by Diana Gardin
Staring at Grisham, I shake my head. “A stalker? You think I have a stalker?”
He kneels down beside me. “Angel, I know you have a stalker. The signs are there, especially after this attack. It can’t be coincidence, or random. The same person who sent you those flowers is the same person who attacked you tonight. I’d bet my life on it.”
He stands again, turning away from me and running his hands through his messy locks. “Dammit! Why didn’t I see this coming?”
I just sit there, mute, turning this new information over in my mind. I think about the other gift I was sent by an anonymous party, and I sit up straighter.
“And the surfboard,” I mutter.
Grisham’s head swivels around until he’s staring at me. “Come again?”
My father’s voice interrupts me. He’s speaking quickly into his cell phone. He has a friend on the Wilmington police force, and it’s clear that’s who he’s speaking with. I turn my attention back to Grisham. Berkeley is listening with rapt attention while she rubs comforting circles on my back.
“I got another gift.”
Grisham opens his mouth, then closes it again. A look of awed frustration crosses his face, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“I didn’t tell you, because I knew you’d freak out. And it was just another harmless gift, but it had a note that scared me a little. And I didn’t want to give the sender power by making a big deal about it. I just wanted to ignore it, pretend it never happened.”
Grisham places his hands on his waist, and I can see a muscle tensing in his jaw. “What did the note say, Grits?”
I take a breath. I’ll never forget what that note said. I recite it as if I’m reading from it at that moment. “It said GO SURFING WITH ME? And then when I flipped it over, it said STOP SURFING WITH HIM.”
Grisham mutters a curse, and as my father hangs up the phone, he pulls him aside and begins talking in hushed, urgent tones. I can only imagine what they’re saying, and I place my forehead in my hands, wishing this night could just end.
I hear Dare’s voice when he returns, but I don’t bother to lift my head.
“He disappeared in the alley behind the hotel. Couldn’t find him, even though I combed that damn alley. He’s a fucking magician.”
Both my father and Grisham were less than thrilled with this news, but all three men are already formulating a plan to keep me safe. I don’t even hear what it is, because I’m suddenly being introduced to two police detectives.
I give my statement to the police. It’s surreal, experiencing the notes and gifts through their eyes. I’m realizing, as I recount everything that’s happened with my stalker thus far, that I’m in much deeper than I thought before. This situation has somehow spiraled out of my tenuous control without my knowing it. The thought is harrowing and disconcerting. I don’t understand where I went wrong.
I also don’t understand why this is happening to me.
By the time I’m finished giving my statement to the detective asking me repetitive questions, the entire Night Eagle team surrounds me. The guys are being protective and strong, and I’m so grateful I’m a part of this band of brothers. They’ll keep me safe.
The determination on Grisham’s face takes me aback. It’s like he’s made a vow to himself to never let something like this happen to me again. I know that he’s feeling a sense of déjà vu. He’s thinking that he couldn’t protect me tonight, the same way he couldn’t protect his mother from his own father for all those years. I have to let him know that this is different, that I can handle this and I trust him implicitly to be there for me when I need him.
To me, Grisham is nothing but a hero. But proving that to him is turning out to be a daunting feat.
Before I know it, the questioning is over and my father is leaning down to speak to me.
“Are you all right?” he asks. “Do you want me to call your mom? Do you want to come back to my condo tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”
I open my mouth to say no at the same time Grisham speaks up from my side. “She won’t be alone, sir.”
My dad takes a long, hard look at Grisham. Something seems to pass between them and my father gives a curt nod.
“You’ll be okay if I let you go with Grisham, sweetheart?” he asks me seriously.
I don’t hesitate before I give my own nod. “Absolutely.”
Grisham takes my hand, pulling me to my feet and immediately cradling me to his side. I feel his lips brush the top of my head, and all of the stress and anxiety and fear the night caused me leave me in a whoosh of air. Being in Grisham’s arms again makes everything seem like it’ll be okay. I can survive a stalker if I have him by my side.
My dad places his hands on my shoulders and kisses my cheek. “I’ll give your mother a call, so you can just go home and settle in, okay? I’ll make sure she knows what happened, and that you’re fine. You give her a call in the morning.”
I nod and disentangle myself from Grisham so I can throw my arms around my dad. We’ve been through a lot together. And it hasn’t all been good. But when it comes down to it, if I’m ever in trouble, he’s someone I can depend on, and that counts for something. I squeeze him tight.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper in his ear.
When he pulls back, his eyes are moist and he quickly turns away. “See you Monday morning, pumpkin.”
The childhood nickname he gave me almost does me in, and Grisham seems to sense my impending emotional collapse. Without another word, he sweeps me out of the room. He appears to sense the urgency of my need to get out of there. With just a few short words and the slide of a bill into the valet’s palm, his Jeep is brought around much more quickly than I could have hoped for.
He gently places me in the passenger seat and takes the time to buckle me in. His face is tender and concerned as he looks into my eyes. Without saying a word, he brushes my lips gently with his. Then he’s gone. He rounds the hood of the Jeep, slides into the driver’s seat, and we’re on our way back to Lone Sands.
When we arrive at his beach house, Grisham is around to my side of the car quick as a flash, helping me down from the SUV.
He keeps an arm slung around my shoulder, walking me up to his front door, opening it, and closing it behind us. Grisham’s big body shielding mine calms the thudding of my pulse. I watch with focused attention as he locks the dead bolt, and he glances over at me. His eyes soften as he takes my face into large hands.
“You’re safe, Grits,” he whispers, searching my eyes. “You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His thumbs rub feather-light circles on my pallid skin.
I nod wordlessly, letting my head fall against his shoulder. His arms wind around me, and I’m lifted into the air and carried to the couch.
Grisham sits on the edge of the cushion and looks down at me. Reaching out to tuck a piece of my hair, fallen from my elegant updo into what I can only imagine to be a bedraggled mess, he bends to claim my lips.
His lips are warm and welcome on mine, and I instantly open my mouth to accommodate him. The kiss turns urgent and feverish, him leaning into me and me capturing the hair at his nape with my fingers. When I whimper with a sudden fiery desire I can feel throughout my entire body, he pulls back and stares down at me.
“You’re hurt,” he whispers, his eyes dark with warring emotions. I stare up at him, wondering which one will win out. “I should…”
“You should make love to me.” My voice is impatient as I interrupt his good-guy spiel. “Until I feel safe again.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He yanks off his suit jacket, throwing it to the floor. I use greedy fingers to unbutton each button on his shirt, yanking it open and feasting my eyes on his sculpted chest. I’m so suddenly overcome with a need to have Grisham on top of me, surrounding me, inside me, that I can’t contain the desire overflowing from my veins.
I use my fingers to rake a path up his chest, and the answering rumble of a growl in his chest spurs
me onward. Making a path back down, I find the belt on his pants and unfasten it with sure and steady fingers. Grisham watches me, but his hands aren’t idle as he strokes my face, my hair, my neck. He finds the edge of fabric on my collarbone and pulls my dress down my arms. I pause in my feverish work to let him pull the garment free from my torso and I’m bared to him.
Then I’m sliding his gray pants down his hips, and he kicks off his shoe and steps out of the pants. He kneels between my legs, pushing my shoulders down to the couch and pulling my dress down over my thighs. All that’s left between us is a pair of barely there G-string panties I wore underneath my dress.
Grisham hovers above me, using his knee to spread my legs farther apart. His eyes search mine, holding me steady with his touch and his gaze. “Tell me what you need right now, Grits. I want to give it to you…whatever you want.”
A rattling breath leaves me, because it’s the simplest question I’ve ever been asked. All I want is him. I don’t want to relive what happened to me tonight. I don’t want to discuss who might have been behind the attack. All I want is to feel Grisham moving inside of me, taking all the bad feelings away and replacing them with good ones. Amazing ones.
“I want you inside me,” I whisper. I don’t shift my gaze from his for a second, letting him know that I mean what I’m saying. “That’s what I need. I need you.”
“Fuck.”
The black boxer-briefs come off like quicksilver, and my panties follow suit, landing somewhere on the floor beside us. I can feel Grisham between my thighs, and when I glance down I can see the hard, long length of him pressing gently against my folds. I reach around him to grab his ass; it’s taut and perfect and I squeeze, giving him a not-so-gentle push to continue.
“Now, Grisham.” My voice is strained, and I can hear the note of pleading as I pull him closer.
His eyes, the darkest green and glowing with embers of fiery need, burn into mine as he slowly pushes inside me. I moan, closing my eyes and allowing my head to loll against the couch cushion.
With a guttural groan, Grisham pushes forward to the hilt, and then slowly pulls back out, dropping his eyes to watch the place where our bodies meet. I watch, too; it’s the mesmerizing dance between us that I needed. Watching Grisham stake claim on me steals away every second of terror my stalker put me through. I pull on his hips, urging him to move faster.
Realizing what I want, he thrusts inside me again and again, moving faster and harder until I can no longer watch our bodies move. I’m just lost to the sensation of him stroking against the pulsating point inside me that makes me relinquish control. I close my eyes, willfully losing myself in Grisham.
And when he reaches between us to rub his thumb against my slick, swollen clit, I come apart harder than I ever have before. His name bursts from my lips in a scream, but he doesn’t stop. He continues pounding, driving onward until I’m dizzy with pleasure. Overwhelmed by his touch, his smell, the rhythm our bodies make when they slam together. My hands leave him to scrape a jagged line up his back.
My nails on his skin is the last straw for Grisham. He falls forward, burying his face in my neck as he begins to tremble. I can feel his release streaming inside me, and the sensation makes me smile. I want to be marked by Grisham tonight in every way possible.
I lose track of the minutes we lay there afterward, Grisham still inside me and my arms draped lazily over his back. Our breathing returns to normal, and then his satisfied hum of approval vibrates against my throat.
“You. Are. Incredible.” He punctuates each word with a kiss to my neck. My skin is still sensitive, tingling with each kiss, and my inner walls squeeze around him where he’s still inside.
“Shit, baby…you can’t do that. I have to get up. We can’t go again just yet.”
My lips push outward in a pout. “Why the hell not?”
He pulls back, eyes me, and bursts out laughing. “Well, damn. I really like this side of you, Grits.”
“I really like all sides of you.”
Chuckling, he rises, pulling out of me. Then he freezes. “Greta…”
My eyes have drifted closed, and I’m sure nothing can erase the smile on my lips. “Hmmm?”
His voice is laced with worry. “I…damn. I was caught up in you. I didn’t use a condom.”
I shake my head, keeping my smile. “It’s okay. I’m on the pill.”
I can hear his answering smile as he climbs off the couch. “Okay, then. Hey, Grits…I know it’s been a long night and you’re probably ready to pass out. But can you stay right here for a second? I have a surprise for you. It’s not the exact moment I thought I’d bring it out, but…”
My eyes snap open and I sit up. Dragging a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over my bare body, I look at him questioningly. My brows pull together. “You got me something?”
He hesitates, running a hand through his hair and shooting me an almost shy grin as he steps into his underwear. “More like I got us something.”
He kneels down beside me and takes my hands in his. Raising them to his lips, his face holds a serious expression. “I wanted to do something to show you that I’m ready to be all in. It’s me and you, and that’s how I want it. I want this, Grits. I didn’t think I would. I thought that I needed to be alone, make saving people’s lives and keeping them safe my only mission in life. But then you showed up that day on the beach, and everything changed. As much as I tried to fight it, I couldn’t stay away from you. I don’t want to.”
His words are stealing my heart away, one tiny piece at a time. It’s everything I ever wanted to hear him say, and he’s speaking these words with all the feeling and meaning I could ask for. I brush away a tear, and he raises a hand to my face, caressing it softly with the back of his hand. “You and me?”
I nod, leaning into his palm. “You and me.”
He breaks out into one of his beautiful grins, the skin around his mouth creasing like parentheses. He sweeps his lips across mine once, twice, three times before he rises to his feet and turns for the kitchen. “Close your eyes. I’ll be right back.”
Totally mystified, I settle back on the couch and close my eyes. I can hear Grisham walking through the kitchen to the little mudroom that leads to his carport, and I can hear the scraping of metal and lots of rustling. Then I hear him padding back toward me, and I’m itching to open my eyes and see what he’s doing.
“Okay, Grits,” he announces. “Open.”
My lids fly open and then I raise both hands to my lips too late to cover my gasp. “Oh, my God, Grisham! You got a puppy?”
He comes closer and dumps the warm and wiggling little bundle of fur on my lap. It’s a fawn-colored boxer puppy with an adorably sad-looking face and huge brown eyes. The top of his head is dappled with white spots, and his feet are white, too. He’s staring up at me while his little body fights furiously to get closer to my face. I cuddle him to my chest, nuzzling his fur, and then he’s licking me everywhere he can reach.
Giggling, I glance over at Grisham. He’s sitting beside us, smiling like he just won an enormous prize.
Like I’m his enormous prize.
“No,” he corrects me. “We got a puppy. And please tell me I made the right decision, and that you are a big dog person. Because this little guy is gonna grow up to be about seventy pounds.”
The puppy takes this opportunity to squirm out of my arms and leap onto Grisham’s lap, jumping up to lick his face before racing around the couch like an Energizer doggie.
I climb onto Grisham’s lap, straddling him. His eyes immediately go dark as he stares at me. “This is the most perfect gift. Thank you.”
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “You take care of everyone around you, Grits. Your friends, your mom, and your sisters. I thought we could add this little guy to the list.”
The puppy gives a short, sharp bark, as if he agrees with this sentiment completely.
“What are we going to name him?” I look lovingly at the pu
ppy as he turns in a circle and flops down against my thigh.
Grisham takes my face in his hands, bringing it to within an inch of his, and I immediately forget what question I just asked him. My breasts push against his bare chest and my nipples instantly peak. His hands drift up my back, and he whispers just before his lips meet mine.
“We’ll have to figure that out later. Right now, you’re too much of a temptation.”
Greta
The following morning is Sunday, and when I wake up I find Grisham sitting on the floor in the kitchen with a tumbler of coffee beside him. He’s pulling on one end of a frayed multicolored rope, and our new addition is savagely tugging on the other end. Frantic little growls are emitting from his tiny furry body, and I burst into ecstatic giggles at the picture they create.
Grisham looks up, and the smile he gives me is like the reward for something good I did but can’t remember.
“You laughing at us?” He points at me and throws the rope at my feet. “Get her, boy.”
Our puppy rocket-launches himself in my direction, his little paws skidding on the hardwood kitchen floor. I bend down to scratch him on the head, and he rolls over onto his back to beg for my attention on his belly instead.
“Aw, come on, man! You are such a sucker,” Grisham playfully chides the puppy.
I raise a brow. “You’re not a sucker for a good rubdown?”
The teasing grin freezes in place on his face and his eyes narrow dangerously. “I am a complete sucker for you rubbing anything on my body.” He stalks toward me, and my insides turn to molten lava. When he’s close enough to reach out and grab me, the puppy darts between our legs and begins jumping up, nipping at Grisham’s and my bare toes.
“Cock-block,” mutters Grisham.
I gasp and slug him in the arm.
“We have to name him,” I remind Grisham as I begin pulling out pots and pans to make breakfast.
He watches me for a moment as I begin preparing his now-favorite breakfast item: cheese grits. “Hey, what goes perfectly with grits?”