Page 33 of Tides of Change (Seacliff Cove #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Ethan

Hours later, a trio of knocks sounded a quick tattoo on my door. “It’s me,” came Garrett’s muffled voice.

My pulse thrummed as I quickly unlocked the door. The moment I swung it open, a gust of cold, briny air rushed in with him, curling around us. I locked the door behind him. The click of the deadbolt was the exclamation mark at the end of the sentence.

Garrett’s mouth was set in a grim line, his posture rigid, as if the weight of his job pressed down on him. My stomach sank.

“Larson said canvassing the neighborhood was a bust. No one saw Finch or a suspicious character in a hoodie come or go. Unfamiliar cars were parked on the street, but Thanksgiving visitors could have been responsible. He ran the plates on any remaining unknown cars, but none were stolen.”

I exhaled slowly and frustration settled deep in my chest. It was as if Finch had vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but the photo—a taunt, a reminder that he was always watching.

The thought sent a prickle of unease down my spine, but even that couldn’t quite drown out the low hum of anticipation beneath my skin. Garrett was staying the night.

Sure, he was here to protect me. But the last time we’d spent the night together, we’d crossed an unspoken line, acknowledging something more between us.

Something fragile, new. I had spent years knowing who I was, what I wanted.

But Garrett was still navigating those waters, feeling out his own sexuality.

And so, I followed his lead, waiting, hoping.

I wondered if tonight we’d cross another line together.

Garrett set his duffel bag down with a heavy clunk, pulling me from my thoughts.

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in there? A copper pipe for the plumbing?”

My joke fell flat. Garrett’s lips didn’t even twitch. “My service revolver.”

I frowned, and my stomach tightened. “Is that necessary?”

His eyes, dark and serious, met mine. “I’m not taking any chances with you,” he said low, dangerous.

A shiver ran down my spine. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them, the raw protectiveness in his tone. Like he wasn’t just guarding me out of duty, but because losing me wasn’t an option he was willing to consider.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Okay,” I whispered.

Garrett nodded once, his expression unreadable, but I caught the flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. Tension coiled between us, a charged energy neither of us seemed ready to name.

He moved first. One second, we were standing in the thick silence, the next, he’d pressed me against the wall, his hands firm on my hips, his body crowding into mine.

The breath rushed out of my lungs, and my pulse hammered against my ribs.

Garrett’s grip tightened, and his fingertips dug into my sides like he needed to anchor himself—or maybe me.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice rough, but I heard the restraint, the barely leashed control behind the words.

I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted more.

Instead of answering, I reached for him, curled my fingers into the fabric of his sweater, and tugged him closer. His breath ghosted over my lips, and then he kissed me.

It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful. It was heat and pressure and raw intensity.

Garrett kissed like a man making up for lost time, like a man who had been holding back and refused to any longer.

His mouth moved against mine with purpose, with demand, and I met him every step of the way, drinking in the taste of him, the scent of him, the sheer force of him .

My world narrowed to the feel of Garrett—his broad frame pressing into me, the rough scrape of stubble against my skin, the intoxicating mix of power and tenderness in the way he took control.

Every other kiss I’d ever had felt distant, forgettable in comparison.

This was fire licking at my skin, setting every nerve alight.

Garrett groaned against my mouth. His fingers slid up my sides, over my ribs, and traced the outline of my body like he wanted to memorize it.

When he pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against mine, his chest rising and falling in time with my own, I barely had the strength to keep standing.

He exhaled a shaky breath. “Ethan…”

I swallowed hard, and my heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it. “Yes?”

He hesitated for a moment, and then he ground his hard cock into mine. “I want… I want to fuck you.” He sucked in air. “Is that something you’d want?”

My cock throbbed, onboard with the possibility. “Yes, I’m vers. And I’d love that.” With you.

“I don’t—you’ll have to lead the way.” His voice was unsteady, uncharacteristically unsure.

I reached up and cupped the back of his neck, tethering us both. “We’ll work it out. Together.”

Garrett let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but his grip on me never loosened. I saw it in his eyes—not just the protectiveness, but the desire, the want. The willingness to take this leap with me.

A shiver shot through me in anticipation, and then our lips met again in a scorching kiss. We staggered down the hall toward my bedroom, reluctant to release each other. We fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

He pulled back far enough to strip us of our clothing, tossing them to the floor. His hands roamed my chest, my abs—the sensitive area of my groin—as I arched off the bed and goosebumps rose on my skin. I whispered his name in reverence.

I turned away long enough to grab a bottle of lube from my nightstand drawer. “Do you have a condom?” I hoped he came prepared. I hadn’t brought any with me.

He vaulted off the bed, rummaged in his pockets until he found his wallet, and triumphantly held up a foil packet.

Thank God.

Garrett climbed onto the bed and eyed the lube. “How do I?—”

My pulse fluttered as Garrett looked down at me, his expression curious and open. I reached up, fingers brushing his jaw.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

He did—slowly, tenderly—like I was something fragile and worth holding on to.

His lips met mine with a warmth that stole the air from my lungs.

He broke away and peppered kisses down my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until he reached a nipple.

His tongue laved the sensitive skin, and I hissed in a breath.

“What else do you want?” he asked, low and husky, his pupils dilated.

I spread my legs and pulled them to my chest. “Grab the lube.” I taught him how to open me with his fingers—one finger, two, then three—and he was a fast learner. I was a trembling mess of need by the time he finished.

He rolled on a condom, coated his dick with more lube, and lined himself up. He licked his lips nervously and began to press inside. I breathed through the initial entry.

He watched me carefully as he slid farther into me. “You okay?”

I nodded. With his gaze locked on mine, the moment was even more intimate than the physical touch, but I couldn’t look away. I wanted this closeness of mind and body. With him.

As he inched into me, wonder mixed with pleasure crossed his face.

I thrummed with the pleasure-pain, and the discomfort receded.

He bottomed out, and we both groaned. He leaned forward to crush my lips with his. “Had to kiss you,” he said when he broke away. “You feel amazing. So tight. So hot.”

“And you fill me up.” More than just physically.

He thrust into me tenderly and gently. I hooked my legs around his waist and urged him on. I angled my hips, and he hit me in just…the right…spot. I gasped. “Yes! Like that.”

Garrett repeated the stroke. He propped himself on his hands and set up a rhythm guaranteed to push us both over the edge. “Too good. Can’t hold on much longer.” The cords on his neck strained.

“Right there with you.” I slipped a hand between us and gripped my steel-hard cock. It only took a few tugs before I said, “I’m—” Cum spurted onto my stomach in long ropes, and colorful fireworks burst behind my closed eyelids.

Garrett tumbled over the edge soon after, my name on his lips, as his dick pulsed inside me. He collapsed to his elbows and panted. “That was…that felt…right.”

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. That felt right to me, too.

After a few moments of clinging to him like I never wanted to let go, I caved to the inevitable and dropped my wobbly legs from his waist.

He gently pulled out of my tender hole, backed off the bed, and disappeared into my bathroom. Water ran, and then he returned with a warm, wet washcloth and cleaned me up, smiling softly.

Naked, we climbed under the covers. I snuggled against him, my head on his shoulder and my hand over his heart. I could get used to this. To making lo—having sex and then taking care of each other.

Could we have this closeness if I stayed in Seacliff Cove?

Would Garrett want me to stay after the danger passed, or was our relationship built entirely on the crisis?

Would it fizzle out once Ballard caught Finch?

The questions circled in my mind, relentless, impossible to answer.

The warmth of his body against mine grounded me, but my thoughts still churned with doubt.

One thing was certain—I was tired of being a sitting duck. I wanted to be proactive, not reactive. Could I end this stalking if I took charge? I exhaled slowly and steeled myself for the coming argument. “I want to turn the tables on Finch.”

Garrett’s body tensed beneath me, and his muscles tightened like bowstrings drawn too taut. His arm around my waist went rigid, and his voice dropped into a deep, dangerous growl. “Whatever you’re thinking, forget about it.”

But I wasn’t backing down. “I want to be in control for once,” I pressed. “I want to draw him out in public. He’ll be in the open, and you can arrest him.”

“No.” The finality in his tone was sharp as a knife. “I’m not using you as bait.”

I pushed up onto an elbow and met his scowl with my own. The shadows in the room carved hard lines into his face, and his eyes burned with emotions—fear, anger, something deeper that gave me hope for us as a couple.

“I’m going to have a book-signing at the bookstore,” I continued, unwavering. “There will be lots of people around, and I’ll be perfectly safe. Finch won’t be able to resist attending.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Call it a gut feeling,” I said, my voice softer, but no less determined. “Somehow, I feel like I know him. He’s…acting like a character would in one of my books.” My throat tightened. And if that was the case, the ending of this story wasn’t looking good for me.

I could hear his molars grind and see his jaw work as he tried to find a way to dissuade me. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You’d need a heavy presence from the sheriff’s department. I’d have to see if Larson can get Sarge to agree to that. Ballard is useless.”

Relief poured through me and left my chest light. He was considering it.

“I’ll set up the book-signing with Mason.” Resolve hardened my voice.

Garrett’s eyes searched mine. “You’re sure about this?”

I nodded. “I’m ending this. On my terms.”