Chronic (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 2) (2 page)

I WOKE IN THE MORNING groggy from sleep. For a few seconds, I almost forgot who I’d become, my heart remembering a time when I slept in this bed almost nightly, when Grant had been mine. Back then I had been loved, whole, beautiful. Last night, though I enjoyed pleasuring him, being in control, taking him in my mouth, afterwards I felt cheap. I wanted to make love to Grant. No . . . I wanted Grant to fuck me. Raw, hard, rough. But I wanted him to fuck Mia, not Ksenya. No matter what I did with Grant as Ksenya, I still loved him. But he was probably just having fun playing house with his newest Barbie doll.

I slipped into the T-shirt he’d left out for me, the scent of steak and eggs permeating the air.

I peered around the corner, watching my ex-boyfriend pouring coffee. Hero greeted me, licking my face. I rubbed his ear like he always liked, and he let out a groan.

I noticed Grant watching my interaction with Hero. Uh oh. I’d seen Hero with new people. He was fiercely protective of Grant, and would lunge at anyone for getting near his master. Hopefully Hero wouldn’t give me away.

“Morning, beautiful. Have a seat. I made you breakfast.” Grant motioned over to the reclaimed wood table that occupied his eat-in kitchen area; a warm smile graced his beautiful face. The mere sight of him made my chest tighten.

A steak topped with a fried egg awaited me, a glass of orange juice standing next to the plate. He placed the mug of steaming coffee next to me, and poured in hazelnut-flavored creamer. Dammit—I was a vegan. I’d had sushi on our date and still felt sick. But avoiding this food could raise suspicion. I wasn’t going to take any chances.

Grant used to make me breakfast every morning, no matter what time he had to go to work. Back in the day, he would always make me a special meal—tofu scramble with soyrizo. At the time, I didn’t realize how thoughtful that small act was, but now my gut wrenched thinking about how stupid I was to throw this wonderful man away. Maybe everything would be different if I had told him the truth about why I left him; maybe he would’ve forgiven me.

The problem was I didn’t really know the truth myself. Yes, I knew what had happened, but since I didn’t know who was to blame, I could never fully heal. I couldn’t move on. I was incapacitated with the daily reminder of the over looming shame that had become my existence.

I halted that train of thought right in its tracks because I could feel myself retreating. I straightened out my posture and fought to meet Grant’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Thank you. You did not have to cook for me this. It is sweet.” My knife sliced into the meat, blood squirting into the yolk of the egg. I took a deep breath, shoved a bite into my mouth and prayed that I wouldn’t gag.

Grant watched me intently. Was he testing me? A huge meat-centric breakfast for a stripper he’d known less than a week? Maybe this had become his
modus operandi
for all the women who spent the night in his bed. I was clearly being paranoid. He was probably just infatuated with the submissive character I was playing.

My face didn’t flinch as I chewed the gummy flesh. Perhaps I should’ve forced myself to eat meat for the past six months to prepare my stomach. “It tastes very good to me.”

He winked and that devilish smile crossed his lips. “Glad you like it, babe. I know this great steakhouse downtown. Maybe we can go sometime.”

I gave him a big, wide-eyed nod, batting my eyelash extensions, like this was the best date suggestion ever. “I’d love to go to there.” It would be a blast—I could don a cow costume and pour a bucket of red paint over my head to protest the slaughter of those magnificent animals. That would definitely be preferable than attempting to have a romantic dinner there.
I probably wouldn’t make it in the door without yakking all over the place.
I focused my energy on remembering not to bite my lip when I lied. Lord, Grant was already driving me crazy. With my luck, for our next date, he would suggest we go hunting.

He leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest. “So I’ve decided,” he said, and moved to scratch his jaw over his sexy morning growth that he hadn’t yet bothered to trim this morning. My eyes dropped to his fingers and I momentarily remembered peppering that jaw with butterfly kisses in the mornings to get him to wake up. “It’s time for you to quit Panthers.”

My eyes jumped back up to where they belonged because
what the fuck did he say?

“Quit? No, it may not be dream job, but it is job. What do I do to get the money if I quit? I am not hooker. I will not take it, your money.” Why was he taking such a personal interest in a stripper? I needed this job to exonerate my brother. This ruse wasn’t about pleasing Grant; it was about gathering information. I had to keep reminding myself that. He’d never take me back anyway. He was too proud; I’d hurt him too deeply. He deserved better than me—someone who would never deceive him like I had.

He reached across the table and took my hand. “I don’t want you working there anymore. That place is trashy. You’re better than that.”

My eyes scanned his face. Something was off. It was one thing to take a stripper back to his place, but wanting her to quit her job after two dates and a blowjob—not to mention no sex yet—didn’t seem natural. “It is very kind that you to want to make me better person, but I am not broken bird for you to fix it.”

His face didn’t register any anger. “Ksenya, I like you. You intrigue me. We could have something here. But you have to quit stripping.” His brow furrowed as he gave me his
I’m going to kill you
stare that was normally reserved for the SEAL recruits he trained. “I need to come clean. I’ve been lying to you. I don’t work in pharmaceutical sales. I’m a Navy SEAL. Do you know what that is?”

Orange juice dribbled down my chin. My heartbeat raced. He just told Kseyna the truth. Did he really want to let his guard down, let this foreign girl into his heart? A flash of anger took control of my mind. I’d purposely modeled Ksenya to be my opposite. Mia had been principled, ambitious, self-sufficient, and compassionate. Ksenya was none of those things. She took her clothes off for men, didn’t seem to have any real goals besides making money, was barely able to provide for herself financially, and was ice-cold. And physically Mia was soft and feminine, but certainly not a bombshell. After all these years, knowing that my soul mate could possibly find love with a woman with so many characteristics that I lacked gutted me. Maybe everything I thought was true was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. Maybe Grant never really loved me, he only thought he did, but in the years since I’d left, he’d come to discover the kind of woman who he truly wanted. A woman who was nothing like me.

Could it be possible that he was on to me? If he thought I was Mia, there was no way he would want me to get naked and entertain a bunch of men. A rolling heat loomed in my belly—I couldn’t read him at all. “I have heard of the Navy SEALs. You kill people, it is true? You are dangerous man.” My voice felt rushed and it should. I was beginning to feel nauseous and wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there so I could think.

He laughed, his eyes drilling into me like a laser beam directed at my soul. “We protect America. We save people, by whatever means necessary.” He formed his hands into a steeple, and I could see the muscles on his arms tighten. “I’m not dangerous to you. But I’m not going to get involved with a stripper and have other men checking out my girl. I don’t want you taking off your clothes for anyone. Only me. So that’s the offer. You quit stripping and I can help you find another job, or you can forget you ever met me. What’s it gonna be?”

My stomach rumbled more by the God damned second, maybe from the meat or maybe from my nerves. That, and I was lying to Grant and felt like I was a second from getting caught. He didn’t deserve this. I hadn’t thought this whole asinine plan out fully. Would he fall for another girl who would leave him, who would lie to him? I couldn’t do that to him again. I wanted to scream at him, hit him upside the head for wanting to get involved with a fucking stripper that he just met, but I couldn’t reveal myself yet.

I refused to lose focus; allow the guilt to make me become slothful in my pursuit. I was having a leisurely breakfast, nursing my coffee, while my brother remained incarcerated.

“No. I will not quit job if I do not get the new one. If you want to forget me, you do it—forget.”

His eyebrow rose as he gave me a glossy stare.

Checkmate.

He paused, that mind of his clearly plotting. “Fine. There’s this bar in Ocean Beach. I know the owner. I can get you a job as a bartender. You’re over twenty-one right? As long as you’re legal to work in this country, I can get you hired.”

The Pickled Frog? Kyle’s bar?
Hell yes!
I wanted to break out in song to celebrate, but I refused to count my chickens before they hatched—or as my Russian instructor Roman used to say, “Don’t divide the pelt of the bear not yet killed.”

I took a long sip of coffee, steadying my breath. I needed a moment to sit and reflect. I had already achieved my goals for working at Panthers: I’d investigated the strippers from when Tiffany worked there and found that the ones working there now barely knew her or the SEALs. The former strippers had vanished. Autumn, the girl I’d met last night at the party, had told me that she used to work at Panthers, but had since started working at an upscale club called Diamond downtown. She was with Grant the night of the murder. She’d given me her number and told me she thought I’d get hired. I needed to investigate Diamond.

My other goal for working at Panthers was to gain access to the SEALs. And I had done that; I was sitting in Grant’s place after spending the night. But Grant could cut me out at any second. No way was I going to quit my job unless I had another access point to the SEALs.

Time to switch strategies. “Very well. I will go. If I get job, then I do quit Panthers.”

“Deal.” He got up and knelt beside me, moving his hand up my thigh. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

Oh God.
Not physical contact. I was barely hanging on by a thread as it was. If Grant started touching me, I would surely blow this whole plan.

His eyes ran the length of my body slowly before they settled on my mouth. I fought every instinct in my body to stay still. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how good it felt to have your mouth on my cock,” he breathed, running his fingers over my lips.

Before I could react, he threw me over his back and led me into the bedroom.

After I’d given him head last night, I’d squelched any opportunity for him to go further, even though I had wanted to. I was dying to get truly intimate with him, but it was too risky.

Once he’d positioned me on the bed, he continued running his hands all over my body, exploring me. He started to undress me slowly, kissing all my skin that was revealed. He spent a lot of time at my breasts until it was almost torture. I’d been worried that my nipples would lose sensation with the implants—thank God that wasn’t the case. I closed my eyes and tried to fight the battling emotions inside of me. His touch felt like coming home and I wanted to bask in the sensations that I had gone too long without. At the same time, I wanted to rip his hands away from me and curl up into a ball because I didn’t deserve it. He pulled my panties down with his free hand, slipping his fingers inside of me. His body pressed into mine, his lips hovering over my own.

I closed my eyes, savoring this moment. Last night, I hadn’t allowed him to kiss me deeply, afraid he would find my mouth too familiar. All in order to dissuade him from thinking I was Mia. But this time, this kiss, I didn’t think—not about how to kiss him back, not about how to position my mouth, not about how to use my tongue.  This time, I allowed myself to feel and lose myself in the moment. I let my love for him guide my movements, my connection with him guide my heart.

I couldn’t get enough of his lips, his stubble grazing my chin. And for those few sweet minutes, there was no Joaquín, there was no Ksenya. Just Grant and Mia, back together again.