Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Eighteen

“That’s the crux of the debacle I made of tonight,” Grissom explained. “I’ve never truly been in love before, at least not until my boys were born. Them, I love with my whole heart. Always will. Don’t have a clue how not to. Have you ever, umm, been in love?”

He’d stepped over the line with Tuesday the way he’d gone caveman on her before. He’d damned near lost his mind once he’d had her soft, compliant body strapped over his hips. He’d embarrassed himself, like an inexperienced teenage boy after his first wet dream.

There was no excuse. Nothing that happened today was her fault, and he’d never blame her for his lack of control. The problem was all him. His experience with women had always been a contest of wills, of will she or won’t she? Does she or doesn’t she? And honestly, most of them wouldn’t and didn’t. There was always something wrong and it was usually him. Which was why he avoided women, except for the occasional hooker or tag chaser. He’d never been with a genuinely classy lady like Tuesday. Not only was she smart and capable of taking care of herself, she was drop-dead gorgeous, and he was weak. Damned weak.

“Just my dad,” she croaked, licking her lips.

Grissom’s cock noticed those succulent lips, the horny bugger. Strawberries. That was what they were, juicy, sweet strawberries he wanted to taste, lick, and bite. Her lips were slick from her tongue, but bruised from his kisses. It was hard not to stare at the delicate Cupid’s bow of her top lip, perfectly matched against the plump cushion of her swollen bottom lip. One taste of her was all it took. He was thoroughly, impossibly addicted to this amazing woman.

But Tuesday was tired and nervous, still not making solid eye contact. He wanted to kick his own ass for frightening her, so he turned his head and faced the fire instead. Shoving the heel of one hand against his zipper to adjust himself, he hoped she didn’t notice how tight his pants were.

Tuesday hadn’t a clue what simply licking her lips was doing to him, and that was part of her charm. Inexperienced and innocent American women her age were unheard of these days. She’d seemed more confident before, but that illusion had faded. Now, she sat at the opposite end of the couch. Away from him. He didn’t blame her.

Grissom stayed at his end. “Please, d-d-don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve got to stop licking your lips,” he told the fireplace. “Because right now, I’m as close to losing it as I was before.”

“Losing what?”

He closed his eyes. That right there—her complete lack of sophistication—killed him. It was unfathomable. Obviously, she didn’t watch much television, not like that was a surprise. Nothing on American TV was family-oriented anymore anyway, and don’t get him started on those trashy reality shows.

“Of losing control.” Grissom turned to face Tuesday, his eyes tracking her reaction. “Every time your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, I have a vision of you and me mashed together, and” —he raked his fingers over his beard— “you know biology, right? The physical differences between men and women?”

“Sure, I know that. I’m not stupid.”

“I never thought you were. But there are different ways a man shows a woman he loves her, and for a woman to express her love in return... if she wants to, sometimes, mouths and lips and tongues get involved in different places and…” This was a conversation for the records. One Grissom thought he’d have one day in the far, far-off future. With Tanner. Maybe.

He did have Tuesday’s undivided attention, though. The cords in her throat tightened as she swallowed. “You mean, men and women kiss each other… down there?”

“Yes, down there,” he explained, gentling his voice even more. “Love between a man and woman is sacred. Whatever they want to do is no one else’s business. You never watched, um, porn?” He let that question trail away, hoping he wasn’t embarrassing her. Also hoping she wasn’t into porn because it was a far cry from anything sacred. Hoping he’d get to be the man who taught her about sex. Wouldn’t that be a miracle? A loser like him, blessed to love, honor, and protect a treasure like her? To teach her the finer points of marital bliss? Not that he had any experience in the bliss department. He was no virgin. He’d watched his share of porn as a teenager, and God knew what a mess his marriage had been.

Tuesday blinked those big, beautiful green eyes at him. “No, never. Why would I? It didn’t seem smart to play around with something I’d never, umm, have.” Her answer was full of worry as if he’d asked if she’d ever murdered anyone.

And Grissom fell in love with her all over again. What had he ever done to deserve a woman as sweet and pure as Tuesday?

“Play is the perfect word for what should go on between a man and woman if they truly care for each other,” he answered nervously. He’d never actually played during sex, not like he might with Tuesday. Until tonight, he hadn’t thought making love could be anything more than duty, especially after his shotgun marriage with What’s-Her-Name . All she’d wanted at the beginning was ‘Slam, bam, thank you, ma’am,’ and all she got afterward was nothing. She’d tricked him into marriage; he’d never loved her, and she’d sure as shit never liked him. Well, except for that first night. She must’ve liked him enough to keep the condom.

“I’ll be honest,” Grissom continued, thinking carefully how best to speak with this woman without making her feel more insecure. “Us guys get turned on by just about everything the woman we love does, with her hips, her lips, her eyelashes, hell, even if she flips her hair over her shoulder a certain way. By the way she walks and the shape of her lips when she talks. Hell, sometimes all she’s got to do is breathe, and we’re revved up and ready to go. As for me? Well” —he cleared his throat— “it’s been years since any woman turned me on, and for sure, it wasn’t my wife. Because you’re so sweet and, okay, innocent and the most genuine woman I’ve ever met, I lost control before, and I scared you. I’m sorry.”

“You want to… to play with me?” Her eyes narrowed like she was trying to understand.

Grissom nodded, hoping he was making his intentions clear. “Yes, I do. I’ve fallen in love with you at least a dozen times today. And every time, it’s because of how your eyes shine when you looked at me or my sons. How kindly you told Persia you would’ve sliced those apples for her. How you let me kiss you in the kitchen. It’s a hundred little things. You’re something else, Tuesday Smart.”

Lifting her index finger, she scratched her chin. “You love me?”

“Yes. I know it’s too soon, but I can’t hold it in any longer. Honest. If this wild, crazy, bubbly feeling in my gut is love, I want more of it. I want all of it, all of you. Only you. Would you… Would you mind if I… if I… Would you at least let me hold you while we talk?” He hoped so. Grissom extended an open hand, fully expecting rejection.

Tuesday’s head bobbed. “Okay.” Not ‘I guess, if I have to.’ Not ‘Hell, no, never, you creep. ’ Just that one sweet little word: ‘Okay.’

A chestnut cascade rippled over her shoulders when, at last, she was back in his arms. The moment her body sank against his and her legs stretched across the cushions, the tension in Grissom’s world evaporated. Tuesday snuggled under his chin, as if she hadn’t been planning to leave him only moments earlier. Her poor heart still fluttered like she’d swallowed a butterfly. A big butterfly.

Grissom leaned back into the corner of the couch, taking her with him, keeping her tucked in close. Dipping his nose to the top of her head, he closed his eyes and swallowed a deep breath of roses in-bloom. Maybe she’d feel better if she knew his story. “I was never one of the popular kids in school. My mom…” His chest heaved. “Which is why I married a woman just like her, I guess. Role models and all that crap.”

“It might be best if you start at the beginning,” she murmured.

So he did. He told Tuesday how badly his mother had always treated his dad, how she’d slap, punch, and kick him, then laugh it off like it was fun and games. “She had no problem cuffing Dad in public, and whatever she dished out, he always took. Oh, he’d flinch because Mom knew where and how to hurt him, but, yeah…” Grissom’s cheeks puffed with the years’ worth of pent-up abuses he’d witnessed at home. “Growing up, I thought all mothers treated their husbands and kids like crap. I thought it was normal.”

“Sure you’d think that. That was all you knew. You had nothing to compare her with. Assuming you had no grandparents.”

Grissom shook his head. “She hated Dad’s family, so no, we never visited them, and they weren’t allowed to visit us. Her mom was tougher and meaner than Mom, though. It took me getting Tanner back home to realize I’m the product of generations of spousal abuse.” He held a hand up to silence whatever Tuesday might say next. “But also, to decide, once and for all, that shit ends here and now with me.”

“Sounds like your wife and Maeve Astor were wicked twin sisters.”

“Wicked’s a good word for them. Tanner finally told me how Pam slapped him behind my back or when I was gone. She made sure he knew she liked Luke, but she hated him. She threatened that if he ever told me what she said or did, she’d kill Luke and make him watch. I’m glad she’s gone. Only wish I’d pulled my head out of my ass sooner and—”

“Shhhhh, don’t say that,” Tuesday whispered, gathering his fisted hand into her lap. Carefully, she straightened his fingers and interlaced them with hers. “We don’t want to wake your boys, and honestly, we only know what we know, when we know it. You’re not responsible for what your mother did to you or to your dad. That’s on her and, in the end, she’ll pay for it, just like Pam did. Your mother’s abuse triggered your survival instincts, that’s all. Even a tiny baby will turn away from pain, and you had to learn very early how to live around everything she dished out. How could you have known otherwise? Unfortunately, early role models establish our benchmark for normalcy, and those hard lessons become the lenses we view the world through from then on.”

“Yeah, well…” Grissom lifted their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll make it up to my boys. They’re everything to me.”

“As they should be. But Grissom—?” Tuesday’s delicate frame froze, a sign he was beginning to realize meant she was worried, frightened, or thinking too hard.

“What? Ask me anything.” Using his softest voice, he continued with, “Honest, I’ve got nothing to hide. I’m an open book, and if we have the slightest chance of staying together after the mess I made of tonight, we need to communicate. True?”

She took a deep breath. “True, but this is happening awfully fast. Do you want me to stay?”

He pulled her closer. “Yes. Unless I’ve scared you and you’d rather not. You came into my boys’ lives like an angel, and I’m not willing to let you go back to heaven yet. Not just because of my boys, but because… Honestly? I’m a selfish bastard. I want to keep you.”

With the softest sigh, she leaned into his side and whispered, “Grissom.”

That was all—just his name—and tears sprang to his damned eyes. Striving for control and unable to speak, he pressed his lips to her temple and simply breathed in the sweet feminine essence that was Tuesday. Tanner’s birth had been the first ray of sunshine in his life, Luke, the second, and now, this incredible woman. She didn’t have to say she loved him, just speaking his name was enough for now.

“I’m not leaving,” she whispered, “not tonight. I had misgivings earlier. I didn’t want to do or say anything that might remind you of your wife. I didn’t know what to do with you. Sometimes you say all the right words, but then you clam up and shut me out.”

“I did do that,” he admitted without hesitation. “It’s a defense mechanism. I throw up walls and set boundaries when I panic, at least, that’s what my counselor says I’m doing.”

“Because you refuse to get hurt again.”

“Well, yeah, that and because my sons—”

“Because your sons , the same boys I rescued , are the best things in your life. Well, news flash. Tanner and Luke are the best things in my life, too.”

And there it was. Truth and confirmation laid out in perfect simplicity, by the woman who loved his sons, maybe as much as he did. The harsh, nasty hiss of his mother’s whispers in Grissom’s head vanished at the absolute purity in Tuesday’s words. “I can change,” he declared, meaning it with every beat of his heart.

“I don’t want you to change. I just want you to believe that I’ll never hurt you or your boys. Not even Pixie, who I still haven’t met.”

“I know,” he whispered, so damned hard in love with this woman he didn’t want to breathe without her. “I’ll give you a tour of the house tomorrow. You’ll see the cat then, but I am getting better. And I promise, I can change.”

“I like you the way you are,” she murmured against his lips. “You’re already perfect. But…”

He slid a hand beneath her hair to the nape of her neck. “But what? Spit it out. What are you afraid of?”

“Are your mom and dad still together?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, I was wondering if…”

Cocking his head, he rubbed tiny circles on the back of her neck to let her know there was nothing she could say or do that would change his feelings for her.

Tuesday’s throat muscles worked as she swallowed hard. Poor thing was still so nervous. “If your dad needs rescuing, too.”

Not what Grissom expected. “You mean… a way to get away from my mom?”

“At least a safe place to go where she can’t get at him. Somewhere he can have time to think, maybe get counseling and legal advice. Maybe learn how to defend himself.”

“I never thought about that. I mean, Dad’s had plenty of chances to leave Mom, at least, to press charges. He certainly has enough scars, but not once has he done anything to stop her. That’s a great idea, though. We could open a safe house for men like him and me. Only we’ll have to give it a manly name. Us guys don’t like to admit the little missus beats the shit out of us. We’ve got to remember that. Guys’ egos are important, but they’re also part of the problem. I never would’ve admitted it if—”

“If Pam hadn’t disappeared with your boys.”

Grissom licked his lips. His heart rate kicked into overdrive as that night in the asylum with Murphy, the night he’d finally realized everything he lost, came back to him. “Yeah, that. My head got scrambled pretty bad in that crash. Still don’t know why I was so drunk.”

“Walker said that’s how you coped with life.”

“Yeah, but…” Grissom slid his hand down Tuesday’s spine and let it rest on her hip. He pressed his chin to the top of her head, trying to remember. “I can hold my liquor. Always could. Been drinking since I was a teen and got my first taste of forgetfulness. No, I think someone slipped me a mickey, you know, a knockout drug or something.”

“When did you start drinking that day?”

“I honestly don’t know. Probably as soon as I got home from work.” He inhaled slowly, letting his lungs fill with the sweet perfume of Tuesday’s roses. Most of what Walker’d told him about that night, he couldn’t recall.

Tuesday’s tiny hand slid over Grissom’s chest, warming him. “What do you usually drink?”

“Bourbon. Cheap bourbon. Junior knows what I like. He takes care of me. Only I don’t think I got drunk at Junior’s.”

“Tell me what you do remember.”

“Good idea. Junior’s is in the District near the Potomac River. My place back then was in Silver Spring. I don’t recall being at Junior’s, not even riding my bike to get there. Can’t remember fighting the police or hitting that FedEx truck or… Hell, I don’t remember anything until I came to in that asylum. Murphy was there. I remember him.” Lifting his free hand up to his face, Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. Trying to remember hurt.

“Shady Creek Asylum.” Tuesday supplied the name he couldn’t ever seem to come up with. “Sounds like whatever triggered you happened before you left home.” With that, she wiggled off his lap and straddled his thighs again. “Maybe some kind of distraction would help your brain work better.”

Grissom’s blood supply fled south like a flood of snow melting in the Rockies.

Tuesday tipped forward, laced her tiny hands around the back of his neck, her fingers stretching up into his hair, and those luscious, plump breasts flattened against his chest.

He closed his eyes as the decadent warmth of her touch sent shivers up his spine. This woman wanted another chance. Thank God. Gripping her hips, he shifted her core over his stiff-as-a-plank cock, focused on keeping control as long as he could. If he could.

The heat spilling out of her body was already nuclear, and damn. Tuesday Smart was a damned fast learner.