Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) (25 page)

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

As if I could look anywhere else. This man is consuming me.

I hold his stare as he shifts between my legs. He lowers his body, pressing his weight on his forearms as he places them on either side of my head and covers me with his chest.

The head of his cock sits at my entrance, his eyes are locked on mine, and his thumbs stroke my cheeks as he confirms, “You with me?”

I raise my head, press my lips to his, and mumble against his mouth, “Right. Here.”

My body lowers to the bed and I wrap my legs around his waist. He slides into me, drawing deep groans from us both. His cock continues to claim me, slowly pressing forward and filling me until it can go no farther. My fingers dig into the skin of his back as he rolls his hips, deepening his thrust and circling until he finds the spot he’s looking for. My entire body bucks underneath him, and once satisfied, he pulls out just as slowly, then repeats the motion.

“Jesus, Cass,” he groans, his breathing labored. “Fucking—”

“
Phenomenal
,” I finish for him.

His stare intensifies and I squeeze my thighs, the tension building inside me as I rock my hips against him. His arm curls around my waist, lifting me as he continues stroking, each deep plunge not meant for his own pleasure but for mine.

I have never felt more treasured than this moment, right now. This isn’t fucking. This isn’t lust. This isn’t even just sex.

This is
real
love as demonstrated in a physical sense. A true gift that Grady Bennett has unknowingly provided me, and one that I will never forget. No, not unknowingly.
He does know. He is giving me this gift willingly. Generously. Selflessly.

He continues to rock forward, deliberate and measured in his movement, and my body is overcome with every emotion possible.

Relief.

Gratitude.

Desire.

Need.

Love.

He retreats and my body seems to follow him. When he slams back into me, I feel complete. His hard against my smooth. His strength against my soft. Our hearts beating as one.

My skin is alive.

My breathing erratic.

I don’t want this to end.

It’s
never
felt like this. Control has been so vital for so long, until this man. With him, my submission is being rewarded with his ardent, flawless loving.

How? How can he simply know how to love me? Emotionally. Physically.

He breathes against my neck, “So warm, Cass. Feels. So. Fucking. Amazing.”

I’m speechless. As his body covers mine there’s nowhere else I ever want to be.
Ever.

My fingers cling to him, but then I can no longer resist moving them down his back. His skin is hot, slick with sweat.

Mine.

Another groan is released when my hands find his ass. Tight. Muscular. Flexing as he thrusts inside me.

I’m so close.

His hot breath.

His skin.

The feel of his muscle beneath my hands.

Too much.

Can’t hold on.

“So. Good. Wanted you for so fucking long. Cass. My beautiful Cass. Fuck me. So fucking—”

His words are my undoing. Pure ecstasy as every muscle contracts around him. I bite down on my lip as he pumps faster into me. With every push, my taut nipples rub against his smooth chest, and it feels so fucking good. More hot breaths in my ear. More words of love, adoration, worship.

“So incredible.”

“Waited so long.”

“My Cass. My beautiful Cass.”

A guttural growl rips from Grady’s chest.

I did that . . . to him. This ridiculously glorious man who loves me.

We hold each other’s eyes with our release, and not until we’re through does Grady lower my body to the bed. He remains inside me, his head nestled in the crook of my neck, heavy breaths tickling as they fan across my skin.

And I hold him, silently thanking him for loving me. For thinking me worthy and strong. For believing in me. And for giving me such an unbelievable, unforgettable gift.

One for which I will be eternally grateful.

“I love you, Grady,” I whisper.

He smiles into my neck before he answers, “Love you, Cass. I’m glad we finally got ya there.”

I giggle a ridiculous giggle, then sigh, still holding him in my arms.

“Yeah, me too.”

And then I show him exactly how grateful I am . . .

Three more
phenomenal
times that night.

“WHAT?” I SCREECH, HAULING
myself into upright position in Grady’s bed—a bed I’ve become quite accustomed to sleeping in. My phone is pressed securely to my ear as my legs fly out from underneath the warmth of the covers.

My feet hit the floor with a
thunk
and I pull on some leggings beside them, listening to Grady’s muffled instructions, panic and anger fueling my hurried movements as I tug one of his old sweatshirts over my head.

“Got it. I’m on my way,” I yell before ending the call and whirling madly on my socked feet, snatching my purse off the floor on my way out the door.

“Shit!”

Dashing back into the apartment, I grab my pair of Chucks, gripping them tightly between my fingers, then haul ass out of the apartment and down the steps.

Heavy breaths escape me just as I yank open the door to my Jeep, and I mentally remind myself that I really need to work out more before climbing inside and slamming the keys in the ignition. After haphazardly cramming my feet in my shoes, I throw it into reverse and ram my foot on the gas, then brake, shifting into drive and watching as a thick plume of smoke is left behind when I peel out of the parking lot.

Twenty minutes later, I’m storming into the doors of St. Andrew’s Hospital. My face is flushed and my heart is beating just as fast as my swift steps hit the linoleum flooring. Running up to the nurses’ station, I slam my hand on the counter repeatedly, inquiring in a raised voice, “Spencer Locke! I need to see Spencer Locke! Where’s her room?”

The eyes of a chestnut-haired, mousy nurse with huge black-rimmed glasses glare at me from behind the lenses. I narrow my stare, because I am
so
not up for backing down or playing nice when I’ve been alerted that my friend is in the hospital at three o’clock in the morning.

Fuck. That. Shit.

She opens her mouth to speak, but it’s Grady’s smooth, low tone that hits my ears. “She’s this way.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse begins, flabbergasted with our blatant disregard for her authority.

Grady strides right up beside me, then flashes his badge. “Police business, ma’am.”

Her mouth clamps shut, but her eyes tighten in my direction. I grin up at Grady, then offer her a smirk as he drapes his arm around my shoulder. She narrows her stare at the both of us, but before I’m able to leer further, Grady turns our bodies away and leads me in the opposite direction.

“Bitch,” I mutter under my breath, solely for the benefit of having the last word.

Grady chuckles next to me. “They have rules to follow, sweetheart.”

“Bitch,” I state louder, again, for my own benefit.

More laughter from Grady as we turn down a long hallway. Despite his chuckles, I can feel the tension in his arm. To anyone else, it may look as though it is casually draped across my shoulder. But I know this man. I
love
this man. He has held me close, night after night, loved me in ways I never thought possible. Right now, that man is stretched. Tense. Yet somehow calm. He knows I just need to get to my girl. His calm is for me.

Twenty more paces and Grady gestures at Room 211. He removes his arm to pull down on the handle, opening it wide for my entrance. I rush into the room, my feet almost sliding out from underneath me when they come to a screeching halt.

Because in front of me is not
Spencer
groggy and heavily medicated
in the bed as I expected.

It’s Dalton Greer.

I frantically search the room for her. Standing right beside him at the side of his bed, Spencer’s tear-stricken face stokes the burn of anger to the fire of my rage. My eyes fall to her hands, gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles are white. The look of complete shock is all I can register on her face, her vacant stare locked intensely on Dalton. The sight alone tears my heart to shreds.

Immediately, Grady releases me and I race over to Spencer, enveloping her safely in my arms. Her tiny body folds into mine, and I tenderly stroke her hair as I glare at the people around me.

“Please,” I make sure to look at every single man standing in the room, including Grady, “tell me someone shot that motherfucker, because I swear on all that is holy, I will gladly remove a fucking Glock from one of you and bust a cap in his ass by my own damn hand. I’ll take care of this shit myself if I have to.”

A sea of muffled laughter fills the room, only furthering my fury. “I kid you the fuck not.”

My rage begins to churn. There is nothing even remotely fucking funny about this situation. My best friend is in danger of losing the love of her life, and they’re laughing?

My expression is filled with ferocity and my eyes wild. All males in the room sober immediately, drawing their faces tight in attempt to hide their amusement, but I’m beyond caring at the moment. I eye them all and as I do, realization strikes.
It’s April 23rd.
Fuck.

And just when I thought I couldn’t get angrier, I experience a whole new level of wrath.

As Spencer’s tears bleed onto my shoulder, I see no one else but Grady as I continue my rant. “Five years, to the day, people. Spencer’s birthday. Five years ago exactly, when Dalton disappeared into oblivion, out from underneath Silas’s control, and
none
of you thought to have more protection on her? On Dalton? Who in the hell is leading this farce of an investigation?”

My eyes narrow. “Tell me it’s not you, Grady. Please tell me that’s not the case, because if it is, you and I are going to have some serious fucking words.”

I hear the sound of shuffling feet then turn, looking over my shoulder as a few part the way for Detective Kirk Lawson to enter the room.

“That would be me.” His tone is somber, his caring brown eyes weighted with grief. He looks to Spencer. “You okay, kiddo?”

She sniffles from within my hold, nods her head, and releases me. I step out of the way as Lawson’s feet carry him wordlessly to her side. He tucks her securely into his body, muting her sobs within the safety of his chest. He squeezes her tightly then turns his attention to me. “We had a mole. One of our own took out the rest of the unit assigned to Spencer’s detail. Kincaid took that opportunity to grab her, but Greer tracked her location. Took a bullet in the back when Kincaid fired at her, but not before getting in the kill shot to take him out.”

Lawson’s tone lowers as does his stare, both for emphasis. “Silas Kincaid is dead.”

A breath of relief escapes me. A breath that I just realized I’ve been holding for five long years. A breath that unleashes a wave of emotion as tears pool in my eyes and my voice softens with the knowledge that Dalton Greer just laid his life down for not only Spencer, but Rat as well. “Is he going to be okay?”

Lawson’s tortured eyes meet my own. “Yeah. He has some swelling, fluid build up in the spine, but they were able to remove the fragments without causing any permanent damage. Might need a wheelchair for a bit, but he’ll be up and around in no time.”

With that, he looks back down at Spencer, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she meets his gaze. “Couldn’t ask for a better man to take care of my girl.”

I take in the scene in front of me, thankful Spencer was given another father figure in her life. A man who loves her completely with unrivaled affection and adoration.

With the sound of Lawson’s words, Spencer’s face crumbles, and he tugs her again into his body, placing a tender kiss on the crown of her head as he embraces her. Moisture seeps down my cheeks, and as I raise my hand to clear the tears, a strong arm curls around my waist and the soothing feel of Grady’s warmth envelops me. Relief with the knowledge Dalton will be okay replaces my previous anger and anxiety. I release another breath and with my eyes still brimming with tears, I look up at Grady and offer him a half smile as I inquire, “Do people really still say
mole
?”