by Nicole Helm
But there was no more avoiding. It was here, stronger with every passing hour as they tried to solve this mystery together. The fact of the matter was, a fact he wouldn’t likely admit to anyone possibly ever, he cared about Laurel Delaney.
Not just attraction, or that teenaged desire of something that was off-limits and too good for him besides. Not just this lifetime of a wait, the anticipation, the holding himself back since he was a kid and believing he could control that tug.
This was more, and that was what had made the wait endure all those years. That he knew her and understood her. That he liked her. That her work ethic made his pale in comparison and he’d never met anyone who’d come close.
He parked on the little square of gravel and looked over at her sleeping form in the dim glow of moon and starlight filtered through the car windows.
Even as his body hardened, because she was gorgeous, his heart did some painful twisting thing. That care lodged far too deep to ignore anymore, to avoid, and he was very afraid burrowed too deep to ever be mined out.
“Wake up, princess, or I’m going to have to heft you over my shoulder,” he said, far too gruffly. Because truth be told, he didn’t know how to do care without a lot of gruff to cover it up. To hide the softness. Ward off the inevitable attack. Wasn’t that what dear old Dad had taught him?
Laurel blinked her eyes open, staring out the windshield and then at him. “Oh. You brought me home.” She frowned at the clock. “That was a heck of a drive.”
“I figured it ensured you at least got an hour.”
She pushed out of the car into the frigid night air and took a deep breath. “Feel like a new woman.” She grinned over the hood of the car at him. “Now I don’t need to sleep at all.” But that confidence was underscored when she yawned.
“Uh-huh,” he replied, rifling through her keys until he found one that looked like a house key. He tried it in the lock and it worked.
She stepped inside, yawning again as she flipped on a light. When she turned to face him, she frowned.
“Where are you going?”
“To the saloon.”
“You can’t be alone. You really can’t be alone in my car.”
“What do you suggest, then?” It was something of a challenge, one he probably shouldn’t have laid down when they were both exhausted and no real breaks in the case had been made.
Her gaze held his, unwavering and potent, that thing always between them crackling with a new kind of electricity. Because they’d both acknowledged it now, because they were both operating on less than full capacity. Or just because it was time.
“I guess I suggest the inevitable,” she said quietly, yet in that self-possessed, certain way she said everything. She stepped forward, as if she had no doubts or concerns, and slid her arms around his neck.
“Is that what it is?” he asked, his voice a rough rasp as she stared up at him, her mouth parted and right there. “Inevitable?”
“It feels that way,” she replied, her tall, lithe body pressing to his, those brown eyes never leaving his gaze. As if one hour of sleep had given her all the power she needed. “But maybe I just want to.” Then her mouth slid against his, soft and hot.
It felt like centuries of waiting even though he’d just kissed her the other day. Her mouth insistent, determined, so her, and he wanted to taste every contour of it until it was etched in his very bones.
He didn’t seem to be alone in that desire. Her tongue moved against his, her arms clamped around his neck as if she could keep him there, devouring her mouth.
More, his mind chanted. More, more, more.
“Grady, I want you,” she murmured against his mouth. “Now.”
He kicked the door behind them closed before moving her toward her bedroom, their arms still wrapped around each other.
“Consider it me taking advantage of your exhaustion,” he gritted out, backing her toward the bed. “Then you can pretend you regret it in the morning.”
“I won’t.” She met his gaze then, her brown eyes dark and serious. “I won’t.” She pulled his mouth back to hers as they tumbled onto the bed together.
Chapter Fifteen
Laurel had never been all that concerned with sex before. When she was in a relationship, it was nice to have, certainly. A kind of physical comfort, two bodies coming together.
There was nothing easy or particularly comfortable about Grady on top of her, pushing her into her mattress, his mouth unrelenting and perfect against hers, his hands molding to every curve of her body as if he couldn’t stop himself. Not because it hurt or she was in an awkward position, but because there was this desperate ache inside of her, growing and growing without getting any closer to being fulfilled.
This was not the precursor to sex she knew. This was wild and desperate and she felt like if she didn’t feel Grady’s naked skin against hers and soon, she might simply combust and turn to ash. Or, worse, beg.
She could feel his erection against the apex of her thighs and it made her wonder if all the minimal sex she’d been having in her life had just been bad. Or if not bad, adequate. Decent and all, but not...this all-encompassing, reason-killing thing.
She pawed at his shirt, wanting to see the grand expanse of his chest, wanting to feel it under her fingertips or pressed against her body.
She’d had a lifetime of occasionally catching glimpses of Grady without a shirt on, but here in her bedroom, in her bed, it was, well, it was something else as he sat up and pulled off his T-shirt.
She could see every fine line of his tattoo that took up most of his shoulder and weaved its way down to his elbow. She could reach out and touch the delineation of each impressive muscle, and she could truly absorb and enjoy just how big he was. She didn’t have to fight that or prove she was just as strong or could take him down. She didn’t have to be Deputy Delaney here. For a little while she could just be Laurel.
He reached out and jerked her shirt off her in one quick pull. There was a jolt of self-consciousness that lasted all of five seconds, because his gaze was hot and blazing on her as if he could eat her alive.
She could recognize it in him, because she felt the same way, and that was the thing about whatever it was that existed between them. Maybe it had never made sense, and they’d certainly both ignored and avoided it, but they had always both felt it.
He reached forward and palmed her breasts, still clad in her bra, but then he jerked the bra down, not even bothering with the clasp. His hands rasping against the sensitive skin there as his mouth descended onto her mouth, kissing down her neck to her breasts. His beard scraped against her skin everywhere he kissed. It was abrasive and harsh and somehow that made every feeling deep inside of her sparkle brighter and higher.
Abruptly, Grady’s mouth left her and he got off the bed. She tried to formulate a question, but she was breathing too hard as he yanked his phone out of his pocket and tossed it as if he didn’t care if it landed on a hard surface and broke apart. His keys were next, but when he got his wallet, he flipped it open and pulled out a condom.
She exhaled harshly and maybe she should have been put off by the fact he had a condom, but she didn’t care. She flat-out didn’t care how or why or how long, as long as he used it with her.
“Take off your pants,” he ordered.
Laurel gladly scrambled to comply as he undid the button and zipper on his own pants. As she kicked off her khakis and her underwear, she watched all of Grady come into view. Everything about him strong and broad and beautiful.
There was some dim part of her mind reminding her this was Grady Carson and she wasn’t supposed to be getting involved with him. Certainly not like this.
But every other part of her didn’t care. Because Grady, for all his swagger and outward appearance and sarcastic jokes, was good and kind and he might not want to ever admit it, but he cared about
her. The same way she cared about him. An indelible fact they’d both spent too long trying to falsify.
He was standing there at the foot of her bed, completely naked and impressive. She sat on her bed, naked save for the bra he’d pushed down to her waist.
He flicked a glance at it. “Get it off.”
She didn’t even hesitate to do as he demanded. To do anything he demanded. Because she had always been in charge in life. She’d never cared for following anyone else’s moral compass or rules. She had her own strident ones. She knew how she wanted to live her life, and she did it. Always.
But she’d never felt wild. She’d never been consumed by need or desire, and so why not follow his every order? He was the expert after all.
Grady put one knee on the bed, looming like an incredibly sexy conqueror. She would gladly be conquered. Exhaustion and feuds be damned. All she wanted in this moment was Grady.
He opened the condom wrapper, rolling on the latex before covering her body with his. And she was completely covered. Being flattened into her mattress was a delicious feeling. To live in this world that was only Grady, hard and hot and demanding on top of her.
His hands explored her body, and she smoothed her hands down his expansive, smooth back. His mouth nuzzled against the curve of her neck until she was sighing with pleasure, arching herself against him, desperate for him to enter. Her body somehow both relaxed and coiled at the same moment.
When he finally slid inside of her, there was a moment where they both paused. Holding on to each other, watching each other. Connected. As though she could see over a century in his eyes and vice versa.
Inevitable. That word kept repeating itself in her mind. Because this felt nothing short of inevitable. This was where she belonged. He was everything she needed. She didn’t believe in feuds. She didn’t believe in curses of Carsons and Delaneys commingling. But she understood in this moment it was not for the faint of heart. This joining, this meeting. It was only for those strong enough to handle it.
It was a very lucky thing she was strong enough. And so was he.
Grady surged inside of her in a long, slow, inexorable glide as if he felt it, too. The inevitability. The strength it would take and how much they were made for it.
His mouth claimed hers as he moved against her, over and over again, bringing her to a blinding kind of climax she’d never experienced before, shattering around him and chanting his name as he brought her to that peak again.
Her name from his lips against her mouth as together they tumbled off the edge of something that felt nothing short of perfect and meant to be.
* * *
GRADY FIGURED HE must be dreaming when a repeatedly shrill noise sounded and he was all wrapped up in a very naked Laurel. Surely this was an alternate universe he found himself in. Because there was no way the things he remembered from the night before could be real. Just no possible way.
In this dream, she was as perfect as he might have imagined. And in this dream, it felt as though no possible outcome of his life could be anything other than Laurel in it. In his bed. Always.
Yes, it had to be a dream.
But Laurel’s sleepy voice was very real as it murmured a hello next to him. Her warm and very naked body next to him making him instantly hard again absolutely happening in the present.
He opened his eyes, noting the room was still dark. Which meant at best they’d scored one or two hours of sleep. They both definitely needed more.
Laurel’s hand slapped against his bare chest and he winced.
“Where?” she demanded into her phone receiver. “She’s all right?” Laurel covered the receiver with one hand. “They found Lizzie,” she whispered. “A little beat-up but mostly okay.”
“Does Clint know?”
She shook her head, so Grady got out of bed to find his phone. It was somewhere on Laurel’s side of the room so he walked around. Her floor was neat as a pin except where their discarded clothes and his tossed phone, keys and wallet dotted the hardwood.
Laurel was barking demanding questions into her phone and clearly getting at least some of the responses she wanted. Grady picked up his phone and typed a text to Clint that Lizzie had been found and was okay.
He watched Laurel as she picked up a pen and notepad from her nightstand and balanced it on her lap. The sheet covered her legs, but her upper body was completely bare, and Grady wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and toss her phone and notes away.
But this was her job, and he was an intuitive enough man to know she would not compromise her priorities. He wished he didn’t admire that so much about her.
There was something like panic beating in his chest because he wanted... Well, for the first time in his adult life he wanted something that was out of his control. He could fight for his name, for Rightful Claim, for Bent, but what lay before him with this woman wasn’t a fight.
It would be something like a give-and-take, and sometimes he wondered if deep down inside he was just his parents—all take.
But he wasn’t a coward. Wouldn’t allow himself to be. Panic didn’t rule him, and neither did fear. If he wanted to give and take, he damn well would.
Laurel finished writing something down, then clicked off her phone and set it neatly on the nightstand.
“They haven’t found who took her. Apparently she was dumped back at the same gas station she was taken from. She doesn’t have a description, but they did find that the license plate Lizzie had written down in her room was a Nebraska plate, and Nebraska plates are yellow, which means the plate we have and the car that took her are probably one and the same.”
“You think this is all the work of one man?”
“I’m not sure. But one man has the answers and I need to find them. Apparently Lizzie knew her father was in trouble and had been doing her own poking around—mostly with the help of Clint. She’s been pretty tight-lipped about what happened while she was kidnapped, so I’m going to go question her. Maybe she’ll feel more comfortable with a woman.” Laurel was already out of bed, pulling on a T-shirt.
Belatedly she noticed it was his. She shook her head and moved to take it off again, but he stopped her, putting a hand to her abdomen.
“And if she gives you a tip-off to who did this? What are you going to do?”
She looked up at him, then blinked as if to focus herself. Her gaze slid down his naked body, which he had to say he didn’t mind.
She shook her head as if to clear it. “I’ll follow procedure to bring whoever it is in for questioning. We both need to get dressed and I’ll drop you off at the Carson Ranch.”
Grady bit back all the jumbled worry inside of him. It had only been a few days of working side by side with her, and she’d been a cop for a long time, but he didn’t like... Well, the idea of not being there when she went up against a man capable of murder.
“I need to check on things at the bar,” he forced himself to say. “When Vanessa runs things, I tend to find myself a mess. Drop me off there.”
She chewed on her bottom lip for a second before reaching out and touching his bare chest. “Just because we have a lead doesn’t mean you’re not still in danger. You should be somewhere protected, and with people.”
“You’re in danger all the time. Just by being a cop, right?” he said quietly, because he knew it was true. He knew that. He understood that. He just wanted her to understand... Something.
She absorbed those words, seeming to take in their weight. She didn’t brush that statement off, she considered it. Which meant something, maybe something more than it should.
It was another layer. They didn’t necessarily have to talk every step through for them to understand each other.
“There is a slight difference,” she said carefully.
“Rationally, I get that.”
“And irrationally?”
> “Irrationally, I want you by my side always so I can know you’re safe. I want to keep you safe.”
She stared up at him, her fingertips on his chest, and it was like a moor to this world. She was his anchor to this world. This Delaney cop. Somehow it made all the sense. Because she was the last thing he should ever want, of course she was the only one who fit.
She got up on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth across his. “I don’t...” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, all the while looking him in the eye. “I don’t want last night to be a one-time thing.”
“Good, because it’s not,” he returned gruffly.
“And I don’t just mean the sex.”
“I know what you mean.”
“You feel the same way?” she asked him directly, so brave and certain and good.
It grated somehow, because he wasn’t all that good, and she probably deserved someone better, but he’d be damned if he let her have another man. He took her mouth with his, the opposite of her sweet little peck. He kissed her long and hard and hot. “You are mine, Laurel Delaney. End of story.”
Her mouth curved, almost as if she was indulging him. “And you are mine, Grady Carson.” She patted his chest. “I’m surprised you’re not being a baby about it.”
“Maybe once I’ve had a good night’s sleep I’ll work up a good tantrum.”
She smiled at him, but it didn’t ease this feeling inside of him. Separate from all the being each other’s.
“I don’t think we should separate right now,” he said, even knowing it was a losing battle to go against what she needed to do.
“I need to question Lizzie alone, and I need a few hours to concentrate. Besides, they let Lizzie go of their own volition. Things are de-escalating. There might still be danger out there, but I think it’s weakened. Besides, you have work to do as much as me. You know it.”
Grady grunted, irritated she was right. “Something doesn’t feel right. Just like the other night when Clint didn’t show up. Something doesn’t... Something isn’t adding up.”