Her Forever Hero (Unexpected Heroes)

by Melody Anne

  “I was so young and stupid and running on pure hormones,” Cam admitted.

  “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “But still, I thought I meant more to you than just any girl who could be easily forgotten.”

  He stiffened beneath her before his hand continued caressing her head, before moving lower and rubbing against her back.

  “How could I ever forget you?” he finally said. His fingers slid below the hem of her shirt and traveled up bare skin, reaching her ribs, the tips circling around and brushing the side of her breast, making pleasure heat her core.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked quietly, but even as she spoke, she pressed her hips forward against his hardness, seeking relief.

  “We’re talking,” he murmured. He moved his face toward hers and gently caressed her lips, just a whisper of movement, just enough to make her entire body tingle in anticipation of what was to come.

  “You’re seducing me,” she moaned.

  “I’m not doing anything you don’t want me to do,” he countered, sliding his fingers down her back now. How she wanted to have those fingers where they had been, so he could cup her swollen breasts.

  “I didn’t say I wanted this,” she panted.

  “Your body is telling me exactly what you want. If you need me to stop, just say so,” he said against her neck, tracing the smooth skin with his tongue and scorching her with his touch. His hand trailed over her behind, and she cursed the panties that barred her from skin-to-skin contact.

  Grace refused to tell him how much she wanted him, but she also couldn’t tell him to stop, so she lay there quietly, small whimpers escaping her open mouth as his hand moved down the back of her leg and then circled her knee and began gliding slowly up the inside of her thigh.

  When his fingers stopped at the elastic of her panties, then retreated, she moaned her disapproval. He rested his hand on the inside of her thigh while his mouth made a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone, making her stomach tighten, her breasts tingle.

  “Please . . .” she moaned, too desperate, too needful now to keep from begging.

  “What do you want me to do, Grace?”

  “Don’t tease me. Don’t offer me something you won’t really give me.”

  “I’ve been trying to give this to you for a while,” he said as his lips traced the top of her neckline and he dipped his tongue beneath her shirt, but not reaching the place she wanted it most.

  “Have some mercy, Cam,” she cried, pushing her hips into him again before reaching for his head and dragging it downward.

  He opened his mouth over her nipple. The cotton of her shirt prevented him from tasting her skin, but when he sucked through the fabric, her body sang anyway, and need poured through her.

  He moved his hands down to her behind and then she was on her back and he was on top of her, pressing his hardness against her while he sucked harder on her straining nipple. Their clothes were a maddening barrier between them.

  “More,” she demanded.

  Letting go of her peaked nipple, he ran his tongue up her throat and finally kissed her the way she was meant to be kissed, possessing her mouth as he pulled against her hips and ground himself against her core.

  “I need you, Cam,” she murmured into his mouth.

  He released her lips briefly. “I’ve wanted to hear that for so long,” he said, and he lifted her shirt away and then ripped the side of her panties to free her for his easy exploration.

  Sliding his mouth down her throat, he at last circled first one nipple and then the other, wetting them, hardening them, making her scream out her passion. When she was at the point of madness, he kissed his way down her quivering stomach and spread her thighs apart with his hands.

  Grace arched off the bed, into his mouth, greedy for what he was about to bring her. His tongue toyed with her swollen folds, and she felt her pleasure hanging right on the edge as he flicked his tongue around the one point of her body that cried out for him the most.

  “Now, Grace,” he groaned before sucking her swollen bud into his mouth at the same time that he pushed two fingers inside her.

  She didn’t disappoint either of them. Her body let go, explosions of pleasure ripping through her, making her call his name over and over again until there was nothing left inside her. He slowly climbed back up her body and let his hips—still clothed, dammit—rest against hers, making her burn once again, and even hotter than before.

  “I want to do that over and over again,” he said, his lips touching hers so softly, with so much control.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, in complete agreement.

  “Tell me you won’t pull away. Tell me this isn’t just one more time, and then six months will pass again without you allowing me to touch you.”

  He cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. She tried not to, but he wouldn’t let her go, his passion-filled gaze nearly undoing her.

  “I can’t make that promise, Cam,” she said, her lips quivering as she reached for his hips and pulled him against her. “I just can’t do it, so please don’t make me. You want me, so take me.”

  She tried reaching for his lips again, but he wouldn’t kiss her. He just lay there, poised above her as his hips ground against hers and the two of them stared at each other.

  “All you have to do is admit you’re mine, Grace, and I will continue to make your body sing,” Cam said.

  He shifted his body slightly to the right so he could reach up and cup her still-aching breast and trace her nipple with his thumb. She had to bite her lip to keep from groaning.

  “You’re only punishing yourself by withholding, Cam,” she told him as she pressed up against him once more.

  “Yes, I’m punishing myself,” he said, then pressed hard against her, showing her how thick and full he was, showing her how good it would feel if he cast aside his shorts and thrust inside her. “But I want more than to have you only once in my bed.”

  “This is all I can give you right now,” she said. She nearly cried out when he pulled away from her. “Don’t do this, Cam. You want me.”

  He paused next to the bed and looked down at her, something burning in his eyes that she couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t imagine being for her. It appeared to be love, but there was no way he loved her. No one ever had.

  “I do want you, Grace. And I will have you.”

  With that parting shot, he left her alone and aching in his bed.

  “Thank you for the ride home.”

  Grace climbed stiffly from Cam’s car and tried to scurry away, but he was right on her heels. “I’ll walk you up.”

  “Not now, Cam. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

  This morning had been traumatic enough, and she was still reeling from their intimate talk in the middle of the night and then waking up that morning in his arms. But mostly, she was mortified about what had followed. The way he’d walked away had nearly killed her, but she wouldn’t beg him, and she definitely wouldn’t commit to him. What had her on edge more than anything else, though, was the fact that it had felt so right being there with him.

  Not just the sex, or almost sex.

  But also his scent, his expert hands, the feel of his warm chest beneath her fingers. All of it had been what she’d pictured waking up to every morning for the rest of her life. But some dreams were meant to die, and that was one of them. She wouldn’t let a man control her ever again, and Cam was incapable of relinquishing control, especially to a woman. All the Whitmans were that way. Maybe all men were.

  “You’re running away, Grace. You do it every time you think there’s even the slightest chance of a connection.”

  “If I may remind you, you were the first to run. Back then, I wasn’t going anywhere, Cam. And I’m not running anywhere now. I’m just . . . I’m tired, that’s all,” she told him as she reached her door and inserted her key. “So go home.”

  “Dammit, Grace—” But he didn’t get any further, because she gasped as the door
swung open, with a perfect view of her kitchen.

  “What in the world?”

  Cam stopped what else he’d been about to say and pushed past her. Grace was right on his heels. “Are you doing some rearranging?” Cam asked, but his eyes were narrowed.

  “No. I didn’t do this.” It was odd, because the scene before her should shock her, at least a little bit, but only mild curiosity piqued her brain.

  “What happened?” Cam asked.

  She walked inside the room and looked at her small kitchen table, which had been turned upside down on the floor, the chairs sitting against it as if there were nothing wrong.

  “I don’t know. Maybe this is Sage’s idea of a joke,” Grace said slowly.

  “Sage isn’t in town,” he reminded her. She’d left that morning for a conference in Seattle. “And do you really think she’d have driven over here after her party and done something like this, even if she hadn’t had an early flight?”

  The scene certainly wasn’t malicious—not at all—but it was strange. And the only person Grace was aware of who would possibly have a key was her best friend and former roommate. Sage could have done this before leaving, but, as Cam had just pointed out, why?

  She pulled out her cell phone and dialed, then waited to leave a message. “Hey, Sage, call me when you get this. I just wanted to know if you stopped by.”

  “I don’t think you should be here alone, Grace. Too many strange things are happening.”

  “I’ve been on my own for a lot of years, Cam, and in New York, too, where the crime rate is slightly higher than in Sterling, Montana. I’m not too worried about an overturned table. It’s a joke, that’s all. Someone thinks they’re very amusing.”

  “I don’t find this amusing at all, Grace. Someone broke into your apartment and wasn’t even subtle about it. They wanted you to know they were here. If it doesn’t scare you, it sure as hell should.” He started walking down her hallway.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m making sure no one is still here,” he told her.

  She caught up to him. “I don’t need you to ensure my safety, Cam.”

  “What gave you the impression I was asking for your opinion?” he shot back as he looked into Sage’s old room first, checking the closet, the small bathroom, and even under the bed.

  “Really? Under the bed?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Under the bed is a great hiding spot for serial killers,” he said casually.

  A small tremor rippled through her, but she forced it to subside, refusing to be as paranoid as Cam just then. Once he was sure that room was secure, he moved into her room and went through the entire routine over again.

  She relented, and finally returned to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. She’d leave the panicking to a mere man. When she opened a cupboard, something moved, and Grace let out a scream and then sprinted faster than she had since middle school track.

  “What’s wrong? Who’s there?” Cam nearly collided with her right outside the kitchen doorway; his eyes were darting this way and that.

  “There! There!” she screamed, and pointed to her cupboard, her entire body shaking.

  Cam, in a fighting stance, crept into her kitchen, grabbed a knife from the block on the counter, and looked frantically around. “I don’t see anything,” he told her, but his eyes were still whipping in every direction.

  Then the brown mouse came scurrying from the cupboard, scampered across the counter, and skidded down the back of the stove. “Get it!” Grace shrieked.

  Cam’s entire body sagged. He must have been holding himself so tightly that she was surprised he didn’t snap in half. “A mouse? Really . . . ?” he asked, turning in her direction.

  When she saw the merriment in his eyes, she saw red, finding herself barely able to keep from flying at him with claws fully extended.

  “I’ve never had a mouse in this apartment,” she told him, still standing outside the door.

  “It happens, Grace. Just set out some traps, or get a cat.”

  “I’m only going to be here another week, though I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay here at all now,” she said, eyeing the stove the mouse had disappeared behind.

  “It was just looking for some food.”

  “I don’t leave food out,” she told him.

  “Well, you did this time. There’s a box of spilled crackers in here, and the mouse was having a field day,” he pointed out, looking into the cupboard the mouse had come sprinting out of.

  “What? I don’t remember even buying crackers, let alone leaving them opened.” Was she really losing her mind? Was she sleepwalking? Maybe she had done all of this to herself and she couldn’t remember.

  She’d been told stress could make you sleepwalk, could make you do things you couldn’t remember doing.

  “You really don’t remember buying the crackers? Like you didn’t remember picking up the newspaper? Spence told me about that.” When she mouthed a silent no, he stood there for a moment. “I see. And I’m starting to find all of these small coincidences suspicious. Are you okay, Grace?”

  Cam came walking back toward her. She didn’t appreciate the concerned look in his eyes. The one thing she resented more than love was pity. Grace considered herself stronger than most people, and she refused to have anyone feeling sorry for her—ever! She wasn’t going to give in to her fears—or to his, dammit.

  “I’m fine, Cam. And no, now that I think about it, I don’t find any of it suspicious. I just think I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. I recently finished dealing with a fiftieth wedding anniversary party, and the client was an absolute nightmare. I’m going to turn off my phone until next Wednesday, when I meet with my new client. That way I can sleep for days on end and get all caught up. Then things will stop happening that I can’t remember.”

  “Tell me everything that’s been happening,” he demanded.

  He had that alert look in his eyes again that she didn’t like one little bit. She was going to put the kibosh on that right away.

  “You’re overreacting, Cam, and you know it. You need to drop this.”

  Cam’s eyes turned into slits as he stared her down. Sadly enough, she was still standing in the kitchen doorway. Bravery with rodents wasn’t her strong suit.

  “If there’s something you’re not telling me, then you’d better spit it out now, Grace.”

  “Does that tone really work on people, Cam? Tell me. Because I guarantee that you’re not scary,” she said, putting her hand on her hip and tapping her toe.

  “Oh, it works when I want it to.”

  He was only inches from her, and a tremor ran down her spine, but it wasn’t caused by fear. He’d already left her needy and achy once today. She wasn’t about to let him do that to her again.

  Cam let out a low growl, then turned on his heel, moved to her table, and easily set it upright. It was done before she had a chance to tell him she could do it herself. The problem she wanted taken care of was the damn rodent, not her table.

  “I’ll check on you later,” Cam said as he moved back over to her front door.

  She watched in horror when he stepped outside and began walking away. “What about the mouse?” she yelled after him.

  “Feed it some cheese.”

  He quickly climbed into his car and left. It took ten more minutes for Grace to talk herself into going back into her apartment. The first thing she did was throw away the crackers and then all the cheese in her fridge. There was no way she wanted Mr. Mouse to think her apartment was a vacation rental.

  “Can you and Axel meet me for lunch in half an hour?”

  Cam waited for Bryson Winchester’s reply while he was parked on the side of the road only a block from Grace’s place.

  “Sure. Is everything okay?” Bryson asked.

  “I don’t know. I want to talk to both of you, and then we can evaluate the situation together.”

  “You know I’ll help where I can,” Brys
on assured him.

  “Great. Let’s meet at Jackson’s bar.” He hung up and began driving in that direction. He wouldn’t mind an early-afternoon beer. His stress level was a bit too high right now.

  His friends Axel Carlson and Bryson Winchester, who were both former FBI agents, weren’t long behind him.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” Cam told them as they sat down and picked up their menus.

  “You don’t ask for help unless it’s serious,” Axel said, putting his menu back down.

  “What can I get you boys?”

  They put in their order with the waitress, and as she turned to leave, Cam looked into the expectant eyes of Axel and Bryson.

  “It might be nothing. I really don’t know. But my brother made a comment the other day that Grace mentioned strange things occurring, and then, when I took her home a little while ago, we walked inside her place and her table was upside down and there were crackers in her cupboard she doesn’t remember buying. When I stayed over one time, it looked like someone was tampering with her window. Now, if it was just one thing, I might be able to brush it off, but it sounds like several little things have been going on, and I’m beginning to worry. On top of all of this, there’s the fraud case that I can’t discuss the details of, but there are some players in her past . . . well, I wouldn’t put them above using underhanded methods to scare her into silence.”

  “What else has happened that you know of?” The way that both Axel and Bryson were giving him their full attention worried Cam. If they thought this was a joke, they’d be laughing it off. There was no laughter, not even the slightest of smiles.

  “It’s really nothing major, but she made a comment to Sage that she went to check her mail and thought she’d left the paper in front of her door, but when she came back, it was opened up on her kitchen table. The window has me more worried than just about anything . . . well, that and the fact that someone seems to have easy access to her place, and they aren’t afraid of showing her that.”