Epoch (The Transcend Duet Book 2)

by Jewel E. Ann

  Nate sighs, leaning back against the fridge. “I asked for a week. This is bigger. This is your future. I’m not going to ask you to stay. If you don’t want to go, then—”

  “What? I want to be with Griffin. I just can’t get rid of the past. Every day I feel like I remember more. And Doug …” I grab the back of my neck with both hands and shake my head, the fear still raw and nauseating. “He cornered me in the book store last night.”

  “What?” Nate pushes off the fridge.

  “I saw it. Her … me. She was holding a jagged piece of metal. The scar on his face … she cut him and then she ran. Every time I see him, more comes back to me.”

  “What did he say to you? Why were you alone last night?”

  I continue to shake my head. “No … Griffin was there, just a few aisles over. And he didn’t say much. It’s the way he taunts me. He knows I know about Daisy and Erica. I’m next, Nate.” My voice trembles along with every muscle in my body.

  He wraps me in his arms. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Something inside of me snaps. I push him away. “You can’t say that. Griffin can’t say that. Nobody can say that unless you’re going to be by my side twenty-four hours a day. Griffin was literally ten yards away, yet Doug got to me. Was it a coincidence? Did he just happen to be there? Or was he following me? Is he trying to prove that he can get to me no matter who’s supposedly watching over me? Is he toying with me?” I run my hands through my hair, tugging it with frustration.

  “I’ll see if there’s something I can do.”

  I laugh. “Great idea. In the meantime, I’ll just be … dead.” My laugh grows into something borderline hysterical. “I’m going to die twice at the hands of the same man. But that’s okay. Maybe I’ll figure it out the next time around.” My body buckles over in laughter. I’d give absolutely anything to be the average “normal” woman I was six months ago. My poor soul really sucks at this thing called life.

  Nate grabs my shoulders and shoves me upright and straight into the wall. My laughter stops like a bullet to my temple.

  “Stop.” He grits his teeth. “You don’t get to do this. You going to the lake by yourself when I told you to stay the fuck away, was not okay. You walking away from me because I had a moment with my stupid ego was not okay.”

  Angry tears fill his eyes. “You dying on me was not okay.”

  I can’t breathe. Or blink. Or move any part of my body.

  “You coming back to life when I need you more than anything, only to tell me you’re in love with another man is not okay. You stealing my daughter’s heart is not okay. Your fucking two weeks’ notice is not okay. And you laughing about this man who killed you is NOT…” he rams his flat hand into the wall right next to my head “…OKAY!” Another bang on the wall.

  Morgan cries.

  He doesn’t let any tears escape, but I feel every single one in my soul.

  Morgan cries more.

  The ridged muscles of his arms start to relax. He has me caged against the wall. He’s let twenty-two years of emotions slash into my heart, but now he has to let me go soothe his crying daughter.

  I start to peel my back off the wall, and he grabs my head and kisses me.

  Oh. My. Fucking. Hell.

  My brain and my heart explode at the same time. This isn’t a chaste kiss on the head. This is the kiss that reiterates every single gut-wrenching word he just said to me. This is an explosion of two lifetimes. This is the ruination of my life as Swayze Samuels. This is the kiss that sends souls to Hell.

  I don’t know when my hands made it to his hair, but they’re there. And it’s familiar.

  I don’t know when my lips began to move, but they’re moving against his. And it’s familiar.

  I don’t know when my tongue decided to taste his, but they’re dueling like they can’t get enough. And it’s familiar.

  Every inch of his body pressed to mine, every touch, every moan … it’s all too fucking familiar.

  And then … it’s over.

  He disappears down the hall to Morgan’s room. With one hand, I trace my bruised lips and with the other hand I ghost my fingers along my neck, just below my ear. That’s where I needed his lips. One kiss.

  Gentle.

  Reverent.

  The way he first kissed me.

  Nate wasn’t supposed to obliterate my world. He wasn’t supposed to break the fragile thread holding me to Griffin.

  But he did.

  I lock my knees to keep from falling over as he carries Morgan to me, wiping the tears from her eyes. She grins the moment she sees me.

  This little girl loves me, even if she can’t define love yet. I love her too. And if I’m honest with myself, I love her daddy too. Much like her, I don’t know how to define my love for Nate.

  When our eyes meet, I fight to hold back the toxic emotions. Regret falls off every inch of his body in relentless waves. He doesn’t have to say anything.

  “I …” He shakes his head with this look like he just ran over the family dog. “I’m …”

  “It’s …” My head shakes, mirroring his. It’s what? Fine? No. It’s the opposite of fine. It’s the definition of insanity. It’s the worst thing I have ever done. Yes. He kissed me. But I kissed him back. And I didn’t stop him. I’m not sure how long I would have let him kiss me had he not stopped when he did. My mom’s words echo in my conscience. Where does it stop?

  “You kissed—”

  “Daisy.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper.

  He kissed her because he remembers everything. But that doesn’t explain why I kissed him. A million excuses plead their case in my head. Valid, reasonable, believable excuses.

  “I should not have kissed you,” he says.

  “Can you see if your parents can watch her today? I need to …” I swallow the pain, the thick, suffocating guilt. “I need to do something.”

  He nods. “I’ll see if they can be here within the hour.”

  “K.” I take her from him. “Let’s get you changed and fed.” Brushing past him, I take her back to the nursery.

  A few seconds later, the back door shuts, and I break down, hugging Morgan to my body because … I lost my grocery store guy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “To what do we owe this honor?” Jett winks at me as I stomp the snow off my boots inside the front door of the dealership.

  “I was hoping to catch Griffin on a break.”

  “Griff never breaks, but I can probably see if he’ll make an exception for you.”

  I force a smile. It hurts like hell. “Thank you.”

  He nods his head toward the service department. “Follow me.”

  Griffin’s at a computer. He looks up.

  “Your woman wants you to take a break. The bathroom door has a lock.” Jett smirks.

  Griffin doesn’t acknowledge him. Neither do I. It’s like he can see through me, like he knows what I’m going to say. I’m the girl who forgot his birthday. I’m the girl who kissed another guy. And Griffin is just the boy who fell for the wrong girl.

  My chest hurts so badly it’s crushing me. I have to tell him what happened. And even though I know without a single doubt that it meant nothing to me, it’s going to mean everything to Griffin. And that’s fair, because the world’s kindest grocery store guy deserves a girl who would never let another man kiss her.

  I look around, but there’s no one else in sight. Griffin shifts his weight on the stool, propping one boot up on the metal rung, hands crossed over his chest.

  “You’ve never looked more miserable,” he says.

  I laugh a little, fighting back the tears.

  “If you’re not coming with me, then you don’t have to say anything.”

  I bite my quivering lips together and blink. As soon as he sees my tears, he looks away. I close my eyes.

  “Tell me about your day, Swayz.” Griffin shot me this killer grin on our third date.

  We were eating dinner at his hous
e for the first time. He baked salmon and steamed asparagus. I brought a bottle of wine and cookies that I tried to pass off as homemade, but I was pretty sure he knew they were store-bought.

  It was the first time he called me Swayz. No one had ever given me a nickname before. In that moment, for the first time in my life, I didn’t hate my name.

  “It was good.” I shrugged, still struggling to keep eye contact with him for more than five seconds without blushing like a schoolgirl.

  “Good is a terrible description. I need details.” He took another bite of salmon and pinned me with the sexiest look.

  “Details, huh? Well, nothing too exciting. I got fitted for my cap and gown—”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Start from the beginning. Breakfast. What did you have for breakfast?”

  “Really? You want all the details? I’m not that exciting.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  My face hurt from smiling so much. “Toast and butter. Coffee with sugar. I like a lot of sugar in my coffee. So much so I’m not sure if my jolt is from the caffeine or the sugar. Barre class. Shower—”

  “Tell me more about this shower.”

  I giggled with a full-on blush. “It was wet.” My hands covered my face. “Gah! I can’t do this.”

  “Swayze Samuels naked and wet. I can work with that. Do you wash your hair or soap your body first?”

  Shaking my head, I continued to laugh. “I can’t do this. It’s like phone sex without the phone.”

  “Fine. We’ll save phone sex without the phone for after-dinner conversation. So how much sugar are we talking about? Like would you say you have coffee with sugar, or sugar with coffee?”

  “Probably the latter.”

  “Barre class. Are you a dancer? Please say yes.”

  I giggled more. I never knew giggling was my thing until I met Grocery Store Guy.

  “No. My coordination is quite challenged, but I like the burn and it’s supposed to lift my butt. I think the jury is still out on that.”

  His chin jerks up. “Stand up. Let me see. I’ll happily be the judge of that.”

  “You’re a total flirt.”

  “Just with you.”

  “Ha! I doubt that.”

  Griffin gave me this look, the kind of look that came with an exaggerated pause like he needed to process something. Something new. Something unexpected.

  I liked that look because unlike the casual flirting, it felt like something he hadn’t given to anyone else.

  We sat at his two-person kitchen table for almost two hours, flirting, laughing, and sharing special looks.

  “Can I talk you into sitting on my sofa?” He stood, holding out his hand.

  I rubbed the rim of the wine glass over my bottom lip. “Is there something special about your sofa?”

  “It’s more comfortable than these old wooden chairs.”

  “Are you inviting me to get comfortable?” I grinned, trying to be flirty, but … man oh man I was so nervous. Third date and no kiss. In all fairness, it was our first evening date. The other two had been quick meals over his lunch break.

  Three dates in three weeks, but we texted every day. Lots of texts about the most random stuff.

  Griffin: Strawberries are on sale. Do you like strawberries?

  Me: I cut my sandwiches diagonally. Do you cut your sandwiches in half?

  Griffin: Going to the speedway with some friends. Do you bat your eyelashes to get out of speeding tickets?

  Me: Never do a vinegar rinse after shaving your legs.

  Griffin: Getting another tattoo.

  Me: Sparrow. The name of the new girl in my barre class. Parents are stupid.

  “Yes. I’m inviting you to get more comfortable.”

  I placed my hand in his hand. It fit. It felt right. No, it felt perfect.

  “So how many tattoos do you have?”

  “Quite a few.”

  We sat on the sofa. A small grin tugged at his lips when I left a full cushion between us. My nerves were firing on all cylinders. There was a hundred percent chance of me whimpering if our bodies got too close.

  “You don’t keep count?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you have a favorite one?”

  “The dragon.”

  My gaze inspected the tattoos on his arms.

  “I’m wearing too many clothes for you to see it.”

  Heat crawled up my neck and in lower places as well.

  “Do you have any ink?”

  I shook my head. “Just a birthmark.”

  His gaze made a quick inspection of me.

  I grinned. “I’m wearing too many clothes for you to see it.”

  “Cute.” He leaned back in the opposite corner, crossing his inked arms over his chest. “I know what you’re doing. And it’s not going to work. I’m not that easy.”

  “What am I doing?” I chuckled.

  “You’re pretending you have a birthmark so I’ll agree to show you my dragon if you show me your birthmark. And only after I’m standing in front of you, completely naked, will you reveal that it’s not really a birthmark, just an odd-shaped mole. No …” He shook his head. “I’m not falling for that. If you want me naked, you’re going to have to show me the birthmark first.”

  Amusement.

  Shock.

  Embarrassment.

  And need.

  They all hit me at once. Griffin wasn’t just a flirt. He was good … really really good.

  I swallowed hard. All that my brain made sense of in that moment was a simple exchange. Me lifting my shirt a few inches in exchange for him getting naked. I needed to see the dragon. After all, it was his favorite tattoo, and who doesn’t like dragons?

  “It’s not an odd-shaped mole.” I leaned back in my corner of the sofa and slid up my T-shirt.

  Griffin’s tongue made a lazy swipe along his bottom lip. I rubbed my lips together, hoping, praying that said lips would get to press to his mouth soon. We were on date three, but all the random texts made me feel like I knew him more like an eighth date. My body just wanted to catch up to my mind.

  “That’s quite the birthmark. I can’t see the whole thing.” His gaze flit to mine, eyes gleaming with this sexy challenge.

  My shirt was tucked up just to the bottom edge of my bra, but the birthmark extended a half inch to the underside of my left breast.

  “I’d have to remove my bra.” I faked confidence. Like no big deal.

  He glanced at the nonexistent watch on his wrist. “I don’t have any plans for a while. I’ve got time. Do you?”

  “We haven’t kissed, but you want me to take off my bra for you?”

  He smirked. “Swayz, you make it sound like a strip tease. I just want to see all of your birthmark before I show you my dragon.”

  I scraped my teeth along my lower lip, eyeing his tight sexy graphic tee and muscular legs clad in worn denim. Sinewy, inked arms. Shaven head. At least two days’ worth of stubble along his jaw.

  Sitting up, I inched my shirt off, the rush of adrenaline obvious in the exaggerated rise and fall of my chest.

  Griffin’s Adam’s apple bobbed just before his lips parted.

  “Here.” I slid the bottom of my bra up just enough to show him where my birthmark ended.

  “That’s a sexy birthmark.”

  I slid my bra back down. “It’s no dragon.”

  His grin grew so big I felt it along every inch of my skin, but nowhere did I feel it stronger than the heavy pulse between my legs.

  In one full motion, he stood and shrugged off his shirt. I swallowed back my whimper and squeezed my legs together.

  He turned, showing me his back and the dragon that started midway and off to one side. I tried to speak, but he unfastened his jeans, leaving me fumbling for a single coherent thought.

  Gulp.

  Granted his back was to me, but … but … butt!

  Sigh. Drool. Whimper.

  He let his jeans slide to his knees and sho
ved his briefs down on the side where the dragon’s tail snaked over his holy-fucking-perfect ass and halfway down his leg.

  I told myself to close my mouth and stop panting, but my body didn’t respond.

  Griffin glanced back over his shoulder. My gaze shot to his, and I snapped my mouth shut, but I’m pretty sure he saw the trail of saliva running down my chin.

  “Female dragon. I’m thinking of naming her Swayze.”

  I barked out a laugh. He grinned while sliding his briefs back over his ass and pulling up his jeans. He faced me again, but his jeans weren’t fastened. I told myself not to stare at his erection straining his briefs, but it wasn’t my fault God gave me twenty-twenty vision and a naturally curious mind.

  Seconds or maybe a decade later, Griffin’s voice broke my trance. And his words started what became Griffin and Swayze—sex on demand. Every. Single. Day. “Tell me to fasten my jeans and put on my shirt.”

  Like a shameless hussy, I let my hungry gaze take its leisurely time meeting his eyes. “Why the hell would I do that?”

  He kneeled in front of me and peeled off my jeans. My legs shivered. Teeth chattered. I had never been so scared to want something so much.

  “Are you going to kiss me anytime soon?”

  I didn’t usually—okay, ever—get naked with a man before the first kiss.

  Griffin gripped my hips, jerking me to the edge of the sofa. I sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing his biceps to steady myself. His erection pressed between my legs, shielded by two thin layers of cotton.

  Our lips lingered a breath from touching. His hands slid up my back, deft fingers unhooking my bra.

  I leaned in to kiss him before my heart exploded. He pulled back just enough to deny me. I tried again. And again he denied me, wearing the devil’s grin.

  “Griff …” I whispered. “Kiss me.”

  Keeping his sable eyes locked to my gaze, he eased my bra off my arms. My eyes fought to stay open when his hand cupped my breast.

  He just looked at me with what could only be described as wonder. After years of scrutiny, someone was looking at me like they didn’t need to figure me out.

  “Please …”

  He nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping over every inch of my face. “I think I will.” Pearly whites flashed a second before he kissed me.