by Diana Gardin
I kiss the scales, and then I allow my lips to trail across his chest. My tongue darts out to lick first one nipple, and then the other. Grisham sucks in a breath, his hand tightening on my hip where it lay.
I glance up at him. “I think I’m ready for you to make good on that promise.”
I close my teeth around his skin and he hisses.
“Fuck.”
I kiss the sore spot and trail my tongue over it to soothe the sting.
“What promise?” He grinds out the words, all of his muscles going taut.
“The one you made about promising to make me feel like that again.”
His lips tip up in a smirk. “Oh, that promise.”
Those are the last words he says before he pushes himself up and hovers above me. His eyes sear me as he lets them travel slowly over my body.
“I’ll make good on that one as many times as you want.”
19
Grisham
Just before the sun was up this morning, I was awake, just like normal. Something that wasn’t normal was the fact that a naked Greta lay next to me, tangled in my charcoal-gray sheets. I couldn’t help what happened next, rolling her over onto her back and running my hands and my tongue over every inch of her gorgeous body.
The memory of it causes a smile to cross my face as I walk into work this morning at the base.
Knowing that my team will be deploying without me at the first of next year is still rough, but I’m dealing with it much better, now that Jacob has decided to hire me as part of the team at Night Eagle.
As the end of my naval career draws closer, I’m putting less time in at the base. I usually just go in for the mornings, and then I stop at Night Eagle after lunch to consult on assignments there.
Today goes exactly this way. After I grab a quick sandwich at a deli following four hours working at the base, I pull into the Night Eagle parking lot and lock the Jeep. The first face that greets me when I walk in the door is Greta’s, and I’m pulled right back into the previous night spent holding her in my arms. My body reacts to the mere sight of her, and a big, goofy grin spreads across my face.
She looks up from the desk, smiling when she sees me, too. I walk straight to her desk, lean over the front of it, and brush my lips across hers.
When she pulls away, her face is flushed and her eyes shine up at me. “Hey, there.”
Her voice is a little breathless, which I like. It means I affect her the same way she affects me, and it’s nice not to feel alone in this whole crazy thing that’s happening between us. I can no longer deny or refute the fact that it’s happening.
And even though the thought of my darkness swallowing up her light scares the shit out of me, I’m beginning to think her sunshine may be the only thing lighting my way.
And after last night, I damn sure want to make certain it’s happening with me and only me.
Propping a hip on the side of her desk, I lean toward her.
“I haven’t been able to get you outta my head this morning, Grits.”
A pretty pink tinge spreads across her cheeks, and she glances up at me through her long, black lashes. “Me, too. Last night…and this morning…were incredible.”
I nod. “It was that. So, this”—I gesture between the two of us—“it’s happening. And I want it to be happening on repeat. And only between the two of us.”
A slow smile curls her lips upward. “Are you saying you want to make this official, Abbot?”
I only have to lean forward another inch to recapture her mouth. I let her know with my kiss that hell yes, I want to make this official.
When I pull away, she nods. “Okay, then. We’re doing this.”
Elation fills me up like a helium balloon. “Yeah, girl. We’re doing this.”
A throat clears behind me, and when I turn, Kyle is standing next to the office door. He looks uncomfortable, clearly not having meant to walk in on such an intimate moment.
“Oh, hey, man,” I greet him, rising from Greta’s desk. “I was just heading in to see if Jacob needs me for anything today.”
Kyle nods, continuing his path toward the desk. As we pass each other, he doesn’t glance at me. I shrug, throwing a wink back at Greta before closing myself inside Jacob’s office.
He’s alone in the room, poring over some documents at his desk. But he looks up when I come in, and nods briskly at me. It’s rare for Jacob Owen to smile, so a nod is all I expect in greeting.
“Afternoon, son,” he says gruffly.
“Good afternoon, sir. Just checking in with you to see if you need me today. Where’re the guys?”
Jacob points toward the brown leather couch, indicating that I take a seat. I do so, facing the row of windows overlooking the ocean while he sits opposite me.
“Teague is delivering a threat assessment system we developed for the state police. Should be a one-day job. Conners and Shaw are on a security detail over in Raleigh for the remainder of the week. They’ll be back Saturday for the event.”
I rack my brain, certain I haven’t been told about an event. “What event would that be?”
Jacob’s lips twist in what could be a smile, although it could also be a grimace. The dude’s face just doesn’t give much away. He’s super hard to read. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about today, Abbot. Do you own a nice suit?”
I nod solemnly. I own several nice suits. But what…
“Yes, sir.”
He nods. “Good. On Saturday, we’re having an event for our current and potential clients. All of our local clients are expected, and several of our long-distance clients will likely be flying in. There will be shitloads of possible future clients, and we’re putting our best foot forward on this. Greta’s a huge part of the details, but Kyle has planned the whole thing from the ground up. We do these a few times a year. I fucking hate them. But I know the ass-kissing has to be done.”
I try to rein in my grin. Picturing Jacob Owen kissing anyone’s ass is a stretch. But he runs a successful firm here, and I know he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“And you want me to attend?”
Now Jacob throws me a rare smirk. “Shouldn’t you already be attending? I don’t expect Greta plans on going alone.”
Okay, so the man’s not blind. Shit, was I supposed to ask his permission to date his daughter or something?
Clearing my throat uncomfortably, I look him in the eye. “Sir…”
He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t, Abbot. My daughter’s a grown-up. She’d kick my ass from here to kingdom come if she thought I was interfering. But if you ever hurt her…” He lets the sentence die, but I catch his meaning in its entirety.
“I understand, sir. I would never hurt her.”
He nods, like that’s enough for him. “I know you’re not starting full-time at NE until January, but I’d like to introduce you as the newest member of the team, get clients used to seeing your face.”
“Wow. Yeah…okay. I’ll be there.”
“With a suit on,” he reminds me.
“With a suit on.”
Kyle opens the office door then. Closing it behind him, he heads over to his desk and sits down.
“That’s it for today, Abbot. Tomorrow you can work with Teague on drawing up a master security plan for Jettison Labs’ corporate offices. They’re opening sometime next year, a new branch of their multinational here in Wilmington.”
I stand. “I’ll be there. Greta and I are going to train this afternoon, though. So I’ll be around if you need anything.”
He nods, already absorbed again in whatever task he was working on before I arrived. I exit his office, looking for Greta.
I find her in the lounge. Sneaking up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and move her long braid to one side, revealing the slender perfection of her neck.
I put my lips there, sucking lightly as she tenses under my hands. Then she immediately relaxes.
“Hey,” I murmur. “How’d you know it was me?
I could be some stranger, kissing on your neck. You just relaxed right into me.”
She sighs, her eyes closing. “I knew it was you.”
“How?” Curiosity gets the best of me, and I lift my head to look at her.
Her eyes remain closed. “Your smell. The feel of your hands. The way your lips mold to my skin. All distinctly Grisham.”
Pleasure rockets through me, accumulating in my chest. I pull her closer, allowing my hands to slide down the skirt she’s wearing and pull up the material of her skirt just a little bit. My palms rest on her thighs. Her perfectly shaped, supple thighs.
“Ah,” I whisper. “So you always know when it’s me?”
Her head falls back against my chest. “Always.”
“Good.” I bite her earlobe, and I’m not gentle. She moans, which causes my manhood to stand at attention. Her hips press back into me, and my fingers dig into her thighs.
Remembering where we are, I reluctantly release her, coming around to stand beside her. I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. “You know your dad knows about us, right?”
She chokes, sputtering on the sip of coffee she’d just downed. I rub her back, smiling. “You okay?”
She nods, looking at me with an alarmed expression on her face. “Did he say something to you?”
I lean casually against the counter and sip my water. “Just that he’ll kill me if I hurt you.”
“Oh, my God.”
Laughing, I kiss her cheek. She’s fucking adorable. “It’s to be expected.”
“You’re okay with him knowing?”
I hold her gaze. “I told you earlier, remember? We’re doing this. For real.”
She breathes an obvious sigh of relief. “Okay, then.”
Tapping her lightly on the nose, I frown at her. “Are we doing something important this weekend?”
She gazes at me blankly.
“Isn’t there an important client event you forgot to tell me about?”
She jumps. “Oh, yeah! You’re coming, right?”
Putting my water down on the counter, I put my hands on her waist and pull her toward me. “Oh, I’m coming. With you as my date.”
Her mouth tips up in a smile. “Okay.”
I grab my water and smack her ass. She yelps, scowling at me. “Now, go get that cute ass in some sweatpants. We’ve got training to do.”
“That’s it. One, two, switch your feet. Knee up!” I grunt as her knee plants sharply into the pad at my midsection. With every training session she takes, she’s growing more confident in her movements. She trusts her body more now than she did when we first started, throwing punches with smooth calculation. She never takes her eyes off her target, never leaves her face unprotected.
It’s amazing.
She’s amazing.
She’s strong, and she’s confident.
And she’s my girl. Which is the most inspiring part of all.
Smirking, she pulls off her gloves and wipes at her forehead. “I did good, right? That hurt, didn’t it?”
I shake my head at her, smiling. “Yeah, Grits. You did good. You didn’t hurt me, though.”
Quick as a flash, she brings her knee back up. But I’m quicker, catching her foot with one hand and letting the other wrap around her hips so she won’t fall.
“Damn,” she curses through clenched teeth. “I thought I had you.”
I drop her leg and pull her in close until I can smell the heady mixture of flowers and sweat radiating from her skin. I nuzzle her neck, and she gasps. “I know you, Greta. So I anticipated what you were going to do. An attacker won’t be so lucky. You’re capable of kicking some serious ass. I swear.”
She winds her arms around my neck. In her tight, hot-pink pants and the black sports bra she’s wearing, I can feel every curve in her body molding to every flat plane of mine. Fire races through my veins, and I wish like hell we weren’t at Night Eagle where anyone could walk in on us at any moment.
I need her to myself.
“Come over tonight?” I ask, my voice like the rough slide of sandpaper.
“Count on it,” she says, just before her mouth sears to mine.
20
Greta
It’s not until later that week that I think about the roses and the person who sent them.
I usually leave my apartment in Lone Sands in order to drive into Wilmington around eight. Today, however, is a day off of school for my sisters. My mom still has to go into work, so I used the convenience of working for my dad to ask off. Of course he conceded, telling me to kiss my sisters and my mother for him.
Mea is never up this early, since she doesn’t teach her first yoga class until eleven. The apartment is quiet as I toast my bagel, add some goat cheese, and pour my coffee. When there’s a soft rap at the front door, I look up in surprise.
“Who the heck…” My bare feet pad across the living room to the front door. Pulling it open, I look out onto the landing. But it’s empty.
I poke my head out, looking left and right, before I step out onto our mat. I almost trip over the pristine white box sitting on the ground.
I frown as I bend to pick up the box.
Where did this come from?
Taking one last glance around the landing, noting that the other three apartments on my floor are quiet, I back into my apartment and close the door behind me. I turn the box over and over in my hands, studying it. It’s plain and white, and could be a bakery box. It seems like it could hold a small cake. And the contents match the weight of a bakery treat.
Taking the mystery box over to the counter at the breakfast bar, I put it down and lift the lid. There’s a note sitting on top of the box’s contents. I can’t see what else the package contains, because it’s wrapped up in brown packing paper.
Picking up the typed note, my lips move as I read it to myself.
GO SURFING WITH ME?
Immediately thinking of Grisham, I smile and tug the thing inside the box out into my hands. Taking off the brown wrapping, I see a beautiful pale-pink surfboard made of a heavy blown glass.
Turning it around in my hands, I see a giant crack in the center of the board. When I turn it back over, the two pieces fall apart in my hands.
“Aww,” I murmur mournfully. “It’s broken.” A punch of sadness hits me.
I wrap both pieces back in the paper and place them in the box. The white cube slides on the bar, knocking the note onto the floor. When I pick it up, I read the words I hadn’t previously seen on the back side.
STOP SURFING WITH HIM.
My blood chills. The fingers holding the note stiffen, and the white paper flutters back to the floor. Staring at it, I take a step back and then another. I know the note can’t hurt me, but whoever sent this to me is a different story. I hold my hands out in front of me and see that they’re shaking.
And then I get pissed.
Why am I letting a stupid box with a broken gift scare me?
The person who sends these gifts is too much of a coward to hurt me, clearly. I could go and make a complaint at the police station, but there’s no point. The words in the note aren’t written as a threat.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been scared of the things I can’t see. I was scared of the bad people in faraway places who could hurt my father while he was working, and cause him not to come home to us. I was scared of the disagreements and distance that tore my parents’ marriage apart. I was scared when my sister was diagnosed with CF, that the next germ she got could kill her and there would be nothing I could do to stop it. Fear is a living, breathing dragon that breathes fire into your soul and paralyzes you until you curl into a ball and stop fighting.
But now I’m in control of my own situations, and I can make the decisions. It’s time to stop being afraid and learn to empower myself. I don’t have to be scared of some secret admirer I can’t even see.
I toss the note in the box. And then I throw the entire thing into the trash can. Feeling a little bit better, I
head to my bedroom to finish getting dressed. I’ll eat my bagel and drink my coffee in the car on the way to my mom’s house.
And I decide not to talk about this gift with anyone. Talking about it, worrying about it, gives the sender power.
I refuse to empower any more unseen threats in my life.
“This is so good!” Gemma’s voice is saturated in ecstasy as she swallows another bite of cheesecake. “Whose idea was this again?”
I finished chewing my bite of chocolate soufflé and grin. “Mine.”
Gabi, always more reserved than her outgoing younger sister, smiles at me around her fork. “It was a great idea, Greta. Thanks for bringing us out for dessert tonight.”
I squeeze her hand gently before pulling out my phone and checking the time. “I love spending time with you two. You know that. It’s easy to think of fun things to do when your sisters are the coolest people on the planet.”
Gemma snorts. Both of my sisters are younger, spitting images of my mother and me. My mom’s side of the family must have really strong genes, because none of us received the light hair and brown eyes of my father. Nor did we receive his olive complexion. Gemma is currently sporting indigo streaks throughout her long, curly dark locks. Gabi wears her hair shorter, and it’s thick and straight, like mine.
“Mom should be home soon. You two want to blow this joint?”
The girls nod, cleaning their dessert dishes with last bites before we all stand. Walking toward my car in the parking lot, I put my arm around Gabi and squeeze her close into my side.
“You’re doing okay, right?”
She nods. “I’m okay, Greta. You worry too much. I’ve been dealing with CF since I was a little kid. I’ve got this.”
Looking down at her, my heart grows a size, and tears sting my eyes. I don’t let them fall. She does have this. She shouldn’t have to, but she does. She’s a tough cookie at sixteen years old, way older than her physical age shows.