Smash (Trojan Book 3)

by S. M. West

  “Darlin’, I’m so happy to finally be here.” She reaches out and takes one of Daisy’s hands. “Especially right now.”

  The solemn note to her tone tells me they’ve talked about Costa and all of that. I nod and look to Daisy who has taken the bottle from me and is popping the cap before she hands it back to me.

  “Hey.” My lips brush over hers, tasting the fruitiness of the wine and the sweetness that is all her. Electricity pulses through my body.

  “Hi.” Her fingers wrap around the sides of my T-shirt, holding me to her. “Sasha is right, you’re delicious.”

  She presses onto her toes to reach my mouth with hers, teasing the seam of my lips with the tip of her tongue. I wait, anxious for her tongue to delve into my mouth, but she doesn’t. She licks once more and ends the kiss. Something changes her mind. Maybe it’s Sasha’s presence, or more likely, Henry’s.

  “Yes, delicious.” She murmurs appreciatively as her thumb wipes away any moisture on my bottom lip.

  She leaves me thirsty but no longer for the beer, and Sasha chuckles behind me, clearly amused.

  “So how did it go with Costa?” Daisy washes her hands in the kitchen sink, glancing at me over her shoulder.

  “He didn’t say anything different from what you told me.” I recap the rest of the conversation and how Costa assured me that we could trust his wife and the doctor in Greece who gave him the news of his sterility.

  “And do you believe him?” Sasha’s voice is sharp and challenging as if there’s no other answer but no.

  “I do.” I open the bag, and Daisy stands beside me, hands out for the first container.

  “You do?” Daisy’s tone is flat, and in those two words there’s so much more going on. Her demeanor infers if I believe Costa, how can I possibly believe her?

  “He’s a lying son of a bitch,” Sasha snaps, downing the last of her wine in one long gulp.

  “Hey, I can’t explain it because I believe Daisy, and Costa is the only one who could be”—I lower my voice—“the father, but when I spoke to him, he looked and sounded sincere.”

  Daisy nods, maybe not satisfied with my response, but accepting.

  “Even so, to be safe, I’m having him investigated and his wife, and I’ve arranged for them to also look into that week in Paris.”

  “You are?” Daisy’s alarmed, blue eyes round like dark moons, and a frown shadows her brow.

  “Now that is smart.” Sasha lays out the cutlery and pours herself another glass of wine.

  “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first?” Now Daisy sounds a little ticked, and I open my mouth to explain but I’m cut off by her friend.

  “Honey, Gray’s not only gorgeous but smart. Don’t be upset with him.” She removes the lid from a large container and sets the Fattoush salad down.

  “I’m not upset, it’s just that…” She rakes a hand through her tousled blonde hair.

  “Daze, this morning when we talked, I hadn’t planned on getting a PI. It was only after meeting with Costa that I realized we need more answers to the countless questions we have.”

  She nods, folding her arms over her middle. Unable to stand the posture, how she’s closing herself off, I grab at her arm and bring her to me. I cup her face in my hands and lean my forehead against hers.

  “We’ll get the test results which will hopefully put an end to all of this, but there’s still the question of why he would suggest something that can be disproved.” My gut clenches, because what I’m saying is a strong argument for Costa telling the truth.

  There’s no logical reason why he’d lie. Even if he wanted Henry, sole custody, ultimately the courts would have to get involved, so why lie?

  “And if Costa isn’t the father...” She blinks at the water gathering in her eyes. “We may have something to go on from the investigation.” She pulls away, staring down at the table. “We should eat, let me get Henry.”

  “No.” I rest my hand on her arm. “Let me get him.”

  “Gray, it is the smart thing to do.” She pushes a processed smile onto her tight lips. “Thank you.”

  I nod and go get Henry, returning to a table full of food.

  “Wow, how many people did you think we were feeding?” Daisy takes Henry from me and gets him set up for dinner.

  Platters of kibbeh, hummus, tabbouleh, beef and chicken kebabs, lamb chops, and other Middle Eastern delights are laid out before us.

  “I was hungry.” I pat my stomach and shrug. “I’ll eat whatever’s left over tomorrow.”

  She laughs, securing the highchair tray in front of Henry before sitting down to fill her own plate.

  “Everything looks delicious.” Sasha tears off a piece of her pita bread and dips it into the hummus. “Hey, flower girl, you better hang on to this one.” She winks at Daisy and pops the garlicky goodness into her mouth.

  Throughout the meal, we laugh, share stories, and I even mention how I hired a nanny agency and she’ll have résumés first thing tomorrow to look at.

  She drops the pita onto her plate, and both Sasha and I stop eating. “Gray, I said I’d handle anything to do with hiring a nanny.”

  “Yeah, but I had the time and figured I’d get the ball rolling. You’ll still get to go through the résumés and interviews. I’ll only help when you want me to.”

  “What if I wanted to use another agency?”

  “I used the agency you’d short-listed as your number one choice.” My defense does nothing but rile her up.

  She pushes her chair back a bit and folds her arms over her chest. “What if my schedule doesn’t allow for interviews right now?”

  Her questions and body language are like one sharp jab to my chest. Ouch. I screwed up.

  “He’s only helping you.” Sasha wipes her hand on a napkin, perplexed at Daisy’s reaction.

  While I appreciate her support and the backup, Daisy’s rigid, almost closed off posture suggests it isn’t helping.

  “You know what, forget it. Thank you for doing this. Really.” She slides back to the table and takes my hand in a reassuring squeeze, but I’m not convinced.

  She’s most probably pretending to be okay, and with Sasha here, I don’t push it. But I will if I have to.

  Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the friction to fade. The rest of the time spent eating and talking helps Daisy shake off some of the gloom hanging over her.

  A little later, I take Henry out back to play, then bathe him and get him ready for bed. Once again, I fall asleep with the little guy and wake up about an hour later, groggy.

  Daisy and Sasha are in the living room when I return.

  “We thought we had lost you.” Daisy tugs at the edge of my shirt which is riding up as I yawn and stretch. “If you’d fallen asleep with him, I would have kicked you out.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, his bed gets me every time. As soon as my head hits the pillow, it’s a grueling battle to stay awake.”

  Sasha laughs. “Well, I’m going to leave and give you two some alone time.”

  “Don’t leave on my account.” I plop down beside Daisy, pulling her into my arm.

  “No, it isn’t you. I ordered an Uber and it’ll be here any minute. Seriously, I’m exhausted. The jet lag is kicking in.” She grabs her handbag, slipping her arm through the handle, and stands. “But I’ll see the both of you soon.”

  We walk her outside onto the front lawn at the same time the Uber pulls up. Daisy and Sasha hug, make some more plans, and she gets into the car.

  Daisy stares after the Uber disappearing down the street and I’m about to drag us back into the house when movement from my peripheral vision causes me to stop.

  Across the road and a few houses down, a man gets out of a car. It’s too dark to make out who it is from this distance but there’s something about him that’s familiar, maybe his build or gait.

  And there’s also something about this person that sets my teeth on edge. Then he calls her name, stalking toward Daisy, and that does it.
Jerome.

  Why didn’t I notice his car parked along the curb? How long has he been waiting out here? This is most probably about his bullshit portfolio. He won’t let up on insisting she model for his photo shoot.

  “Oh, no,” Daisy mutters under her breath and looks from Jerome to me.

  “Go inside.” I edge myself around her as a barrier between her and the approaching man, but she doesn’t move. I feel the heat of her at my back.

  “Gray, let me talk to him.” She presses her forehead to the center of my back briefly and the urge to revel in her nearness is overwhelming, but now isn’t the time. I’m not moving and would go to great lengths to protect her. “I’ll get him to leave.”

  “No. I’ll get rid of him.” I turn to face her, leaning down and pressing my lips to hers. “Go.”

  She nods and twirls as a hand reaches out to tag her shoulder. I grip his forearm and growl. Jerome tries to shake me off, staring intently at Daisy who is partially facing us.

  “My beautiful, are you avoiding me?” His tone is forced cheerfulness, but he’s doing a terrible job at hiding his annoyance. “Or are you too busy with your boyfriend?”

  And there it is—his sneer as his beady eyes flick to me, expression now glacial.

  “Hey.” I push at his chest, then turn to rest a hand on her hip and kiss her once more.

  Yeah, the move isn’t necessary and is deliberate, but since when has kissing the woman you love been a bad thing or a waste of time? I can be a caveman when I need to be, and I make no apologies for it. This bastard won’t leave her alone, and he needs to understand she isn’t his.

  “You go inside.” I release her.

  “Bye.” She peers around me at Jerome but that’s it. No smile or lingering. She’s gone, and the man at my side snarls, his displeasure radiating off him.

  “Daisy,” he calls, no longer hiding his agitation. “Dai—”

  “Look here.” I poke my finger into his chest again, and his head snaps down to where I’m touching him.

  Slowly, he raises his head back up, eyes narrowed on me. “What is your problem?”

  “My problem? What are you doing here?”

  “I came to talk to Daisy.”

  “Well, now isn’t a good time. She’ll get back to you when she has time.” Hands on my hips, I glare at him, and if he were a cartoon character, there would be smoke rising from his ears.

  “What the hell? Who do you think you are? You take her to an awards dinner and now you think you own her?”

  If I were a lesser and maybe smarter man, I might recoil from the fury in his tone, but this man only infuriates me. I’m not in the least bit intimidated.

  “I don’t own her. No one does.” I get into his face, making sure he sees my aggravation at this little visit of his. “Daisy and I are together, and not that I owe you an explanation but it’s after ten at night. She’s tired, and now isn’t the time for her to listen to you whine about your career and other bullshit.”

  “You little piece of…” He clamps his mouth shut, maybe thinking better of his insult or how getting into a verbal or physical match with me will not help his cause.

  Jerome stares beyond me at the house as if trying to figure out how to get past me. How to get to Daisy.

  “Leave.” My nose practically touches his, but he doesn’t budge.

  “We’re not done here.” Despite his warning, he spins on his heel, fuming as he marches back to his car.

  Oh yes, that’s where Jerome is wrong. We are most certainly done. If I get my way, Jerome will be out of our lives soon.

  22

  Daisy

  It’s a dare, a plea, and a promise

  “You didn’t have to—” Chest tight, I suck in a breath as the words catch in my throat.

  Gray comes for me, his gaze filled with an unfathomable intensity. “Don’t make excuses for that man.” The words are strung tight, sharp like the glinting blade of a butcher’s knife. He’s upset, furious even, but not with me.

  Hungry eyes sweep over the flimsy tank top down to my panties, and before I know it, he’s in front of me. He lifts one of his large, callused hands to rest flat on the half moon of exposed skin above the scooped neckline of my top.

  His thumb toys with the hem, skirting the top of my breast, and his fingers drum against my thrumming pulse. With his hand splayed between my breasts, his fingertips curl around the base of my neck and he nudges me until my back hits the wall.

  “Do you have any idea how badly I want you?” He pins me to the wall, and my heart hammers in my throat.

  “Take me. I’m yours.” It’s a dare, a plea, and a promise.

  My fingers thread into his hair and I pull him down to my mouth. Rough-skinned hands make fast work of discarding my top and panties, and I shiver at the cool air against my skin, or maybe it’s his touch.

  Nipples instantly puckering, I lean into his possessive hands, drunk on his kisses and needing more, something only he can give me. His hard erection grinds into my stomach and my hips move, back arching as I’m frantic to become one with him.

  Reading me so well, or because he craves the connection as much as I do, he releases his buckle, button, and zipper seamlessly, never stopping the insatiable stroking of his tongue in my mouth.

  Then, with one hand, he shoves down his jeans and boxers to just below his ass. His long, hard cock, so perfect, juts out toward me, and he runs two fingers through my slick arousal.

  “Daisy.” His voice is a hoarse rasp, blanketed in devotion as he pinches, swirls, and strokes my clit. The tight spiral of fire in my stomach is both exhilarating and paralyzing.

  He lines his crown with my entrance, eyes boring into mine, and all I see is a healthy dose of desire and unconditional love. With one blinding thrust into me, the world fades away and there’s only Gray and me. Us.

  Gray’s hand dances along the underside of my breast, causing tingles throughout my body. “Did you sleep o—”

  “Mommy. Mommy.” Henry bursts through the slightly opened door, bounding onto the bed with Jellycat in hand. “Gaga?” His name for Gray comes out like a question but also a happy surprise.

  Shit. I tense, not knowing if I should explain to my two-year-old son why Gray is in my bed or let it go. I had wondered how best to approach this with Henry, in a way that he could understand, but he is only two. Do I even have to say anything?

  Gray is already so much a part of his world. He sees him every day and would love to see more of Gray, even if the man no longer sleeps on the couch but in my bed. Henry may be young, but he’s smart, and sometimes, with some things, words aren’t needed.

  “Hey, my little man.” Gray tries to untangle us without revealing we’re naked beneath the sheets at the same time my son launches his little body at the man.

  Jellycat, the stuffed octopus, whacks him in the head. Oof. Gray catches Henry with ease. In one smooth move, his arms close around the little boy while he rolls away from me, avoiding what could have been a head-on collision, literally, between Henry’s and my own. Ouch.

  Henry laughs, arms and legs wrapping around Gray, and my insides fill with something warm and gooey. The sensation, this right here, is keeping the Costa turmoil from slowly seeping into the forefront of my mind.

  “Let’s go make breakfast and Mommy can get dressed.” Gray pulls him from the bed, placing Henry on his feet. Then he nabs his jeans from the floor and drags them up his California-tanned and toned thighs.

  Henry’s already halfway to the door when I get a glorious view of Gray’s magnificent ass as he goes commando beneath his denim. I groan, rolling my face into my pillow, and he chuckles, hand pressing into my back and lips at my ear. “Like what you see, perv?”

  I nod, fingers fisting into the edges of my pillow and kicking my feet out like a petulant child that can’t have what they want.

  “Take your time.” His warm lips press into the back of my head. “Let’s go, Henry.”

  Grudgingly, I roll onto my side,
and Gray tosses me a robe with an easy grin before grabbing Henry’s hand. My son bounces on his little feet, all too eager to play chef. My heart stutters, and I’m sure the smile that blooms on my face is brighter than the sun.

  “I’ll be out as soon as I have a shower.” I force myself to look away, get a hold of myself before I jump out of this bed and join them. All I want right now is to be with them both.

  I pick up my phone from the table and inwardly groan at the time—barely six o’clock. My son is an early riser. That explains why my muscles feel like blocks of cement.

  Then one look at my notifications, both text and email, and I want to go back to bed as a cranky grunt pushes past my closed lips. Jerome.

  “What is it?” Gray, practically out of the room, stops and frowns.

  “Just stuff I have to get to.” My hand pushes back a mop of hair from my face, and I wrap the robe around me before getting out of bed. “I completely checked out yesterday afternoon.”

  If I dare say his name, tell Gray Jerome’s hounding me, I’m not sure what he might do. Whatever took place between the two of them last night wasn’t good, judging by the way Jerome has blasted my phone with messages.

  I should feel bad for him, but I can’t bring myself to do much more than move forward. I’ll deal with him…later.

  “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. There’s nothing there that can’t keep until you have a shower, food, and coffee.” He strides to my side of the bed and curls his hand around mine, the one holding the phone. “Ma’am, do I have to confiscate the device?”

  His voice is suddenly deeper, more imposing as he impersonates a police officer or someone in a position of authority. I laugh, a welcomed heat blossoming on my cheeks.

  Henry has no clue what’s funny, but he joins in, wrapping a chubby arm around my leg and staring up at us amused.

  “No, sir. I will leave the phone right here.” I drop it onto the mattress before leaning in to press a quick kiss on Gray’s cheek. “You want one too, Lovebug?” I bend to pick up Henry for a hug and he squirms, shaking his head from side to side.