Page 68 of Tides of Change
“Right there with you.” I slipped a hand between us and gripped my steel-hard cock. It only took a few tugs before I said, “I’m—” Cum spurted onto my stomach in long ropes, and colorful fireworks burst behind my closed eyelids.
Garrett tumbled over the edge soon after, my name on his lips, as his dick pulsed inside me. He collapsed to his elbows and panted. “That was…that felt…right.”
I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. That felt right to me, too.
After a few moments of clinging to him like I never wanted to let go, I caved to the inevitable and dropped my wobbly legs from his waist.
He gently pulled out of my tender hole, backed off the bed, and disappeared into my bathroom. Water ran, and then he returned with a warm, wet washcloth and cleaned me up, smiling softly.
Naked, we climbed under the covers. I snuggled against him, my head on his shoulder and my hand over his heart. I could get used to this. To making lo—having sex and then taking care of each other.
Could we have this closeness if I stayed in Seacliff Cove? Would Garrett want me to stay after the danger passed, or was our relationship built entirely on the crisis? Would it fizzle out once Ballard caught Finch? The questions circled in my mind, relentless, impossible to answer. The warmth of his body against mine grounded me, but my thoughts still churned with doubt.
One thing was certain—I was tired of being a sitting duck. I wanted to be proactive, not reactive. Could I end this stalking if I took charge? I exhaled slowly and steeled myself for the coming argument. “I want to turn the tables on Finch.”
Garrett’s body tensed beneath me, and his muscles tightened like bowstrings drawn too taut. His arm around my waist went rigid, and his voice dropped into a deep, dangerous growl. “Whatever you’re thinking, forget about it.”
But I wasn’t backing down. “I want to be in control for once,” I pressed. “I want to draw him out in public. He’ll be in the open, and you can arrest him.”
“No.” The finality in his tone was sharp as a knife. “I’m not using you as bait.”
I pushed up onto an elbow and met his scowl with my own. The shadows in the room carved hard lines into his face, and his eyes burned with emotions—fear, anger, something deeper that gave me hope for us as a couple.
“I’m going to have a book-signing at the bookstore,” I continued, unwavering. “There will be lots of people around, and I’ll be perfectly safe. Finch won’t be able to resist attending.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Call it a gut feeling,” I said, my voice softer, but no less determined. “Somehow, I feel like I know him. He’s…acting like a character would in one of my books.” My throat tightened. And if that was the case, the ending of this story wasn’t looking good for me.
I could hear his molars grind and see his jaw work as he tried to find a way to dissuade me. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You’d need a heavy presence from the sheriff’s department. I’d have to see if Larson can get Sarge to agree to that. Ballard is useless.”
Relief poured through me and left my chest light. He was considering it.
“I’ll set up the book-signing with Mason.” Resolve hardened my voice.
Garrett’s eyes searched mine. “You’re sure about this?”
I nodded. “I’m ending this. On my terms.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Garrett
Over a week had passed since Ethan had floated the idea of a book-signing, and the Saturday evening of the event had finally arrived. I managed the front door of Tides & Tales, ostensibly placing stickers on the books readers brought with them. In reality, my eyes never stopped scanning the sea of faces, searching for the one I dreaded and needed to find—Finch. Mason, stationed across the doorway, mirrored my vigilance, his usual easygoing nature overshadowed by tense focus. We’d had to confide in him about the stalker, and he’d been livid—fear and protectiveness warring in his expression. He was more than eager to help catch Finch, but I could tell the weight of it sat heavy on him, just as it did on me.
“What a disaster,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” The man in front of me furrowed his brow, his fingers curled around a hardcover copy of Ethan’s latest novel.
I straightened and offered a tight smile. “I said, welcome to Tides & Tales. The line for the book-signing ends over there.” I gestured to the queue snaking around the store, winding between bookshelves and display tables.
Hundreds of fans had turned out, more than I’d expected for our small town. Ethan was more popular than I’d realized—so many people were eager to meet him. But the sheer volume of bodies, the constant shifting of movement, the open doors—it was a logistical nightmare.
My sergeant hadn’t approved any extra deputies for the shift, leaving just one on-duty officer at the event, and he was stuck with traffic control. Larson had volunteered to watch the back-alley entrance on his night off. And me? Well, I was here under the radar. We were spread thin. Too thin. And Finch—if he was here—was going to slip through the cracks.
Occasionally, the crowd parted, giving me a clear line of sight to Ethan at his table. Caleb Sullivan, Mason’s boyfriend, stood guard at Ethan’s side and controlled the crowd.
Ethan was in his element, pen gliding effortlessly across pages, posing for photos, exchanging smiles and laughter with fans. He looked radiant, feeding off the energy of the crowd, glowing with the quiet humility and grace that made him so darn easy to admire.
