Page 13 of Eight Years Gone

She grinned. “I’m sorry he’s so awful.”

He shrugged because he liked that Steve spent most of his time in Philly with Logan and Gracie’s bitch of a stepmother. It was cool that he, Grace, and Logan mostly had the mansion to themselves. “We have a housekeeper who washes my clothes and cooks for me. Overall, it’s a pretty sweet deal.”

She laughed. “Bea’s the best.”

He nodded. “Yes, she is.”

Grace chuckled and then cringed before she sighed. “I’m sorry, Jagger. You came out here to help me, and I made things really awkward.”

“All’s forgiven.” He held her gaze in the headlights. She was so damn pretty—and she was into him, which was pretty cool, too. “For what it’s worth, I’ve thought about kissing you. I’ve thought about it way more than I should.”

Saying nothing more, she closed the distance between them and gained her tiptoes, brushing her lips against his.

He let his eyes close, absorbing the softness of her mouth when she came back again. This was everything he knew he couldn’t have.

“Grace,” he murmured, stepping back. “We can’t.”

Nodding, she turned toward their cars.

How was it possible that something so simple could feel so right? He snagged her hand before he let himself think—before she could walk away, knowing in his depths that he would regret it if she did. “Gracie, wait.”

She turned back.

He stepped closer, sliding his knuckles along her soft cheek, the white puffs of his breath mingling with hers.

She swallowed. “What—”

“I can’t let you go,” he whispered, bringing his mouth to hers.

He kept his pace gentle and slow, sensing her innocence—something he hadn’t been for a long time. When she made a small sound in her throat and sagged against him, he teased her lips open, touching his tongue to hers, taking her deeper with skillful strokes.

She gave him more, meeting his easy demands as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Gracie,” he mumbled as he pulled her closer, knowing for the first time what it meant to be home.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he scrubbed his hands over his face, reeling from his memories. What was it about her that made him ache?

There was no one he loved more—no one he’d tried harder for. There’d never been anyone as important as Grace.

He’d taken his time with her, never pushing, always letting her lead. Grace had been the one to sneak into his bed and fall asleep in his arms night after night.

He’d been gentle when she’d eagerly given him her virginity late that summer on a blanket by the lake. She was the only woman he’d shared his dreams with—the only woman he’d ever wanted.

He’d never been able to get enough of her. More often than not, he was afraid he never would. That’s why he’d stayed far away.

He’d let his career consume him—“The Unit” and top secret CIA missions for the Special Activities Division, then private contracting—anything to distract him from his thoughts of the sweet, blue-eyed blonde who’d turned him into a man.

When he left her that long ago night, he’d known he would never see her again. He’d walked away for her own good. But today, she’d knocked him flat on his ass.

He hadn’t known what to do when he pulled her into the woods other than to be cruel. He’d needed her to walk away this time because if she had reached for his hand, he damn well knew he wouldn’t have been able to.

He settled on his side, staring at the drops rolling down the window. Maybe calling Jason Gray was exactly what he needed to do. Perhaps he just didn’t have it in him to be an average Joe.

Four

Grace spotted her opportunity for escape and took it, hurrying down the hallway toward the restaurant’s exit.

She pushed through the back door, shutting out the happy noise of a hundred wedding guests dancing. She was always up for celebrating her friends’ big moments. But not tonight.

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