“Wuv you too.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t feel anymore, she said that. My life’s complete.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emma
Weekends take on new meaning when there’s Grayson to wake up to. I’m draped across his muscular chest. The scar on his side doesn’t hurt him at all—so he says—and his eyes are closed. His hand lazily drifts up and down my spine. It has been years since I just lay in bed. But Grayson’s made it something we do. Nothing—we do absolutely nothing, and it’s mind-blowing. Just as unbelievable as when we stay in bed and do everything.
I’ve picked up a normal work-and-school schedule. Jeremy at Creative Dynamic and Jan at the Delightful Diner were both far more excited than I expected when I asked for a little down time. We still have bills coming in, but with CDW picking up the cost of tuition, I have breathing room as Grayson hits the job hunt hard.
He hasn’t said as much, but I think he’s bummed about how everything turned out at Emerald’s. But he won’t utter a word of complaint, because his “screwing up”—his words, not mine—when he saw me on stage paled in comparison to the danger I’d put myself in. One day, he’ll let go of all of the guilt. He’s not there yet, no matter what he says, but he’ll get there.
“What are you thinking?” His morning voice is gravelly and rough.
It makes me want to curl closer to him and hang on. “Nothing much. Why?”
“You’re tense, baby.”
“Oh… I don’t know. Thinking about how I like lazy mornings in bed with you before Cally wakes, and I’m hoping you’ve forgiven yourself.” I sigh, feeling my breath against his skin. “Not sure if you’d ever tell me.”
“Not sure you need that burden. Think I’ve done enough.”
I push up on his chest quickly. “See? That is what concerns me—you think I’m not strong enough, or that you haven’t hurt enough—”
His mouth takes mine, and the words fall away as his tongue softly sweeps mine. The kiss has a harsh mix of urgency and caring. I melt against him, letting him flip me over and thread his fingers into my hair. His massive body weighs heavily against me but not enough that I’m pinned down. I’m just deliciously immobile—with his hardening erection pressing against me.
Gray breaks his mouth from mine, trailing his lips and tongue down my jaw. The morning scruff on his face scratches me, and instantly, my nipples ache. I part my legs to allow him to settle between them, and I writhe just enough to elicit his growl. It’s deep, dark, gritty, and makes my entire body shiver.
His teeth tug my earlobe. “I have something to tell you.”
“Hmm.” I gasp as he bites again, and his hips flex, slowly thrusting his shaft against me.
“Truth is…”
“Gray,” I pant. He’s doing insane things to my neck. Between the tongue, the teeth, and the scratchy morning shadow on his cheeks, he’s irresistible. I’m drowning in need.
“Our conversation with Cally? I’m good. Scared every day to do the right thing by her, but no more heavy burden.”
“No… more…” I moan as his hand slips devastatingly slowly up my side. “Burden?”
“Yeah, baby.” Finally, his hand palms my breast, massaging, before he lets his fingers tease me harder. His thumb runs circles over its peaked swell. “You want to talk some more, or you going to let me make love to you, Emma?”
“God, I love you.”
“Thank fuck for that.” His mouth takes mine again, and I move my hips, flexing and rubbing against him. His shaft teases, and I’m drowning in desire.
“Please,” I whisper into a kiss.
“Whatever you want.” Slowly, Grayson sinks inside me.
It’s heaven—blissful, soul-claiming heaven. His hands find mine, his kisses deepen, and he thrusts, taking his time to draw out each of my kiss-muffled moans. This can go on all day. I’m lost in him.
His arms pull mine overhead, my body stretched beneath him. Grayson rocks into me, I arch back, and the climax I desperately seek builds. My thighs wrap tightly around him as the world spins away. The room goes white, and I fall apart, climaxing and breathing raggedly, locking my legs around his waist. As I tumble through the tidal wave of my orgasm, he thrusts harder and then finds his release as well.
Our hands are still locked, our bodies still connected, and we’re gasping and kissing and promising the world. Finally, he collapses against me completely but rolls to hold me close to his side. “You’re mine, Emma. But really, pretty mama, I’m all yours.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Grayson
I tap the pen on my list, sitting at the coffee shop where I’ve been making notes about where to look for jobs. I’ve had a few offers come my way, one of which I will eventually accept. Summerland doesn’t have many opportunities for men like me. I let out a deep breath and tap the pen again. I could do security on Emma’s campus. Ryan said he could pull some strings and get me a job with the county. I’ve been asked to teach self-defense at the local gym, though I’m not at all qualified for that. Going to war and being a built guy doesn’t mean I know the moves to keep a woman safe from a bad situation—though Emma said the job offer had nothing to do with me knowing anything about teaching self-defense. I roll my eyes and tap on the paper again.
A footstep behind me catches me off guard. I turn and blink, slowly standing from my chair to meet Delta team’s Brock Gamble.
My head tilts. “Hey, how goes it?” I don’t have time to rehash what went wrong on the Emerald’s op a few weeks ago, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they wanted their belongings back. I stopped using their phone when I got my own, but damn, I’m going to miss that truck.
Brock nods. “It goes.”
“Good.” What does this guy want?
“Was trying to get a hold of you. But the phone’s turned off.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t my phone. I needed to drop it to Parker but didn’t have the chance.” Or rather, I didn’t make time, not wanting an awkward conversation like this.
“That so?” He shifts, his boots scraping across the tile.
“Parker could’ve pulled my new number.”
Brock’s narrow gaze is cold. “I have no doubt he could.”
This conversation blows. Not only is it awkward, but I also don’t want it in a damn coffee shop where the Summerland County rumor mills will churn. Word will get back to Emma, who will stress about money.
I reach into my back pocket to grab the truck’s key and loft it to Brock. “Suppose you’re here for that.”
Brock catches the key but stays quiet.
“I fucked the Emerald’s job. Lost the Titan opportunity. I get it.” And seriously, dude, just leave.
“Not exactly.” He tosses the key back.
I catch it but don’t drop my hand. Not trusting the situation, not seeing his point of view, I’m wary and tired of wishing the Emerald’s job had gone a different way. Working on a black-ops team based near my family? A job like that is impossible not to wish for, but I’m realistic enough to know it’s not going to happen.
Hell, the job doesn’t matter. I’ll flip burgers to make Emma happy… even though I hated putting that on the list of job possibilities.
“Sit down, Ford.” Brock drops into the opposite seat. He rolls up his sleeves, showing off his ink. “Sit already. Jesus Christ.”
So I sit. Crossing my arms, I’m unsure of what he wants. “What’s up?”
Brock leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “I heard the audio playback of you trying to save your dying team.”
A boulder lodges into my throat. “Alright.”
“I heard you go try your damnedest out there.”
My chest feels tight. “Tried. Did not succeed.”
“Son, shit like that happens. Short of hell’s angels showing up and letting you off the battlefield, you can’t survive. You weren’t supposed to make it. No one on that team should be alive. You understand that?”
“
Seems like some better men should’ve had my place.”
He tilts his head. “The fact that you think that… confirms this conversation.”
“What conversation?”
“Anyone who handled their shit like you did in Kirkuk deserves a place on my team.”
“Excuse me?” I’m dumbstruck. He doesn’t look as if he’s fucking with me, but between the fistfight at Emerald’s and my history that screams PTS-motherfuckin’-D, it doesn’t add up.
Brock slaps the table and stands. “Keep the truck. Keep the job. Consider the ride a signing bonus.”
“Wait.” I stand up and meet his eye. “You shouldn’t do that.”
He laughs, throwing his head back. “Jesus, fuck. You’re going to fit in. You wanna tell me why I shouldn’t have you on my team?”
“I have a medical chart that’s ugly.”
He gives me a curt nod. “I’ve seen it. You’ll be okay.”
He’s seen it. So, the whispered rumors about Titan are true. “I screwed up the Emerald’s op.”
Brock shakes his head. “That night could’ve gone a hundred different ways. We went in there for information and came out with a whole lot more—arrests, actionable intel, a network. These traffickers… they’re like the string in a dirty fuckin’ sweater. It keeps unraveling. Join Delta, see it to the end.”
This is too good to be true. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. The job’s the job. You’d be stupid not to take it. You’re not stupid, are you?”
In my mind, Pops’s resounding affirmative answer to that question barks, Yes! But I pinch that memory away. “Not in the slightest.”
He sticks his hand out. “Then welcome to Titan.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Grayson
Summer’s slipping away, almost gone. Our bags are lined up behind my truck. It’s shocking how much is needed for two adults and a kid to travel to the beach. I’m ninety percent sure that Cally has more packed than we do. The sun hangs low in the early-September sky. Emma’s in the grass with Cally, and even though they are playing, she’s lost in thought.
“Hey, pretty mama.”
She snaps out of her fog and smiles. “Hey.”
“That’s a lot of stuff.” I gesture with my head toward the luggage.
She laughs. “True.”
“Everything okay?”
She scrunches her shoulders. “First family vacation. Kind of awesome.”
I stride to her and drop into the grass, pulling her into my lap. She smells like summer, and her back relaxes into me. “I got you a present just in time for the beach.”
Emma turns. “What is it?”
“Come on. Let’s roll, and you can open it on the way.”
Truth is, I’m just as excited for her to open it as I am for everything this weekend. I have two Delta jobs under my belt. Both pay in a way that lets Emma take a deep breath and open a savings account. She still gives a nervous glance at her receipts and our bank balance when she buys anything more than Ramen noodles, but I think she’s coming to grips with our new comfort level.
Our little house is definitely our home. Quality time for the Kingsley family no longer revolves around arranging babysitting for her work schedule. Still, Emma refuses to buy anything special for herself. I’m done with that.
There’s a brand new, fancy-ass camera waiting for her in the passenger’s seat of my truck. I kiss her neck them jump up with her in my arms. “Cally Bear—” I drop my head to Emma. “She gotta pee?”
Emma laughs. “Already did it.”
I learned that lesson the hard way once before. And it required me running with her in my arms to the restroom at Home Depot. We made it, but it was way too close. “Cally Bear, it’s go time, kid.”
She squeals and runs toward the truck in our driveway. Patiently, she waits by her door as I carry Emma over and drop her on her feet. I’m convinced that Cally likes riding in my truck more than Emma’s Jeep because we’re higher up. I’ve playfully debated it with Emma. She loves her Jeep as much I dig my truck. “Ready for the beach?”
“Yeah!” Cally jumps with her arms in the air.
“Guess we need to buckle you in then.” It takes a couple seconds to get that job done, and as I click in the last part of the car seat, I catch Emma’s face lighting up.
Holding up the wrapped box, she beams. “Daddy bought me a present.”
Cally squeals. “It’s yur camera su-prise.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Surprise.”
“Camera?” she mouths, eyes wide and overacting for Cally’s sake.
New lesson learned: don’t tell Cally any secrets. Emma tears the paper off and opens the box, which was opened already once before when I put the pieces together and charged the battery. “It’s ready to go.”
“Cheese!” Cally shouts, and I duck close to her for a picture.
“Perfect.” Emma snaps one quickly and then a few more as I kiss my girl and jump in the driver’s seat. This weekend is going to rock.
Emma
Our lazy beach vacation has been perfect. The weekend is almost over, and I don’t want tonight to end. Tomorrow we go back home, and I can’t help but remember the last time we were together at the shore, when everything was so out of control and so perfect simultaneously.
Cally’s asleep, and I’m lounging in Grayson’s arms outside on the deck overlooking the beach, feeling as though this night is supposed to make up for the one when he left me. There’s a glass of wine in my hand, and the baby monitor sits on the nearby table. The stars shine overhead, and a cool breeze rolls over us. I tug up the blanket and let the heavy weight of his arms tuck me in and hold me tight.
My shoulders are a tiny bit sunburned, and we’ve grilled for almost every meal since we arrived—basically, my beach-time ideal. “This is how you’re supposed to do a vacation.”
“Hooah to that.”
His breath tickles my neck, and I snuggle closer. Grayson has taken up wearing his board-shorts uniform that I love, and I haven’t for a single moment taken for granted how ruggedly handsome he is and how amazingly sweet he is to Cally. Life is perfect in a way that I never saw coming. “Love you, baby. Thank you for this.”
“Pretty mama, it’s you that deserves the thanks.” His lips press to the back of my head before he takes a pull from his beer.
The ocean crashes around us. “Did you think we’d ever be at the beach again?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I thought about what was best for you last time we were at the beach together, and I got it wrong that time. I’m not going to try and predict the future again. Maybe I’ll just pray I get it right.”
I shift to gaze up at him and touch his cheek, letting the weekend’s worth of scruff scratch my fingertips. “Everything was supposed to happen for a reason.”
“I’m a lucky bastard you think like that.”
My head tilts. “I think like that, and every day I wake up to you, I smile at all I have.”
“At every hurdle we’ve cleared.”
“Yup.” I sip my wine and burrow against him. “Want to go inside?”
“Not yet.”
“What do you want to do?” I ask, teasing him because there is something I definitely want to do, and it involves going inside and losing the remainder of our clothes.
“Just sit here for a few more minutes.” He sighs, holding me firmly, then breathes in deeply. “So, you like your camera?”
It hasn’t been out of reach, and I’ve been completely addicted to it, starting with the ride out to the beach and through every moment since. “Of course I do. I love it. You’re too generous, baby.”
He chuckles against me. “Got any good pics?”
“I think so. Maybe I’ll wake up early and grab a couple at sunrise before we leave.” I cast my gaze into the black, inky ocean. “I got a couple super-cute ones tonight while you guys were grilling.” Grayson and Cally made dinner with aprons over their bathing suits. Cally
mixed her bowls on the ground, sitting across from him while he manned the meat and veggies.
I reach for my camera, curious about how those turned out. I flick the switch on and turn the setting to show the photos on the small screen. There are a couple of pictures I don’t recognize of Cally making faces into the lens very, very close up. I laugh. “Snugglebug got the camera when we weren’t looking.”
He shifts us so we can both see. Slowly, I start clicking through the pictures. More Snugglebug pics, then there are some of Cally and Grayson. “Busted. You were there!”
Laughing, he whispers against my neck, “Guess so.”
Then one by one, I click through. Cally and Grayson pose in their daddy-daughter selfies. Then they hold a piece of paper between them with Grayson’s outstretched arm holding the camera. Black ink clearly stands out in block letters.
Will
What the…? I click to the next picture, sure that this is not what I think it is.
You
Oh my God…
Marry me?
I spin toward him. “Gray!”
His smile shines in the light from the camera’s screen. “We had an art project while you went to the store.”
“You’re asking me to marry you!”
“We are.”
We are. God. Shit, shoot, shit. My heart can’t take too much more of a good thing.
This guy nails us with everything he says every time he tries. I can barely breathe through the rush of happiness. I’m choking on surprise tears and throwing my arms around his neck. “Of course I want to marry you.”
His body shifts as his arm reaches down, below our chair, and his hand returns with a small box. He flips the lid open with his thumb, and there shines in the moonlight the most perfect ring. It’s not classic—it doesn’t have a single diamond—but it’s so me.
“For you, baby.” He pulls me to his mouth, and I kiss him, packing as much emotion as I can convey. The camera slides to my side, and my hands clutch his face. He drops the ring box between us, and his fingers thread into my hair, tugging just enough to make it hurt, just enough to make me bite his lips.
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