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The truth sank into me like sharp icicles. “How bad was it?”
“Are you absolutely sure that you—?”
“Gregor,” I prodded, bracing myself for his answer.
He sighed and scratched his temple uncomfortably, his smile dying. “Rape kit and weapons bad.”
“Jesus.” Lorelei had warned me about this. When a boyfriend was abusive or had those tendencies, they would get ten times worse when you left. I had sensed something bad in him, endured his heartless words and behaviors, and had done everything I could to let him think that breaking up was his idea. But here we were anyway, because he would rewrite history in his own head just to be able to blame me for everything.
But then Gregor had given him a talking-to. Had he listened to another man when he would never have listened to me? I had another thought, Gregor didn’t seem the kind of man who would settle for a conversation, after hearing how he rescued Michelle I knew what he was capable of, yet for some reason it didn’t scare me. “How did you handle it?”
“Told him to get the fuck out of town and never bother you again, or I’d release the videos and records of his stalking and threatening you to the media, and then I’d come looking for him.”
That last threat caught my attention in a strange way, reminding me again of the heat deep in my body that even my worst fears couldn’t extinguish. Seeing the cold anger in his eyes when he talked of Alan, thinking of him hurting Alan while he protected me, didn’t just make me feel safe. It was also fuel for the fire.
But I still had practical things to worry about. I fumbled for my mug, got another mouthful of coffee down. “God, I have to move out of that place. Go somewhere he doesn’t know.”
“You can stay here as long as you need to,” he reassured me instantly. “We’ll just need to grab your stuff.”
I huffed my way into silence, everything I had been thinking of saying evaporating on my tongue. Here he was again, rushing to protect me. He had been a bodyguard before, but I had hired him as an investigator.
I wanted to ask him why he gave so much of a damn when he didn’t have to. Why the money, why the effort, why the anger on my behalf, why the rescues. But then I realized maybe this was just how he was. Not every man out there was a prick like Alan ormy father. But my experience with them had started leading me to expect the worst.
Gregor gave a damn, and he acted on it. It wasn’t conditional. He didn’t seem to care how much effort it took for him to act on his feelings. How much risk was involved. He just went and got it done. For us. For me.
I had to have him.
The thought was immediate, primal, and overwhelming. I set my mug down again, then stepped up to him, took the mug out of his hands, and set it aside too. He blinked down at me, surprised.
“Thank you for dealing with him. But I don’t want to talk about Alan anymore, not unless he’s dumb enough to pop back up.” I stepped forward again and ran my hands up his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles under my palm.
His eyes widened a little, startled, then hooded with pleasure. “What do you want to talk about?” he murmured, hands drifting to my shoulders.
“I don’t want to talk,” I said softly, slipping into the circle of his arms. I had to go up onto my toes to kiss him. I put five years of pent-up hunger into it, and he responded, catching me in his arms and kissing back hungrily.
For a moment, all the years between our last kiss and this one dissolved, and I was that enthralled young near-virgin again. I melted in his arms as our tongues entwined, lips hungry and searching, stunned by my first kiss in years that had real passion in it. I was back in his arms, finally, and right then, nothing would have made me pull away. The combination of relief, want,and need spiraled through me and all I could think about was having him inside me.
Gregor carried me to his bed, I held in my moans until he’d shut the bedroom door behind us. We’d both been starved for each other. I learned soon enough that it wasn’t just me—not the way he destroyed his shirt getting out of it, broke the zipper on his pants, panted like he was running as he watched me impatiently pull off my clothes. I was already aching for him. Then he was naked standing in front of me and my breath caught. The man was a work of art, literally and figuratively. From the elaborate tattoos to his tight, hard, muscled frame. My eyes drifted downwards to his cock, and I couldn’t hold in the gasp that escaped my lips.
He looked up at me and slowly licked his lips, “Like what you see?”
I nodded as I shifted up his bed, “I forgot how big you were,”
“If I remember correctly, we fit together perfectly,” he said while slowly stroking his shaft. A bead of precum slipped out and he rubbed it in with his thumb.
I yearned for him, the man who had revealed the depths of what it was like to be properly loved, to feel the ecstasy igniting every nerve ending within me. The pulsating ache between my thighs spoke of an urgent need. As he ascended onto the bed, his approach deliberate, his mouth claimed mine in a commanding kiss, and the unmistakable pressure of his arousal pressed against my stomach.
I shifted beneath his weight, his deliberate touch sending shivers through me as he caressed my clit.
"My little rose is as tempting as ever," he growled, his lips trailing down my neck, leaving a teasing path with his tongue. I moaned in response.
"I fantasized about this," he confessed, fixing me with a lustful gaze, his dark eyes betraying his desires. Lowering his head, he hovered just above my nipple, his breath teasing it into a tight bud. Electric shocks fired through me as he took my nipple in his mouth and sucked, pulling the exquisitely tender flesh into his mouth greedily, his other hand cupping my other breast.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” I whispered.
He lifted his mouth from me, and I was fighting the urge to scream at him to suck harder, to fuck me. To fill me completely. That night with him had been a rare moment of surrender, the only time I had truly lost control with a man. It remained etched in my memory, a vivid recollection of pleasure and ecstasy the only time I ever orgasmed, other than when I touched myself while thinking of him inside me.
"And what was my little rose thinking about? Did she want me to do this?" His mouth returned to my nipple, his tongue swirling around the taut peak, teasing me to new heights. "Or perhaps this," his voice, thick with lust, resonated as I felt the weight of his arousal pressing against my thigh. Anticipation hung in the air, and I held my breath as his tongue slowly trailed down my stomach, pausing just at the top of my slit.
