Page 127 of Salvaged Hearts

“Evidently, that includes apprehension.”

“It would seem so.”

“You need to rest.”

“Youneed to rest,” I retorted petulantly. “Your strength was always your mind, Grey. Not your muscle. Your guys need you thinking clearly.”

“My part in this is done now that the feds are involved. Max doesn’t waste time when it counts. I like that about him.”

Did I preen a little knowing that my best friend had been an invaluable tool in dismantling the Gilbert’s fortress of stone?Duh. The man was about as brilliant as my husband. The two of them, plus Jax, had compiled a list that was concerning enough to demand that their contacts in the FBI take immediate action.

“They’re going in tonight?” I confirmed, chest tight with the idea of my storm cloud of a bodyguard out there risking his life to bring down a web of psychopaths alongside a handful of his guys, Detective Rivera, and local brass.

“Just waiting for the call that it’s done.” He shifted his weight a little, ribs nearly still against mine.

“Jax will be fine,” I assured, and he nodded against my back before pressing another kiss to my bare skin. “He’ll be back here glaring at us over morning coffee.”

“Yeah,” he agreed curtly, voice too tight to lend me any sense of comfort. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to say, but he was holding it close to his chest instead. For a moment, my selfish bitch of a heart was just unspeakably grateful I didn’t have to wait at home praying to get a call from Greyson. Then my stomach climbed up to lodge in my throat, because odds were therewerepartners waiting in this city. Waiting for loved ones that may or may not make it home. Judging by their assassination attempt,Obsidianwas no less equipped than we were.

Eyes burning, I rotated in his arms so I could bury my face against his chest, inhaling his musk, soaking up his warmth as I reassured myself he was here. That we’d done everything we could to give our men the best chance at a clean sting and quick wrap-up. I just couldn’t shake this niggling sensation that we’d missed something critical. Like a worm burrowing its way into my brain, I fought back the discordant voices in my mind. This late in the game, all I could do was trust the process, give thanks my man was safely wrapped around me, and pray everyone fighting for us made it home safely.

“I can think of more enjoyable ways to pass the time,” he promised as his hands roamed south, earning a disbelieving giggle.

“You can’t be serious,” I teased.

“Am I evernot?” he countered. I was about to say point taken, but his warm palm reached my clit, and I sucked down a breath instead.

“What do you want to do when this whole operation is over?” I breathed, laughing when he groaned and clamped his teeth down on my shoulder before answering.

“My Belle, I have my hand on your pussy, and you think I’m giving a single fucking thought to anything else?”

Grinning, I shook my head. “You’re trouble.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Now, answer the question.”

“Persistent pain in my ass,” he growled.

“Always. But you knew that when you married me.”

“Fantastic point. When this is over, I’m taking you back to our island,” he said, a delightful smile lacing promise through his voice. He moved his mouth closer to my ear, my neck tickling with the heat of his words. “I’m finally going to fuck you on that beach and again in the shower with the glass wall overlooking the ocean—I’ll press you up against that window and make you scream my name.” Leisurely, he pressed a finger inside me and began a steady pump, arousal stirring in my center. “Make you come in every corner I’ve fantasized about since that first day I tasted you.”

“And then?” I pressed, already more breathless than I cared to admit. The idea of him hammering home with my breasts against the cold glass as I watched those cerulean waves was ridiculously tantalizing. Something about being pinned beneath the strength of this man undid me quicker than anything else.

In answer, he ground his palm over my clit as he curled his finger. “Then, I’m cracking open a bottle of Macallan and your favorite Riesling—what was that little Vineyard you loved so much in Massachusetts?”

“Marion Cline?” I gasped like an imbecile, thighs shaking with the pleasure he wrung from me as they clamped over his hand. A satisfied hum rumbled in his chest.

“Ahhh, yes. The one with the turret. We’ll open aMarion ClineRiesling. And then watch the sun go down until I can bend you over that sofa and memorize the sounds you make as youshatter under the night sky. Maybe we’ll sleep under the stars and pretend this world doesn’t exist.”

“S-sounds good,” I stammered, grinding against his palm in a desperate hunt for friction when he slipped his finger free to add a second. Greyson trailed his free hand up my thigh and under my silky nightgown until his hand found my breast, kneading it before giving the nipple a little tweak. He just clamped his teeth over the junction between my neck and shoulder when his phone rang, and we both sucked down a breath.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he ordered, unwinding our limbs and bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck my juices from them before turning to grab his cell. He blew out a breath before confirming who was calling with his curt greeting. “Reynolds?” He was quiet for a long beat before blowing out a relieved-sounding sigh. “Casualties?” There was another pause as my ears strained to pick up every other word Jax rattled off in a blunt procession, but this time, he buried his face in my neck as he listened. “Thank fuck.” His entire body relaxed into mine; that one sign finally allowed me to inhale properly. “Well done, Jax. This ishuge…That’s our biggest bust yet. Now, give the feds what they need and get your asses home.” His chuckle followed a veryPeanuts’teacher version of what I was ninety percent positive wasI don’t take orders from you.“Fuck off. Get over here, and we’ll pour a drink to victory.” The instant they disconnected, he tossed his phone onto the floor and a peal of laughter tore from my throat as he flipped me onto my back.

Greyson

Alice’ssqueal of laughter was better than music to my ears. Both Neal and Odessa were in custody, along with a lengthy list of their security personnel and a handful of executives. Betteryet, nearly thirty victims had been recovered through various points in our city.

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