Or I can change their minds.
Slowly, Granger’s hand curves around my throat. “Do you think prison bars would keep me from you, Peyton?”
God help me, my sex clenches, my heart firing on all cylinders in my chest.
I close my eyes and search for the right answer to this situation.
Let this hunger take root and grow gnarled and twisted or rip it out before there’s no turning back?
But is there turning back now?
His skin against mine is warm, his heartbeat strong against my spine. Even his hand on my throat is thrilling and grounding at the same time. Granger came into my life like a dark, avenging angel and even then, on that road, the connection was already forming between us. It strengthens by the minute, leaving little hope of severing it.
This isn’t the life I pictured for myself, though.
I’ve always craved normalcy. A respectable life that would separate me from my past struggles. This relationship with Granger…it’s wild and turbulent.
What should I do?
There’s a loud knock on the front door of our apartment—and I’m no closer to deciding the best course of action. My heart climbs up into my mouth and I turn to face the man behind me, his brow drawn in worry. Panic. Not from the police. Oh no. This is not a man who fears anyone. The panic stems from the decision I’ll make.
We stare into one another’s eyes for long moments until another, louder knock echoes through the apartment.
“You have to let me answer,” I whisper. “This isn’t going to go away until they’ve spoken to me.”
“No,” he rasps, his throat working with a swallow.
“Yes.” I smooth out the furrow of his brow with my thumb. “If we’re going to be together, you’ll have to trust me.”
“You ran from me less than twelve hours ago.”
“I know.” If I’m going to get to that door, if I’m going to have a chance to decide my own destiny at all, I need to find a way out of this bed. So I lean in and kiss him long and full on the mouth, my chest tightening at the way he kisses me back. Like he’s never going to see me again. “Things are different than they were twelve hours ago, aren’t they?” I murmur against his lips.
He takes two hasty breaths. “I don’t know.”
“They are,” I say, kissing him again, stroking the hair back from his forehead. “Trust me, Granger, okay?”
His nod is stiff, but he gives it. And I don’t wait. I climb out of bed and find my skirt, zipping it on while the knocking grows louder, more insistent. Granger sits up and watches me from the messy sheets, his eyelids hooded, mouth in a tight line.
That’s the moment I realize I love him.
I love him for letting me make the choice. For giving me his trust, even though it’s hard for him. I love him for his jealousy, his possessiveness, his protective nature and the way he’s made himself vulnerable to me, despite how hard that must be for someone like him.
Dressed now, I take one last look at him and leave the room on trembling legs, calling, “I’ll be right there,” at the rattling door, afraid if I don’t say something, the police are going to break it down.
The walk to the front door is the longest of my life, the distance seeming to double with every step I take. And that’s exactly why I know I’ll never be happy without the man in the bedroom behind me. Because each step in the opposite direction of him makes me miserable. All I want is to be back in bed with him. I want his obsessive hands all over me. I want his darkness spread all over me so I can revel in it—and I want to give him my own in return.
I could open the door and tell the police that he did, in fact, kidnap me and hold me against my will. It just wouldn’t be the truth. Even being restrained in his bed gave me a deeper sense of rightness than I’ve ever felt in my life. I can’t live without it. Or him. The very thought of him being taken out of here in handcuffs makes me so anxious, I can barely breathe as I settle my hand on the lock, sliding it across and opening the door.
The faces of five officers stare back at me. They don’t look relieved to see me alive and well. No they take one glance at my disheveled state, the red marks on my wrists, and their attention sweeps the apartment behind me, trying to find Granger.
The threat.
“Can I help you?” I say, my throat scratchy from screaming.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” One of them draws his gun slowly. “Is there anyone else in the apartment?”