“Kiss me,” she said, pulling him down so she could reach his lips.
“I guess you missed me.”
“Every minute.”
When Griffin pulled a chair over to the bed, Aine felt herself tearing up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You tell me. You seem anxious.”
He shook his head. “Everything’s fine.”
Aine raised an eyebrow.
“There’s a situation in Colombia that may necessitate my leaving.”
“You were just there.”
“I was,” he said, combing his fingers through her hair.
What could she say? This was his life. If they ended up being together, she’d have to get used to it, just like her sister had to.
“I’m here now, though.”
“I’m so glad. I wish you could take me home.”
“Yeah? What would we do?”
She could feel the heat in her cheeks.
“Tell me, baby,” he whispered, and they got hotter.
Aine grasped his hand, pulled back the blanket and sheet and rested it on her breast. “Touch me,” she whispered.
Griffin took a deep breath and raised her hospital gown. “Someone could come in,” he told her coming around to the other side of the bed so his body would shield hers from the door.
“Leave it,” he told her when she went to lower the gown. “Let me look at you.”
His eyes burned into her skin as his fingers toyed with her nipples. She wove her fingers in his hair and arched her back when he lowered his head and put his lips where his hands had been.
When he raised his head and lowered her gown, Aine groaned.
“Soon,” he whispered, kissing each of her fingertips.
“Promise?”
He smiled. “Oh, yeah.”
“I didn’t…Stuart…we never…”
“Shh,” he said, kissing her. “I know.”
Aine put her hands on either side of his face and deepened their kiss. “I love you,” she murmured before going back in for more.
She couldn’t get enough of him. She had never been able to, but now it was worse. It didn’t matter that her body was sore from the surgery, the pain of longing for him was worse. “Promise me you won’t leave before we can be alone.”
“We’re alone now, pretty girl.”
“You know what I mean.”
Griffin’s eyes were hooded and his breathing labored. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I need to feel you inside me.”
He gripped her cheeks like she’d done to him a moment ago and kissed her harder than she’d kissed him. “I need to love you,” he whispered. “Let me love you, Aine.”
—:—
It took every ounce of restraint Striker could muster not to lock the door and strip her bare. He knew they’d have to wait until she’d healed before he could give her what she wanted, but there were so many other things he could do to her in the meantime. He’d trail his lips over every inch of her body until she was ready to scream his name in pleasure. He’d bring her to the brink of an orgasm, pull her back, and take her right back to the edge until she begged him to let her finish. He would, then, because he would know that it was so much more powerful than it would’ve been if he’d let her fly all the other times.
“I know what you want, but I’m going to give you what you need, Aine,” he told her so many times. She’d cry; she’d plead, and she’d beg, but he wouldn’t relent until he was certain he’d pushed her as far as she could go. There was so much more he wanted to show her, do to her, and he would, as soon as her body could take it.
He adjusted his jeans and nipped her lower lip when she giggled. “You just wait,” he warned her.
“I’m already there,” she told him, no longer smiling. “I need you, Griffin.”
“Soon, baby. I promise.”
“I need you now.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled it under the blanket until he touched her sex. “Please,” she begged.
He let his fingers rest against her. Stroking her softly. “You aren’t ready for this,” he murmured, biting at her nipple through the hospital gown.
“I need it. Don’t make me wait.”
Striker’s deft fingers went where she wanted them, and he gave her what she asked for. Slowly, softly, gently, but that’s all it took. Within seconds, she drenched his fingers as her hands gripped his arm, holding it in place, wringing every ounce of pleasure she could from him.
They both jumped at the sound of the door opening, but rather than jerk his hand away from Aine, he slowly removed it from under the blanket and clutched her fingers in his hand.
“Good news on your MRI,” the doctor said, looking between the two of them. “Nothing abnormal showed up. As long as you have a good night, you can go home tomorrow morning.”
“That’s wonderful,” murmured Aine, clutching Griffin’s other hand.
“What time?”
“I’ll be in early for rounds, so I’d say around ten. Again, as long as you have an uneventful night.”
The doctor eyed their clasped hands and shook his head. “See you in the morning.”
“Are you going to stay?” Aine asked after the doctor walked out.
“If you want me to.”
“I know I’m being selfish, and I’m sure you’d sleep much better in a real bed, but…”
Striker smiled and ran his finger over her bottom lip. “I never sleep better than when I’m with you. Real bed or not.”
She kissed the fingers he knew carried her scent. “I love you, Griffin.”
“And I love you, Aine.”
“Why are we stopping here?” Aine asked Striker the next morning when he pulled into the parking lot of Cambria Shores Inn.
“I want you all to myself for a couple of hours.”
Aine smiled, and her warmth settled on him like a blanket. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
“It is, and your sister’s place is a madhouse. She told me what time she’s serving dinner and insisted that we not show up until thirty minutes prior.”
“I feel bad that I’m not helping.”
Striker nodded. “Because preparing a Thanksgiving dinner for thirty people is just what the doctor ordered. Come on, let’s go inside.”
Striker came around to the other side of the car and helped her out. “What’s your pain level, baby?”
“Five?”
“Tell me the truth.”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
“The fact that you asked it as a question.”
“Okay. It’s a six.”
“Right.”
Striker opened the door to the room and flipped the switch for the fireplace. He’d made arrangements for the innkeeper to stock the room with fresh fruit, muffins, different types of cheese, two baguettes, and a pitcher of lemonade. The final item on the list was because Aine had told him she’d been craving it.
He pulled back the comforter and motioned for her to get into bed.
“All I’ve done is lie in bed,” she protested.
“Uh huh.”
She sat down and crossed her arms.
“Take off your clothes, Aine,” he said without turning around to look at her. When he could see her bring her sweater over her head out of the corner of his eye, he faced her, loving the grin on her face. Since she didn’t look as though she was struggling, he let her finish while he queued a movie on the television.
“You too,” she said when he approached the bed.
“Have you forgotten I make the rules?” He smiled when her eyes drifted closed and her cheeks turned pink.
“I haven’t forgotten anything.” Her voice was as thick with desire as his body felt.
“You heard the doctor, baby. He said that he’d let you know at your three-week checkup when you can resume ‘normal activities.’”
By the way Aine’s eyes drooped, he doubted she’d argue. As much as she thought she wanted more, what she really nee
ded was rest.
By the time Striker was stripped down to his boxer briefs, Aine was sound asleep. He crawled into bed next to her, drew her into his arms so her cheek rested near his heart, and ran his fingers through her hair. Just feeling her bare skin on his was enough for him. There was a time he couldn’t have fathomed ever having that pleasure again.
His vibrating phone on the bedside table jarred Striker awake.
“Hello?” he answered without bothering to see who was calling.
“Sounds like I woke you,” said Razor.
“Aine fell asleep,” he said, easing his arm from under her head and going into the bathroom to talk so he didn’t wake her. “I guess I did too. What’s up?”
“Ava asked me to tell you that we’ll bring dinner to you.”
“She isn’t going to like that.”
“Sometimes you have to give her what she needs over what she wants.”
Striker laughed. “I’m pretty sure I said those very same words earlier today.”
“We’ll be by after we’re done eating. Let her sleep in the meantime.”
“Thanks, Raze.”
“Take good care of her, you hear me?”
“Always.”
When he came back to bed, Aine sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Who was that?”
“Your brother-in-law. He wanted me to tell you that they’re bringing dinner here.”
“Wait. What? What time is it?”
“A little after three.”
“Oh, no! Dinner is in an hour.” She tried to push him out of her way, but he wouldn’t budge. “What are you doing? We have to leave.”
“We aren’t going anywhere.”
“But…”
Striker raised an eyebrow, and Aine fell back against the pillow.
“Last year this is all I wanted to do,” he told her.
“What’s that?”
“Fall into bed with you instead of spending the next several hours on a flight back to the middle ages.”
He’d had such plans for them last Thanksgiving. They’d celebrated in Cambria like they were this year. He’d planned to whisk Aine away that night and drive up the coast to Big Sur where they’d spend a couple of nights at the Post Ranch Inn. Staying at the ultra-private resort would ensure that if they didn’t want to see another human being, they wouldn’t have had to. From there, he planned to take his time driving along the coast as far as Yachats, where he’d hoped they’d spend Christmas together.
This year, he hadn’t even planned to see her, yet here they were, where it all began for them. So much had happened in the last three hundred and sixty-five days. Mainly, he’d pushed her away and broken her heart.
What now, though? Everything he wanted to protect her from still lurked in the background.
“You’re thinking too hard.”
Striker smiled and looked down at Aine, who was studying him. “You’re right. I am.”
“What about?”
“Things I don’t want to have on my mind, let alone talk about.”
“The test?”
Striker nodded. “And more.”
“Me?”
He kissed her forehead. “No matter what else is on my mind, you’re there too. Twenty-four hours a day.”
“Even when you sleep?”
“I dream about you every night.”
“I dream of you too.”
He knew, though, that wasn’t the only thing that occupied her sleeping brain. The nightmares were there too. How could they not be? What worried him when they were together last year, was how seldom she talked about the ordeal she’d gone through when she and her friends were kidnapped and held captive for several days.
It had been a CIA-led investigation in conjunction with MI-6 that had started the ball rolling on Aine’s capture, and it had begun when Ava witnessed an incident with her ex-boyfriend that ultimately led both agencies to discover that the twin’s father, Conor McNamara, was actually long-believed-dead arms dealer Makar Petrov.
Through the CIA, Striker had arranged for protection for Ava, but not Aine, and that was something he regretted almost every day. If only he’d done things differently, had the forethought to realize she’d be in danger too, he could’ve spared her the horrific experience.
He groaned and looked up at the ceiling. Why did everything he regretted in life have to constantly play inside his head? It wasn’t just his misguided thinking with the Petrov case. Everything he’d done that he wished he hadn’t, ran a continual loop in his brain. Was that part of the disorder? Was it a symptom that would lead to a bipolar diagnosis?
“Stop,” Aine murmured, rubbing his chest.
“Are you reading my mind?”
“It wouldn’t be hard to do.” Aine shifted so her arm was around him. “Griffin, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for me, but I’d liked to go to my sister’s for Thanksgiving. I really want to see everyone.”
Could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that? He smiled. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “But before we go, I really need a shower.”
23
Griffin had been so careful with her. He made sure her incision was completely covered, and then he showered with her. Each time she reached out to touch him, he teased that if she didn’t stop, they’d be late for dinner.
There was no logical explanation for it, but when they drove through the gate of the beach house, Aine felt a sense of impending doom. Griffin picked up on it almost immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I just got a feeling.”
“Do you want to go back to the inn?”
Aine shook her head. “No, I want to be here.”
The feeling didn’t go away when they walked inside.
“You were supposed to let me bring dinner to you,” said Ava, meeting them at the door and glaring at Griffin.
“She insisted,” he said, looking around the room. “Where is everybody?”
“If by ‘everybody’ you mean the boys, they’re downstairs in the office.”
“Okay if I join them?” he asked Aine.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her in your absence,” Ava answered for her.
“Can I do anything to help?” she asked her sister once Griffin was headed down the staircase.
“Yes. Go sit on the sofa, and rest.”
Aine rolled her eyes. “I can do something besides sit.”
“I promised I’d take care of you. Now go, so Striker doesn’t come back up and yell at me.”
Aine nodded and did as her sister told her, mainly because Ava had her hands on her hips, which usually meant there was no point in arguing further.
“Aine!” she heard Zary shout a few minutes later when she came through the front door with Lia in her arms. She tried to get up but had only gotten as far as putting her hands on either side of herself when Ava came out of the kitchen and pushed her back down.
Zary ran over and sat between the two of them, handing the baby to Ava and then gently hugging Aine.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Just sore.” Aine looked over at baby Lia. “Can I hold her?”
Zary looked at Ava. “Would it be okay?”
Ava laughed. “Are you asking if I’ll let her go or if it’s okay if Aine holds her?”
Ava kissed Lia’s cheek and handed her to Zary, who put her in Aine’s arms.
“She’s so beautiful.” Aine teared up, looking at her niece. She shared her mother’s piercing blue eyes—identical to hers and Ava’s. Her hair hadn’t grown in much since the last time Aine had seen her right after she was born, but what she had was light blonde, almost white, again like her mother’s.
“Thank you,” murmured Zary, gazing at her baby. “Tell me about your surgery.”
Ava proceeded to tell their half-sister what had happened down to the most
minute detail, while Aine gazed at the baby.
“Is Sam sleeping?” she asked.
“No, he’s next door with the grandmas and the girls.”
Aine looked up when Pen and Tara came out of the kitchen.
“Our mom is the only one who isn’t here,” Ava explained to their two friends. “Gunner’s and Zary’s mothers, Madeline and Svetlana, are next door. So are Sally and Saylor, Tabon’s mom and sister, along with Sierra and Savannah, his nieces.”
“We met them at Christmas last year,” said Pen.
“That’s right. I completely forgot.”
“I’m going to go check on Laird,” Merrigan told them. “You can come along if you’d like,” she said to Pen and Tara.
“No, thanks,” answered Tara.
Penelope gave her a funny look and then shrugged. “I’ll go.”
A few seconds later, Tara walked toward the front door.
“Change your mind?” Aine asked her.
“What?”
“About going next door.”
“No,” she said before walking out the door and closing it behind her.
“What is with her?” Ava asked, although Aine doubted she expected an answer.
“Where’s Quinn?” Aine asked in return.
“I forgot. She’s over there too.”
—:—
“What’s going on?” Striker asked Razor after saying hello to Doc, Gunner, and Mercer.
“I thought you weren’t going to pull the trigger on Tackle and Halo deploying to Colombia?”
“That’s right. Yesterday I told you I wanted to wait and watch.”
“Onyx’s flight plan shows they left Miami two hours ago.”
“What the hell?”
“You sure you didn’t give Monk the green light?” Razor asked, rubbing his chin.
“You were here, Razor. I specifically said I wanted to keep everyone on standby for now. Monk confirmed it.”
“Any chance he misunderstood?” asked Gunner.
Striker’s first inclination was to tear into him, but he held back.
“None whatsoever,” he answered, looking at Razor, who nodded.
“He’s right. I was here. No way Striker and Monk got their signals crossed.”
“Where is Monk?” asked Doc.
Striker (K19 Security Solutions Book 6) Page 16