Massive, the room boasted a large refrigerator with double doors and a freezer drawer below, a gas cook top with six burners and a griddle, double ovens and an oversized microwave. The main cabinets were white with black marble counters and, for contrast, the island, giant in its own right, had ebony cabinets topped with white marble.
Like the garage, the walls were a pale gray with dark beams exposed. Color, bold blues and greens, popped to life from the trinkets and artwork, as well as from the centerpiece bowl filled with fruit, and the eight barstools surrounding the island.
Her inner cook, the woman too rarely released in the last five years, rejoiced at the kitchen’s splendor. Her inner chocolatier, another part of herself suppressed years earlier, longed to see smoothly melted chocolate being worked on the white marble. She rubbed her fingertips together, practically feeling the silk of chocolate between them.
The only thing that might be better than a cooking indulgence would be to settle onto a barstool with a glass of wine to watch Liam cook. Assuming he cooked.
She ran her fingers along the edge of the cool marble as she followed him into the living room. The gray walls and exposed beams continued. The same blues and greens from the kitchen greeted her from wall hangings, the pillows on the leather sofa capable of seating ten people, and the enormous rug that covered the beam-matching hardwood floors.
She didn’t need to see the rest of the house to know it would be equally awesome. And equally out of her league. “What does a single man need with all this space?”
“I have company quite often. And I’m not single.” He continued down a hall and into the main entrance, giving her a glimpse of the formal areas before turning up a massive staircase.
“Enough company that you need all this space?”
“I have a large family.”
An image of overbearing Scots filled her head. It was powerful enough to make her cringe. “I’ll be sure to be gone before they come back.”
“My team and their significant others also come over often.”
“How many of them are there?”
“There are six of us on the team, four of them are either engaged or married, well, five if you count me, one of the fiancés has a sister and then we have another friend who stops by when he’s in town.”
“So there are twelve of you in your little group.”
“Thirteen.”
She did the math again and shook her head. “Who’s number thirteen?”
“You.”
“What?” She stumbled. “No. I’m not joining your merry little band of whatever you all are.”
“Sweetheart.” He stopped at the first door in the upstairs foyer and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re already a member.”
“Liam, I hope you’re not expecting this thing between us to last.”
“I have just as much reason to think it will work out as you do to think it won’t.”
“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“Then don’t try.” He leaned around her and opened the door they stood beside. His arm brushed her breast and set tingles racing through her. She lifted a hand, set it on the back of his forearm.
His jacket felt creamy against her fingers. He angled his head, met her gaze.
So many things needed to be said, discussed. She owed him an explanation. He deserved to know why she’d left, to know it had nothing to do with him. The trouble was that she’d leave again when Ruby was safe, so anything she said would be little more than empty platitudes.
“Liam.”
“Grey.”
They spoke at the same moment and they both sounded out of breath. Screw explanations. If burning in Miami’s fiery pits of despair rested in her near future she may as well enjoy the trip.
Curling her fingers into the back of his arm she leaned into him. Slow and dreamlike, Liam eased forward. Grey pushed up to her toes and touched her lips to his. It was a tentative touch and she kept her eyes open, locked on his, not that the thoughts behind the brown shields to his soul were readable.
Retreating, she swept her tongue across her lips. Liam placed a hand on her stomach and pulled at her shirt. He made no move to untuck it, yet each tug pulled on the yearning to belong that breathed inside her. Then she grabbed his jacket and began to pluck at the fabric.
“This is wrong,” Grey whispered, more for her benefit than his, a way to remind herself how things would end. She didn’t belong in his world that was resplendent in perfection. She didn’t know how to be the kind of person he surrounded himself with, openly supportive and instantly loving. She was more comfortable in her one-bedroom apartment filled with mismatched furniture that could only be called shabby chic in a dream. Differences aside, she had no desire to be involved with someone tangled up in the law. Either side.
“Seems right to me.” He breathed a kiss across her lips again. Nothing more than a rush of warmth backed by the lightest caress of softness, the kiss sent her rationalizations scurrying for cover.
“Things are complicated.”
“Easy is boring.” He kissed her again.
Her knees trembled. Her other hand drifted up and grabbed the front of his jacket. “Boring is safe.”
“Safety and excitement can dance on occasion.” His next caress was a nibble kiss at her jaw, just in front of her ear.
She licked her lips and tightened her hold on his jacket. He unraveled her restraints. “What kind of dance?”
“The oldest kind.” Demonstrating, he gathered her close and began to move. They stood in a large foyer at the top of the stairs with no music playing and he was luring her into a dance.
Then she heard it. Music, deep and throbbing like a heavy heartbeat. The stunning strains of sweeping notes played in each touch. His palm at her hip. A finger at her throat’s pulse.
Her blood hummed. Desire swelled.
Applying almost no pressure, he moved her hips forward and back, wrapping her in warmth and comfort and arousal. Grey rested her temple against his jaw and craved the strength to allow herself to be carried away.
Complications underscored Liam’s efforts to simplify the moment. Grey just didn’t know how to accept the simplicity.
“I can’t.” Lifting her head she forced clarity into her mind. The fog of fantasy lingered, though.
Liam surprised her when instead of arguing or ignoring her, like he did every time she insisted his help wasn’t needed, he set her down. She wasn’t sure when he’d picked her up but the instant his hands released her she missed them.
“Do you promise not to run away in the middle of the night?”
“Are you really that worried about my safety?” The idea of him caring enough to worry was novel, which was nothing more than a dream she couldn’t entertain.
“Yes, but let’s not pretend you haven’t mastered your disappearance act.”
Guilt, an emotion she’d once thought she squashed, showed its traitorous head, which it seemed to be doing a lot lately. It had been bad with Ruby, yet standing in Liam’s home it mixed with regret and overflowed.
“My promise probably means nothing to you, but I will not leave in the middle of the night.”
“Good.” He leaned in and kissed her again. This time it was almost chaste, as if he was simply saying “good night, sleep tight”, but as she breathed easy he tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, swiped his tongue over the puffy spot she’d made bleed earlier with chewing nerves, and then pulled back.
He pointed to the end of the hall. “I’m just around the corner if you need me.”
Her knees shook as she watched him walk away. She’d been so certain he would seduce her into his bed. The weekend in Vegas had been the first and last time in five years she’d slept dream free and the prospect of repeating the pleasure was stark.
He was rounding the corner when she called out. “Liam.”
He turned but said nothing.
Grey was tempted to shake her head and go into the room. Retreat wo
uld be cowardice. Cowardice would mean sleeping in the nude, which she refused to do. At least in Liam’s house with him down the hall. “My stuff is in my car. I have nothing to wear.”
He looked her up and down. Hunger rolled over her and had her wondering if he pictured her naked. Her mouth watered.
“Your bag is in your room.”
“How?”
“Tyler moved it while you were in your appointment.”
Her hand went to the pocket where the single key was. Had been. Skin hot and tight, she said, “You picked my pocket.”
Liam’s only move was the slightest shrug with one shoulder.
Her skin heated more. “You planned on bringing me here from the beginning.”
“You’re my wife. You belong here, even if you prefer not to share a room with me.” Offering no other explanations he pivoted on the ball of his left foot and walked away.
Heart heavy, Grey went into her room. Her doubts followed.
Unlike the downstairs that started with pale palettes, the bedroom was brilliantly bright. The walls were teal green, but one had been painted with fat lines in a slightly darker teal. Baseboards and crown molding as glossy and smooth looking as white chocolate added elegance the space didn’t really need.
The bed frame, tables and dresser were the same color as the molding, but the bedding, seating area chairs and decorations pulled in shades of teal with touches of pink. On the floor at the end of the bed sat her brown bag with its slight tear at one corner.
Standing in a bedroom that could fit her entire apartment, Grey was surrounded by perfection and wealth. Liam was going out of his way to welcome her. He’d offered protection, privacy, comfort and no pressure in regards to sleeping together. She should be grateful, and she was, but every gesture was shadowed by reality.
Fed or not, married or not, Liam did not need to take on her problems.
She’d promised not to leave in the middle of the night, and she’d meant it. She’d thought she would stay, but looking at the clock, seeing that it was nearing midnight, she knew differently. Hands cold and shaking, she wrapped her fingers around the handle of her bag.
She was out the door and down the stairs before his earlier words smacked her back a step. Let’s not pretend you haven’t mastered your disappearance act.
Grey spun, expecting to see him descending the stairs. He wasn’t there. Shaking off the idea of being watched, she turned for the front door. She turned the first deadbolt. Her fingers were on the second.
“Unless you’re leaving Ruby again, too, I’ll track you down in a few hours.”
She’d never been easily startled or prone to screams, not even when she was moments from being discovered by Karl Jessup, but she felt one rising. Closing her eyes, Grey froze, unable to face Liam. “I can’t be here.”
His fingers encased hers on the bag. She flinched. Where had he come from and how did he move so soundlessly given his size?
She wouldn’t ask any more than he’d answer if she did. “Why, Grey? Why can’t you be here? Why do you keep running?”
He took her bag and without its weight in her hand she lost the resolve she’d barely been gripping.
“Your world is too different from mine.” She hated the squeak in her voice, but she went on. “My apartment can fit in that bedroom.”
He relocked the door and then, taking her hand in his, led her back to the stairs. They were at the top landing before he finally spoke. “You’re judging the book cover. This is just a house chosen because it’s big enough to accommodate my family without us tripping over each other when they visit.”
“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, t
hat 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.”
Taste Me Deadly (Sensory Ops) Page 4
