Page 60 of Chasing Grace
The commotion had six sets of eyes checking her out in Tak’s boxers. Minus one, because Z was still MIA, it had been a full JTT house this morning. And they’d all gotten an eyeful of just how long Gray’s legs were.
The assorted looks of appreciation, the colonel being the one exception, had Chase wanting to give out punches to the face like Halloween had come early, and he was handing out candy.
She’d spent the rest of the morning wrapped in a blanket on her father’s couch, blaming herself for Jackson’s death and missing the fact he’d put her in the line of fire in the first place.
It drove the colonel mental, and he’d questioned her roughly, one rapid-fire question after the next. Either she was the best damn liar Chase had ever come across, or Gray truly didn’t know anything about the operation that had been her father’s, her brother’s, and the JTT’s entire lives for the past two years.
They were missing a connection somewhere. Clearly, the man they were after wanted Gray in the crossfire. Why else would he use Jackson to put her up on that ledge? They just needed more time to figure out the link between Wright and Gray.
The fact she was the colonel’s daughter didn’t bode well for the covert aspect of their mission either. The members of the JTT were all thinking the same thing. Wright knew a hell of a lot more about them than they did about him.
By four in the afternoon, Gray had buried herself under a pile of Kleenex and wouldn’t let anyone come near her. Watching her suffer the loss of Jackson alone had damn near killed Chase. He’d wanted to comfort her. She wouldn’t allow it.
Fucking Hoyt.
Shaking his head, Chase sighed and rubbed his hands hard over his face. He’d explain himself to Gray tomorrow. And as soon as he could, he’d go back to Seattle and do what he should have done a long time ago. He was an asshole for letting the situation with Holly drag on. She was a good person. No question, she deserved better.
He checked his watch. Time to catch some z’s. He needed his brain to shut down, but sleep meant taking the chance Gray would wake and try to bolt. His heart constricted. Jesus, she was so close, and yet, still so damn far.
Not needing to, he stood to turn off the light between the small beds, and looking from Tak’s to his, he made his decision. He shouldn’t be doing this. It wasn’t fair to Gray. And he really needed a good night’s sleep. But for safety’s sake, he decided to do it anyway.
Pulling up the sheet, he slid in behind her, and wrapping his arm around her waist, he snugged her body to his. He needed an anchor so he wouldn’t fall off the bed. Also, that’s where his arm happened to naturally fit.
She sighed and settled her butt against his balls. His cock took notice and immediately stood at attention, his need for her a sweet misery. Lost in her again, he breathed her deep and felt his soul settle.
She belonged to him. She just hadn’t accepted it yet.
Oh God.Don’t vomit. Don’t vomit. Don’t—
Gray cracked one eye open the width of a hair. She needed to get her ass out of Chase’s bed. Unfortunately, the room had started to tilt-a-whirl like she’d bought an unlimited-rides pass of the carnival-in-a-box variety.
Fuck.Bad idea. Her eyelid slid shut. Yeah. Way too soon for her to be awake. Not like she had much choice in the matter, though. Her body had decided to reject her attempt at finding comfort in the bottom of a bottle, and unhappy with her choices in life, the tequila gods intended to make her pay.
Five more minutes. Please. Just five more minutes.
About to fully appreciate the consequences of her stupidity, Gray swallowed the alcohol-flavored spit collecting in her mouth.
Fucking Jackson.
She didn’t have any tears left. She’d shed them all yesterday in an agave-fueled meltdown. Gray still couldn’t believe it. Jackson had always said he lived on borrowed time, and she’d teased him endlessly for being a pussy.
Cautious beyond measure, he’d been more than willing to let her take all the risks. Stupid beyond measure, she’d been more than willing to dodge bullets and free-fall off cliffs. It’s probably why they’d worked so well together. They were perfectly mismatched.
It also had the bonus benefit of driving her father completely nuts.
They’d met at a party her final year at NYU. A smooth-talking idealist, Jackson had her in his bed before morning and off to her first assignment by noon the same day.
It took less than a year for him to figure out she had emotional intimacy problems and for her to discover he sucked at being faithful. But as bad as they were as a couple, they were great as freelance partners.
Jackson’s articles and her pictures were an award-winning combination. Despite their many faults, they both excelled at what they did. Jackson had a way with people. A gift of the gab she didn’t possess.
He could convince almost anyone to spill their secrets. And he was always at the ready with his recorder and keyboard. Jackson had spent years cultivating his sources, and they trusted him.
On the other hand, all she had to do was point and shoot. She let her camera do all the talking, and the only thing she’d cultivated was an appreciation for some of the finest vodkas in the world.
Oh God. This was going to suck. Gray’s head swam in a sea of methanol fumes, and she pressed her face into the pillow, hoping to delay the inevitable outcome. The cotton smelled like Chase. He’d spent the night wrapped around her, probably thinking she was too smashed to notice a two-hundred-pound portable heater planted on top of her.
Persistent fucker.
