CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Grayson

I set Mia on the white tiled ledge of the sunken tub and then walk to the shower, turning on the water. Once it’s warming up, I walk back to her and stroke her cheek. “Stay right here,” I order. “I don’t want you to fall. You’re still unsteady.” I try to pull away but she catches my hand.

“Grayson.”

“I’ll be right back, baby. I want to get you something to take the edge off.”

She nods and releases me and the fact that she welcomes whatever I bring her says a lot. Mia isn’t a drinker and she hates drugs of any type. I walk out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, stopping at the mini-bar in one corner, pouring her a stout drink that she’ll hate, but it’ll help her relax.

I return to find her shoes kicked off and I go down on a knee beside her. “Drink,” I order, pressing it into her hand and when her hand shakes on the way to her mouth, I help her hold onto the glass. “Like a shot. All at once.”

She swallows hard and then downs the whiskey. “Oh God. That’s horrible.”

“That’s a twenty-five-year-old scotch that cost ten thousand dollars a bottle.”

“That’s a lot of money for something that tastes that bad.”

I laugh. “It’s good stuff. Even better with the second glass.”

“It made me warm all over.”

“I’d rather it be me that makes you warm all over.”

“Then take that damn bloody shirt off. I can’t look at it.”

“Let’s both just strip down and I’ll get rid of our clothes.” I set the glass down, stand up and take her with me.

She fumbles with my buttons and I take over, quickly pulling it over my head and then walk to the trash can, hit the lever with my foot, and stuff the shirt inside. “Better?”

“Yeah,” she says. “The blood reminds me that he’s dead.”

And the world is a better place, but I don’t say that to Mia. Ri was a killer. I saw that in his eyes tonight. He would have killed her. He would have killed again. I help her undress and then do the same. I then walk to the trash can, hit the lever on the floor and trash everything. “I’ll get it out of the house after we shower,” I say, grabbing her hand and leading her to the shower.

I grab the soap and waste no time making sure I get all remnants of the night off both of us. She needs it all washed away and she needs to rest. “You okay?” I ask when we’re just standing there under the spray a few minutes later.

“Because you’re here and I’m feeling that twenty-five-year-old whiskey. It’s helping. Thank you. I can’t believe I saw a man die tonight. I can’t believe he was going to kill me and he was. It’s—surreal in so many ways.”

I stroke a strand of hair from her face. “I know, baby, but it’s over and you’re safe.”

“My father didn’t help.”

“About that. What happened to not telling him about the bonus Ri gave you to help him?”

“I got angry and I probably misunderstood him, but I didn’t think the man I love, who also risked his life to save me tonight, needed to be blamed.”

“Come on,” I say, turning off the water and grabbing a towel from over the side to wrap it around her. Once she’s wrapped up well and I dry my hair and pull a towel around my waist, I lead her to the bedroom.

“Our chair,” she whispers.

Our chair. I didn’t sit in that damn thing the entire time she was gone. I go there willingly now, and pull her down into it with me, angling us to face each other and pulling the blanket over us. Her fingers splay on my jaw. “I’m glad Blake killed him instead of you. You would have had to live with taking a life, and we both would have known I caused it.”

I roll her to her back and settle my leg between hers. “Baby, you did nothing wrong tonight. Nothing.”

“Maybe I should have stayed in the office. Maybe I shouldn’t have even gone back there at all. I pushed to protect you but you almost got killed tonight.”

“You did protect me. You saved me, with Ri and by coming back. I’m the one who wasn’t good without you. I needed you, Mia. You belong here with me, and nothing was ever going to be right again until you came back.” I lean in and brush my lips over hers and it’s all I can do to hold back, to remember how delicate she is tonight. I need to taste her, to feel her, to be inside her.

The instant I pull back, she lifts her head and presses her lips to mine and that’s all it takes. My mouth closes down on hers, and I kiss her deeply, intensely, drinking her in, owning her because that’s what I need right now. I need to feel her, to know she’s here. “You’re mine,” I whisper, caressing a hand down her back and cupping her backside, pulling her closer. “No one will ever take you again.”

“Never again,” she promises, her hand on my face, and I drag her leg to my hip, the thick ridge of my erection pressing between her thighs.

“I need to be inside you, but if you—”

“Now would be good,” she whispers. “Now, please, Grayson.”

I press inside her and thrust deep, angling her to take all of me. She gasps out, “You’re much, much better than whiskey.”

I tangle my fingers in her hair and drag her gaze to mine. “Just seeing him hold that gun to your head almost killed me. I’ll have nightmares about that for years to come.” My mouth closes down on hers and I can’t kiss her deep enough, I can’t be inside her deep enough. I can’t touch her enough or feel her close enough. And yet I go slow, I cradle her hips to my hips. I kiss her neck. I touch her breast and lick her nipple, suckling her until she arches into me. Until she pants out my name.

And those sounds she makes, those soft, sexy sounds drive me crazy and I press my lips to her ear. “I thought I’d never hear you make those sounds again. I thought I’d never hold you like this again. And not just tonight, Mia. I thought I lost you.”

“Not for even a moment.” She pulls back to look at me. “I was always here in my heart. Always.”

My mouth crashes down on hers, and this time, I lose everything but the taste of her, the feel of her, the hunger I cannot sate for this woman, and God knows I tried while she was gone. I tried and failed, and I didn’t even want to succeed. I have never been as lost in any other human being, including Mia, as I am lost in her now. The world fades and there is just the two of us and when she shudders in my arms, this time with pleasure, not shock or fear, I follow.

It’s long minutes later, that we lay on that chair, clinging to each other, when I tilt her head back and say, “Yes, I would have killed him and I wouldn’t have regretted it one day of my life or yours.”