J Ward - Crave

He popped a dish towel off a hook and… realized she hadn’t said anything for a while.

Pivoting around, he saw that she had taken a seat on one of the stools and wrapped her arms around herself. She was utterly self-contained, having retreated into her skin and turned to stone.

“I’m trying…” She cleared her throat. “I’m really trying to understand all this.”

He brought the pan back over to the stove and braced himself on his arms, thinking here it was again, the great divide between the civilian and the soldier. This chaos and scramble and deadly danger? To him, it was business as usual.

Except it was killing her.

Like a complete lame-ass, he said, “You want to give dinner another shot?”

Grier shook her head. “Being in a parallel universe where everything looks like your life, but is actually something else entirely is an appetite killer.”

“Been there.” He nodded. “Done that.”

“Made it your profession, matter of fact. Didn’t you.”

He frowned and left that one right where it had landed on the counter between them. “Listen, are you sure I can’t make you-”

“I went back to your apartment. This afternoon.”

“Why.” Fuck.

“It was after I dropped your money off at the police department and gave a statement. Guess who was at your place.”

“Who.”

“It was someone my father knew.”

Isaac’s shoulders tightened up so hard, he found it difficult to breathe. Or maybe his lungs had frozen solid. Oh, Jesus Christ, no… not-

She pushed something across the granite at him. A business card. “I’m supposed to call this number if you show up here.”

As Isaac read the digits, she laughed with a sharp edge. “My father had the same expression on his face when he read what was on it. And let me guess, you’re not going to tell me who’d answer the ring, either.”

“The man at my apartment. Describe him.” Even though Isaac knew.

“He had an eye patch.”

Isaac swallowed hard, thinking that whatever he’d assumed she’d had in that tissue when she’d gotten out of her car… he’d never considered that it would have been given to her by Matthias himself.

“Who is he?” she asked.

Isaac’s reply was just a shake of the head. As it was, she was already standing at the precipice of the rat hole he and her father were sucked into. Any explaining would be the size-thirteen boot in the ass that sent her over the edge and into a free fall-

With a sudden surge, she burst up from the stool and grabbed the glass of wine she’d been nursing. “I am so goddamn tired of all this silence!”

She pitched the chardonnay across the room, and when the glass hit the wall, it shattered, leaving a bomb burst of wet stain on the plaster and shards all around on the floor.

As she wheeled toward him, she was breathing hard and her eyes were on fire.

There was a beat of raw silence. And then Isaac came around the island toward her.

He kept his voice low as he approached. “When you were in the police station today, did they ask you about me?”

She seemed momentarily nonplussed. “Of course they did.”

“And what did you tell them?”

“Nothing-because short of your name, I don’t know a goddamn thing.”

He nodded, bringing his body even closer to hers. “That man at my apartment. Did he ask about me?”

She threw her hands up. “Everyone wants to know about you-”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” she hissed.

“If someone from the CIA or the NSA comes to your door and asks about me-”

“I can’t tell them anything!”

He stopped so close, he could see each individual lash around her stunning blue eyes. “That’s right. And that’s what is going to keep you alive.” As she cursed and went to turn away, he grabbed her arm and snapped her back around. “That man at my apartment is a cold-blooded killer and he let you go only because he wants to send a message to me. The reason I’m not telling you anything-”

“I can lie! Damn it-why do you assume I’m naive?” She glared up at him. “You have no idea what it’s been like my whole life, seeing all these shadows and never having them explained. I can lie-”

“They’ll torture you. To make you talk.”

That shut her up.

And he kept going. “Your father knows this. So do I-and believe me, during training I got put through an interrogation session, so I know precisely what they’ll do to you. The only way I can be sure you don’t get that is if you really don’t have anything to say. Frankly, you’re too close to this anyway-through no fault of your own.”

“God… I hate this.” The trembling in her body wasn’t about fear. It was rage, pure and simple. “I just want to hit something.”

“Okay.” He tightened her fist and drew her arm back over her shoulder. “Take it out on me.”

“What-”

“Hit me. Tear my eyes out. Do anything you have to.”

“Are you mad?”

“Yes. Insane.” He dropped his hold on her and braced his weight, staying close… close enough so she could cork him a good one if she wanted to. “I’ll be your punching bag, your Kevlar vest, your bodyguard… I’ll do anything to help you get through this.”

“You’re crazy,” she breathed.

As she stared up at him all flushed and alive, the heat in his blood surged-and took them into even more dangerous territory. For fuck’s sake, like he needed to get sexed up? Now, yet again, was not the time or the place.

So naturally, he asked, “What’s it going to be… Do you want to hit me or kiss me?”

In the wake of the demand, Grier ran her tongue over her lips and Isaac tracked the movement like a predator. Yet it was clear as he stayed where he was that what happened next was up to her.

Which proved what kind of man he was in spite of the profession he’d fallen into.

On her side, she wasn’t thinking anything remotely professional. She was confused and off-kilter-this was last night all over again with the reckless buzzing. But that wasn’t what compelled her now.

This could be the only time she had with him. Ever. She’d spent all afternoon wondering where he was, if he was okay… if she would see him again. If he was still alive. He was a stranger who had somehow become very important to her. And though the timing was horrible, you couldn’t schedule the opportunities you had.

Dropping her arm, she uncoiled the fist he’d made for her, and as it came down, she wished she could keep it to herself because that was a more responsible choice. Instead, she leaned into him and put her palm between his legs. On a growl low in his throat, his hips thrust forward.

He was hard and thick.

And had to hold himself up as he swayed.

“I won’t stop this time,” he growled.

She tightened her grip on him. “I just want to be with you. Once.”

“That can be arranged.”

They met in the middle in a blaze, lips crushing, arms winding around, bodies coming together. In the dim kitchen, he picked her up and took her down onto the floor between the island and counter, rolling over at the last moment so he was the bed she lay upon. As her legs settled between his, the hard ridge of his erection dug into her and his tongue entered her mouth, taking, owning. As they kissed in desperation, his body undulated beneath her, rolling and receding, the powerful contours of him achingly familiar in spite of how little time she’d spent against him.

God, she needed more of him.

In a fumbling move, she yanked up her shirt and he was right on it, pulling down the lacy cups, freeing her nipples, and then moving her up so that his lips latched onto one, sucking, pulling, licking. His hair was thick against her fingers as she held him to her, his mouth wet and hot, his hands grabbing her hips and digging in.