Saved by the SEAL (24 page)

T
he ride to Greta's apartment is torturous. I don't stop for a single red light, and I drive like a madman as I swerve around any vehicle stupid enough to be in my way. When I finally pull up, I practically leap from the Jeep. Stumbling slightly before I catch myself, I spring for the apartment. Jacob texted me on my harried drive that the police were on their way to Greta's as well. I don't waste time, thrusting her front door open, glad it's been left unlocked.

Until I discover the state of her apartment.

A barstool is lying on its side. Her purse and the rest of the contents of her bar top lay strewn on the floor. I've only just had time to take in the state of the room before I hear her scream. My head jerks to the back of the apartment in the direction of her bedroom. I've only taken half a step in that direction before the first gunshot rents the air.

Then the second.

In a blur, I'm down the hallway. My heart slamming against the walls of my chest, my lips moving in a silent prayer. I haul ass until I get to the doorway of Greta's room. She's standing there, eyes wide open, gun held in her hands. She stares at the unmoving form of Kyle on her bedroom floor.

Oh, my God.

I can't stop the relief that flows through me at seeing her standing there, safe, but the state of her indicates that she's been in a fight. She's disheveled, and her hair hangs loosely from its previously neat ponytail. There's also a prominent bruise beginning to form on her left cheekbone.

“Greta, baby.” I step over Kyle and walk toward her slowly. “You did good. Give me the gun now, okay?”

Her eyes lift from Kyle's limp body and focus on me for the first time. I can see sheer terror there, and it breaks me in half.

Kyle is so damn lucky Greta already shot him.

Her arms shake as she swallows. “Grisham?”

“It's me, angel. You're safe.”

That's when her face crumples and she lowers her arms. I grab the gun and gently take it from her hands. Placing it beside us on the nightstand, I pull her into my arms.

She begins to sob, deep, heaving cries that shake me to the very core. Every single one of them drives me further and further out of my mind, but I struggle to keep it together. For her.

“I got you, Grits. I got you.” I hold her, feeling like I need to do it. Like having her in my arms is necessary for me to continue functioning.

“Don't let go, Grisham. Please.”

I just grip her tighter, clutch her closer.

“Is he…is he…?”

I know what she's trying to ask, and I gently pick her up in my arms. There are sirens outside the apartment now, and I know that any minute this place will be crawling with uniforms. I carry her to the living room, sit her gently on the couch, and kneel in front of her.

“You stay here. I'm going to go check.”

She nods, her expression miserable as she stares down the dim hallway.

I move quickly down the hall to her bedroom. Kyle is still lying on the floor. I kneel down beside his form.

One half of me wants him to be dead.

You deserve it, you bastard.

The way he hurt Greta will stay with me forever, a grudge I'll never be able to forgive. But the other half of me knows that if he's dead, his ghost will haunt Greta forever. She's not a killer; she'll grieve him whether he deserves it or not. And she'll carry the guilt on her shoulders until it finally drags her down.

He's lying on his back, eyes closed. But I see his chest rising and falling. I place my fingers on his pulse point and feel it, though weak, still pumping blood through his veins.

He's alive.

Walking back down the hallway, the police enter the living room. Three officers take a stance, their weapons aimed at me. One of them glances at Greta huddled on the couch, while another yells, “Police! Don't move.”

I raise my hands in the air.

Greta looks up in shock. “No…not him.” Her voice is shaking. “The man who attacked me is lying on my bedroom floor.”

“He's alive,” I offer as the officers move farther into the apartment. “But unconscious.”

The officers reholster their weapons. One of them addresses Greta. “Miss, are you hurt? There's an ambulance en route.”

She shakes her head. “I'm fine.”

The officer stays, asking Greta to tell him what happened. He pulls out a pad to take notes. The other two move down the hallway past me to check on the situation with Kyle. I continue into the living room, taking a seat on the couch next to Greta. I don't expect her to, but she immediately scoots closer to me. I instinctively put my arm around her shoulders and she leans in.

She answers the officer's questions clearly and without hesitation, and pride swells inside me. She's been through an ordeal no woman should ever have to experience, but she knows what happened and she's not afraid to tell the truth. I rub my hand up and down her arm soothingly.

From time to time, as she explains something disgusting that Kyle said to her, or when she tells the officer how he tackled her down and hit her in the face, I flinch. She then turns to me and gives me a reassuring nod, like she's trying to make sure I realize she's okay.

As she's talking, the paramedics rush in with a stretcher, and the officer points them toward the bedroom. They emerge a few seconds later with Kyle lying on the stretcher. Greta stiffens, and I pull her head into my chest so I can softly stroke her hair. It's only been a week, but I've missed having her with me.

Finally, the officer is finished questioning her. Her eyelids appear heavy, and her head keeps drifting back to my chest. When the police officer instructs her to be available the following day for more questioning, I shoot him a scowl.

“Why? She shot him in self-defense. You see her face. He attacked her. He was going to sexually assault her or worse right before she pulled the trigger. He's been stalking her for months. There's evidence inside of the Night Eagle Securities office.”

Greta sits up again. “Am I in trouble?”

Jacob and Detective Henderson, his acquaintance from the WPD, step through the open front door, followed by Dare and a panicked-looking Berkeley.

“No, you aren't.” Detective Henderson sends the uniformed officer a stern look. “And we'll wrap this case up as quickly as possible. You were the victim here, Greta.”

Greta stands and faces her father. He cups her cheeks, stooping so he can look into her eyes. Holding her face to the light, he curses. “Is he dead? If he isn't, I'm going to be the one to do it.”

I shake my head regretfully. “Get in line, sir.”

“Are you okay?” he asks Greta, his voice breaking. “I was so scared, pumpkin.”

She nods, grabbing his wrists with both hands. A fresh tear rolls down her cheek. “I'm okay, Dad.”

He nods, and then pulls her to his chest in a hug. I'm watching her face, and I see her wince as he squeezes her.

She's hurt. She's exhausted. I want to take care of her, to make sure she gets some ice, some painkillers, and a good night's sleep.

But will she let me?

When Jacob releases Greta, Berkeley is next to grab her.

“Careful, Berk,” I warn. “She's sore.”

Dare comes to stand beside me. “Did she give him hell?”

I nod, feeling pride rise inside me again. “Yeah, she did. And then she shot him when it wasn't enough.”

Dare whistles low. “Tough girl.”

You got that right.

I think about what Greta's been through tonight. What she's been through over the last few months that she's been in my life. She's tough, sure. But she's also warm, tender, and loving. She stands up for what she believes in, and she won't accept less than what she deserves. She's incredible, and I'd be a fool to let her get away again.

“Is she free to go?” asks Jacob, speaking to Detective Henderson.

The detective glances at us from where he's speaking to a uniform officer. “Yes. And don't worry about Mr. Wessler. He'll be charged with stalking, aggravated assault, and attempted rape.”

Berkeley gasps, putting her hand to her mouth. Tears fill her eyes, but she gulps, tamping down the emotion.

“Greta?” she coaxes. “Let's go in your room and pack a bag. You can get changed into something comfortable.” Her eyes stray to Greta's ripped shirt. A lacy camisole flashes beneath it.

Greta nods.

We all just stand around, quietly waiting for their return. When they do, Greta is carrying a black leather duffle.

“Ready to go?” asks Jacob. “You can come home with me tonight.”

My stomach plummets. My skin immediately becomes clammy as I imagine the thought of spending one more night away from her. Especially after what just happened.

I need her with me.

I open my mouth just as Greta speaks.

“Actually,” she says quietly. “I'd like to go home with Grisham. I just…need to be with him. We have things to discuss.”

Jacob's eyebrows lift and his forehead creases, but he doesn't protest. He looks at me, giving me a serious perusal. Then, making a silent decision, he nods. “All right. Call me in the morning.”

She nods, moving to hug him once again. “I will.”

Relief sweeps through me. Then hope soars like a hot air balloon, filling me and lifting me higher and higher.

She wants to be with me tonight. Does this mean she's going to take me back?

After all that's happened tonight, this is an opportunity. I want to make sure she's okay, and when she's ready, I want to let her know how I truly feel about her.

I want to make her mine again.

A
s Grisham drives me back to his beach cottage, I drop my head against the car window, letting the cool glass soothe my aching face.

So this is how it feels to have been in a fight, I surmise. I wonder if my aches and pains are worse, knowing that I was fighting for my life.

Grisham is quiet. He must sense that I need the reticence. Either that, or his head is full of his own complicated thoughts. When we pull up to the house, Grisham turns to me. His eyes are full of shadows, and I can't read them. After everything that happened tonight, I nearly forgot the fact that I haven't been close to him in nearly a week. His eyes still have the power to hold me prisoner.

“Don't move.” His voice covers me like a blanket.

I obey, watching as he exits the car and crosses, his slightly uneven gait so beautifully Grisham, to my side of the car.

He opens my door, unbuckles my seat belt, and places his right hand under my knees. Putting his other arm around my shoulders, he tells me to watch my head as he lifts me from the car. I'm too exhausted to protest. Or maybe I'm just too comfortable in his arms. I rest my head against his large chest as he carries me into the house.

Grisham bypasses the living room, taking me straight to the master bathroom. He puts me down gently, then turns toward the shower. Soon, white steam floats around the bathroom and Grisham turns back to face me.

He gestures toward the glassed-in shower. “First thing to do is get the feeling of the fight off of you. You need to wash yourself clean of it.”

I bob my head, grateful that he's doing the thinking for me right now.

“Do you...” He hesitates.

I try to read his expression. Is it uncertainty there in his sage-green eyes? I take in his appearance for the first time tonight. At Drake's I was too busy trying to avoid him. And then, at my apartment…

He's casually sexy in worn, stylishly tattered jeans and a cotton Henley that stretches across his broad shoulders and sculpted chest. I know exactly what his tight, packed abdominals look like underneath, all the easier to picture in my head. His one shoed foot is covered in a navy Nike with a white check. My eyes slide back up, lingering on the way his jeans hug his muscular thighs. My mouth waters slightly, and I force my gaze back up to his.

“Do you want me to help you?” His voice drops to a low, husky tone that only ignites a raw ache deep within me.

Slowly, I nod. He approaches carefully, eyeing me like a wild animal he's cornered in the forest.

I guess I deserve his wariness, but it stings. More than it should.

I stand perfectly still as he reaches for my hoodie's zipper. I threw it on over my camisole while Berkeley helped me pack. He tugs it down slowly until the two sides pop open to reveal the lacy fabric of my tank. His sharp intake of breath is the only indication that he's taking in air, and his hands softly skim my shoulders as he slides the garment down my arms. Placing it on the countertop, he appraises me. It's like he's trying hard not to look at me but can't help it. I raise my arms, and he pulls my cami up over my bare breasts and off of my head. As he stares down at my midsection, a muscle ticks in his jaw and I glance down to see what he's angry about. My rib cage is spotted with bruises, likely from where I scuffled with Kyle on the floor. A shudder goes through me as I think about it, and I turn to check out my other side. Grisham looks on in the mirror as I discover that my back is black and blue.

Holding himself together, but now with trembling hands, he reaches for the elastic waistband of my sweatpants. He's upset, and I cover his hands with my own to still them. He raises his eyes to mine.

“Together,” I whisper.

Our eyes locked, we work to slide my pants down my legs. When they're halfway down my thighs I stop, wincing from the soreness in my stomach. I'm not even sure where it stems from. I have a feeling I'm going to have sore spots for days I never expected.

Grisham reads my pained expression and takes over; I step out of my pants once they reach the floor, and he folds them neatly, placing them on top of the counter. I shimmy out of my panties and kick them to the side. Grisham's fists ball up at his sides as he takes in my entire body bared to him.

I step toward him, into his space, and his automatic response is to put his arms around me. His warm hands move up my back, and I sigh. Instead of making me stiff and skittish, his touch is warming me from the inside out, spreading comfort to all the places that need it.

I reach up on my toes to whisper in his ear. “Thank you. For knowing I was in trouble. For coming.”

He lets out a shuddering breath. “The bruises…you don't know how badly I want to track down his hospital room and make him pay.”

“Shhh,” I hush. “I need you here with me.”

His arms circle around me, and I rest my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat, thudding steadily beneath my cheek, brings me blissful peace.

“I didn't know if you'd want that,” he admits. “I fucked up before, Grits. I know that. After tonight, I know now even more completely than I did before…I can't lose you. You're the most important thing in my life.”

I nod, knowing in my heart that he's telling the truth. “I want to know about how you figured it out.”

He pulls back and nudges me toward the shower. “I'll tell you everything. Just get into that steam first. It'll be good for the soreness. And I'm going to go get an ice pack ready for your cheek.”

“Don't go far, Grisham.” It feels silly, needing him this much. But right now, I need his presence just as much as I need to breathe.

His lips brush my forehead. “I won't. I'll be right back.”

He opens the shower door for me, and I step inside. I lose sight of Grisham as he closes the door behind me, and I gladly let the healing steam envelop my body.

Twenty-five minutes later finds me wrapped in a new pair of sweats, while Grisham is clothed in a pair of gray fleece pants. His beautifully scarred torso is on display, and my eyes dance between it and his adorable expression of concentration as he holds an ice pack to my cheek.

My stomach turns as he tells me about the pictures of me on the wall in Kyle's bedroom. When I gulp, Grisham's gaze flits to mine. “It made me sick, too. But he can't hurt you anymore.”

“I know. I just can't believe he's been watching me, taking photos. It feels slimy, like I've been violated.”

Grisham lowers the ice pack and uses the back of his hand to gently stroke the sore area. “You have been. And it's disgusting. I'm so sorry this happened to you.”

“You came for me,” I whisper, dropping my eyes. “When you found out what he was. You came…even after everything I said and the way I pushed you away.”

“Hey.” He dips his head down so he can find my gaze, and lifts it to meet his. “I will always come for you when you need me. If the woman I love is in danger, I will stop at nothing to make sure you're safe. It doesn't matter—”

“What did you just say?” The question leaves on a whisper. His lips are still moving, but I stopped hearing everything he said after those life-changing words.

He stops. A beat passes between us, and then:

“I love you. I tried not to, and then when I realized I did, I tried denying it to myself. But now, you need to know. You, Greta Owen, have all of me. I love you.”

I cover my mouth with trembling hands as I stare at him. I'm waiting for the dream to be over. Or maybe I'm waiting for him to realize he's emotionally wrecked and spouting gibberish because of it. I'm waiting for
something.

But he merely stares right back at me, and the only emotion I see shining out of his stunning green eyes is…love. Pure, unguarded love.

“I fell in love with you when you breathed life back into me on the beach.” The words float off my tongue, because I've been holding them back for so long it's a relief to let them go free.

He takes my face in his hands so gently that a hundred emotions shake lose in my chest. And then he kisses me.

And
my God
, it's a kiss I will never forget.

He's gentle at first, and as his lips move against mine I can feel the love inside of him, like he's passing it from his lips to my soul. I open my mouth to him, and he groans as his tongue tastes me. He nips at my bottom lip, and I can't hold back anymore.

I ignore the needling pain in my body as I move to straddle his lap; he leans back to accommodate me, and I let my fingers roam the short, bristly hair at the nape of his neck. I grow hungrier as his hands gently draw a path down my back and around my waist, teasing at the skin on my stomach. Desire unfurls its leathery wings in my gut, and I wriggle against his growing erection.

“Hell.” He moans, releasing my lips only to trail kisses along my jaw and down the sensitive skin of my neck. “I want you so damn bad. But, Grits, if you don't want this tonight…I understand. We can wait. I'm not going anywhere.”

“I can't wait.” The reply is breathless as I'm busy pulling my T-shirt off and tossing it aside. Glad I didn't take the time to don undergarments after my shower, I scoot off his lip so I can remove my pants.

“You're fucking hot when you're horny.” His tone is teasing, but his eyes are dark and hooded, with fire brimming in their depths.

He stands in front of me, dropping his sweatpants to the floor. His cock bounces free, and its heavy length only excites me further, makes me want him more.

I push on his shoulders, and he sits back down hard on the couch. He opens his arms for me, but instead of crawling back onto his lap I kneel in front of him.

I've never done this for him before, and his eyes widen with his surprise. But he remains silent as he watches me wrap my lips around his swollen head.

This is something that I need to do. All of the ways I was violated tonight are still with me, and I need to purge myself of those feelings. By being with Grisham in this way, by giving him this piece of myself, I'm setting myself free from Kyle's intimidation.

Grisham's eyes flutter shut, and a string of curses leaves his lips. I pull back so I can lick the line formed by the vein that travels the length of him. I trail my tongue back up to the top. Then I take him fully in my mouth again and suck him as deeply as I can. When he doesn't fit, I use my hands to squeeze the base of him while my head bobs up and down at a steady rhythm.

“Fuck. Fuck!” His hands find my head and he wraps them in my hair, gently pushing my head in time to each stroke of my mouth. I continue to swallow him whole, moving faster until he abruptly jerks free.

“Stop.” He pants. “Let me inside you.”

He pulls me up, and I climb onto his lap. Without meaning to, I wince with the sharp pain in my thighs. Concern etched in his features, he pulls me into his arms and stands.

Confused, I wrap my legs around his waist. “No, Grisham. I don't care if it hurts. I want to.”

“I will never hurt you,” he says firmly. “Never.”

He carries me to bed, placing me on top of his sheets, and then climbs in beside me. We face each other, and his hand seductively traces lines over my shoulder, down my side, and across my hip.

“We can do this if you want to,” he says softly. His eyes penetrate every hidden corner of me. “But let me take care of you.”

I nod, ready to give myself over to him completely.

Guiding me onto my back, he supports himself above me. Then he bends his head, taking my mouth and marking me as his. He reaches between us and strokes me with strong, sure fingers. I moan, pushing against his hand with my hips and throwing my head back against the pillows.

“This,” he whispers at my throat, “is always,
always
supposed to feel good. I will worship this body, Greta, and the woman who owns it, for as long as you'll let me.”

He brings me to the brink of the beautiful pleasure, and then smiles as he pulls his hand away. Before I can protest, he thrusts inside of me, and the fullness is even better than I remember.

Being this close to him, feeling every part of him connect with every part of me makes me feel like my body was created to love his.

He hisses as he pulls out of me, then thrusts back in. He lowers himself to his forearms, and I smile because I know he needs to be close to me as badly as I need him to be.

Then I bite my lip when the angle of his thrusts changes, and he begins repeatedly stroking my clit with an increasing intensity. It doesn't take long until I'm right at the edge of that wonderful precipice, ready to fall.

“I love you, Greta.” His whisper is strained, but beautiful. It's the only thing I need to be able to jump.

I ride my orgasm longer than I ever have before, and it's not until I'm coming down that Grisham lets go of his own self-control. He plunges into me, deeper, faster. And then he's trembling and my name leaves him on a shout as his release empties inside me.

This is my SEAL, saving me all over again.

This is love.