by Louise, Tia
“Gray… oh…” My insides erupt in a shower of orgasm, fluttering and gripping.
“Drew,” he groans, thrusting faster.
He’s right there with me, rocking deeper until his muscles flex. His body goes rigid, and he holds, pulsing, groaning even deeper. It’s so sexy, another flutter of orgasm breaks through my insides.
His lips are on my cheek, pulling the skin in a kiss. He moves higher, behind my ear, and I moan, my back arches as waves of bliss flood my lower stomach.
I feel his cheeks lift in a smile. “That spot still works.”
Warmth fills my chest at his smile, at having him here with me, inside me, remembering where to touch me, kiss me. I hold him closer, smiling so big my cheeks ache. “You know all the places I love. You found them all.”
He pulls away, lifting onto an elbow and gazing down at my face with so much affection. “Any new freckles?”
My stomach squeezes at his question. My eyes heat, and I have to blink away the mist. I don’t want to cry. I’m so happy.
“I don’t know. You have to check.” Lifting my chin I turn my face side to side in the light of my bedside lamp.
“Ned is still there.” His finger traces the side of my nose. “What’s this?”
“What?”
His lips touch my temple. “A new one.”
My eyes slide to the side. “You’re kidding.”
“We have a new freckle right here. Tanya the temple freckle.”
“I’m not sure that one’s new.”
“Are you trying to say I don’t know every freckle on your face?”
I can’t help it, I start to laugh. I’m too happy to hold it back, only it pushes him out. We both make a sad noise, which makes me laugh more. When I catch his eyes, he’s smiling, gathering me closer in his arms and kissing my lips.
“We need to get you cleaned up.” He pushes off the bed, taking that fine ass into my bathroom again.
I lay there listening as he runs water in the tub. “I don’t think we can both fit in there,” I call.
He’s back, ignoring my concerns. That cloth is in his hand again, and he touches me gently with it before lifting me in his arms. “Come on.”
In the bathroom, he lowers me to my feet, and I watch as he steps into the foamy water.
“Where did you find bubbles?” I look around and see an old bottle of spa gel. “I’m pretty sure that’s three years old.”
“Still smells good.” He sits with his back to the wall.
I step into the tub, between his legs. “How are we doing this?”
The fixture is just wide enough for him. I’m about to laugh, but he guides me down to sitting, facing him. A fresh cloth is in his hands, and he swirls a bar of soap in it, creating lather before smoothing it along the tops of my shoulders, down my arms, softly over my breasts.
His eyes are so serious as he follows the path of his hands. He looks at me as if I’m something so precious. I reach out and touch his cheek, tracing my fingers over his lips, which pucker out to kiss them.
“What happened tonight?” I ask in a soft voice.
His eyes wince ever so slightly, like I pressed a tender spot. I’m afraid he won’t tell me, but he does.
“This body is so precious to me.” His voice is quiet, thick. “I couldn’t stop seeing it broken, bleeding. I couldn’t stop seeing you hurt.”
The pain in his voice aches in my chest. I reach out to hold his neck, putting my forehead against his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run away from you.”
His hands stop washing me, and go to my waist. Palms against skin, we hold each other, and for a moment, we’re quiet, breathing each other’s breath, knowing we’re here together.
Until he clears his throat and straightens. His blue eyes are stormy again, pulling away. “I guess I overreacted.”
My brow furrows. I want to stop him from saying these things. I want to tell him if he’s suffering from PTSD, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I can help him, or help him find help. He doesn’t give me the chance.
Scooping water in his hands, he washes the foam away. Next he takes both my palms and helps us stand, catching a thick towel off the lavatory.
“Are you hungry?” He quickly dries his body before passing it to me. “I’m starving.”
“Did you sit at the bar the whole time just watching us?”
“I kept wanting to leave, but shit kept happening.”
I think back over the evening as I slip into a pair of lacy boy shorts. “Nothing happened. We talked about almonds.”
His loud laugh makes me smile and look up. The towel is tied around his waist, and he’s just so delicious. I walk over and put my hand on his stomach.
“I missed your laugh.”
He covers my hand with his, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Let’s eat before I get other ideas.”
“I don’t mind other ideas.” My voice is a little pouty, although, to be honest, I have worked up an appetite.
Gray is out of the bathroom and across the hall. “Any chance I left any clothes here from before?”
I’m in my bedroom, pulling out an oversized long-sleeved button-up shirt. The closer I look, I’m sure it probably once belonged to either Gray or Danny.
“You’re bigger now than when you left.” I walk out to the hallway, trying to think. All of our clothes are in the dryer. “My dad might have something that would fit you.”
“It’d be pretty old.” He follows me to the other side of the second floor, to a room that hasn’t been used in ages.
I open the drawer, and the scent of ancient cologne meets my nose. It’s something from another time. I shuffle through, only finding a few pair of old socks and a cummerbund.
“What in the world?” My voice trails off, but Gray interrupts me.
“Check this out.” He pulls out a shirt that has a big Fayz logo on the front. “I think this will fit.”
He pulls it on, and I dig out a pair of gray sweatpants. “Try these.”
“Perfect.” He steps back, and I have to agree.
The tee is just snug enough to show off his muscles, and I’m not sure those sweatpants can be legal the way his junk swings low in them.
“You’d better stop looking at me like that.” He chuckles, catching my chin and kissing me quickly on the lips. “I’m going to see what’s left here to eat.”
“I ordered some groceries earlier today. They should have been delivered.”
He heads out of the bedroom, and I run back to grab a pair of micro cutoffs before following him downstairs. I straighten the bed and put the towels on the rack, and when I arrive in the kitchen, he’s opened a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses.
“I see you found them.”
A loaf of bread is on the counter, and he’s in the refrigerator, pulling out a block of cheese and butter.
“This all seems pretty fresh.”
“Yeah, I was saying they were delivered earlier today.”
He nods, clicking on the stovetop. “Smart.”
I lean against the counter. The wine is in my hand, and I take a sip, nodding at the flavor. “It’s good, ripe cherries.”
He has four pieces of bread arranged in a square and quickly covers them with thick slices of cheese. I walk over to the speaker and turn on the music. It’s Marvin Gaye, and he glances up, giving me a sly smile before arranging our food in the frying pan.
The delicious aroma of warm butter and melting cheese makes my stomach growl, and I take another sip of wine. It’s so homey and warm, watching him make us supper. I have so many questions to ask him, so much I want to know, but tonight we’re taking it slow.
“Tell me about Dover.” I sit on the edge of the bar, watching him work. “Is it pretty? I’ve never been.”
He leans down to check the food, and his dark hair falls over his brow. I want to curl it around my finger. He straightens and our eyes meet. It makes my stomach flutter.
“I guess. It’s historic, old.” He shrugs and uses the
spatula to flip the sandwiches. “We weren’t really in the city proper. Their place is a little north, on the coast.”
“It sounds pretty.”
“I didn’t get around much. I was mostly at the hospital.”
“Oh.” I let the questions go.
I want to let him open to me in his own time. Now it feels like I was digging into his past. He scoops the sandwiches onto a plate and cuts them in half. Then he switches off the heat, moving the cooking utensils into the sink.
I’m waiting, sitting on the bar when he walks over to me, smiling and holding the plate. “See what you think.”
He sets the plate beside me, and I lift a hot, drippy triangle of bread. He does the same. We both take careful bites from the corners, and my mouth fills with tangy, warm, comforting grilled cheese.
I make a little groan as I drop the hot slice on the plate again. “It’s so good!”
He nods, grinning, then sets his piece on the plate again, stepping between my legs and wrapping his arms around my waist. It’s so sudden and unexpected, my breath catches. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him.
Our chests are together, and I can feel his heart beating strong. It’s only a momentary hug. He steps away, smiling into my eyes as he lets me go and picks up his sandwich again.
I feel a little wobbly from his display of affection. “What was that for?”
He takes another, bigger bite. “Just needed to feel you in my arms again.”
My entire body melts at his words, at his touch. I’m a pillar of sensation, waiting for another hit of my favorite drug. It’s so seductive.
Al Green sings softly in the background about staying together, and Gray finishes his sandwich in three bites. He takes a long sip of wine, and puts the glass down.
“It’s your favorite song.” I’ve only eaten half of my sandwich. My stomach is so tingly, I’m not sure I can eat, even thought my shrimp salad abandoned me an hour ago.
“One of them.” He smiles down at me. “Finished?”
“For now.”
He takes the plates and puts them in the sink. While his back is turned, I unbutton another button on my shirt, so it can easily slip off one shoulder.
When he’s done, he returns to where I sit, standing between my thighs again. I put a hand on his shoulder, watching him, mesmerized by him like always. His eyes trace the line of my collar bone, and my breath is a little faster.
He clinks the wine glass in my hand. “Cheers.”
We both take another sip, and his brows pull together. They always do that when he’s focusing on something. Gray can be so focused.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, hoping he might open up more, let me all the way inside those walls.
“What happened to your dad?”
It’s not the question I expected and not a topic I really want to discuss. Still, if I want him to open up to me…
“He never was right after Mamma died.” I tilt the wine glass side to side, choosing my words. “You know that.”
“I remember he didn’t like to leave the house.” His warm hand is on my bare leg, sliding up and down in a soothing way.
“He started drinking more after Danny died. He kind of went on a bender. I think he was trying to kill himself.”
Gray’s eyes wince as if I kicked him really hard in the stomach. He’s quiet. He takes another sip of wine.
Finally, he speaks. “He never liked me.”
“I’m not sure that’s exactly right. He was just over protective about me. After Mamma.”
He shakes his head. “He said I’d ruin you and run off.”
“Well, it’s too late for that.” I smile, resting my hand on the top of his. “I’m already ruined.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You used to say you wanted to help him. Have you?”
My chin drops, and I hate telling him the truth. “Not as much as I’d like. He’s pretty resistant to change.”
“I’m sure this, what we’re doing here,” He waves a finger back and forth between us. “Wouldn’t make him happy at all.”
I catch his finger in my fist and hold it against my chest. “The demons my daddy is fighting were around way before I met you. He needs help. ”
He twists his finger so my hand is in his. “It’s late. Let’s get some rest.”
“Will the truck and the Jag be okay tonight?” I look up at the clock and see it’s after midnight.
“Don’t worry about anything tonight.”
He helps me off the bar, and in my bare feet, my head comes to the center of his chest. I loosen one more button before reaching to put my hand on his neck. It causes my shirt to fall back, open more, showing off my lace bra underneath.
He’s so strong. His body has filled out, and he’s a man now, a sexy man I want to seduce. I slide my fingers down the muscles in his neck.
“Take me to bed,” I whisper.
He doesn’t make me ask twice.
Chapter 18
Gray
Lying in the cool night, the light of a full moon casts the room in silver, and I trace my finger down the line of Drew’s back. Her skin is like silk, it’s creamy and pale like the exposed pine beams in the vaulted ceiling over our heads.
This old place was built well. It’s a classic structure, sturdy and strong. But even it’s showing age, cracks in need of repair. It reminds me of myself, another cracked thing in her life. Drew is a princess, but her kingdom needs so much work. The men who should be her heroes are all broken.
Her daddy.
Me…
My mind returns to my breakdown earlier when I found her car on the side of the road. Waves of shame filter through my stomach at the memory of how messed up I was.
I couldn’t stop the flashes of fear, the abject terror I might find her the way I found all of those men in my unit. It shook me to the core to think of this beautiful body broken.
I was so fucking out of control. I barely remember running to this house. I do remember scanning the road, the woods, the grass, frantically searching for any sign she might have lost her way, for any signs of blood.
Another flash of worry hits my chest. When I found her here… I held her so tightly, I’m surprised I didn’t crush her. God, I was shaking in her arms. My brow tenses. I can’t burden her with this mess I’ve become. I can’t make her take care of me, too.
Her dad said I would ruin her life, but I don’t think he meant by being a burden on her. I should be able to take care of her, not the other way around.
Then she asked me not to walk away.
I’ve never been able to tell Drew no, but I’m not sure either of us expected our yes to be so primitive. After so much time apart, when I saw her body, the way she’s matured and changed… I was demanding, possessive, and wild. I couldn’t get enough. All my fears took a back seat to claiming her again.
Even tonight, after everything we’d done, I wanted more. I wanted to taste her. She asked me to take her to bed, and I lifted her in my arms, carrying her upstairs to this bedroom. Those cutoffs had been taunting me all through dinner, exposing the lower curve over her cute little ass.
I took my time sliding them down her long legs, before kissing my way up them again, moving between them, sliding my tongue up, down, around, and all over that tight little bud that makes her scream.
I love the way she comes on my mouth, her back arched, and her thighs trembling, her fingers fisting the sheets, my hair. She moans my name like she’s casting a spell. I’m under her spell.
I went to heaven when I sank into her again, so hot and soft and clenching.
Lying in the dark, holding her now, the guilt fights back with every heartbeat. Her daddy is even sicker than when I left, and it’s because of Danny. I have to tell her I was driving the truck. I have to tell her about the fight we had, and how I didn’t go to him right away. I let him die on the desert sand alone.
Every one of those men whose lives were in my care as I drove that truc
k died.
“Gray?” Drew’s soft voice cuts through my self-flagellation. Her sweet hand caresses my cheek. “Can’t you sleep?”
I reach up and cover her hand with mine. Once again, she’s saving me from myself. “I’ll sleep.”
“Okay.” She moves her cheek against my chest, and I hold her closer in my arms.
Her breath evens out to a warm whisper across my skin. She’s so beautiful, so perfect in my arms.
I want to pretend there’s nothing more to say, nothing that might cause her to blame me, to hate me. I want to pretend I’m not broken, half the man I used to be. But I am broken.
Somehow I’ve got to get free of this pain, this prison I’m living in every day. Only then can I come to her like I should be, whole, and ask her forgiveness.
Chapter 19
Drew
A cool breeze pushes through the open window of Gray’s truck as he drives us back to town. I look over at his dark hair flickering across his steel blue eyes, and when those pretty, pretty eyes meet mine, he gives me a little grin. A swirl of warmth surrounds me.
Everything changed this weekend, from his appearance at my door, wild desire and relief in his eyes, all the way to this morning, when he woke me before dawn, sinking deep between my thighs.
He reaches out to place his hand on my leg. I’m wearing my cutoffs again, and his palm rests so casually, so close to the part of me still tender from every time we made love. Goose bumps skate across my skin, and I lay my hand over his, threading our fingers, welcoming his touch.
His protective possession is so familiar—he feels the same, he smells the same—but I can tell he’s holding something back. I still haven’t made it completely inside the walls.
What will it take for him to be fully mine again?
“I’ll drop you off at your house, then I’ll head back to take care of the Jag.” He gives me a brief glance before returning his eyes to the road. “Hopefully, there’s not much damage.”
“Can you fix it if there is?” I hate the thought of telling my dad I bent his precious car.
“Depends. If it’s just a part that needs to be replaced, probably.” The muscle in his jaw moves as he thinks. “I don’t do body work, but I can find someone who does. Maybe Billy knows someone. I’ll let you know.”