by Mia Kay
Gray tried not to whimper when he nodded, but he thought he failed. She was warm, and her hands were strong under the cool texture of the cloth.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want Jeff to know I’d come in here. Do you want me to open it?”
He shook his head. He was a grown man. He could deal with a slab of lumber. “I’ll do it later.” Alarmed by the shake in his voice, he cleared his throat. “It’ll wait as long as I know where you are.”
They sat on the floor, cloaked in shadows and silence. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” she whispered.
“I never wanted anything more than to be in the FBI, and I was great at it. I’ve spent my whole life following paper trails to catch the bad guys. I didn’t lie to you before. I love the puzzle, and I’m never wrong. But...”
He didn’t want her to know how badly he’d failed, what it had cost someone else, how he’d escaped. Then again, she deserved to know why he shouldn’t—couldn’t—stay.
“I was investigating an accountant, and it had been easier to catch him on paper than in person so we went to his office unannounced. Ted Brooks was with me. He was fresh out of the Academy, and you’d have thought it was Christmas and his birthday all rolled together. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell his parents about his first arrest.
“We hadn’t bothered with vests. All I wanted was to ask the guy some questions.
“The office was at the end of the hall. We opened the door, and I went in. The first shot caught me in the ribs. The second in the shoulder. The third would’ve finished me, but Ted stepped... He was dead before we hit the floor.”
Her hand trembled. “And the shooter?”
He opened his eyes. “I don’t even remember killing him.”
Maggie’s eyes were large in her pale face, and her grip cut off the circulation to his fingers, but she didn’t try to smooth it over or explain it away. Instead she waited until he invited her closer. Then she scrambled into his lap and wrapped her arms around him. Gray dropped his head to her shoulder and pulled her tight.
He wasn’t sure how long she held him, but when he raised his head he felt pounds lighter and years younger. “Why are you in here, Badger?”
Her body softened against his, and her touch went from comforting to exploring. Leaning forward, she ran the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip before catching it between her teeth. Her breath tickled his nose while satin brushed his skin. He tightened his hold as his blood raced through his veins.
She was his wife. She wanted her freedom. He had to let her go. And if he did this... It took everything he had to pull away and shake his head. He touched his fingers to her lips, brushing their soft curves. In the depths of her eyes desire sparked into frustration then faded to sadness.
“Please, Graham.”
Those two words brought every inch of his body to life. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back until her neck arched. His tongue stroked the newly revealed skin as he rocked her against him, tormenting himself with the texture of the towel when he wanted to feel her. Her nipples scraped his chest through the satin, her legs flexed against his hips.
He was tired of following the rules.
* * *
When he separated them, Maggie gathered her senses and prepared to fight for what she needed. Her argument stuck in her throat when she looked into heavy lidded eyes dark with desire. His erection prodded her through the layer of terry cloth. His scars carved his skin in new directions and put an edge on the polished attorney everyone else saw. As they stood, his towel fell, revealing lean muscles and masculine angles. He prowled toward her, forcing her backward until they reached the bed.
He skimmed his hands from her shoulders down her body, dragging her negligee in their wake until it pooled at her feet. His stare followed it down her heated skin. Breathing hard, he licked his lips as his fingers twitched on her flesh as if he couldn’t decide where to start.
Yanking her to him, he sealed his lips over hers. His sinuous tongue tempted her, striking a hungry rhythm matched by his roving hands as he gave up deciding and tried to touch her everywhere at once.
He made love like he argued—passionate, intense and overwhelming. Her nails raked his back as she struggled for balance, and he hissed against her lips.
“Sorry.”
“I like it.” He tugged her hand back to him and renewed his feast. “Trust me, Maggie.” His whisper was rough on her skin as he circled her nipple with his tongue. “Let go.”
His hands joined the plea, stroking the back of her thigh and pulling one foot from the floor. His hard length prodded her stomach, and her muscles melted. Cool cotton sheets at her back contrasted with the heat of his body on hers.
The warmth left her as he jackknifed off the bed. “Son of a bitch.”
“What?”
“Don’t you hear that?” he snarled as he stalked through the room. “Someone’s at the door.”
She stifled her giggles. “It’s the headboard.”
He returned, laughter shaking through him. It was sexier than any foreplay she could imagine. “You can’t blame me given our track record.”
He stroked his fingers down her body, and she changed her mind about foreplay.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” he whispered. “To have everyone teasing me about what they think we’re doing when we aren’t doing it? When that’s all I want to do? I sleep in here alone, when you’re—”
“I know.” She kissed him, but he slipped free and started down her torso. The hunger flamed again as he picked up where they’d left off this morning. She yanked his hair until he flinched under her fingers.
“Ow.”
“I’m having trouble staying quiet as it is.”
He smirked as he came back to eye level. “You shouldn’t have told me that.”
When he leaned up to put pillows between the bed and the wall, she tasted his skin and ran her hands over his abs and around his hips to his ass. The farther he leaned, the more she explored, and the more noises he made. It took a long time to arrange the pillows.
“Tease,” he grated as he leaned away and reached for the nightstand drawer. “If I can’t, you can’t either.”
She put her hand over his, glad it was dark enough to hide her blush. “I’m on birth control.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough. His fingers flexed on her hip.
The heat under her skin had now nothing to do with embarrassment, but it stole her breath. She nodded.
He rolled to one side and pulled her with him.
She sighed as skin touched skin and his chest hair brushed her nipples to tighter points. While his gaze roamed her front, his hands traced her back. Maggie stroked his calf with her toes while she circled his nipples with her fingers and then her tongue. Flattening her palms on his skin, she soaked up his heat while he stretched like a large cat, and she swore she heard him purr.
Keeping their kisses slow and thorough they only parted to taste other places, communicating through whispered encouragements and fingers on flesh, giving pleasure and watching the other take it. When his stubbly jaw added to her enjoyment, she rolled her lips closed to stifle her whimper.
His sexy laughter brought a new round of shivers. As payback, she nibbled his neck and laughed as he swallowed a groan.
Play ended when he slid one finger inside her. With a gasp, she put the rest of her body in his reach. She was either rewarded or tormented for her effort when he pulled from her to rub her most sensitive spot. It became a new rhythm—slip, thrust, out, rub. His kiss imitated it, pulling her further down a sensual path as a second finger joined the first.
His lips left hers to claim her nipple while he rolled her to her back and rocked her deep
er into the movement. Maggie became aware of every touch. The brush of his arm against the inside of her thigh, the heel of his hand as it joined his fingers in tormenting her, his silky hair slipping through her fingers and his warm breath tickling her skin.
Her heels scraped the sheets as her whimper became a whine. Desperate, she pressed her hands to his back and pulled, wriggling to bring him closer. He resisted, his muscles rippling and straining to keep her still. For a moment, she got lost in the feel of his powerful body warring with hers.
She didn’t want to come alone. She’d been alone too long. She wanted to be with him. “Graham—”
“I’m right here.” His whisper was strained. “Give me this. Please.”
She couldn’t relax. He was here, watching her, doing incredible things to her. But it wasn’t enough. She was empty.
He leaned to her ear, adding heat to her torture. “Da-da-da-dum-da-da—” His smile tickled her skin.
“Evil man.” Laughter bubbled over, relaxing her muscles. The climax began in her toes and shivered upward. Maggie curled around him, buried her mouth in the curve of his shoulder and screamed.
She was still clinging to him when he slid into her, and she bucked at the friction on her swollen flesh.
He stopped, hovering over her. “Are you sure?”
Pressing an openmouthed kiss to his skin, she sampled his sweat and inhaled his scent. Her body claimed his, pulling him deeper. “Yes.”
Their hard and steady pace imitated his earlier one, and Maggie lost track of how many times he pushed her to the brink only to pull back and take her there again. She couldn’t get enough air, and he’d begun muffling his groans in her shoulder.
When his teeth scraped her skin, she gasped in his ear.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Another climax was within her reach. She tugged him back, offering herself. “Again. Please.”
The swipe of his tongue was followed by the rasp of his beard, the nip of his teeth and the wash of his breath over the moisture. As he sucked, his purr shook her bones. She tipped over the edge again, this time more intense than the first.
His thrusts sped and she welcomed him every time he returned. He’d become feral, concentrating his sharp gaze on her face, his smile glittering as he growled his approval and their sweat-slicked bodies created a new rhythm.
Maggie arched her neck as her muscles clenched and her nerves tingled. Every climax had let him go deeper than the time before, and now he’d reached the spot that pushed her body out of her control. He was too far away. She flailed for a pillow.
He put his hand over her mouth, firm enough to muffle sound. “Wanna watch,” he panted, still managing to smile.
With his next deep stroke, she put her hand over his, pressed her mouth into his palm and unleashed a primal noise dragged from deep within. It peaked again as he spilled inside her. He collapsed, cradling her to him as his groan rattled her body inside and out.
It was impossible to tell which of them was shaking harder as he slipped free, pulled the sheet over them and shared his pillow.
Sometime later, she woke as his fingers trailed up and down her spine. Unspoken questions lay heavy in the air.
“It’s okay. We’ve been married two weeks and I’ve had three accidents in three separate cars. We’ve spent more time working than at home. No one will be surprised when you—”
He rolled, hovering over her in the dark. His body pressed against hers, warm, heavy and strong. “Can we not talk about that right now?” he whispered. “Can we just...pretend?”
She couldn’t pretend with him now—pretend he wasn’t leaving when she knew he was. Because later she was going to have to pretend for everyone else—pretend he was coming back when she knew he wasn’t. She’d be left with nothing but memories, and she’d have to pretend it didn’t matter.
He kissed her, and the sweetness of it brought tears to her eyes as he slid his hands around her curves, liquefying her bones and muscles. She might as well store as many memories as possible.
* * *
It was a lousy way to spend the night—under a tree in the shadows, the cold seeping through layers of clothes—watching them learn to take pleasure in each other. No attempt to separate them had worked. Instead, they were growing closer. Despite their arguments, bruises and stitches, they smiled more. He touched her more often, and he never left her side. Last night, he’d left his bed to go to hers. After tonight, he’d never leave. She’d never let him go. Nothing would work as planned if he stayed.
The rifle barrel was a cold reminder. It could end now, but the risk was too great. They protected each other, even in their sleep.
Tomorrow. Gray Harper would leave Fiddler tomorrow. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to stay.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Oh my God.”
Gray lay in bed and listened to Maggie in the bathroom, glad she wasn’t near enough to see his satisfied smirk. Oh my God was an understatement. He rolled out of bed and sauntered to the door.
She was staring into the mirror, touching her finger to the pink flesh on her sternum. His smile widened. He remembered how she’d gotten that.
“Whisker burn.”
She turned to him, a shy smile on her swollen lips and in her hazy eyes, and his whole body twitched in the desire to take her back to bed and keep her there until she begged him to stay. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and took in the rest of her. Sex-weary eyes focused on the tiny bruises littering her shoulders and hips. God, even her knees. Spots where he’d held her tight for fear she’d vanish.
She followed his gaze. Her smile widened. “They don’t hurt.” She twisted her neck to reveal a larger bruise. “But this one’s gonna be hard to explain.”
He gave up keeping away from her, kissing her shoulder before he edged past her into the bathroom. “You made the most incredible noises when I did that. And you felt amazing.” His fingers drifted over her skin as he leaned against the vanity. “You may need a rabies test.”
When her eyes widened, he looked over his shoulder and stared at the welts and scratches on his back. His smirk returned. “Wow. I don’t feel so bad anymore.”
“You might need a tetanus shot.” She traced one long welt, reminding him how it had gotten there in the first place.
“I like your hands on me.” He wanted them on him again.
She sighed. “Jeff’s awake. I heard him making coffee.”
Gray started the shower and stepped inside. “He makes horrible coffee.”
“Worse than Roger?” Maggie asked.
For the first time in forever, the man’s name made him laugh. “No one’s is worse than Roger’s. I had to dump it out and start over. Not even that horrible scone could get rid of the taste.”
As he left the shower, she stepped in. “Where are you going? I thought we could—”
Nothing would make him happier than pushing her to the wall and hearing her groans echo. “Jeff’s got ears like a bat, honey.”
Her eyes widened along with her smile. “Now you tell me.”
Gray shaved from memory and feel, watching her in the mirror and cutting himself twice. When she reached for a towel, he fled to the closet.
The long shelves and rods were laughably empty, with his work clothes on one side and his suits on the other. He had two—the one he wore to church and the one he’d worn to marry Maggie. He picked the church one.
Dressed, he walked to his nightstand. After stretching into his holster, he slid his pistol home. He slipped his badge over his belt, shrugged into his jacket and pulled his raid jacket over his suit. And he stood there, feeling like he’d gained a hundred pounds.
“Wow,” Maggie whispered as she walked across the room and slid her arms around his waist. “This is a sexy memory.”<
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It was. Her skin was softer than her negligee, and she smelled like him. Of all the memories he’d take, this was his favorite. This morning where they got to be married. “Shouldn’t you get dressed?”
“My clothes are across the house. I’m not nuts about doing the walk of shame.”
It felt good to laugh. “Hang on a minute.” He walked down the hall and acted as lookout, making sure Jeff kept his back to the windows while Maggie scurried to her side of the house.
Certain she was safe, he carried his coffee outside and met Jeff’s smirk head-on. “Quantico.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jeff rolled his eyes. “We’re even. Ready to go?”
No. He’d never be ready. Maggie’s door swung open and she strode into the living room. Gray nodded and went to her side.
They drove to town in silence, and he left the truck running while he walked her to her stairs and swept the building. Back at the door, he pulled her into his arms and held her close.
“I’ll come get you tonight,” he whispered. “We’ll go for a ride, and we’ll go home, and Jeff can sleep in the yard.”
“Be safe,” she murmured as she kissed his cheek. “I’ll be here.”
He stole one last taste of her before he trudged out the door and to the truck. From behind the wheel, he stared at the door and willed it to open, for her to come out and tell him—
“I think you need to put it in gear for us to go anywhere.”
Jeff’s teasing grumble from the passenger seat jerked Gray’s attention back to his job. He drove down the alley and took a left through town.
Deb Simon waved from the library steps. I have books to return. Maggie shouldn’t have to deal with those.
Archie Miles, the stone yard foreman, lifted his hand as he passed by.
“I need to remember to tell Nate about new load restrictions on the state highway.”
“Huh?” Jeff grunted.
“He can’t take stone over his favorite route until they’re done reinforcing it.”