I've ruined his life, and it kills me inside.
Tears well up in my eyes as I collapse onto the bed. I bury my face into the pillow, inhaling the musky scent of dust and mold. It's unpleasant, but it grounds me. It reminds me that I'm still alive. Unlike Tasha, I'm still here. And so is Grant.
The bed sinks a little, and I look up to see him sitting beside me. He rubs my back gently, doing his best to soothe me. I imagine comforting people isn't natural to him, but he's doing his best. And he's doing a pretty good job. At least for me. Knowing he's there with me is all I need to feel safe.
“I'm so sorry,” I say.
He looks surprised and taken aback a bit. “For what?”
“For dragging you into my mess,” I say, choking back the sobs. “If you hadn't found me that day, you –”
“Hush,” he says, squeezing in beside me on the bed.
His body is pressed against mine now, and he wraps those strong arms around me, pulling me closer. He looks into my eyes for a long moment and gives me a gentle smile.
“If I hadn't found you, you'd be dead right now,” he says.
“But Tasha would be alive, and you wouldn't be running from the mob. It doesn't exactly seem all that fair,” I say.
“Listen to me, Celeste. Nothing in life is fair. You didn't cause any of this – they did. Not you,” he says, pushing a strand of hair back behind my ear.
I lean into his hand a bit, savoring the roughness of his skin against my cheek. I close my eyes and sigh, just trying to lose myself in the moment. To shut out all of the bad things happening and focus on this one pure, sweet moment in time.
“I have nothing, Grant,” I say. “My old life, even though I can't remember it, is gone. There's no going back. I have nothing and no one left.”
“You have me,” he says.
I open my eyes to find him staring at me. There's a softness to his face, a tenderness, an openness and sincerity, that compels me to reach out and touch him. He turns his head to kiss the palm of my hand and the instant his lips meet my flesh, my insides melt.
“I have you for now,” I whisper. “But who knows what the future holds for either of us. You didn't ask for any of this, Grant –”
“No, I didn't. But I wouldn't change it for the world, Celeste,” he says. He scoots closer to me on the bed, so our faces line up. His beard scratches my chin, sending a small ripple of pleasure through my body.
“I don't understand why you'd stay,” I say. “I've caused you so much trouble. I've put you in danger.”
“You don't have to understand. It's just how I feel,” he says, a small smile pulling at his lips. “And I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. I give you my word, Celeste. We're going to get clear of this.”
My heart swells with emotion. I choke on my words, trying to figure out how to thank him for everything. Simply saying “Thank you,” doesn't feel like enough. Not even close. My emotions get the best of me and prevent me from saying anything for several long moments. So, I do the only thing that feels right in that moment – I press my lips to his.
Grant hesitates, but only for a moment.
“Please, Grant – I want you. I need you,” I say, balling my hands into fists on his chest, and gripping his shirt tightly. “I need something good after all the shit I've had to deal with. Something – pure.”
His lips brush mine again, and this time, it's all him. He doesn't say anything, he just takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply, filling my mouth with his tongue. My entire body tingles. My lips are on fire. I wrap my arms around his neck, twisting and tangling my fingers in his hair. I pull him even closer, wanting him as close to me as humanly possible.
Grant apparently feels the same as he presses his body hard against mine. A moment later, he rolls me over on top of him, making me straddle his lap. I gasp, feeling his erection pressing into me, and I can't help but grind against him. His pants are keeping us apart and I'm longing to feel us united, to feel our most intimate parts joined as one again. It's crazy how much I need him, especially since we'd made love only hours before, but I can't explain it. He just makes me happy, he makes me feel good, and I need that in my life right now.
I reach for his belt, but Grant grabs my hands and holds them both in just one of his. I stare down at him, wide-eyed, fearful that I've done something wrong, or that I've somehow misread the signs. His eyes are filled with fire, but it's not an angry look. No, it's one full of need and desire.
He sits up, forcing me lower on his lap, and kisses me so deeply, my lips begin to hurt. He still has my hands, and he's not letting them go. He pushes me backward and slides out from under me. Our positions have changed - now I'm the one on bottom. My hands are now free, but I have to wonder for how long. Grant clearly likes to be in control, and I'm more than happy to let him.
“I regret moving too fast the other times,” he growls. “I'm not going to make that mistake again. I'm going to take my time with you.”
He rips my panties down and off me. He reaches for my dress, and I help him lift it over my head, leaving me laying there in just my bra. Grant falls forward, kissing and sucking on my cleavage, his fingers playing with my nipples. I moan, my body arching upward as a flood of sensations pour through my body, Grant reaches underneath me and fumbles with the bra straps. He only fumbles for a second though, before he gets it unhooked and my breasts fall free. Cupping one in his hand, he brings my nipple to his lips, and sucks.
Complete and utter bliss. A line of fire runs from my nipple straight down into the warm, wet center of me. My head goes back, and I arch my lower body upward, toward him. With his mouth on my breast, Grant stares up at me, his hazel eyes blazing with heat. He lets go of my nipple, and kisses underneath my breast before moving lower – then lower still.
I shudder as his tongue draws a circle around my belly button, and tremble even more as he gets closer to my sacred spot. I run my hands through his long hair as he kisses even lower, nibbling gently on my inner thigh. I push his head closer into me, whimpering, but he resists. He teases me instead, kissing along both thighs, kneading my flesh with his hands.
“Please,” I beg, grasping his hair in my hands.
Grant nudges my thighs apart before diving between them. His tongue runs up and down my swollen, wet lips before gently sucking on my clit. The pleasure is almost too much to bear. I cry out, yanking on his hair. Grant pulls back, but only a little, focusing on my opening instead.
He fucks me with his tongue, burying it deeper and deeper inside of me, until I can't take it any longer. The pleasure becomes too much for me, and spasms tear through me. I'm writhing on the bed, even as Grant holds me down by the hips, keeping me from moving too much.
“Oh God,” I mutter, biting my lip as I come hard, my entire body trembling.
As the pleasure subsides, he lifts his head up and there's a grin spread across his face. Wetness clings to his lips and beard. My wetness.
“Come here,” I say. “Now.”
Grant moves up the length of my body, and I wrap myself around him, clinging as tightly to him as I can. Our bodies become intertwined as he presses his lips firmly to mine. My body is exploding with sensation, my most intimate parts are quivering for him, crying out for release. The problem is, he's still clothed.
I grab onto his shirt and do my best to wrangle it off him, before finally demanding, “Off.”
Grant chuckles and helps me remove his shirt, leaving only his pants standing in the way of my pleasure. He reaches into a side pocket on his bag and rummages through a tiny box, quickly slipping out a condom. My heart races as I watch him remove his belt and pants. My hands tremble, even as I touch his chest, drawing outlines around the tattoos I'd never seen before.
Grant lowers himself, taking my face in his hands and kisses me, as our bodies become connected. I thrust my pelvis upward, joining us together at last. He enters me with a low groan. My opening stretches around him, accepting him inside of me. He stares down at me
, and just stays like that for a moment, allowing ourselves to savor the feeling.
Slowly, he begins moving his hips, grinding into me, and his lips press down onto mine. His tongue enters my mouth, and I've never felt closer to another human being than I do in that moment. The sensations coursing through me are so powerful, I never want the moment to end, and I hold onto him tightly, wanting to be as physically close to him as possible.
The bed creaks as Grant starts to move faster, burying his cock deeper into me with each thrust. He grabs my leg, adjusting my position, so he can move even deeper inside of me. I can't help but cry out, shaking uncontrollably as he pummels himself into me nice and hard, triggering explosion after explosion of ecstasy inside of me.
The creaking of the bed grows louder – as do our screams – and a thin sheen of sweat glistens on our bodies. There's so much wetness between the two of us now, that he's moving in and out of me with ease. His body is a machine, powerful and strong. The corded muscles in his chest clench and tighten as he makes love to me, my body now entirely wrapped around his, feeling nothing but sheer bliss.
Grant grabs my hips, drawing a soft squeak from my lips, and he rolls us over as one until I'm suddenly on top of him.
“I want to see you,” he says, his voice gruff. “All of you.”
His voice is low and heavy, filled with so much need. He drinks me in. All of me. He looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, and that only fuels my own passion. My own desire. It spreads a warmth through my belly that only makes me wetter for him.
I rock my hips against him, resting my hands on his chest as I ride him. He pulls me down against him, filling me up completely. I bite my lip, a small whimper passing my lips, as he hits that sweet spot deep inside of me, a scream building deep in my belly. He feels so good – nothing has ever felt as good as his cock inside of me. I throw my head back, and keep riding him, keep reveling in the fires of pleasure engulfing me. His gaze is hypnotizing, and before long, I'm pulled into an abyss where nothing else exists but him and me.
I fall forward, my face inches from his. He kisses me, raising himself up, his hands wandering my body, guiding my hips as I continue to ride him. I whimper, my insides tightening around his cock. My legs quiver as I come a second time, and he holds onto me – holding me closer – watching my face as I'm taken over by what might be the most intense pleasure I've felt in my life.
Then something changes on his face. There's a tightening of his jaw, and a tension in his eyes. He grunts, then groans, and I know he's about to come, too. His face contorts into a look of pure bliss, and he thrusts himself deep into me one last time, exploding inside the condom. His cock throbs and pulses inside of me. There's nothing else like it. I never want this feeling to end.
We lay there breathless for a long time, our hearts thundering in our chests. He holds me close to him, trailing his fingers down my back lightly. I nuzzle against his neck, inhaling the musky scent of him, and seemingly from out of nowhere, it hits me – I love this man. He's my rock.
I look into his eyes. Neither one of us says it, but I can see it etched into his face. It's as clear on his face as I know it is on mine.
He loves me too.
* * *
“She was my best friend,” I say.
Time has passed since we made love, but we're both still enveloped in the magical feel of the afterglow – and neither of us can sleep. Instead, I stay nuzzled against his chest, tracing the outline of his tattoos, relishing in his scent, as well as the physical sensations still coursing through my body after making love with him.
“I know,” he says softly.
“I don't remember much, but I know that,” I say. “And now she's gone.”
He squeezes me tightly. It occurs to me that Grant knows this feeling all too well. I look up at his face, and he's studying me. He places a gentle, sweet kiss on my forehead.
“I'm so sorry you had to experience that, Celeste. I wish you hadn't had to see that,” he says. “I'd do anything to take that memory away from you, but I can't. All I can do is offer my support. To be here for you to lean on.”
“How did you get over it? When Sam died?”
“I haven't. I'm not over it,” he says. “I'm still trying to figure out who was behind it. It kills me not to know.”
“At least I know,” I whisper. “I guess that's something. Having that certainty.”
“Yeah, but that's a different kind of burden altogether,” he says, kissing me again, this time letting his lips linger against my skin.
“Do you think you'd find peace if you caught the people who killed him?” I ask.
He sighs and shifts underneath me. “I don't know. I'd like to think so,” he says. “At least I'd have the comfort of knowing those bastards would be rotting in prison. But it's never that easy, is it?”
“I suppose not,” I say.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from flowing. I no longer want to think about Tasha and what happened back in Chicago. I want those horrible images of her death out of my head. Forever. Nor, do I want to remember who I was involved with back then. Apparently, I was involved with some shitty, evil people.
How could I have ever gotten myself caught up into that mess? How could I have been involved with violent killers?
Grant's breathing steadies after a while, and I open my eyes to see him sleeping. He looks so peaceful, even though I know inside, he's churning. I know that inside, he's tormented. Filled with regret. Losing his best friend – and not even knowing what really happened – has thrown him for a loop, even all this time later. I can see it whenever I look into his eyes. Though he tries to play if off, I can see that still gnaws at him relentlessly.
I also know his brain is riddled with questions – just like mine. He wants answers to everything, to help settle his mind and ease his soul. If I could, I'd give them to him.
I close my eyes again, attempting to drift off sleep myself. But my brain is like a television, and someone is endlessly flipping through the channels. I can't shut it off, no matter how hard I try. I just can't stop thinking about Tasha and Grant, and even Sam – even though I don't know him.
Sam Frederickson. The name sticks with me for a second, and I roll it over in my mind. I've heard the name before – not just from Grant. I know I've heard it, and I've seen him before too. I think back and try to picture him in my mind. It comes to me slowly – blonde hair, blue eyes, and almost as big as Grant. He had a sweet smile and dimples. I'll never forget the dimples.
How do I know this? Why can I picture this man? Is it actually even Sam Frederickson? Is it Grant's best friend? I nudge Grant awake, gently, because I have to ask him. I have to know.
“Hmm?” he mutters sleepily.
“Did Sam have dimples?” I ask.
His eyes open and a look of surprise crosses his face. “Yeah, he did,” he says, sounding more alert and aware. “Why do you ask?”
A knot forms in my stomach. For a moment, I can't think, or even breathe. I feel like I've just been kicked in the gut and had all of the air driven out of my lungs. In my mind's eye, all I see is Sam Frederickson inside Francelli's, talking to someone. No, not just someone – he was talking to Mario. My boyfriend.
“I – I think I've met him before,” I whisper. “I think he met with Mario once. At the restaurant. I remember seeing him.”
“You're shitting me,” he says.
“They were talking – no, arguing – over something,” I say, sitting up as the image resolves itself in my mind.
Grant sits up sharply, the sheet draped over the lower half of his body drawing my attention. He is so gorgeous, it distracts me for a second. My mind can't handle all of the sensory overload right now, and all I can focus on is the man in front of me, and how much I adore him.
“Celeste?”
“Yes? Sorry, I got distracted,” I mutter, feeling the heat rushing to my cheeks.
“I asked if you knew what they were ta
lking about?”
I shake my head quickly, then I realize, that's not entirely true. “I only caught part of the argument,” she says. “But it had something to do with one of Mario's properties. I only know that because I walked over just as Sam mentioned it, and Mario sent me away. He was so angry at me, and I didn't know why – oh, God –”
“What?” Grant asks, already hopping out of the bed.
“What if – what if that's why they tried to kill me?” I ask, feeling the panic in me starting to rise. “That makes sense, doesn't it? Because I saw him with Sam? Because I might potentially be able to link Mario with Sam's death?”
“Maybe,” Grant says, as he picks his pants off the floor, and starts digging through the pockets. “Kinda sounds like it. I mean, it's plausible, but it still doesn't explain how you got to Colorado though.”
“No, it doesn't,” I mumble.
I bite my inner lip and try to think back to the argument. I try to piece it together in my mind. I remember that it wasn't very interesting to me, so I’d tuned it out.
“How did you know it was Sam?” Grant asks me, pulling me out of the memory.
He’s holding his cell phone in his hand, looking at me with an inscrutable expression on his face. He's looking for answers and hoping I can fill in some of the blanks.
“Uh – well, he had a reservation,” I say. “I seated him.”
“Why did his name stick out to you?” he asks.
“I don't know,” I say, shaking my head.
I think back, trying to figure out what made him – his name – stand out to me, but I keep coming up empty. I have no idea. It just does. Grant paces the room, his fists balled up at his side, his face tense, his body taut. He looks frustrated. Angry – and a little bit scared.
“Think, Celeste,” he says. “Anything else you can remember?”
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