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“Well it’s a good thing I don’t give afuck.”
It was latewhen Grant entered the penthouse. All the lights were off except the under-cabinet lighting in the kitchen. He was about to pour himself some Scotch when he heardit.
The faintcry.
His jawtightened.
Blaire was having another nightmare and this time he wasn’t waiting another second to go to her. He headed down the hallway to her room. He tested the doorknob and it was locked. Grant pulled out the key. He’d always had the key, but his own guilt with his part in Blaire’s abduction dictated he give her space. Although one might argue that forcing her to stay with him while he was giving her space defeated its purpose. But he’d had enough. She needed him and she’d pushed him awayenough.
“No! Stop … I don’t know…” her sobs tore at his heart and shredded his soul. Long strides ate the distance between the door and her bed and he slid between the covers, gathering her into his arms. She fought him, her fist glanced off his jaw, but he held on to her. Emotions burned his eyes as her keening cry shook him to his core. And then shestopped.
She inhaled him while he held hisbreath.
“Grant?”
“You were having a nightmare.” His voice wasgruff.
She tried to push him away, but he heldtight.
“Please, Angel,” he pleaded. “Let me holdyou.”
When her body remained stiff, he added. “I needthis.”
Her answer was a resigned sigh and her body relaxed. Hope flared in his chest. He wasn’t giving her a chance to change her mind, so he quickly toed off hisshoes.
Grant missed holding her this way so fucking much. He wasn’t going to screw up again. He just had to bepatient.
32
Blaire
Iwokeup that morning against a hard wall of muscle and smelling the scent of spicy wood and man. Grant’s chest was bare and judging from the rough hairs I was feeling against my legs, he had taken off his pants too. I should feel outraged—I was surprised I didn’t. I felt comfortable and safe.Cherished.
Gah! I disentangled our limbs and shot off the bed. Even his sleepy groan of protest was sexy. I dashed into the en suite bathroom, locked the door and did my morning routine. As I was brushing my teeth, I realized this was the first morning I had not awakened withsadness.
The guilt came, but Dr. Jones’ voice chased itaway.
“Liam and your father wouldn’t want you to mourn their deaths forever, Blaire. Don’t waste their sacrifices by refusing to let go of your grief. Honor them by going after what makes youhappy.”
Painting made me happy, but I was happiest when I was with Grant. He also had the power to hurt me the most, and I didn’t know if I could survive another breakup withhim.
There was a knock on my bathroomdoor.
“Baby, are you all right inthere?”
“Yes.”
“Well, open up so I can use thebathroom.”
“Can’t you use the one in your ownroom?”
Noanswer.
The room was unusually quiet so maybe he’d left. I felt relief, disappointment and guilt—a very familiar emotion lately. This time it was because I was acting like a bitch when Grant had been nothing but supportive. I tried to argue with myself that he was holding me against my will, but, after that first week when my grief and guilt were at their most overwhelming, I’d never made another effort to leave. Probably because I had to face the U.S. Attorney. Besides, Grant would have found me anyway with the blastedtracker.
When I opened the bathroom door, I was shocked to see Grant lying on the bed against the headboard with one knee cocked lazily. All he had on were his boxer briefs and I couldn’t help the heat that bloomed between mythighs.
“It’s very presumptuous of you to sleep naked with me,” I said, escaping to the closet. I wasn’t wearing a bra and my nipples were a treacherous pair, hardening with just a heated gaze fromhim.
