in his chest, and he knew the truth.

  This woman owned him.

  All he had was hers.

  In the back of his mind, he wanted to stop and beg her to marry him. It was all that was left. She had his heart, his body, and soul. Now, he wanted to offer her his life.

  Emma stroked him and enjoyed the way he moaned her name. “I want to be on top,” she said.

  Immediately, he complied and rolled to his back to give her access to all of him. He reveled in the feeling of her lying beside him as she lazily ran her fingers across his body, exploring. When her lips followed, he started praying that she’d go lower. As her warm breath was blown over his erection, he hardened even more.

  She licked him from base to tip before taking him in her mouth. The growl of pleasure from him made her burn hot. Well, so much for slow lovemaking. Whenever she touched him, this happened. Emma prayed it would never end.

  As she began working him into a frenzy, he kept his hands to himself, afraid he’d be too rough. What he wanted was to roll her over and take her like some horny teenage boy.

  He shook beneath her mouth, and Emma grinned to herself. Looking up at him, she could see he was suffering as his hands twisted in the bed linens.

  “Touch me, Grey,” she whispered softly. “I won’t break,” she promised.

  He heard her breathy words and lost total control. Moving fast, he pushed her to her back and stared into her eyes, a predator watching prey. “Let me know if I hurt you,” he hissed, before making his descent down her body.

  Emma reveled in the path of his lips, and how he took the time to lay kisses across the white bandage. When he moved even lower, she gasped when he began devouring her like a starving man.

  “Grey!”

  He ignored her and kept going, trying to give her as much pleasure to block out the rest of the pain. As he licked, sucked, and nipped, she quivered beneath his mouth. When she began to shake, he moved fast, sliding up her body and sheathing himself deep within her in one long stroke.

  Emma gasped as she shattered and was invaded at the same time. Her whole body broke apart at the delicious feel of man entering her.

  Croft kept moving even as her body milked his, trying to lure him over the edge with her. He wanted to watch her eyes go blind again as he brought her back to the precipice.

  She moaned as the feeling of freefalling ended, and was replaced with the steady build of heat starting to be stoked in her body once more. “Greyson,” she moaned, arching into him and holding onto his shoulders.

  “This time with me, Emma,” he said as he concentrated on the building pressure and need.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m just about there.”

  The grip her body had on his was maddening.

  “So good, Emma,” he muttered, closing his eyes as he tried to hold on a little longer.

  Emma couldn’t speak. Her body was vibrating in want and pure unadulterated desire. As Greyson slid into her, he hit that one spot just right. “Oh God!” she hissed, body bowing and breaking apart in an explosion of complete pleasure.

  Greyson knew she was falling and with one long thrust, he joined her over the edge, rupturing and pouring into her as he tumbled.

  Seconds became minutes as they floated back down to awareness.

  “I love you, Greyson,” she whispered, as he moved to her good side and protectively pulled her into his arms.

  “I love you too, Emma,” he answered, knowing he always would.

  She was his soul mate.

  Tuesday Morning

  Stretching, Emma rolled over in bed towards the warmth. It had to be morning, and she felt like sleep had lasted days not hours. When she moved her hand, it landed on something way too furry to be a man. Opening her eyes, she stared into the cat’s face.

  “Really? Why are you in my bed, Hairy?”

  The cat began purring and simply laid his head back down on the rumpled blanket.

  “Great. The damn cat’s going to make this his sleeping spot for the rest of his life,” Emma grimaced, listening to the sounds of the house to find the man who was wanted in her bed. Emma focused on the clicking from the kitchen and assumed it was Croft furiously typing on his laptop. Probably some report to someone higher up the FBI food chain.

  Pushing herself out of bed, she did a mental check of her body. Everything seemed to be working correctly, and that brightened her mood. At least she’d be able to function. When she took her first step, the pain shot through her hip.

  “Shit” she muttered, reaching for her robe. Her body was feeling like a train rolled right over her. Maybe a hot shower would help her work out the knots. It was possible that sex was probably a bad idea after all, now that the pain meds were wearing off.

  Emma slowly walked to her bathroom door and stared at the busted lock. Okay, that would have to be repaired. She just shrugged, heading into the shower and under the scalding spray.

  Croft heard the water start, and he glanced at the clock. At least Emma had a decent night’s sleep after they made love. Now, he’d continue with the plan.

  It was time for her to eat something. Getting up from his chair, he began whipping her up some scrambled eggs and toast. As the water was shutting off, he placed them on the table and waited for her to find her way in to him.

  Less than five minutes passed and Emma appeared in the kitchen, damp and wrapped in a robe. She looked a little better than death only because she had scalded her skin a rosy pink. There were still shadows in her eyes.

  Emma knew he was watching her for any pain or discomfort, so she made sure to keep her face neutral and blank.

  “Morning,” she said, leaning down to place a kiss on his lips.

  “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?” Greyson asked, handing her his cup of coffee, so she could get her caffeine hit.

  She sighed in appreciation as she took a sip.

  “That’s a loaded question. How do I look?” she asked, as Croft gestured to the eggs and toast waiting for her.

  “I ate already, and now you need some food before you drop.” Carrying in the coffee pot, he poured her more and some for himself. Now to the loaded part of the conversation that could get a man in serious trouble. “You look like hell and worn down.”

  “Why, Grey, you’re quite the sweet talker. You certainly know how to charm the ladies.” Emma smiled at him, grateful he didn’t notice she was feeling like hell too. Then she noticed the look on his face. His eyes said it all. The man was sizing her up before the confrontation. Emma immediately went on the defensive, and prepped for a battle.

  “Honey,” Croft began, “I think you need to rest today. Doctor Brooks mentioned you might be in pain.”

  “No.”

  “No? No you refuse to rest today, or no you aren’t hurting?” He kept his emotions in check and carefully hidden. This could get ugly--real fast--depending on her answe
r. “You can do your work from here, and I’ll go and supervise this morning’s search of ‘The Crossing’.”

  “No.”

  This was getting nowhere fast. “Emma, please?”

  Emma ate some of the eggs and slid the plate away when her appetite was ruined. “No, Grey. I believe you understand the meaning of the word. Again, I’ll tell you that I’m the sheriff, and it was my deputy and my friend who was hurt last night.”

  “You really should stay here and rest. The killer wants you at ‘The Crossing’. He keeps going back to that specific place. It’s wide open and an easy shot to pick you off. He could shoot you from fifty feet away with a gun and we wouldn’t be able to see him.”

  “Not happening. I’ll wear Kevlar, but I’m not hiding from him. Beside, you want to leave me here alone?”

  Croft knew she had a point. He had to weigh his options carefully.

  “I didn’t think so,” she added, pushing away from the table. “I’m going to go get dressed and get ready for work.” She walked away from him and another possible confrontation.

  There was no way in hell he was letting it go that easily. He grabbed their coffee mugs and followed Emma into the bedroom. He wanted to check out her hip before she got dressed. When he pushed the door open and walked in, everything in him rolled in sickness.

  “My God, Emma!”

  She struggled to get dressed. “Yeah, I know,” she muttered, refusing to admit she was hurting.

  He didn’t know what to say. The guilt was eating at him.

  “It always looks worse the following day,” she stated, gingerly stepping into her panties. There was a vicious purple bruise the size of a dinner plate on her hip from the bullet wound. Her ribs above it were also turning a ghastly blue.

  Emma stared up into his concerned face and knew what was going through his mind. “Grey, this is not your fault.”