Riptide (A Renegades Novel)

by Skye Jordan

  It read:

  Grant, I’m upstairs. Please lock the front door before you come up.

  His chest loosened, and he smiled. His body flipped from off to on. From dark to light. From depressed to exhilarated.

  Oh, hell, yeah. This was definitely different.

  He pulled the note off the register and tossed it into the trash on his way to the apartment door, but paused when he caught sight of the back room. It was packed, floor to ceiling, wall to wall with equipment. One look and Grant knew it had taken her all night to collect, haul and stack everything into that space. He also knew she hadn’t had any help. Her employees would have been taking care of the store, and Grant would bet his brand new Rover that she’d sent them all home on time.

  He looked at the door to her apartment, then dropped his gaze to his hand on the knob. But what he saw was all in his head—and it was Faith’s world in the big picture. He saw who she was, where she’d been, and the mountains she still faced in her future. He saw her stresses, her fears, and all the commitments she honored out of loyalty or love.

  A profound sense of humility came over him. He’d been away from his roots too long. He’d been living that fast life with no outside perspective. He’d forgotten just how hard the average American worked every day to stretch those monthly ends until they meet. That took sacrifice and dedication and perseverance. It took hard work and even a certain amount of skill. All the elements Grant had always believed set him apart and made him one of the greatest hockey players in the NHL.

  But the truth was, there were a hell of a lot of people who had the same qualities. They just didn’t have thousands of eyes on them nearly every night, eight months out of the year.

  Like Faith.

  The band around his heart, one he’d only become aware of last night, tightened just a little more, spilling fear into his chest. And fear was an awkward, unfamiliar, painful emotion Grant would rather not experience. It was the reason he’d pushed his fucked up family away. It was the reason he didn’t get serious with women.

  He looked up at the door again and realized... “It’s too fuckin’ late for that.”

  He was serious about wanting Faith Nicholas.

  The concrete revelation took an edge off his thrill of getting upstairs with the hopes of finding Faith lying naked in bed, just waiting for him. But he pulled the door open and noted the silence. She was probably passed out. And that was okay. He liked the idea of just sliding into bed next to her and watching her sleep a while. Maybe he’d take a nap himself, then wake her in the night...

  That put the smile back on his face and helped his feet move up the stairs a little easier.

  Half way up, his ear caught a voice—but not Faith’s. At the top of the stairs, he found the living room empty and dark and turned toward her bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and found her lying on her bed, curled on her side, with her back toward the door. Her head was propped on her hand and she was watching a video on Grant’s laptop. He’d left it here that morning, along with the video editing software. She wore pale pink sink pajama bottoms that rode low on her hips and a matching tank with spaghetti straps.

  Just the sight of her closed a gap in Grant’s life and set everything right. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and exhaled, smiling.

  She sniffled and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, hey.” She turned back to the screen. “I was just watching some videos to see if I could learn anything about the software you bought.”

  Something was wrong. Like majorly wrong. Even if Grant hadn’t heard it in her voice, he could feel it in the room.

  “It’s pretty good.” Sniffle. A clandestine wipe of her eyes. “Have you used this software before? Are they all pretty much the same? How long do you think it would take me to edit a film like the one you took today once I got the hang of it?”

  He inched toward the bed, worried and—sonofabitch—scared. He was scared. He hadn’t felt scared since he was a kid and his brothers told him horror stories about the woods nearby then chased him into the trees at night.

  The fuckers.

  Beside the bed, he reached down and stroked his hand up her arm. She was warm and soft. Even from where he stood he could smell her sweet fresh-from-the-shower scent. And man, did that stir his hunger. But Grant banked that need. “Baby, what happened?”

  “Nothing.” She cleared her throat. “How’s your brother doing?”

  “Really good.” He put a knee on the bed beside her and leaned over to close the lid on his laptop.

  “Hey, buddy,” she tried to joke, “I was watching that.”

  He smiled down at her, but the first look at her face punched him in the gut and his humor faded. Her eyes were red and swollen, still glistening with tears. The sight felt like a knife in his gut. “What’s wrong?”

  She leaned back against his leg and offered a weak smile. “I wore pink for you. This is all I had in that color.”

  Oh, Christ. If he hadn’t already tipped over the edge for her, this moment would have pushed him.

  He leaned down, ran his hand over her silky hair and kissed her. She opened to him immediately, her mouth warm and hungry. Her tongue stroked over his lip, then slipped into his mouth and found his.

  And just like that, Grant couldn’t remember what they were talking about. The feel of her making that first move, of openly wanting him, blew all his other thoughts out of his mind. He cupped her face and kissed her hard and deep. The satisfied, wanton sound she made in her throat drove Grant to search for more. Her mouth was so fucking perfect. He wanted to rip off her clothes, bury himself inside her, and stay there until they called him back to the ice.

  The ice.

  Fuck. He’d had to go and think about that.

  He broke the kiss and lifted his head. “Baby...” he said, breathless, “let’s talk a minute.”

  “I don’t want to talk.” She twisted to reach for the button on his jeans. “I want to use my mouth in other ways.”

  He grabbed her hand and held on. Hard. If she got her mouth anywhere near his cock, they wouldn’t be talking about anything substantial for hours. “I want that too, but I need to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  The spark of excitement in her eyes went out. She pulled her hand from his, then rolled to her side again and patted the bed near the laptop. “Come over here and show me how smart you are. I really want to see what you can do with this software.”

  He stood there, at a loss, while she opened the laptop again. He’d never known a woman who didn’t want to talk when she was upset. It was hard to fathom his need to actually illicit the kind of conversation he’d spent his life avoiding, but he cared about Faith. He cared about her life. He cared about what was upsetting her. And he definitely cared if it involved him.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and stretched over her, pressing a hand to the mattress. With his fingers, he pushed the laptop out of reach, threaded his fingers with hers and brought her palm to his lips.

  “Are you mad about me going out with Patrick?”

  She cut a look at him “No. Of course not.”

  Phew. One down. “Did I do something else that made you mad?”

  She hesitated. “It’s not your fault.”

  But she broke his gaze and tried to pull her hand back.

  Bingo.

  “Tell me what it is so we can talk about it.” Good Lord, he couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth.

  “It’s nothing. It’s petty, stupid small-town bullshit. And it certainly won’t matter to you.” She lifted her gaze to his again and dragged her hand from his to thread her fingers into his hair and pull him toward her. “I really just want you to make love to me so I can forget all about it.”

  Make love?

  That phrase hit him sideways. He’d never thought about sex in that context. But he didn’t get a chance to think more about it before she opened to him with that hungry kiss again. And the way she used that delicious mouth of
hers made Grant forget everything else. Sweet, sensual, sexual, she’d become one white-hot luscious erotic masterpiece at the speed of lightning.

  When she released his hair to pull at his shirt, Grant put the brakes on. He straightened, breaking her grasp. “Talk first. If it’s important enough to upset you, then it’s important to me. I don’t care if it has to do with Aunt Pearl using chicken wire to fence her pigs, talk to me.”

  She didn’t even twitch a smile at his chicken-wire joke, and unease fluttered in his gut.

  Sighing, she brushed her hand across the bedspread, picking at invisible fuzz while Grant stroked her forearm. “It’s about the Winter Wonderland Festival. I don’t know if you remember much about it when you were a kid, but my dad started it about forty years ago, and he’s run it ever since. Even when he was sick, he got out there...”

  She trailed off and blinked back tears. Then shook her head. “Anyway, I was all set with the supplies downstairs, and then Natalie came into the store after I’d closed.”

  Grant listened to Faith’s carefully worded, politically correct account of what transpired with Natalie while he’d been enjoying root beer with his brother a block away. But no one knew how to read between the lines like Grant. And he saw Natalie’s visit for exactly what it was—an attempt to wedge her way between him and Faith. A way to make Faith feel inferior. A way to bully her way into a judging position beside Grant. And his teeth were grinding by the time Faith finished the factual details.

  “You don’t have any obligation to me,” she said, now tracing the pattern sewn into the solid comforter with darker thread. “We went into this knowing it was temporary. Neither of us was—I mean is—looking for anything long term. So, you know, if you want to date Natalie, that’s up to you.”

  “Baby, I don’t—“

  “I know it probably seems ridiculously small-town minded to you,” she said, cutting him off with a shake of her head, indicating she didn’t want to talk about his relationship—or lackthereof—with Natalie, “but this is my first Christmas without my dad, and this was his favorite h-holiday.”

  Her voice cracked and a surge of tears glistened in her eyes again.

  Grant’s throat grew thick. His gut ached. He couldn’t stand to see her hurting.

  “I know the town is dressed up for Christmas all year, but Dad truly spent all three-hundred-sixty-four days preparing for both the festival and the ice-carving contest. The way most kids think about Christmas morning, I think of judging that contest with my dad.”

  The tears finally slipped over her lashes and slid down her cheeks. Faith sniffled and wiped at one cheek, but Grant rubbed at the other with his thumb before she could get it.

  Grant bent over her, collecting her into his arms and cradling her as she cried. With nothing adequate to say, he pressed kisses to her hair instead.

  “I’m just not ready to let him go yet,” she said, her voice flooded with tears.

  “You don’t have to,” he said quietly, his own throat thick with emotion. “You don’t ever have to let him go, baby. You two shared more love in a year than I’ve had with either of my parents in our entire relationship. Some people just aren’t cut out to love the way you and your father could. Letting go of that, of all those amazing memories, of who you’ve become because of that love, it would be just…tragic.”

  For the very first time in his entire life, Grant thought he might have the capacity to love like that, too. If he connected with the right woman. And he was pretty damn sure that woman was curled in his arms.

  After several long moments, her tears ebbed and her breathing eased into a normal rhythm again.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “I haven’t been able to talk to anyone but Taylor. And she’s so busy. Managing this place by myself…” She exhaled. “It’s been so hard. So many people don’t know how to deal with grief or death. I didn’t want to show any kind of weakness or emotion that would make them uncomfortable and keep them from coming into the store. I’m already struggling to stay open.”

  Grant pulled back and looked directly into Faith’s eyes. “You can always talk to me. And I’ve found a number of ways to help you stay open. I want to talk to you about them. Later, when you’re ready.”

  She nodded and worked up a smile. The movement pushed more tears from her eyes. Grant leaned in and soaked up the trail with kisses, drawing a shaky sigh from Faith that did crazy, twisty things to his heart.

  When he drew away, he met her eyes again. “My turn. It’s important to me that you know everything Natalie said was bullshit. That woman lives in a fantasyland. I agreed to judge the contest because—“

  “Your mother.”

  “My mother—” They said at the same time.

  “I know,” she said. “I figured that out thirty seconds into my conversation with Natalie.”

  Grant explained his family’s end game to Natalie drawing Grant back to the family business, and the fight they’d had the night he returned home with the Christmas tree.

  “The only reason I even stayed in town after that was because I’d already told Dwayne I’d work with his team. If I’d had any idea this festival or the contest was so important to you, I would have set my family straight from the very beginning. And I absolutely did not agree to do anything with Natalie. If I was forced to spend more than an hour with her, I’d be homicidal.”

  That got a laugh from Faith and lightened Grant’s heart.

  “You’re the only woman I want, Faith.”

  This would have been the perfect moment to slip in, And I really want to continue seeing you. But given how much turmoil she currently had in her life, he was sure bringing that up now would have drastically increased his chances of losing her. And he didn’t want to give her up until he absolutely had to.

  So he pulled her in and kissed her the way he’d wanted to kiss her for hours. She dropped her head back and opened to him. The warm touch of her tongue spread fire straight through Grant’s chest, and he groaned. Her tears made the kiss salty and real. So honest. So raw. The connection wrapped around Grant’s heart and took him under.

  He combed one hand into her silky hair and stroked her flat belly with the other, then slid his hand down her silk-covered thigh and moaned into her mouth. Faith kissed him deeper, harder, hungrier. The way she wanted him set him on fire and he slid his hand up her inner thigh and settled between her legs, cupping her sweet, hot center beneath the silk. Faith groaned, broke the kiss and pushed her hips into his hand.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about—“

  He kissed her again, hooking his arm around her neck and pulled her closer. Grant explored her breasts, molding the silk to the bare mounds, teasing her nipples when they hardened beneath his fingers.

  But that didn’t last, because he needed skin. He needed Faith’s smooth, warm, glorious skin, and slipped his hand beneath her tank and lifted it out of the way. Then moved his mouth from her lips to her breasts. And feasted.

  The first scrape of his teeth made her arch and whine. She threaded her fingers into his hair and massaged and scratched his scalp as he ate at her. Still, it wasn’t enough. He was beginning to believe he’d never get enough. While his tongue circled her breast toward her nipple in a teasing spiral, he sipped his hand down her body, beneath the thin silky layers of PJs and panties and right over her sex.

  Her pussy was smooth and soft and warm. And when he stroked her plump lips, he found her wet. His growl sounded low and hungry and animalistic.

  Faith broke the kiss on a gasp. “God, I love you touching me. Is that weird? I can’t believe how good that—“ Another gasp. A high pitched, “Mmmm. Grant...”

  He lifted his mouth from her breast and watched the building pleasure wash over her face. “That’s hot. That’s an incredible turn on. That’s sexy as hell. That is not weird.”

  “Oh good,” she breathed. “Because you are so fucking good at it.”

  The woman made him feel as amazing as a packed st
adium on a stellar night. And he pulled out every trick he knew to draw shivers and moans and gasps from her lips. “Open for me Faith.”

  When she dropped one knee to the side, barring herself for his touch, a hat-trick-worthy rush pumped through his blood. He stroked, he teased, he thrust, he stretched, he rubbed. He wet his fingers and strayed toward her backside, which earned him and extra pulse of her hips. And when she finally couldn’t take any more, he pushed deep with his two middle fingers and rubbed her inner wall while he used his thumb to massage circles over her clit.

  And the sight of her climbing to that peak was so beautiful, Grant purposely made it a slow climb. A steady climb. To give him time to get his mouth back on her breasts. To absorb more of those sexy sounds she made that exploded in his groin like firecrackers.

  But before long, she was rocking into his hand, seeking out more pressure. And damn that was so hot. By the time morning broke, he planned to have her riding his mouth like an expert.

  “Grant...Grant...Grant...Ah...”

  Her muscles contracted and pulled her into a curl. Her pussy spilled juice over his fingers and shuttered around them. And she continued to shake and shiver for long moments afterward.

  When her muscles softened and her eyes closed, Grant drew his hand from her sex and used his other hand to lift her head so he could kiss her, slow and sweet. “You are so fucking gorgeous when you come.”

  “God, that’s good,” she murmured. “I love what you do to me.”

  Now that was the most promising thing he’d heard all night. “That’s good, baby.” He tugged her tank off over her head, shimmied her pants and panties down her hips and thighs, letting her kick them off her feet and grabbed for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Because I love doing it to you. And I love what doing it to you does to me.”

  His cock was throbbing mad that it didn’t get in on that sweet action.

  She was still lying on her side, now with her arm curled under her head, her eyes closed. Her cheeks were flushed and her pretty pale hair spilled across the dark sheets.

  “You’re not going to fall asleep on me are you?” He grabbed the condom with his teeth and worked his jeans open with his free hand. “I have lots of more ways to make you feel good.”