Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

My eyes slowly came open. I was on my side, Smith's chest pressed close, his arm heavy resting over my middle, our legs tangled. But my attention was on our hands—his palm on the back of my hand, his long fingers threaded between mine.

Holding hands.

There I was in the curve of his body. Snuggled tight and warm against him. Holding hands.

I lay in the dark unmoving, thinking about everything that had happened yesterday. Not the stuff that happened at the house. That just plain freaked me out. Smith had told me Kira had not delayed running the pictures he'd found through some fancy facial recognition software she'd created and identified all the girls. He also told me their ages were all close to George Jr. and seeing as the box was found under the floorboards in his old room, I was holding out hope those pictures were taken by him of girls he'd maybe dated. I didn't want to think about alternate scenarios. Smith had also told me that Kira and Layla would be talking when Layla got back to Maryland about the best way to approach these women. I liked that—not that I didn't think men didn't or couldn't have a woman's best interest in mind But Kira and Layla taking over contacting the women said something about the team mostly comprised of men. They understood how delicate the situation was.

I was lying there thinking about Smith and all that he'd shared about his family. No, not what he shared, how he shared it. He lacked emotion when he delivered his family history. It was more like he was telling me a story about someone else's life. No sadness. No anger. Nothing. As strange as it was, I got the impression he felt like he didn't think he'd deserved a good family. I couldn't articulate why I felt that coming from him. He simply accepted his parents' horrible behavior and neglect. He was either so well-adjusted he'd processed all he'd lived through and came to the right conclusion—he wasn't responsible for their abuse—and he'd dealt with that knowledge in healthy ways, not allowing it to affect his life.

Or he'd twisted it into his fault.

For some reason I thought it was the latter. I couldn't say why I thought this, I just did. maybe because my heart hurt for the little boy who witnessed heinous acts of violence. My heart hurt for the sweet, strong, beautiful man who'd shown me kindness and care.

I couldn't imagine growing up like he had and honestly I didn't want to. Last night we'd moved the conversation from heavy to light. We'd talked about cooking, my life in Japan, all the countries I'd traveled to with my parents. Surfing, parasailing, easy get-to-know-you conversation.

But in the back of my mind I was stewing. I couldn't stop myself from getting angrier and angrier. For the little boy and for the man. My mother had once told me that hate was poison and once you let it in, it took over. I never forgot that and I could honestly say there were very few things in life I hated. Last night, I added Smith's parents to that list. I figured my mom wouldn't only agree his parents were worthy of hating but she'd hate them, too.

Behind me, Smith shifted ever so slightly, giving me more of his weight. His arm tightened over my body and his hand squeezed mine.

I didn't need to think about how good it felt—Smith cocooning me in his warmth, even in his sleep giving me his strength, protecting me. And since I didn't need to think about it, I closed my eyes and soaked it up.

The next time my eyes opened, Smith's lips were on the side of my neck, his tongue making magic as I came awake.

"Good morning," I sleepily whispered.

"It's about to be," he not-so-sleepily returned, and pressed his erection against my backside.

I returned the favor and wiggled back.

That was all he needed to roll away. The cool air of the room immediately washed over my naked body. I looked over my shoulder and saw him tearing open a foil packet with his teeth. Total hot guy maneuver made hotter when the side of his mouth tipped up into a smile.

He spit the top of the wrapper off to the side, giving me an unobstructed view of this lazy smile. I was so enthralled with his grin I missed him rolling the condom on.

I wasn't so enthralled I missed his rough command, "Roll, baby, hands and knees."

Good morning, indeed .

It became abundantly clear Smith was feeling extra bossy when he continued to issue orders.

"Scoot forward, up on your knees, hands on the top of the headboard."

My hands had barely touched the headboard when Smith's hand snaked around me, then went down and he cupped between my legs.

"Spread wider."

I walked my knees wider and a finger slid through my wet, gathering my excitement before that same finger grazed my clit.

"God," I blew out.

"Do you know how sexy you are?"

I shook my head but said, "You make me feel sexy."

With an unintelligible growl, Smith's finger circled faster. The faster he worked my clit the faster my breath came until I was panting.

"Mm," he hummed. "That's my girl."

Was I his girl?

I wanted to be, with a desperation that was building as quickly as my climax.

"You ready for me?"

Yes!

God yes .

But since I was beyond words, my body vibrating with need, I was reduced to nodding.

"Say it, Aria."

Sweet Jesus.

Bossy Smith was going to be my undoing.

"Fuck me."

His finger rolled harder, which in turn brought me closer to the edge.

"Nicely, baby."

" Please fuck me."

Smith thumped his dick against my ass and asked, "You want me here?"

I'd never done that, never wanted to, but suddenly the thought of Smith taking my ass sent a shiver of excitement over me.

But I shook my head.

He moved lower, positioning himself where I wanted.

"Is this where you want me?"

I groaned and tipped my ass as best I could in the minimal room he gave me.

"You want that sweet cunt of yours stuffed full?"

Oh God, I was going to come.

There was no stopping it.

"Yes."

"Yeah, I know you do."

"Please, honey, I'm so close."

My orgasm took hold, my head flew back, hitting his shoulder, and he gave me what I wanted and stuffed me full.

Smith's cock drove up, my fingers curled tighter around the top of the headboard, and I could do nothing more but hold on while Smith fucked me through a mind-bending climax.

A never-ending, body-shaking, insane orgasm that left me screaming his name, begging him to join me.

"You want my come?" His gravelly voice fanned over my neck.

I loved— fucking loved—when he asked me if I wanted his come. I loved it so much I lost my mind to the desire he created.

"Yeah, honey," I groaned.

"Fuck," he grunted and slammed home.

His body stilled, his cock twitched, and with his mouth still at my neck he groaned through his orgasm.

I couldn't be sure, the mindless haze of passion and pleasure was still flowing through me, the haze of really great sex still lingered but I could almost swear I heard a rumbled, "mine" before Smith sank his teeth into my shoulder.

I was in Smith's kitchen procrastinating getting ready to leave when he came in, hair still wet from his shower—one he'd unfortunately taken alone, which meant I'd showered alone. This was because Smith had to take a call from Layla. The only plus side to this was, while he'd talked to his team leader he'd made scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee. Of course, I went for the coffee first. This was purely out of habit now. I'd found that waking up next to Smith, and other morning activities besides, I didn't need the caffeine to wake me up. He did a splendid job of that all on his own.

"Baby." He chuckled when he found me sitting on his counter, plate of cheesy eggs in one hand, fork in the other.

"I'm taking my time enjoying your culinary brilliance. Bravo on the perfect amount of cheese."

He smiled and I decided to take that as Smith finding me amusing.

"You're procrastinating going to work."

And he got it in one.

"Okay," I blew out a breath. "I don't want to go to the house today."

"So don't," he said, stopping to press a kiss on my lips before continuing to the coffee machine.

His answer was unexpected. I figured he'd give me some sort of Team Guy pep talk about not ringing out and giving up.

Not that I was giving up. Sure, I'd had a pity party for one yesterday and did some hardcore internal whining about not wanting to finish my house, but that was nothing more than my reaction to finding disturbing pictures in George's room.

"Do you have other work to do, like editing or something?" he went on.

"Yeah and I need to make a new martial list and call in an order. I should also update my accounting and adjust my schedule."

"Would you be comfortable doing that in my office if I wasn't there?"

Panic hit so hard I swayed with it.

"Where are you going?"

Smith eyed me over the rim of his mug.

"I thought you and Kira got on."

"We did. I mean, we do."

He set his mug on the counter and strolled my way. When his stomach hit my knees, they automatically opened, giving him room, and he stepped between them. He did all of this holding my eyes, which meant now that he was close his study of me intensified.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was just wondering?—"

"Baby, you look freaked. If you'd rather work here while I go to your house, then you can work here. But I don't have a desk, so you'll be working at the table or the bar. Neither would be comfortable. You could work from the couch but I figured that'd be a pain in the ass having to work with your computer on your lap."

That made sense. Way more sense than my sudden, unexplained panic.

"Why are you going to the house?"

"I want to get into the attic."

Right.

The attic.

"Maybe I should demolish the whole house and rebuilt from scratch," I mumbled.

"Be a waste, baby, that house has good bones."

That was what I was afraid of…bones…or more to the point more skeletons hiding in the attic.

"If the next thing you tell me is you have to dig up the backyard I'm going on vacation some place tropical and sipping fruity drinks while you do your thing. I'll come back after you've excavated the bodies."

One side of Smith's mouth curved up.

"That's a deal."

Maybe he thought I was joking when I absolutely was not.

"Will Zane be okay with me being there without you?"

"The real question is, will you be okay with Zane without me being there?"

I could totally handle Zane. He was a big ole marshmallow under all that gruff.

"As long as he doesn't ask Ivy for more boob juice in front of me I'll be fine. Oh, his balls. I could do without hearing him complain about his vasectomy."

"Both could happen."

I figured he was right, which made me think about Zane's beautiful wife, Ivy. In the limited time I'd spent with her, I liked her a lot. She was funny and gracious. But there was an underlying toughness that made her perfect for Zane. She struck me as the type who gave as good if not better than she got. The couple's banter reminded me of my mom and dad's.

Playful.

Sweet.

Full of love and adoration.

One day, that's what I wanted in a husband—friendship. The kind that didn't go away when the vows were said. The kind that stayed forefront, that transcended the name change and legal document. My mom had married her best friend and my father remained so until her death. That was how I saw Zane and Ivy. They were friends above being husband and wife, or parents.

That was the kind of relationship that lasted.

That endured hardships.

And that was what I'd have or I'd have nothing at all.

"Does your office have a lock on the door?"

Smith's eyes lit.

Flirty and playful.

Nice .

"You asking because you want to keep Zane out, or you got other plans?"

"Well, originally to keep Zane out but I wouldn't say no to a quickie bent over your desk."

I was still basking in the glory of his smile when his lips hit mine.

A smile never tasted so good.