Taste Me Deadly (Sensory Ops) (6 page)

“Ruby’s my only family.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.” He led her past the teal room, past a few other doors and around the corner he’d turned earlier.

He was going to his room. She tugged at her hand but he didn’t grant the freedom she sought. She’d made a promise and decided to break it in a span of five minutes. He had as much reason to trust her as Thor did Loki.

Chapter Five

Liam escorted Grey to the master suite and carried her bag into the closet.

“Does every room in this place get bigger than the last?” she asked on a gasp.

“The living room is bigger than this. After that there’s only one bigger, but that’s because I ripped out some walls. And it’s really more than one room.”

“Too confining?”

“I had no need for a mad scientist’s lab or the equivalent to a prison cell. Though I did keep certain aspects in place.” Like the safe room that would close with the press of a button.

Her throat’s pulse bounded. Her eyes popped wide.

Liam never got tired of the jokes he could make about the house. “I told you I got a killer’s deal.”

“I thought you meant a low price.”

“I did, and with it my own personal dungeon.”

Grey narrowed her eyes and watched him. He employed every trick he knew to keep a smile off his face.

“You have to be kidding. You’re not smiling, but you have to be kidding.”

“You should see the toys I put in there. Sinful even by Vegas standards.”

That set fire to her cheeks and nearly had him laughing. Rather than push his luck further he changed the subject and mood by stepping close and running a finger along her neck, over the spot where he’d pressed a nibbling kiss. He captured her gaze with his and whispered, “If you run again I’ll chase again.”

“Liam.”

“At least say you’ll stay until Ruby is in the clear. Until the danger’s passed.” The plea cost more than a little of his pride, but every cell in his veins said she was worth it.

The years without Grey had been miserable. The time waiting for her to get to Ruby had been terrifying. One taste of her kiss, though, one touch of her finger to his skin, and he’d seen everything that could be between them.

They didn’t speak when she came out after changing. They didn’t speak when she crawled beneath the covers he’d turned back. They didn’t speak as she’d drifted to sleep with her head cushioned on his pillow.

Hours later, sitting in the chair by a bedroom window, listening to Grey’s dainty snore, Liam felt the certainty of what he wanted.

Grey. He wanted Grey.

“No,” she whimpered. She twisted and kicked at the covers until they were a tangle below her feet. Pain pinched her voice when she called out again. “No. Don’t!”

Liam was up and moving to the far side of the bed. He set his gun on the table and toed off his shoes before easing onto the mattress. Her breath came in pants as she thrashed about. Her short hair spiked against the pillow.

“No. Please.” She clutched her throat, clawing at an invisible vice or grip. The flawless skin between her brows flexed in tiny scrunching wrinkles.

“Shh.” Each jagged breath was a blade between the ribs. He tried to soothe her as he knee-walked across the giant mattress. The distance wasn’t large, but it was too vast.

“Grey. You’re safe.”

“No!” She screamed and thrashed more violently.

He blocked a foot aimed for his head and then dropped to the mattress. Close enough to touch, he eased a few more inches toward her. As he reached for her he was whispering.

“It’s Liam. You’re safe.” He rested a hand on her arm. She jerked away and raised a knee. He shifted fast enough that the strike missed its mark—barely.

“Grey, it’s me, Liam. I won’t hurt you.” Giving her no time to respond or rebuff his attempts he grabbed her close in one move. Curling her into him and throwing a leg over hers was a risk, but it was necessary. Watching her struggle in fear twisted him into knots tighter than any amount of worry had.

His throat was thick as she trembled in his arms. The police report that had been filed at the time of Jessup’s arrest had said he’d killed two pastry shop owners and stabbed a woman while raping her. Liam had assumed, while reading what little he could find since the call from Micah, that Grey had witnessed it all.

Seeing her try to free herself from terror he suspected it was more. He suspected she had instead been a victim, and
that
possibility simply pissed him off. It pissed him off so much he shook more than Grey.

Sometime in the dark hours of morning she relaxed into him. Sometime after that he must have dozed, because he drifted awake to find the sky light enough for him to see Grey’s face. His wife’s face.

They’d shifted so he was on his back with her curled tight to his side. The stress and fear of her nightmare had eased, leaving the smoothness of peace in their place. The only thing about her that appeared out of control was her hair, and that stood up and out at every angle.

Finger combing it for her, Liam absorbed the simple pleasure of his wife at his side. The night’s circumstances sucked, but waking with her in his arms was a dream delivered. Her hair was silky as he smoothed it as much as possible.

“Mmm.” Grey stretched against him and his starved body responded.

She slid her hand up his chest and fingered the collar of his shirt. The agent in him was glad he hadn’t undressed to watch over her. The husband who’d missed her cursed the barrier, because even if she didn’t agree to sex he was missing valuable moments of her skin against his.

“You smell like man,” she mumbled against his chest. “I liked that about you.”

“You smell like brown sugar, and you taste as sweet,” he whispered against her head. “I missed that about you.”

Her fingers swept along his collarbone, innocent seduction, and moved along his neck. He rolled his eyes and searched deep for control as the ripples settled beneath the surface and into his veins to heat his blood.

“I had a bad dream.” He barely heard her, but he did. He also heard shame, though he didn’t understand it.

“I know.”

“You made it stop.”

“I couldn’t watch you suffer.”

“I don’t dream when you hold me.”

Shit.
How was a man supposed to respond to that? Smile? Pound his chest and Tarzan yell? Dance a touchdown jig? He settled for a quiet question. “How often do you dream like that?”

“Every night.”

Two words shouldn’t hold the power to shred him, but her admission, whispered against his chest while her fingers played at his neck, was a shotgun blast of destruction.

She was finished with nightmares. “I’ll be here at your side when you close your eyes each night, Grey.”

“I want to reject that offer.” She shifted and looked up at him. “I really enjoy sleep, though.”

Promises sprang to his tongue. Liam bit them back. They were married and though he didn’t plan on letting her go again, he couldn’t base a life on how they’d started. He would keep his desires and hopes at bay until Grey was ready or willing for more.

He kissed her softly. “Then we’ll sleep just like this until everything plays itself out.”

“Can it be that simple?”

It’s anything but simple.
“Yes.”

“What about sex?”

He smiled and smoothed her bangs along her forehead. “I’m not going to turn you away. Neither am I going to devour you.”

“I don’t want to lead you on, Liam. It worries me how tight you’re hanging on to our marriage.”

“Says the woman still wearing her ring.” He shrugged. “Guess my mom’s been right all these years.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m a romantic. I leapt with my heart, but do me a favor, Grey?”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about me. Focus on you and what you’re here to do. Enjoy this house and the safety it provides.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It can be, but you should know one thing.”

“What?”

He rolled her to her back and hovered above her. “I really enjoy kissing you.”

“You’re not an unpleasant kisser.”

“I intend to kiss you once a day.” He placed a quick peck on the corner of her mouth. “And
that
is not what I consider a kiss.”

Her cheeks brightened. Apprehension and anticipation shone in her eyes. Her green eyes.

“Green. My favorite color.”

“What?” She blinked, confused. She was easier to read without the shield of contacts in place. He was going to enjoy getting to know her.

“Your eyes. I wondered what color they really were.”

“Oh. Right.”

Unable to contain his pleasure, he smiled. “You act like you’ve been someone else so long you’ve forgotten who you are.”

“Sometimes I think I have. Others I’m not sure I’ll ever really know.”

He considered her claim as he rolled, taking her to the edge of the bed with him. He said nothing as he went into the bathroom. Grey didn’t hesitate to follow him in, only she went into the closet where he’d set her bag.

He came out of the water closet to find the shower running, warming up. Grey would run it for five minutes before even testing its temperature. She’d done the same thing in Vegas. Now he wondered if it had more to do with seeking warmth or trying to scrub memories off her skin. He didn’t ask, though, from fear of whatever answer she gave if she gave one.

Grey stood at the right side of the double sink brushing her teeth. Liam moved to the left side, his side, and pulled his toothbrush and toothpaste from the drawer.

While he brushed, he moved to the linen closet and pulled out a towel and wash rag for her. She gathered her shampoo and conditioner and a bottle of body wash, took the towels with a nod of thanks and moved toward the shower.

Liam left the room to give her privacy. Standing in the bedroom, he listened to the muted sounds of her undressing, of the shower door opening and closing, and shook his head. They had easily slipped into silence mid-conversation and stepped into a morning routine that felt as natural as if they had been sharing the space for years.

She claimed he was holding too tightly to the idea of them, suggesting she didn’t see a future for them, and then she slipped into the space he’d pictured her in.

With his thoughts never straying from the naked woman in his shower, Liam headed downstairs. In the living room, he turned the TV to the morning news. In the kitchen, he started coffee. Instinct said he’d need it more over the coming days than he normally did. And he remembered how much Grey loved the stuff.

After getting set up with a serrated knife and the small butcher block cutting board from the storage slot beneath the island counter top, he retrieved turkey bacon, eggs, cheese and tomatoes from the fridge and then the English muffins from the pantry.

The meal was simple, something he cooked a few times a week, but today the task held more pleasure. He had cooked for company before but never for Grey. It would annoy her if he said anything, but it was sort of like they were stealing time for a honeymoon, if they’d have chosen a honeymoon with a sick sibling and a killer on the hunt.

He cut the tomatoes into thin slices and laughed to himself. Nothing they had done was traditional. With the tomatoes sliced, he turned on the gas beneath the cooktop griddle. While the surface heated, he got a bowl and broke some eggs into it. Fork whipping them until they were fluffy, he skipped the milk most people added to scrambled eggs and instead added lemon pepper for seasoning.

With the bacon spread across the back half of the griddle, he poured the eggs in the middle. As they cooked he forked apart two muffins and laid them along the front.

He was flipping the bacon when Grey walked in. Clearly refreshed from a night’s sleep and a shower, the darkness beneath her eyes—blue today—was brighter. Her clothes, more subdued and sensible than the rebellious boldness of the lingerie she’d worn in Vegas, projected confidence. More importantly, they were unimpressive in a way that would allow her to blend into her surroundings.

His wife was smart. She had known she was inviting danger so she had packed disguises. As good as the disguise was, he saw the free spirit beneath the conservative image. Saw it and wanted her out of danger so she could be herself again. And so he could see if she’d kept the sexy scraps beneath.

She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “I smell coffee.”

“Sit. I’ll get you some.” He set the spatula aside and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. She settled at an island barstool while he filled the mugs and grabbed the creamer from the refrigerator. Her smile when he placed her coffee in front of her fulfilled a fantasy he had entertained since moving in.

“You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I cook every morning.” He played down how much he enjoyed her company, because admitting he would cook just to keep her around, if he thought it would help, would send her running.

“Well thank you.”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

Grey looked into her coffee. Liam turned back to cooking.