Page 25 of Her Honorable Hero

“When was the last time you saw Hope?” Miranda asked.

“I don’t know. When I woke up, she was gone. I couldn’t go look for her. I’ve called out a couple of times when I heard people, but nobody has come by to help until you.” Then Susan did a head tilt toward the crumpled seat to her left. For the first time Miranda noted that a baby blanket was covering something. Now that she looked, she realized that Susan must have covered a body with Hope’s blanket.

“I would have kept calling, but it hurts to yell. Then I heard you calling out for me, so I called back. Thank God you had Jeremy.” She reached out and clutched Miranda’s wrist. “Can you find Hope?”

“Of course.” She’d also try to find Scarlett. She prayed that the two of them were together and healthy.

Please, God, let them be safe.

Please, God.

* * *

It tooka moment for Miranda to realize she wasn’t on the train. Instead, she was in her living room in San Diego three years later with Griff holding her so tight that she was having trouble breathing.

“Jesus, Miranda, I never knew.” Griff was actually trembling.

“Hey,” she crooned. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He sat up, taking her with him. “What the fuck do you mean it wasn’t that bad? It was a fucking nightmare.”

She pressed her hand against his lips. “Griffin, we got through this.”

Her breath caught when she saw the sheen of wet on his brown eyes.

“It was so close. So close. I almost lost you.”

His fingers tangled in her hair and he tilted her head. His lips slammed down on hers. He devoured her. In their three years together, he had never kissed her with such need. Such intensity. It was as if his life depended on it. Miranda’s nails clawed at his shoulders. His mouth bit at hers, possessing her body, ruling her soul.

Miranda capitulated. His dominion soothed her, it let her know that in this moment she didn’t have to be in control, that she could entirely trust someone else to take care of everything.

Griff ripped off her sleepshirt, flinging it over the side of the chair. He ripped her lace panties. Actually ripped them off her body. A thrill raced down her spine.

Miranda whimpered her need.

Griff’s head whipped up, his eyes seeking hers. “You with me?”

“I need you,” she ground out hoarsely.

He waited a beat.

“Now,” she demanded. “I need you, now.”

“You can never as much as I need you.” His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, setting her skin on fire. He slipped to the carpet and he stroked his hot hands up the insides of her legs, stretching her wide.

“Beautiful.” His voice was guttural.

She believed him. He parted her flesh with his thumbs, and feasted.

Miranda grabbed for the back of the chair, but she missed, her hands flailing uselessly as spirals of heat and passion hurtled through her body. How was this even possible?

Griffin was relentless. Every stab of his tongue touched off another jolt of sensation that had her crying his name. She was frantic with want, but as he adjusted his hold, pulling her closer, she heard him.

“Mine.”

Her face was wet, her head whipped back and forth, her hair sticking to her tears.

“Mine.”