Finding Grace by Rhea Rhodan

Author:Rhea Rhodan
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romance, drama, seattle, contemporary, dance, gymnastics, sensual, psychic, mf, knitting, exmilitary, prodigy, musa publishing, gender disguise, psychic prodigy
Publisher: Rhea Rhodan

Chapter Thirteen

Dagger had woken up early, showered, and dressed while Grace slept. He was watching her chest rise and fall beneath the sheet, wondering at the strange pulling sort of ache in his chest. He’d gotten used to the one in his jeans, since it was pretty much always there when she was near. But this was even more uncomfortable because he refused to define it. Even thinking about it made him feel vulnerable.

Dagger did death and mayhem, and the things that went along with them. He did not do vulnerable.

It was bad enough that they’d spent the whole weekend pretty much in bed, and it had only made him want her more. Want more of her, too—hell, all of her, all of the time. The blindfold thing was fun, but it was beginning to make him feel like she was holding back, as though she didn’t trust him. And the idea of returning to work today and pretending they weren’t together bugged him, too. He’d had enough covert bullshit to last him a dozen lifetimes. They were going to have to get a few things straight before this went any further, before he lost his—

Her eyes blinked open and met his, soft and warm for second before her whole body jerked. “You’re up.” She managed to make it sound like an accusation he wasn’t in the mood for.

“Goddamn it, don’t you dare be fucking pissed at me because I woke up before you and got ready. I sleep good with you.”

“It’s a nice mattress isn’t it?”

Her response shouldn’t have hurt. So he ignored it and said, “If you think I’m going to put on a fucking blindfold just so you can get out of bed, forget it.”

“At least turn your back.” The thinness of Grace’s voice, the way the sheet was pulled up to her chin, those mesmerizing eyes wide—he recognized a plea when he heard one, even if it came from an unlikely source.

He might have wavered, cut her a break, if he hadn’t felt so off-balance and on edge. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and said, “I’m sick of this shit. Whatever happened, whoever teased you about a mole or a birthmark, it’s time to get over it.” No big deal, right? But she just stared at him.

Then she said, her voice cracking, “Get over it? Who the hell are you to tell me to get over anything? Fuck you, Jack. Good-bye and get out. Go find a girl who doesn’t have shit to get over or just fuck yourself, Jack. Just fuck yourself.”

Her words slammed into him like a wrecking ball, tearing a hole through a carefully constructed and well-guarded concrete wall, right to the core of his worst memories and deepest fear. She was throwing him out? Just like that? Like he was some worthless piece of trash?

“Fine, Grace, whatever. You are one crazy bitch, you know that?” He slammed the door so he wouldn’t have to hear his words echoing in his head.

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