Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(94)
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Matt always had a thing about him. I’m glad you’re not the jealous type.”
“I’m totally jealous.”
She pulled back. “You are?”
“Hell yeah. Roland gets to see you all day.” Sean slid his arm around her and cupped her butt. “I only get to see you at night and on weekends.”
She smiled. “But they’re very good nights.”
“They are.” He kissed her. “And I have a confession to make. I didn’t just come here to bring you a sandwich.”
“No?”
He lifted her up and carried her into the living room. Taking care with her cast, he set her down on the sofa where they’d shared those first intimate moments. Then he lowered himself beside her.
He kissed her, and her entire body responded. She slid her hands around his neck and pressed against him, drinking in everything she’d craved this morning when she woke up in an empty bed.
He tipped her head and took her mouth with a kiss that was greedy and possessive and tender, all at once.
“You taste so good,” he said against her lips. “I can never get enough of you.” He kissed her chin, her neck, her collarbone, and his hands eased underneath her sweater.
“Sean . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He stopped and stared down at her. She could tell she’d surprised him, and her throat went dry because she’d surprised herself, too. The silence stretched out, and nerves rippled through her. She didn’t want to pressure him by saying it too soon.
He kissed her, and the raw need in the kiss made the nerves disappear. She felt light. Free. Exhilarated—like she always felt when she told him something in her heart. Even if he didn’t say it back, she was glad she’d told him.
He broke the kiss and looked down at her. “I love you, too.”
“You don’t have to say it just because I did.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting to say it. I’ve been choking back the words for weeks.”
“Weeks?”
“Yes.” He framed her face in his hands. “Brooke. You are the bravest, smartest, sexiest woman I have ever known. I think I’ve been in love since the day I met you.”
She sighed quietly and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he was watching her.
“What’s that look?”
“I’m just . . . relieved.” She smiled. “You’ve seemed so, I don’t know, preoccupied lately. I thought something was wrong.”
He brushed her hair out of her face and his gaze lingered on the ugly bruise along her cheek. “Something is wrong. I keep replaying everything that happened and how close I came to losing you. Every time I think about it—”
“I know.” She kissed him to stop the words. “I get that way, too.” She rested her hand against his chest. “I keep remembering how I felt walking toward the end of that pier knowing my life was about to end, and all I could think of was how truly sorry I was that I never had the guts to tell you how I felt about you and us and everything.”
He gazed down at her, and the love in his eyes made her heart feel swollen.
“And how do you feel about me and us and everything?”
“I feel . . . grateful. So grateful, I can’t even put it into words.”
He kissed her. “You don’t have to. I know.”
Can't get enough of Laura Griffin? Check out more sexy, action-packed thrillers!
Be sure to download the latest Alpha Crew installment in the romantic suspense series about hot Navy SEALs!
Cover of Night
CLICK HERE TO ORDER
* * *
Loved Touch of Red? Don't miss out on the other Tracers novels, and download At Close Range now!
At Close Range
CLICK HERE TO ORDER
* * *
ORDER YOUR COPIES TODAY!
Turn the page for a sneak peek at Laura Griffin’s latest scorching-hot thriller from her brand-new action-packed series, Wolfe Security!
Available in June 2018 from Gallery Books!
CHAPTER 1
Jen Ballard planned to get lucky tonight.
The thought made her heart do a little hopscotch as she pulled her Volvo sedan into the driveway and checked her surroundings. No news vans. No beat-up hatchbacks belonging to reporters. She skimmed the street in both directions but saw only familiar cars in familiar driveways. She glanced in the rearview mirror to the driveway across the street, but it was empty—which might or might not be a good sign.
Jen pulled into her spacious garage and gathered her groceries off the passenger seat as her phone pinged with an incoming text. David.
Running late. ETA 20 min.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Perfect. Now she’d have time to shower and change into something more alluring than the charcoal pantsuit she’d worn to work.
She slid from the car and hurried into the house. Even laden with groceries, she felt empty-handed this evening. She had no briefs to read, no pre-trial motions to consider. She’d left everything at the office, including her laptop, which felt good for a change.