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.
He meant what he said, but he regretted giving the thought voice. If anything would send her running it would be mush. He’d watched his teammates and brother fall beneath love’s spell and been humored. He’d seen how soft they acted around their significant others and been haunted.
They’d discovered the kind of connection Liam had seen in his parents. It was the kind of connection that allowed two people to be themselves every minute. They could speak their minds and know the other would understand the intention even if the words were wrong. Laughter was as frequent as yelling, yet with it all was the knowledge that quiet, even silent, moments were natural. The best part of the connection was how it grew deeper and easier every day like one of his mother’s hand-stitched quilts growing softer and stronger with use.
Liam craved what his friends and brother had found, but if he didn’t learn to shut his mouth on the touchy-feely crap he was going to blow his chance. The resolution to lighten up settled in as he stacked cheesy scrambled eggs, bacon and tomato on a toasted muffin to make open-faced sandwiches.
&nb
sp; When he’d sat on the stool beside her, Grey picked up the first of her two sandwiches. “You cook like this every morning?”
He nodded. “There are days I may not eat again until evening or later. I may as well fill up when I can.”
She bit into the muffin. Cheese strings followed her retreat from the sandwich. Unpredictably, she did not use her fingers to break the strand. No. She slipped her tongue out and with a quick circle of the muscle she severed the connection.
Muffin suspended before his mouth, Liam stared. She chewed delicately and after she swallowed, the tongue she’d so expertly commanded the cheese with swiped across her lips. His back tightened. How the hell was he supposed to control himself around her when she did things like that?
“This is great,” she said before taking another bite.
He nodded and forced his eyes forward. Biting into his own food, he ran crime stats in his head. As distractions went, it was wasted on the power of Grey.
“What did you do before the U.S. Marshals turned you into Grey? What were your hobbies?”
“I tried writing once and quickly learned it was more fun to be a reader.” She talked around her food, and as strict as his mom had been that they never speak with food in their mouths, it was cute when Grey did it. Maybe because he never saw her food once it passed her teeth and she didn’t sound like she had a mouthful.
“What kind of books?”
“Anything. Romances are fun, but I discovered a few favorites in thrillers. Movies. I love movies and watch every one I come across, especially Disney. I can quote many.” She’d almost sighed with ecstasy when she talked of movies, and he had no trouble seeing her curled up to watch Beauty and the Beast.
Less than conventional. It didn’t surprise him. “What else?”
“I’d just dropped out of college and started thinking about applying to the Culinary Institute.”
“You wanted to be a chef.” She’d been working in a pastry shop that had branched out and begun distributing their muffin and cake mixes to local stores. It made sense she might develop a fondness for it.
She shook her head. “Working in the shop, I had to fill in for the owner’s wife one day. She did all the chocolate work and had been showing me a few tips.” Nostalgia and sadness slowed Grey’s voice. “Both Mr. and Mrs. Matoot were teaching me to cook before…”
“Before Jessup murdered them.”
She nodded. “I shouldn’t have been there that night. I messed things up.”
Feeling responsible for witnessing a death wasn’t a normal reaction. Something much worse had happened that night in the pastry shop, and while Liam wanted to question her further, he also wanted to learn about the woman he’d married. He could ask her about Karl Jessup when the team was all together.
“I had a knack for it. Everything I made that day sold twice as fast. A few more test days and the owner’s wife moved into the back office to work. I became the amateur chocolatier.”
Vibrancy practically bounced to life in her tone and beneath her tinted contacts. Holding back an answering smile was impossible. “You were going to be a chocolatier.”
“The Matoots gave me my first taste, then they encouraged me to pursue my talent. I allowed myself to dream.” She stopped. Her hand shook beside her plate. “Then I… Then it bubbled and burned.”
Her sadness returned as inevitable as grief over losing a loved one. The closest Liam had ever come to real loss was waking alone in Vegas. Grey had known real pain. She’d lost everything—her identity, her sister, her passion, her dream. Then she’d become an admin to an event planner, the one who’d put together the conference he’d attended. She’d walked away from the world of errand running, but her actions had to be limited until they knew she was safe. Safety didn’t have to mean she couldn’t be indulged.
They finished breakfast in silence, but Liam’s mind was chaotic. He would indulge Grey and show her the best of both worlds—safety and passion.
Chapter Six
“Tyler.” Liam greeted his friend and teammate with a quad shot venti Americano. “Open up.”
Tyler semi-smiled, took the cup and turned it bottom up, essentially pouring it down his throat. After draining the last drop possible he blew a satisfied breath and stretched his neck. “Morning, man.”
“I like my morning coffee,” Grey chuckled, “but you’re smiling like you just orgasmed for the first time in…ever. Which is a really wrong idea since you’re in a room with two women you barely know, one of whom is comatose.”
“There’s no wrong place for that.”
“The coffee or the orgasm?” she shot back.
“Pick one.” Tyler grinned in a disarming way Grey didn’t expect. For that matter she hadn’t expected him to look up from his tablet.
“I think I like you.” She answered with a grin of her own. It was nice to have reasons to smile and, despite the circumstances, Liam and Tyler were surprisingly fun.
“Just don’t like him too much.” Liam stepped forward and partially blocked her view of Tyler. Tyler smiled as he turned and moved back to the corner chair.
“Are you saying it’s impossible to like multiple men equally? Or that there’s something wrong with it?” She rounded Liam and turned her face up to his.
Liam had encouraged her to embrace who she’d been before she was Grey. The trouble there was that pre-Grey fit in even less than Grey. She had been everything he and his friends avoided.
He had also promised she would be accepted as one of the gang as soon as everyone met her. The claim became almost believable when she found herself bantering with Tyler. As Opal she hadn’t been the type to keep her opinions to herself. As Grey she needed to melt into the background, though she found that to be a challenge with Liam and his friends. Especially with Liam. “Maybe the idea of being the creamy middle of a Fed sandwich appeals to me.”
Liam didn’t widen his eyes or narrow them. He didn’t frown or scowl. He didn’t show any reaction. For seconds he stared, cool as chilled marble. Then he blinked and Grey breathed a sigh of relief she hadn’t realized she needed. The momentary delusion of thinking he’d allowed her joke to pass vanished.
A single step, small and determined, closed the distance between them. Liam grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. He was hard, all over, and humming with restraint. The air she’d managed to draw stalled in her lungs.
He’d said he would kiss her once a day. This was it. He was going to kiss her to show her how much she liked him. Or he was out to prove she would never be the middle of a threesome, which was fine. Especially when she allowed herself to remember what being with Liam had been like.
Leaning back, she locked her eyes with his. The hunger she’d seen before was back and it darkened his irises. Or maybe it was the intensity of his body against hers that made her think his eyes darkened. It didn’t matter. It only mattered that she was in his arms and he was inches from pressing his lips to hers.
He leaned in, angled toward her ear. She swallowed in anticipation.
“No one else can make you feel like I do, and you know it.” He brushed his mouth along her lobe. She shuddered, but he didn’t kiss her. “And for your insubordination, you’ll have to wait for today’s kiss.”
Liam looked smug when he set her away from him. Feminine laughter sounded from inside the door. “Ooooh, I knew it. I said the day would come when a woman messed you up. I am so glad it’s here.”
“What are you doing here, Kieralyn?”
With scowl-hardened lips, Liam turned to the brunette who wore a midnight blue corset-like top and coordinated slacks. Her slipper flats were a pale brown that matched the handbag hanging from her shoulder. A sassy smile painted her lips less subtly than her pink gloss. Uncaring about Liam’s much larger size, she bumped him aside and offered a hand. “I’m Kieralyn Cabrera. One of the few women Liam speaks to, and believe me when I say we’ve all tried to set him up.”
“Kieralyn,” Liam warned.
Grey
accepted the woman’s hand, liking her as quickly as she’d liked Tyler. “I’m Greycen Craig, but everyone calls me Grey. And I’m glad he’s resisted the hookups. If one had taken I would have missed out on breakfast and coffee this morning.”
Kieralyn raised a brow. “Breakfast? Is that what it’s called in Vegas?”
“You’re getting as bad as Ava,” Liam grumbled. “Why are you here?”
“I’m Tyler’s relief. And it will look less like Grey’s being guarded if I’m with her.”
“A girlfriend offering moral support.” Grey nodded. She’d left friends in Vegas, but none she would have confided in enough to get support from. Dropping the pretense that her life wasn’t perfect eased the tonnage of regret draped her shoulders.
“I’m not a guard. I’m…me.” Liam’s nose twitched on the last bit. He’d taken care to not say he was her husband and Grey appreciated the effort.
She wouldn’t thank him now and get into another round in front of his team, but she could acknowledge him. Still close enough to touch, she rested her fingers on his forearm and waited to speak until his eyes were on hers. “Kieralyn has a point. She’s less intimidating.”
“If it keeps you out of danger I don’t give a damn who I intimidate.”
She really didn’t want to launch into a debate of any kind with an audience, and she didn’t have much time left before her next round of appointments in the living donor process. Equally unwilling to ignore his point, he’d done so much for her already, she took his hand and led him to the bathroom.
Kieralyn was moving closer to Tyler, farther from the bathroom, as Grey closed herself and Liam into the small room. “Liam, don’t take this the wrong way, but if Kieralyn’s volunteering to go to my appointments I’d like to take her up on the offer.”
“Why?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. I’ve not found a damn thing wrong with you.” She rolled her eyes. “Hell, you even put the toilet seat down.”
“Then why do you prefer Kieralyn?”
A large, powerful, confident FBI agent standing in front of her, whining that he wasn’t getting his way, was funny and Grey couldn’t help it. She laughed. She laughed until her sides hurt and her vision blurred and her bladder bitched. She laughed until she had to cross her legs to keep from peeing her pants. She looked up at Liam, standing with his arms crossed and his scowl hardening more, and she laughed harder.
Taste Me Deadly (Sensory Ops) Page 5
