Page 61 of Paths

“Go to sleep.”

We lay like this for a long time. So long, I think she must have dozed off when she shifts and whispers, “Grady?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I want you, too.”

That, I feel in my gut, my chest, and my cock.

I pull her up to face me and when I look into hers, I see it.

To confirm this, she nods with a hesitant smile. I kiss her, long and deep before we finally settle. After that, Maya really relaxes and falls into a deep sleep.

After fighting it for a few hours, I finally do, too.

Dreamless.

Chapter 17 - Branded

Maya –

I thought this morning might be awkward after last night, but it wasn’t. Grady’s my second … everything. My second kiss, the second man I’ve slept next to, the second man to touch me, and boy, did he touch me. But I wanted him so much, he could’ve done anything and everything to me.

I know my experience is limited to Weston. I gave him my virginity at the sweet age of seventeen. Looking back, I’m surprised he was patient as long as he was, because he is not a patient man. I might not know what to expect from men in general, but I sure didn’t expect Grady to ward off my advances, insisting to take things slow. Him giving me a body-rocking orgasm like I’ve never experienced was a million times better than any dream. But this morning, he’s is back to his easy-going self.

I’m learning that nothing is awkward with Grady. In fact, everything with him is easy. So easy, I’m officially obsessed. But really, I’ve been obsessed since I started creeping on him.

As addicted as I might be, I’m also confused at the moment. I turn to Grady who just threw his SUV into park. “What are we doing here? We’re going to be late—we’re already cutting it close as it is.”

He turns to me, resting his forearm on the console, and studies me a moment before he answers. When he finally speaks, it sounds like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I don’t fly commercial.”

I tip my head to the side, not understanding. Sure, I’ve flown commercial some, but what I’m not anxious to tell him is that I’m accustomed to traveling in one of the company jets—my father has not one, but three.

“Sooo…?” I let my voice trail off letting him know I don’t understand.

He pulls in a big breath and on an exhale, goes on. “In my work, or my previous work, I had to be prepared to protect myself. In the worst-case scenarios—like I told you about what happened on my last job—I needed to defend myself. That job might’ve gone bad, but I’m still very good at what I do. Now, thanks to you, my shoulder’s back to normal and—”

“Your shoulder’s nowhere near normal,” I interrupt. He keeps trying to tell me he’s going to start back to his weights and regular workouts, but I don’t care what he says—he’s not ready.

He sighs. “It feels back to normal, but that’s another discussion. Right now, I’m telling you I feel good, but I can’t take you to see your brother with the MacLachlans around and not be able to protect you or myself. That means I need to carry and I can’t carry on a commercial flight.”

“Carry?” I ask, wanting to make sure I know what he’s talking about.

“Fly armed.” He confirms my assumption, still choosing his words carefully. “I’m not a federal agent—not even close. I can do a lot of things, but I can’t get around that. So, when I fly, I charter. We’re flying a Learjet today—they’re nice.”

I know Lears are nice—my dad has two. I turn to look out the window, because I don’t know how much a chartered flight would be. There’s no way I can pay him back, not without touching my trust fund, and I’m ready to break away from that part of my life. If I want freedom from my mother, I have to be financially independent or she’ll hold that over me in a heartbeat.

“Hey,” he calls for me, and I turn back to him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“We could’ve driven. It would have been time consuming, but I could’ve made it work. But this?” I jut my thumb over my shoulder. “I don’t think I can pay you back for this.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you. When I say it’s not a big deal, I mean it.”

I bite my lip and sit back in my seat. Feeling guilty, I decide to bite the bullet and tell him something about myself. In a matter of hours, he’ll figure it out anyway. “I have a trust fund.”

“I know,” he responds quickly.

I’m taken aback. “You do?”

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