Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (8 page)

I notice when Michael is a tad—putting it lightly—frustrated, he threads those long fingers of his through his thick, beautiful mane.

He slips his hand over mine, causing me to jolt from his warmth, and something else I can’t explain. He strokes my fingers and lifts them to his soft, full lips, which has my toes curling.

“May I?” He asks and a slow grin surfaces across his face.

I’m grounded to the chair, staring at his luscious mouth and smoldering eyes. I nod because that is all I’m capable of doing at the moment.

His soft lips press over my hand sending a current of electricity over my skin, leaving a ripple effect to travel up my arm and down to my core. A silent gasp escapes my mouth as I wither in my seat feeling the heat between my legs. His eyes hold mine in a steady gaze. I watch his pulse pumping against his neck. My heart begins to quicken, my breathing accelerating.

He moves closer, releasing my hand and skims his long fingers across my cheek, leaving a trail of tingling sensations over my sensitive skin. His lips are moist and parted, causing me to react and I lick mine with slow, smooth strokes. I slide towards him, grasping his solid shoulders. Our lips join with the softest embrace, and I close my eyes to savor the flavor of peppermint and his warm, moist mouth.

I wrap my arms around his neck, captivating him deeper into my mouth. We stand abruptly, the chairs screech loud against the slates. With urgency, we embrace with an uncontrollable need no words can describe. He has a tight hold of my waist with one hand, pressing my body firmly against his and the other wrapped around the nape of my neck.

We part for only a moment and gaze at one another, panting heavily, trying for a breath. I lose myself in his soft, green eyes, which leave me dazed and confused, falling fast and hard. I shake my head to clear the haze, but I am at a loss for words. Why is it that one kiss, one touch isn’t enough. I’m like a junkie hooked on Michael, needing to inject my veins to fill the undying craving my body longs for. I grow hungrier as the seconds pass by. I cannot shake the burning urge that’s coursing through me. It’s frightening.

I gasp as he pulls me hard into his arms; his lips merge into mine like peanut butter and chocolate, creating the ultimate treat. I feel his blazing heat and well-defined body scorching into mine, making me hot and elusive. I press myself closer, crawling my way into his flesh, feeling his arousal and linking our hearts as they beat as one. Moisture begins to pool between my legs, throbbing and aching to be touched.

We snap apart at the sound of a cough. It’s Tina. I flush embarrassed by my actions. I walk toward the railing of the terrace. I’m sweltering with passion, my lips still sizzling.

I’m mortified. This is so out of character for me. I’ve never lost self-control or ever been kissed with such rage. I behaved inappropriately. As I scowl at myself, my heart is fluttering with joy, vibrating and prickling with excitement. This is not good.

“Yes, Mrs. O’Conner?” Michael asks. He sounds so calm and composed, and I’m still unraveling myself.

“You mentioned earlier you were expecting your brother. I just wanted to inform you he’s on his way up.”

“Thank you, Mrs. O’Conner,” he says softly. Tina blushed and scurries back inside towards the library.

“Ariana,” he calls out. I can’t bear to face him. I busy myself looking down at the park and the pedestrians scurrying about like little ants. I place my hand over my gold and diamond heart-shaped locket that my parents’ gave me, a gift I wear almost every day and treasure. He touches my shoulder, causing me to wince from his sting.

With shame and guilt, I turn my head to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. It was inappropriate. I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours, and I’m mauling you,” I blurt out, desperately seeking amnesty, appalled for what I’ve done. He must think I’m easy, and I’m like this with all men. But, trust me, he’s the first one who has ever taken me off the tightrope. “I’ve never behaved like this before. Please believe me,” I beg, and I turn away from him.

He turns me around by the shoulders, and I feel his warmth seep through me, to the point I want to melt in his hands. He lifts my chin to face him and gazes at me with those bedroom eyes. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Ariana. We are two consenting adults. I don’t think any less of you,” he reassures me, his raw, seductive voice making me weak in the knees. He reveals his dangerous smile. His hands brush against my arms causing my heart to spin over to the edge with elation.

He leans over, so close that I can feel his warm breath. “I hope you’re not expecting an apology. I rather enjoyed the intimate kiss we shared.” His deep, raspy voice seeps through me. He brushes the pad of his thumb over my lower lip, causing my heart to malfunction.

“From the moment I set eyes on you, I wanted to kiss you,” he confesses, flashing a sexy grin. “You have to admit, Ariana . . . . There is a powerful chemistry between us,” he growls out. “The room ignites when we’re several feet away, hell, miles apart.” His lips graze over mine and swipes his tongue sensually across my mouth causing my breath to hitch and a tingling sensation to rush over me and then he releases me.

I’m stunned and disheartened like a child who lost her candy.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Ariana, I have every intention of kissing you again.” He strokes my cheek, heightening my senses.

“What if I say no?” I whisper.

He gives me a quick peck on the lips. “You won’t,” he says just inches away from my lips, sending chills down my spine, and walks away, leaving a powerful wake of heat.

Ugh! I can’t believe him, that overinflated pompous ass. I repeat his surety to myself.
You won’t.
Ha, what makes him think I will? And then reality sets in. Whom am I kidding? I know all too well I’ll give in to his wicked charm. I’ve never experienced such a force of nature to want someone so badly. How can I deal with this overpowering urge? Damn him. “Ahhh!” I scream out to myself. I need a shower, cold . . . frigid . . . water to cool the hormones.

I hear Trent and Michael walk out. I face the two men, and I’m sure I’m still flushed from his evil kiss.

Amazing how the air changes into a whirlwind of fire the moment Trent walks into a room. Just like Joanne, one of my best friends.

His navy blue pinstripe suit, tailored for his overpowering body, highlights his tall form. His multicolored textured tie stands out against his stark, bright white shirt.

I walk forward, extending a hand to Trent to shake his. “Trent, thank you so much for coming out on such short notice,” I express with sincerity.

“Darlin’, it’s my pleasure.” He picks me up and hugs me tight against his chest. I grunt from the tight hold around my rib cage.

“Trent you’re to rough,” Michael yells out, his eyes narrow.

“Relax, big brother, I won’t hurt her.” He puts me down, and I take a long awaited breath of air. “How are you doing today, Ariana?”

“Frighten and disturbed,” I respond.

“You can rest assure I’ll catch this deranged fuck, excuse the language.” He winks. His cat-like eyes squinting against the sun, with a boyish look to his face.

“I’m sorry to get you involved,” I say, and Michael glares at me.

“Ariana, please, we’ve gone over this before. Trent does this for a living,” He explains as he crosses his arms over his chest and frowns.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt on my account.” I’m suffocating with guilt. This is insane. Michael and I have known each other for less than twenty-four hours, and now he and his brother Trent want to play the heroes without giving this a second thought.

“Don’t worry about us, darlin’, we’re capable of taking care of ourselves. Now, the first thing I need to do is set up your phone to trace all incoming calls. I’d like to go through your computer system and trace where his e-mails came from.”

“Can you do that? When I replied to his e-mail the first time, thinking it was from a fan, it came back undeliverable.”

“I can trace the IP address through his e-mail, as long as he isn’t computer savvy.” He winks, and a bright smile slowly surfaces, highlighting his distinctive features.

“You’re over-thinking, Ariana don’t worry your pretty little head over it. I can hack into any server,” Trent confirms.

“That isn’t what I’m concerned about,” I murmur, staring down at the slates on the terrace. I shiver as a cool breeze circles around me causing goose bumps to form over my exposed skin.

“Then what is?” Michael asks.

“Your welfare, your lives,” I spew out, my hands flying in the air as I pace across the terrace like a wild, angry animal.

“Ariana,” Trent says in a low, soothing tone. “I do this for a living. I have been in worst situations. I can handle this. Please let me help you.”

I pace a few more times, making myself dizzy, not just from pacing, but from the thoughts rolling around in my head with worry. I’m concerned for Trent and Michael, yet they are so persistent in helping me. I can’t call the police. This maniac is watching my every move and taunting me with his calls. What choices do I have? I need their help. They are a Godsend. I stop, and spin around to face Trent to give him my blessings, praying no harm comes to either of them. “Fine, I’ll get my laptop, but you have to promise me one thing,” I say feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders if something happens to them.

“You name it,” Trent offers.

“That you’re extra careful,” I beg.

“Of course,” Trent reply’s.

I nod and rush over to the home office I converted from one of the guestrooms, found on the other side of the elevators. I place my hand against the door to push it open and freeze.

“I’ve been waiting for you baby doll.”

I gasp as I hear his voice and laughter echo from the room. My eyes grow wide, and a painful tightness wraps around my chest. My knees buckle and I grab the doorknob to keep from falling. My heart sprints into my throat, choking the air from my windpipe. With speed, I step away, moving in reverse, and trip over my own two feet, falling on my butt. I cry out in pain and scurry up, stumbling again on the slippery, polished wood floor. When I finally gain control and stand up, I burst through the hall in heated urgency. I look back to see if he’s chasing after me, but there’s no sign of him. Maybe he detoured in the other direction, hoping to catch me or hide in my bedroom.

“Michael,” I choke out a scream. “Michael!”

I reach the foyer and see them both darting toward me. I’m breathless, panting erratically, feeling light-headed. My eyes fill with tears, blurring my vision. I trip and fall into Michael’s arms. Michael grabs a hold of my shoulders to steady me.

“What is it, Ariana?” He asks with a disconcerting look over his face, his body tense, and his chest is heaving rapidly.

“He’s . . . he’s . . . here, he’s in the room, I heard him,” I blurt out breathlessly, trembling uncontrollably.

“What!” Both Michael and Trent explode.

I pull him by the hand and rush towards the room. “Hurry,” I choke out. “He may not be in there now. He probably ran into another room.”

“I’ve been waiting for you baby doll.” I hear his dreadful voice again followed by more laughter. I can’t believe he’s still in there. I thought for sure he would have rushed out after he heard me scream for Michael. The man has guts, or he is just a pure mental case. What if he has a gun and the first person to burst in the room gets shot. Oh my God, No!

Michael and Trent’s eyes grow wide and they turn white as a ghost.

Trent pulls his gun out from his holster.

“
No
,” I plead, but he doesn’t listen and every pounding heartbeat only grows faster and harder against my chest.

He holds his gun with caution, aiming it in the direction of the sound as he enters the room. The tension begins to ease from Trent’s shoulders. He walks towards my file cabinet and picks up a black box. He pushes a button and the voice and laughter fades.

“It’s okay Ariana, it’s a motion activated voice recorder.” He blows out a long breath and runs his hand through his hair.

“That fuckin’ asshole,” Michael snaps and he takes my hand and we walk in, both shaken up.

The room is a mess. My printer was yanked from the wall and thrown on the floor with the wires sliced. The chair is leaning up against the closet door face down, the desk drawer open, and hanging over the edge, is my gold letter opener, its tip tinted in red. I scan the room, and lying on the laptop is an envelope addressed to me.

Trent walks over to the desk with caution. He removes a handkerchief from his suit jacket and picks up the envelope sitting on the laptop. He pries the corners open and tears it across with a small Swiss Army Knife he pulled out of his pocket. He tugs the small note card with a pair of tweezers attached to his knife.

“The note’s addressed to baby doll,” Trent says.

Oh God, please. Why? Why? Why does he call me baby doll, and why is he doing this to me? This is crazy. The man is sick. He belongs in a mental institution.

“Read it,” Michael orders.

As Trent reads the note, I feel the rage building up inside me like a violent wave of fury. In less than twenty-four hours, this man has managed to suck all the courage and self-esteem I worked so hard to regain, leaving me with nothing but a crumbling, hollow soul and singed nerves.