Page 2 of Marked for Danger

And though their…arrangement…was purely casual, his mere presence always made her feel safe.

Safe. I’m here with Grady, and I’m safe.

Warmth spread across her chest as the stolen moment gave way to wishful thinking. Before Izzy knew it, her mind became filled with all sorts of wistful, wondering questions and thoughts.

Things like, what would it be like to fall asleep next to the sexy detective every night? Or to wake up to his entrancing blue gaze and dimpled cheeks every morning?

Adjusting the sheet covering her naked body, she imagined what it would be like to sit side-by-side on his balcony, sipping coffee as the morning sun filled their gazes. And the most shocking of wonders, Izzy found herself not only thinking about what her life would look like if it were permanently intertwined with Grady’s…but also wishing it was.

What the hell?

Shocked by the unexpected thought, she hurriedly slid across the mattress, putting as much distance between them as she could without toppling off the bed. The rustling of Grady’s dark blue bedding filled the otherwise silent space, the tips of Izzy’s dark hair tickling her bare neck with a sharp shake of her head.

The move transported her back from a land of make believe and into the real world, where she belonged.

What are you doing?

Izzy studied Grady’s handsome, oblivious face. Her gut tightened with guilt, her heart and mind fully aware that a man like him deserved more. Not that he wanted it. Not yet. But experience had taught her he would.

They always did. More time. More trust. More commitment. More…

Me.

It was the one thing Izzy couldn’t give, and the one rule she had when it came to her lovers. No strings. No emotions. Not ever.

Yet here she was, spending the night with Grady. Again.

She didn’t usually sleep over after their private trysts. Sex was one thing, but spending the entire night together was too personal. Too risky. Yet this was the third time she’d fallen asleep in the safety and comfort of the sexy detective’s warm embrace.

The first two times, she’d managed to wake up well before sunrise, leaving a quick note using an early workday as an excuse. Today, however…

Izzy glanced to her right, her chest tightening when she took in the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the exposed brick wall to her right and frowned. The rising sun taunted her from behind the folded blinds, a reminder that she was getting far too comfortable when it came to Grady.

The psychiatrist in her was fully aware of how backwards her outlook on romantic relationships was. But her education and training had also provided an explanation for her inability to letanyoneget too close.

Not that she needed it spelled out for her.

Unfortunately, Izzy knew precisely why she always kept the men in her life at a distance. Why, despite her most recent thoughts, she’d allowed the man still sleeping beside her to touch her body…but not her heart.

And no matter how much she wished things could be different—no matter what she did to fight against it, the perpetual cycle was never-ending. Which was why she didn’t even bother trying to fight it anymore.

It is what it is, Iz.

The pressure in Izzy’s chest grew as the decades-old silent phrase rolled through her mind. It was something her father—and then later, her older brother—would always say. Their way of making her see a given situation for what it was and accept facts when there wasn’t anything she could do to change it.

And since she’d long-ago given up on trying to change who she was…

Izzy lowered her gaze to Grady once more. She waited, holding her breath while she counted a handful of his before slowly and carefully slipping out from beneath the covers.

Padding barefoot—and bare-assed—across his wide-open loft apartment’s wooden floor, she did her best to keep her steps silent, stopping every few steps to gather her discarded clothing from the night before. As usual, the evidence of their explosive passion had resulted in a trail running from the door to his bed.

A particularly arousing memory flashed in her mind’s eye as Izzy set the haphazard pile down onto Grady’s butcher block island countertop. Dressing in haste, the erotic replay filled her thoughts, frame by heart-racing frame.

Grady’s mouth on hers. Strong hands ripping off her clothes and then gripping her hips as he took her against his living room wall. Muscular, tatted arms holding her close. The slight smattering of hair on his chest creating a tantalizing friction against her breasts as he carried her across the open space to his king-sized bed.

By the time the memory had dissipated, Izzy’s cheeks were flushed, and her body ached for more.

She looked back at the bed, more than a little tempted to return to its soft warmth—and the unmoving man still sleeping beneath its covers. Lately, her usual morning-after move had become harder and harder to bare.

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