In Deep Page 7

He’s jealous.

  “Don’t be so dense, Grace. Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  Anger shrouds my being at his harsh words but I try to remain as cool as he’s being.

  “Jameson, you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

  A familiar ache settles in my chest as I recall the last man I knew who’d turned to acting out in lieu of mature conversation. I refuse to go down that road again.

  “If you have a problem with something, just tell me. But I will not allow you to belittle me with your words because you’re jealous of my trainer.”

  His head snaps in my direction at the tone I’ve taken.

  The petulance on his face is replaced with admiration.

  “Are we clear?” I ask leaning against my car.

  He nods almost immediately and reaches out to pull me against the solid wall of his chest.

  “Shit. You’re right. I’m sorry,” he murmurs in my hair.

  A quiet moment passes between the two of us before he starts speaking again.

  “I was standing at the door for a while and didn’t like the way he was looking at you when he thought you weren’t looking.”

  Pushing out a heavy sigh, I pull away from him and study his face.

  Lines crease his forehead as he stares back at me, pensively.

  “Jameson, he’s my trainer. He has to check out my form and tell me what to correct.”

  “He was staring at your tits and ass ninety percent of the time,” he claims.

  I roll my eyes and he persists.

  “If you need a trainer, I can do it.”

  This time an even bigger sigh escapes me.

  “Jameson, as much as I appreciate your protectiveness, I can’t start letting you fix every single problem I have. You’re already providing me around-the-clock protection, free of charge. I can’t accept anything else from you. Austin is knowledgeable and giving me a great price. I’m going to keep seeing him at least twice a week.”

  The anger edges back into his gaze.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Jameson.”

  “Let me train you,” he says.

  At my skeptical glance, he continues on.

  “I was a SEAL, Grace. I think I can teach you a thing or two about self-defense.”

  I huff, expelling air from my cheeks.

  “Let me think about it,” I counter his proposition.

  A smile claims his face for the first time since he arrived.

  “Whatever you want,” he agrees.

  Relieved, I turn to unlock my car and ask him about our plans for the evening.

  “Are we still on for your place after I change and grab some clothes?”

  Jameson runs his hand over his jaw and nods.

  “I want to cook for you tonight,” he states, closing the space between us in two beats.

  “Ooh, lucky me,” I wiggle my brows.

  He chuckles lowly at my antics and then tilts his head, letting me know another question is coming.

  “I have another question.”

  Damn, I’m good.

  “Shoot.”

  “The way you introduced me…” he lets the sentence linger.

  I offer a blank stare in return and he’s forced to complete the thought.

  “You didn’t say I was your boyfriend. Why is that?”

  Heart hammering, I look up at him and gnaw on my bottom lip.

  We’ve never had this conversation before.

  Up until now, I figured he was just content to have great sex and share an occasional meal. I hadn’t asked for more because he simply hadn’t alluded to the fact that he wanted more.

  “Are you my boyfriend, Jameson?” I ask earnestly.

  Running on assumptions has no appeal for me. I need a clear-cut answer.

  “I consider you my girlfriend.”

  This is news to me and I’m sure the shocked expression on my face conveys this message.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” he nods emphatically.

  His hand finds my waist, pulling me flush against him. When he speaks again, I’m held captive by the deep timbre of his voice.

  “I want to make sure we’re on the same page here — you are mine, Grace.”

  His declaration slows my breaths and I watch hazily as he bends his head to kiss me. His lips are brushing me when he utters his next words.

  “And I protect what’s mine.”

  Chapter fifteen

  JAMESON WILCOX

  I stare up at the ceiling as my conscience pesters me relentlessly.

  Grace is sleeping peacefully beside me but slumber evades me. The muted light creeping in from the windows tells me that it’s nearly sunrise and I haven’t slept a wink.

  Stirring at my side draws my attention back to the woman sleeping there.

  I shift and prop myself up on one elbow to stare down at her.

  She’s perfection and the thought alone increases my guilt tenfold.

  As a SEAL I’d been trained to put integrity above all else. To protect what outside forces or others were trying to destruct.

  Yet, here I am knee deep in a deal with the devil.

  My chosen profession never really bothered me before. Most cases passed me in a blur of indifference.

  Except Grace wasn’t most cases.

  I’ve fallen hard for her against all intentions and better judgment. I’m not sure when it happened and I sure as hell don’t have the time to figure it out.

  What I need is to figure out a way to disentangle myself from Brick and come clean to Grace without losing her.

  But how?

  I’m lying to the woman who has become everything, her presence filling a void that was left gaping for too long.

  She’s the only thing I look forward to these days. Her defiant attitude and cheeky conversation, her laugh, her scent.

  Just her.

  “Why aren’t you sleeping, handsome?” Grace asks, breaking me out of my reverie as she comes awake.

  Stretching is followed by a moan, and even in her sleep-induced haze I can tell the exact moment she picks up on my pensive mood.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I know there’s no point in lying but I try anyway. “Nothing.”

  Unconvinced, she props herself up on her elbow mirroring my position. “Tell me.”

  “I was just thinking about how strong you are… after everything.”

  It isn’t a total lie. My respect for her has grown tremendously after learning the truth about her past.

  Disbelieving eyes continue to bore into my own and I feel the need to elaborate.

  “You’re one of the strongest people I know,” I carry on. “And I’m damn lucky to have you in my life.”

  Her eyes soften at this before she reaches out to trail a finger down my chest.

  I’m instantly alive under her touch, earlier grogginess forgotten.

  But I need to give her a break. I know her body must be exhausted from the constant exertion. Between our private training sessions and the endless sex, her body has to be fatigued.

  “Let me draw you a bath,” I offer leaning forward to kiss her soft lips.

  She groans against my lips before deepening the kiss.

  “I’d rather kiss you,” she says against my lips.

  This woman will be the death of me. I’ve never been so insatiable in my life.

  Giving in, I roll over on top of her.

  Trapped between my body and the mattress, she squirms. The movements stimulate my needy cock.

  Trailing kisses down her jawline, I nip at her collarbone before massaging the afflicted area with my indulgent tongue.

  The room is filled with the soundtrack of her lustful moans and I want to stay there all day, doing whatever it takes to prolong the music.

  I lift my head to take in the sheer pleasure on her face. Then I look down, admiring the way her full breasts fill out my T-shirt. She always sleeps in one of my shirts. Thin cotton panties are the only ma
terial covering her bottom half.

  Grabbing her hands, I pin them above her head with one of mine as my desire for total control overwhelms me.

  With her hands restrained, I lift the hem of the T-shirt and mark her flesh with my hot tongue.

  Grace whimpers at the sensation.

  Inching down, my tongue roves over her belly button before reaching the waistband of her panties.

  Ravenous, I begin kissing her through the thin fabric.

  “God… yes, Jameson.”

  My cock is engorged by this point, enjoying her panting words.

  “Just like that,” she sighs as I continue to lap at her sex through the damp barrier.

  “I guess the bath can wait,” I murmur against her center, knowing the vibrations will drive her insane.

  I’m rewarded with another moan as her back arches off the bed to increase the pressure of my licks.

  *****

  “Are you kidding me?” Grace asks, shooting me an incredulous look across the table.

  We’ve just finished a leisurely breakfast and instead of clearing the dishes we’re staring at each other as Grace takes in my request.

  Impulsively, I’ve asked her to accompany me to the Veterans Ball this weekend.

  “Jameson, you don’t ask a girl to go to a ball three days before the event!” she shouts, exasperated.

  I tilt my head and study her. “Why not?”

  Did she not want to go with me?

  The possibility sends a crushing blow to my ego.

  “I’ll never find anything to wear in time,” she gushes as her cheeks take on a pink tint.

  She’s flustered.

  “Gosh, what do people even wear to balls?” she ponders aloud and I can’t help the smile that breaks out across my face.

  She’s fucking adorable.

  “If you think it’ll be too much trouble, we don’t have to go. I usually stay home,” I explain. “But I figured I’d give it a shot since I have you now.”

  Grace shakes her head at me. “It’s not too much trouble,” she speaks.

  Relief overpowers my earlier insecurities.

  “It’s still going to take a small miracle to pull off. I have to get a dress, shoes, new make-up…” she rattles off a long list.

  As she speaks, I lift off the chair enough to reach into my back pocket and retrieve my wallet.

  Fishing out the desired credit card, I lay it on the table between us effectively bringing her rambling to a halt.

  “Get whatever you need.”

  Grace eyes the card without reaching out to grab it.

  “Jameson…”

  “Don’t fight me on this one, Grace. I take care of what’s mine. Remember?”

  Her mouth moves, as if she’s trying to find the right words.

  Silently, I raise my brow, daring her to challenge me.

  Thankfully, she concedes peacefully and collects the credit card from the table.

  “I’ll send a car to pick you up on Saturday night,” I inform her.

  She nods in agreement.

  “That is unless you want to get ready here,” I add hopefully.

  I never want her to leave. My home felt so much warmer when she was here, a feeling I never wanted to end.

  Even the thought of dropping her off at work later has me irritable.

  But she shakes her head, dowsing my dreams.

  “No, I’ll need Stephania’s help getting ready,” she reasons and I can’t object.

  I’d be no help when it came to getting ready. In fact, I’d probably delay the process quite a bit, trying to fit in a quickie or two before we left.

  The visuals have me heated in an instant and I shake my head.

  Getting ready in separate places is a good idea.

  “Whatever you want,” I say easily.

  Luckily for me, the guess work of finding something to wear had been eliminated. All I had to do was throw on my uniform and show up.

  I can’t believe it, but I’m actually looking forward to it.

  With Grace on my arm, I know for sure that I’ll be the envy of every man there.

  The thought makes me grin.

  Chapter sixteen

  GRACE CHAMBERS

  Hiking through Grandfather Mountain on a Thursday evening isn’t exactly what I had in mind when Jameson picked me up from work and asked me on an impromptu date.

  But as I take in the colorful wildflowers and lush green vegetation along our trail, I’m thankful for the opportunity to interact with nature. The mountains have always had a calming effect for me and the addition of Jameson only amplifies it.

  I love any time we spend together. But this setting is especially nice.

  Watching the powerful muscles in his legs shift as we climb higher is the highlight of my day so far.

  He’s so damn sexy. Effortlessly.

  “You okay back there?” he calls out, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

  “Mhmm,” I reply, trying to keep up with his long strides.

  “Are you sure?” he sounds skeptical. “You’re mighty quiet.”

  “Just enjoying the view, Mr. Wilcox.”

  My smile is involuntary and covers my face when he stops abruptly to look back at me.

  Squinting, Jameson uses his forearm to swipe away the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead.

  “Are you flirting with me, Grace?”

  Hell yes.

  I love the way he says my name. Sometimes it’s a gentle caress. Other times it’s a hoarse warning that he’s on the brink of coming. But each time I love the sound.

  I come to a stop in front of him, reaching out to trace his sweat-slicked biceps. I’m always pulled to him like a magnet.

  The shirt he’s wearing is saturated with sweat and I must admit the front view is just as mouthwatering as the one from the back.

  He catches my hand and brings it to his mouth for a kiss before lowering it.

  “Let’s take a break,” he suggests, tugging me in the direction of a well-shaded clearing.

  Though I’m not yet fatigued, I’m grateful for a break from the beating sun.

  “I got something for you,” he says as we lean against a tree.

  I take a generous sip from my water bottle, eyeing him curiously.

  From the pocket of his cargo shorts, he reveals a silver keychain in the shape of an anchor. He runs his rough fingers over it, before extending it in my direction.

  As I take the keychain, the symbolism of the anchor is not lost on me.

  Who knew Jameson was so sentimental?

  It’s the sweetest gift I’ve received.

  At least that’s what I think until he starts speaking.

  “I want you to carry this with you at all times.” He takes the keychain from me before I can get used to the weight of it in my palm.

  Flipping it over, Jameson hits a small lever and I gasp as a small blade folds down from the side, extending past the curved edge of the anchor.

  He wants me to start carrying a knife?

  “Don’t you think this is overkill? I think my pepper spray will do just fine,” I say defiantly.

  Jameson isn’t amused when he makes eye contact with me.

  “As much as I would like to be, I can’t be by your side every second and I would feel better if you had a little backup.”

  His words are sobering, dredging up thoughts that I would like to keep buried.

  “Please carry it.”

  “Okay,” my voice is barely audible as I agree, tucking the keychain into my pocket.

  Jameson looks pleased and steps forward to kiss me. “Thank you.”

  In an instant, I’m wrapped in his arms as he deepens the kiss.

  His tongue strokes mine masterfully, reminding me of a different caress and that thought alone is all I need to set off the throbbing in my panties.

  “Fuck, Grace. I always want you,” he growls against my lips.

  Strong hands trail down my front and underneath the waistband of m
y denim shorts.

  My lips part but words fail me as his rough hand palms my pussy through the scant lace of my panties.

  “You drive me crazy, Grace. Do you know that?”

  Sharp teeth nip at my earlobe before wandering down my jaw and finally my collarbone.

  “People will be able to see us,” I whisper cautiously even as my eyes roll upward in ecstasy.

  “Then I guess you’ll have to be quiet,” he says as his lips return to mine.

  That deep voice and his skillful tongue have me under a spell.

  Jesus Christ, I want this man to fuck me against this tree.

  His grip on my leaking sex is maddening and I try to grind my hips to create more friction but he stops my movements with a firm grasp.

  “Please,” I beg, frustrated and turned on by his dominance.

  In a flurry of movements, he has my shorts around my ankles and the crotch of my soaking panties shoved to the side.

  I hear his zipper as he lifts my left leg up and around his waist. My right foot stays rooted on the ground as he pushes into me in one fluid motion.

  With his eyes trained on mine, he starts moving.

  His thrusts are powerful and fast, leaving me gasping and in need of more.

  So much more.

  He feels so good. I don’t think I will ever get used to his thickness or the depth of his strokes.

  Being stretched by him is my favorite form of torturous pleasure.

  “Just like that,” I breathe as his eyes continue to bore into my soul.

  Jameson pumps steadily, rocking our bodies as one.

  The friction caused by our grinding pelvises is enough to send me over the edge.

  When my spasms start his mouth crashes over mine forcibly, capturing any sound that threatens to spill into the evening air.

  I come violently around his thrusting dick, my juices gushing and muscles tightening to hold him captive. With the added lubrication making me more slippery, Jameson continues to push into me rapidly.

  Seconds later, I feel the muscles beneath my palms tense and Jameson releases a guttural groan as he rocks into me one final time.

  Chapter seventeen

  JAMESON WILCOX

  As I finish dressing for the ball, my phone sounds and I smirk when Grace’s name appears on the display.

  I swipe up, revealing a picture she snapped of herself in black lace lingerie.