Chapter Thirty-Nine
“U p, up, up!” M av danced around Garrett with his arms held aloft, waiting to be picked up as I finished the dishes.
My heart melting, I watched Garrett scoop his son up with his good arm and hold him high on his chest. “So you want me to do the honors tonight, little man?”
We’d been in the house Neil owned as an investment for almost three weeks, and Mav was already attached to Garrett like they’d never been apart. We played house like a regular family, and I’d never been happier, except for what was still hanging over my head. The ATF agent hadn’t come back around, and none of the people Nathan had done business with had come looking for me, or gone to the estate, according to the surveillance cameras Garrett’s friends had placed. But Garrett was insistent we were lying low until he was sure. Then what we would do, I didn’t know. Garrett and I carefully didn’t talk about it.
Mav put his head on Garrett’s shoulder. “Two books.”
“Two?” Garrett said in mock surprise. “I thought the rule was only one book at bedtime.”
Mav had quickly found out that Garrett was a pushover when it came to him, and even though I only read him one book at bedtime, he’d conned Garrett into two books every night for the past week.
“No,” Mav said seriously. “ Two books.”
“Well, if Mama says it’s okay.” Garrett’s intense gaze cut to me.
My heart skipped and words got stuck in my throat. I smiled and dried my hands on a dish towel .
The corner of Garrett’s mouth tipped up. “I think that’s a yes, little man.” He walked over to me and held Mav as he leaned him down to me. “Kiss Mama goodnight.”
Mav laid a big wet kiss and a smile on me. “Lubbo, Mama.”
I took his face in my hands and kissed his forehead. “I love you too, sweet boy. Goodnight.”
Garrett stared at me as I kissed Mav, but the look in his eyes was different tonight. The past few weeks he’d been watching me with Mav intently. He’d been watching me, period. I didn’t know if he was gauging how I parented, or if he was still angry with me, or if he was simply coming to terms with having a son.
Not wanting to rock the boat, giving him space to heal and to adjust to his new normal, I didn’t ask him about it. But as each day passed, it became harder and harder not to say anything.
And watching him with Mav?
I couldn’t have imagined a better father for my son. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t envious of all the hugs and smiles he lavished on Mav.
Garrett hadn’t touched me once, not on purpose, since he’d gotten out of the hospital. The first two days he’d gone into one of the spare bedrooms and he’d basically slept. I’d tried that first day to bring him food, and he’d politely, albeit sternly told me to back off. Later when he’d come out for some water and I saw the pain etched across his face, I’d gotten worried and asked if I could get him some pain medication. He’d bitten my head off and told me he didn’t need a mother. Then he’d slept for the next twenty-four hours.
When he emerged the third day, he’d seemed better, but it wasn’t until after the first week that I’d noticed he moved with more ease and didn’t grimace every time he accidentally used his arm. Last week he’d stopped using the sling.
But the past two days? He been looking at me differently.
Settling Mav high against his chest again, Garrett’s gaze dragged over my chest, then cut back to my eyes. “Wait up,” he quietly ordered.
My stomach fluttered and instant need shot between my legs as my nipples hardened. “Okay,” I breathed.
His eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything. Holding my gaze for a moment, he turned and strode down the hall with Mav.
My breath didn’t leave my lungs until he walked into the master bedroom where Mav and I had been sleeping.
Then suddenly, the feminine part of me, the part I’d put in a box all those years ago when my father got sick, it came out.
The past few weeks, I’d been conscious of my wardrobe. I didn’t change how I dressed, but I did wear more of the clothes that Ariel had brought for me. Short shorts, tight tanks, a more revealing bikini than I was used to. I was aware that my body had more curves since having Mav. I knew I hadn’t had a proper haircut in years. But I’d been so busy watching Garrett’s eyes on me that I hadn’t really thought about how I looked so much as what he thought about how I looked.
But now I was thinking about it.
I was thinking about my borrowed wardrobe, and the few items I’d brought with me. I was thinking about the only two items of makeup I had in my purse, mascara and face powder. I was thinking about the untamed curls of my hair that’d been in the pool twice today.
And I was self-conscious.
Really self-conscious.
I cataloged all my clothing choices in three seconds and quickly realized most everything was in the master bedroom. But then I remembered a load of laundry in the laundry room that had Mav’s clothes also had a soft pair of leggings and a dark pink tank top.
I ran to the laundry room and fished the slightly wrinkled clothes out of the dryer, then I hustled to the bathroom in the spare bedroom Garrett wasn’t using. Lightning fast, I hopped in the shower, soaped and washed my hair, using the toiletries already there, then got out and towel dried my hair as best I could.
Ten minutes later, I walked into the living room in clean leggings and the tank. I was going for my purse to fish out a pair of earrings, when I saw Garrett sitting on the couch with his gaze fixed on me.
Heat hit my cheeks and I froze. “That was fast.” Usually Mav took a bit longer to fall asleep.
“He was tired.” His gaze drifted down my body, then came back up to my eyes. “Come here.”
His injured arm in his lap, his other across the back of the couch, he had one ankle resting on the opposite knee. T-shirt and shorts, bare feet, he seemed like he should look casual, but Garrett Collins was never casual.
He always looked ready.
Ready to spring into action, ready to take down a bad guy, ready to fight, ready to defend. After seeing him with a gun that night three weeks ago when he’d come for me and Mav, I understood something about him. Garrett was a Marine first and a man second.
Casual wasn’t in his vocabulary.
And that thought alone was what had my heart racing as I closed the distance between us and walked to the couch.
He nodded at the seat beside him.
I sat.
His chest rose with an inhale. “When were you going to tell me?”
My stomach dropped and a lump formed in my throat. I didn’t have to ask what he meant. The estate. “Who told you?”
His expression impenetrable, he studied me a moment. “Does it matter?”
Oh God . “Have you heard from the ATF agent?” Did he come up with something against me?
His jaw ticked. “Are you moving back in there? To his estate?”
I stilled.
Then I got it .
“I didn’t tell you because that house means nothing to me. Regardless if the Feds confiscate it, or whatever they do with seized property, even if that doesn’t happen, I don’t want it. I’m never going back there. I don’t want any part of Nathan in my life ever again, including any of the money he had.”
“No one walks away from fifteen million.”
How did I explain that there wasn’t any money in my eyes? “That’s not my money, it never was, and every single dollar used to buy the property has tethers on it. I want no part of it.”
“You’re not just throwing money away if you turn your back on that, you’re walking away from securing a future for Mav.”
“A future based on laundered drug money?” Was he serious? “So he can have a target on his back his whole life? For what? Greed? ” Insulted, I stood. “Is that so important to you, that you’d take illegal money and give it to our son?” My voice pitched higher with every word. “You think you need that kind of money to have a good life? You think any amount of money can replace love or family?”
The more I said, the more upset I got. Had everything these past few weeks been a sham? Angry, upset, irrational—words flew out of my mouth before I could censor them. “Isn’t it enough to have a healthy, happy son and a woman who loves you? You need fifteen million too? Is that what makes you tick? Money? ” I no sooner spit the last word out than he was on his feet.
His mouth crashed over mine, and he grabbed me with one arm.
I gasped, and his tongue plunged into my mouth.
Then three weeks of smelling his spicy scent and three years of celibacy reared up and hit me.
My hands tangled in his hair, my hips pressed into his, and I kissed him back. Oh my God, I kissed him back.
His good arm went under my ass and he lifted me up.
A groan crawled up my throat, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. His hard length pressed into my aching core, and my lips ripped from his. “ Garrett .” My back arched, and I let out a sound of need I’d never heard myself make.
“Fuck, woman.” Holding me one handed, his other arm loose at his side, he walked us into his room and stopped in front of his bed. “Legs down,” he ordered.
Sliding down his body, my feet hit the carpet and I went on tiptoe to kiss him again.
Grabbing a handful of my hair, he pulled hard. “Step back,” he growled, dropping his hand.
Panting, my core pulsing, my mouth watering, I did exactly as he said. I stepped back.
He pulled his shirt over his head.
My nipples hard, my body trembling to touch him, I dragged my gaze across his healing gunshot wounds and huge biceps, over his washboard abs and down to the V I knew was under his clothes. Then my gaze dropped lower, and I sucked in a breath. Impossibly huge, his desire strained against his shorts, and all I could think about was one thing.
I wanted my mouth on him.
Dropping to my knees, I reached for his shorts, and a breath hissed through his teeth.
His arms at his sides, his eyes hooded, he didn’t stop me.
My fingers curled under the waistband of both his shorts and boxers, and I pulled them down. His cock sprang free, and I didn’t hesitate. I put my mouth on him.
His masculine scent, spice and musk, filled my head as I took him all the way into my mouth.
I moaned and he growled.
Sucking him, tonguing him, I grasped him with both hands. His hips jerked and his cock pulsed as his hand buried in my hair.
I sucked the length of him.
My mouth stretched like I wanted my pussy to be stretched, and desire pooled between my legs. Twisting my hands, using my tongue, I took him deep.
Shuddering, his hand tightened in my hair, and he pulled. “Get up.” All growl, his voice cracked on the last word of his demand.
I smiled around his cock in my mouth and looked up at him.
Expression fierce, his jaw set, he repeated himself. “Get. Up.”
I stood.
But I didn’t stop there.
I pulled my tank top over my head.