Before she could say anything more, Reid was back and there was dessert—fresh pie and tarts and she was full and sleepy.
“Thanks for this, Gunner. For letting me stay here,” she said after she finished her coffee. “I hope it’s not too much trouble for you.”
“Never is, Grier. Why don’t you go rest? I can clean this up myself.”
“Not arguing,” Reid said.
“Figured you wouldn’t. How’re those ribs, by the way?” he asked innocently.
“You’ve been talking to Kell, haven’t you? Don’t fucking come near me.”
Gunner chuckled as they walked away and she followed Reid up to the second floor. When Reid closed and locked the door to the stairs behind them, he told her, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Dig where you shouldn’t.”
“Did I upset him?”
“Nothing I’ve seen yet does. It’s just, in this world . . .”
You don’t ask questions, were the unspoken thoughts.
If it meant protecting the men protecting her, she would do anything. “Do you think Teddie’s safer with Kell?”
“I think she’s happier with Kell,” he asserted. “Protection was an added benefit. But love does equal protection, right?”
“I’d never thought about it like that,” she mused.
“Maybe you should.”
* * *
There was a double bed in the room Reid had left their bags in. He stripped his shirt and jeans and climbed into bed in boxer briefs while she stood there. She’d been half dead on her feet, but at the sight of Reid stripped down, something fluttered inside her belly, and no, they weren’t done. Not by a long shot.
Now she had to convince him of that.
“Come on, Grier—you need to sleep.” He pointed to the space on the other side of him. She wanted to know exactly why he was inviting her into his bed when there was no seduction apparent.
And you’re disappointed about that. “Aren’t there other bedrooms on this floor?”
“Yes. But I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He rolled onto his side. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
She nodded, took her jeans off and slid into the bed next to him. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling until she finally said, “What if I don’t want you to be?”
There was a long pause and she thought he might be asleep. But then he said, “It’s not me—that’s New Orleans speaking.”
“I know what it is, Reid. It’s you. I don’t sleep with people I’m working with. At least I never did.”
He turned to and was on top of her in seconds, his speed and strength surprising her. “Is that why you’re retiring? You think you compromised that investigation?”
Shit. There was no way to escape his gaze. She didn’t even bother trying. “I did compromise it.”
“How? By nearly getting yourself killed? I compromised you, Grier. And it had nothing to do with the fact that we slept together.”
She wished she could believe that as staunchly as he seemed to. “I tried to tell myself that.” But her conscience had ached for a full year and a half. And even though she knew what she needed to do, it had taken her months to put in her resignation.
Leaving a job she’d fought to get, a job she loved, broke her heart. But she had to stay true to herself. “You were a suspect. You and Kell had my witness.”
“To keep her safe.”
“I could’ve put you behind bars for obstruction. Should’ve.”
“The only reason you didn’t was because you knew it wouldn’t do you any good. I wouldn’t break and tell you anything. You knew everything I did was for Teddie’s good.”
“And suppose I’d been wrong?”
“You weren’t.”
“Reid, I’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“I’m sure. Maybe too much.” He pushed off her, leaned back on his knees, straddling her prone body.
“Reid, you can’t feel guilty about this.”
“Yeah, okay,” he muttered. “You’re not getting laid.”
“That’s supposed to be the girl’s line.”
“So not getting laid,” he said darkly.
She reached up and pulled him back down by his shoulders. He offered little resistance but he was upset.
“I have to make my own decisions about this,” she said.
“You do too much good in your job. Did you weigh in that factor? Think about all the people you could keep helping.” Reid paused. “I get the morality aspect. I really do. But you’ve got to find your line, draw it where it does the most good and then not step over it.”
She wound her fingers through his hair. “Make love to me.”
“If I do, that doesn’t mean I condone your retirement.”
“Noted.”
“This whole thing’s going to cost you.”
“It always does,” she murmurs. “This time, I don’t think I’ll mind it at all.”
“Whether you do or not, I’m taking that choice away from you,” he warned.
She’d always been uninhibited in bed, but before Reid, she’d never had a partner who was willing to be equally adventurous or as domineering as he was. Maybe the other men she’d been with thought she wouldn’t like it or tolerate it. Maybe they would’ve been right, but Reid wasn’t giving her that choice.
I’m taking your choice away from you.
And that appeared to be exactly what she needed. Before she could do anything, he’d taken her wrists and held them down against her sides. His body was in between her legs, her thighs splayed for him.
“I have limits. Boundaries.”
“Too many of them,” he told her.
“And you have none.”
“So we need to balance one another out. I’ll start.” With that, he lifted her up and kicked open the balcony door. It was gated with high, tight wrought iron that you could only see over if you were standing.
With one foot, he turned the single chair out there around so it faced inside the room and placed her there. And then he began to strip off her clothes.
“Reid, we’re outside.”
“Yes.”
“We can’t—”
“We’ve got to get that word out of your vocabulary, Grier. You gotta live a little, chère.”
His drawl was deep, like Gunner’s. “You grew up here.”
He nodded. He’d
