Hidden Away (KGI #3)(87)

“This is delicate work,” he defended.

She snorted and cracked open the oven to peer at the chicken br**sts and pork chops. “Almost done here. What about you?”

In response, he picked up the pot from the burner and carried it over to the pie dish, where he’d formed the graham cracker crust. He carefully spooned the mixture into the shell and then dropped the pot into the sink.

“It needs to cool before I pour on the chocolate, so we can eat first,” he said.

They set the table and Garrett helped dish up the pieces of meat. By the time they sat down, Sarah’s stomach was growling. She was starving!

As she ate, she was unable to keep her gaze from straying to Garrett. When they were in captivity together, she’d admitted to herself that she loved him. She’d wondered briefly if it was simply an emotional reaction to the possibility that they’d die in that shit hole. But now as she stared at him, she realized that her feelings for him couldn’t be explained away that easily.

The words danced on her tongue, eager to be set free, but she was deeply conscious of the fact that to him she was a job. He worked for her brother. A brother who was extremely protective of her.

Yes, she’d tell him. Maybe not right this minute. She’d always chuckled at the idea of waiting until just the right time to tell someone you loved them. Wasn’t any time good for such a thing? She realized now it wasn’t as easy as that. There was marked difficulty in making yourself that vulnerable to someone else. Bearing your soul gave the other person power over you.

“What are you thinking?” Garrett asked.

She shook herself from her thoughts and then smiled. “I was thinking I’m ready for a caramel num num.”

“I’ll melt the chocolate right quick and then I’ll pour it on. Thirty minutes in the fridge ought to set it right and then we can dive in.”

She watched as he ambled back into the kitchen. Already his gait was smoother, though she could still sense tenderness in the way he walked. Garrett wasn’t the type to dwell on pain, though. To him it was merely an inconvenience.

He looked up, caught her staring and his lips turned up into a smile. It took her breath away. Her pulse sped up and thumped against her skin until she was aware of every beat. His gaze smoldered with sensual promise.

She bit at her bottom lip and shivered. There was a lot she still had to tell him. Preferably before they became immersed in a sexual relationship.

A ridiculously giddy thrill rocketed up her spine, forcing a grin to her face. Sexual relationship. She was calmly contemplating a sexual relationship and furthermore, so far, she’d been the aggressor.

She had the absurd urge to stand up and do a double-fist pump with a yeah attached for emphasis.

What Allen and Stanley Cross had done hadn’t been about sexual attraction or even sex. It was about power and the ability to inflict their will on someone weaker. Allen had raped her because he could, not because he was overwhelmed by desire.

Garrett wanted her. He desired her. But he held himself back because he was afraid of scaring her. She found that fact endearing, and it only made her want him all the more.

She watched as Garrett placed the dessert into the fridge and her breath caught in her throat as he returned to the table.

“So what do we do for the next thirty minutes or so?” she asked.

“Well, what I want to do is going to take a hell of a lot longer than thirty minutes.”

Oh lordy. Her hormones just went haywire.

“Maybe we could just talk,” she murmured. There was a lot she still had to tell him. Preferably before she got swept away and became so senseless she forgot her name.

He moved closer to her, put his hand on her face, stroking over her cheekbone and then into her hair.

“What would you like to talk about?”

She took a deep breath. “I have something I need to tell you.”

His brow furrowed in concern and his fingers stilled on her face. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Sarah glanced around. She hadn’t seen Rio or his men since they’d arrived at the house, but she couldn’t dispel the unease or the fear of being overheard. She peeked back at Garrett and chewed nervously at her bottom lip.

“Can we go into the bedroom? It’s ... private.”

Garrett’s look of concern deepened, but he turned without question, snagged her hand and pulled her gently toward the bedroom.

Once they were inside, he closed the door and faced her. “Whatever’s most comfortable for you.”

“You sit,” she said. “On the bed. I’d prefer you not to loom over me. This is ... hard ... for me.”

Garrett turned toward the bed, but he laced his fingers with hers and pulled her with him. He sat on the edge and then positioned her between his legs. He held both of her hands and looked up into her eyes. Then he squeezed. Just a simple gesture of support, but it meant the world to her.

“I’ve never told even Marcus this,” she said frankly. “I might have eventually but after what he did to Allen, I knew I couldn’t. He would have gone crazy. Saying aloud that Allen raped me was bad enough. I couldn’t bear the humiliation of telling the rest.”

Garrett’s face darkened. “The rest? You mean there’s more?”

She nodded slowly and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She sucked in steadying breaths and blinked to hold the burn at bay.