Page 105 of Guarding Grace
He pulled a roll of tape from his pocket and a piece of plastic.
Obviously, I was the only one with sex on the brain this morning. “On one condition,” I demanded.
“Name it.”
“You don’t boss me around at all today—no arguments and no orders.”
“Sure thing, Kitten.”
There again was that nickname I associated with nice Terry. “Thank you.” I turned and pulled the shirt over my head.
He knelt behind me. “It looks pretty good here.”
Did he mean the cut, my ass, or just naked me?
A minute later, he rose after fixing a small piece of plastic to my butt cheek. “Join me in the kitchen when you’re done.” He disappeared without giving me a chance to ask if he wanted to join me in the shower.
As the water ran through my hair and down my skin, I was glad he’d insisted on this. It was definitely better than curling up in a ball in bed. Slowly, I felt almost human again—a human with a monster headache of her own making, but better than earlier.
As I soaped up, I realized how quickly things had shifted for us. Last week, sharing a bed with Terry would have been out of the question. The mere mention of it probably would have made me sick.
But this morning, it felt like…normalwas probably the best word. A whirlwind of danger had propelled me, had propelled us, into a new dimension, one in which the tyrant was such a gentleman that he refused my bed when I was tipsy—okay, drunk, but it was still so unlike the way I’d seen him before.
A shiver ran through me as that haunting nightmare from last night popped its ugly head up for a second. Recalling Terry spooning with me erased it quickly.
Last night and this morning, he’d obviously been aroused, and probably all night for that matter. Yet he hadn’t pushed for anything. How many guys would do that? Holding me to chase the nightmares away had been the ultimate caring gesture. Go figure. Terry was a compassionate, caring jailer.
I smiled, remembering the feel of his hard length against my ass, andhardwas the right word. What woman wouldn’t feel empowered knowing that she caused that reaction in a man as virile as ex-SWAT, ex-Marine, ex-sniper Terry Goodwin?
Terry
Grace still hadn’t appearedafter her shower as I chopped the bacon I’d fried into little bits. For a second, I considered checking on her, but I decided she might think that was creepy.
I had two pans going at once, waiting for the egg mixture to set up. When they finally cooked through, I sprinkled the bacon in, then grated the cheese over that, before folding the omelets closed and removing them from the heat.
“Breakfast is ready,” I called.
No answer came, but I could hear a hair dryer.
Before I could go to Grace, my phone ding-donged. One of my exterior motion detectors had triggered.
Lunging for the phone, I found the perpetrator just as he rang the doorbell. “Zane, what are you doing here?” I asked through the intercom.
“Came to relieve you. The bossman says you’re due to join him in rousting that Russo guy, Tony.”
“Yeah, Tall Tony Russo.”
“That’s the one. Can you buzz the door for me?”
“I’ll be right down.” I’d disconnected the remote unlock mechanism first thing after reading about a case where the system had been hacked and bad guys had unlocked a remote door from outside. The fact that it had been a home invasion with a fatality drove the point home.
Zane rang the doorbell again as I descended the stairs.
“Keep your pants on,” I yelled several steps from the bottom. I took a calming breath before opening the door.
He held three Starbucks cups. “Morning. You look like you didn’t sleep well.” He offered me one of the cups.
“Thanks. You look like shit too.”He didn’t.I ushered him in and relocked the door. “Why are you here instead of Constance?”
