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She closed the distance between us and went up on her tiptoes, trying to get her face close to mine. Then she whispered loudly, “I can’t see him like this! Covered in…um…smelling like…he’s my grandfather!” Her cheeks were bright red.
I grinned and took her hand, resuming our journey to the garage. “Yes, you can, baby. He won’t know.”
“But-but-I’ll know!” she sputtered.
Glancing back at her, I winked. “Exactly.”
McKenna huffed, but she didn’t argue any more, allowing me to lead her out to the car and help her inside.
I drove to her apartment, and she looked at me curiously when I parked at the back. “How did you know where I live?”
“I knew of your studio, and since you don’t live with your grandfather, I figured you probably lived above it.” That was mostly true, at least.
Her eyes were narrowed. “What if you were wrong?”
“I’m good at reading people. And I’m rarely wrong.” Completely true.
She didn’t seem wholly convinced, and I sent up a silent prayer that she wouldn’t force me to admit I’d done a deep dive on her. After seeing her picture the other night, I’d read the file from beginning to end. Twice. And my obsession with her had only grown since meeting her.
7
JEREMY
Eventually, she relaxed and unbuckled her seat belt. “Wait for me, baby,” I told her as I opened my door and exited the car. I stalked around the hood of the car and helped her out. Then she silently walked to the back door, unlocked it, and led me up a set of stairs to another locked door.
Good girl.It wasn’t nearly enough security to protect my woman, but I was proud of her for taking the precautions she could. I assumed I had Corbin to thank for that.
Once inside, McKenna hung her purse on a hook by the door, then murmured, “Just give me a few minutes,” before she kicked off her shoes and padded toward a curtained area, probably separating the studio into the living space and bedroom.
She reemerged a minute later, holding some clothing, and opened another door to reveal a bathroom.
“Don’t try to shower,” I grunted, giving her a hard look. “We’ll be late if I have to replace what you washed off.”
McKenna’s face flushed, and she watched me hesitantly, clearly unsure if I was serious. Evidently, she realized I meant what I said because she muttered, “I’m engaged to a Neanderthal,” as she disappeared into the bathroom.
I laughed and wandered around the room, admiring her art and bright decorating style. My place was mostly white and black, with some blue here and there. I looked forward to McKenna making it a home rather than just my house in Malibu.
When she returned, she wore a pink sundress, her hair was in a simple braid that hung over her shoulder, and she was wearing a little bit of makeup. Her jewelry was colorful and fun, just like her personality.
I swallowed hard—fighting the urge to bend her over the couch—and rasped, “You have no idea how damn gorgeous you are, do you?”
Pink dusted her cheeks, and she smiled. “Thank you.”
She picked up a pair of yellow sandals from the rug next to the door and slipped them on, then put her purse on her shoulder. “Ready.”
I glanced at my watch and whistled. “Less than ten minutes. I’m impressed.”
McKenna laughed, and my chest warmed at the musical sound—my second favorite, after her screaming my name while she climaxed.
The drive to her grandfather’s didn’t take too long. With my convertible top down, I had a clear view of the house when I parked in the driveway.
It suddenly looked very different to me. Meeting McKenna had altered my perspective, and I no longer saw just another house and business investment—it was a home. Perhaps she wouldn’t be decorating my place after all. I could easily see us raising our family here, growing old together, and passing it down to the next generation.
“McKenna!”
The sound of a male voice calling my woman’s name broke through my thoughts, and my attention whipped to the front door. A young man, not much older than McKenna, stood on the front porch in green scrubs, smiling widely at her.
“Hey, Mick,” she responded with a sweet smile and a wave.
