Page 96 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“I get it, and I get you.” Reaching out, he curled his fingers around her nape. “What you do heals your heart, Tabitha. Defending children, avenging those you can’t save, is why you haven’t overdosed or turned into an alcoholic. You have a purpose, a reason to live when you have a dozen more not to keep going. I’ll stand with you, help you, because I love you.”

No one ever believed in her the way he did. Her brothers were aware of what her training entailed—they’d probably gone through similar trials; it wasn’t something any of them talked about, at least not with her—but none of them understood what she was, what she’d had to become to survive.

“Stop the truck,” she whispered.

“Tabby?”

“I said,” she said slowly, licking her lips, “stop the truck.”

To his credit, Grit didn’t slam on the brakes and give them both seatbelt burns, which was good for her health seeing as she was already freeing herself from the constriction. As soon as the truck stopped, he turned toward her. “Are you feeling sick? Do you need—”

She didn’t let him finish the question, and she sure as hell allowed herself no time to think. Acting on instinct, she launched across the leather bench seat, clamping her sweaty palms on his beard and digging her nails lightly into the skin beneath.

Of her own volition, she kissed him.

Made love to his mouth the way she imagined normal people expressed the emotion. Soft, gentle, yet energized by the fierceness of what she felt for him. Whether or not she ever said those three words back to him, she tried to show him instead.

Grit didn’t miss a step, despite the flare of shocked pleasure in his eyes. He kissed her back without taking over, keeping his hands on the wheel. A rumble of appreciation hummed in his throat.

The leather squeaked as she dared to shift closer, her knees bumping his thigh. She deepened the kiss, hesitantly adding her tongue. Between her legs, her core throbbed, remembering how he’d gone down on her, eating her out like she was some kind of delicacy.

Anxiety ricocheted, tearing through her like a bullet, bouncing through her until the trembling started. She broke away, rearing back, surprised to discover she was breathless for all the reasons she wasn’t expecting.

“Easy, little tiger.” He lifted his hand, tucking an errant strand of hair away from her cheek. “If you’d like to make that a habit, I have no objections.”

She inhaled slowly through her nose. “I can’t… the words…”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the spot on her forehead that always settled her nerves. “You don’t have to, Tabby. You already told me what I wanted to hear.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “Put your seatbelt back on. The road gets rougher up ahead.”

Her head cocked, catching the subtle warning. Instinct told her he wasn’t talking about the actual road. “You aren’t angry?”

Grit smirked, putting the truck into gear and continuing their journey. “That you kissed me?”

“Without your permission,” she mumbled.

“Did you miss what I just said about making it a habit? Little tiger, you can kiss me whenever the hell you like, no matter what time of day, as long as you’re comfortable with it. Anything I have, everything I am, is yours.” He dragged two fingers from the hollow of his throat down to his belt suggestively, shooting her a wink. “That includes this very attractive body complete with prime fitness, magic hands, and not as many miles on the clock as you think.”

Tabitha stared at him, blinking as she processed all that. After a few seconds of silence, she started laughing; a quiet, happy noise that quickly escalated. “You sound like a porn star masquerading as a car salesman, listing all your attributes.”

He grinned. “Not all of them, little tiger.”

Heat rushed into her face. “I noticed you left your monster cock off the list.”

Grit muttered something under his breath that she interpreted as, “Not for long.” Before she could ask him to repeat it, they hit a rough patch of road, the surface pitted and pocked by numerous construction vehicles.

He navigated the worst of the potholes slowly, but her ass still bounced on the seat as though they were riding a storm in the Atlantic. The closer they got to the site, the rougher it became until suddenly the truck hit a stretch of smooth, new tarmac.

“If Evander wants to deter clients, the road will achieve his goal,” she commented, running her tongue around her teeth to check they were still intact.

“He’s got it covered. By opening week, it’ll be perfect.”

Yeah, she believed it. Evander was the money man, after all. Whatever it cost to achieve perfection for his newest venture, he would pay it. What was that saying? Start as you mean to go on. Success was achieved by setting off with all the little duckies in an immaculate row.

Admiration filled her when Grit pulled up beside the crew cabins and switched off the engine. So much had changed since her stint undercover; the dilapidated carcasses of the old ranch buildings were no more, replaced by a series of cabins that blended into the surroundings as though they’d always been there.

She remembered the blueprints, mentally identifying the different sectors as she looked around. It was a big resort, bisected by a number of graveled pathways. She knew which buildings were completed by the freshly laid turf being watered by sprinklers—on timers, no doubt, to miss the brutal heat of the afternoon sun.

“They’re ahead of schedule,” she said quietly.

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