Too Close to Resist

by Nicole Helm

  Grace wasn’t sure if it was sad or nice, but she closed her eyes to just embrace the moment, live in it, wallow in something that felt absolutely right.

  Kyle’s thumb traced her tattoo. “You never told me about yours,” he murmured against her ear.

  For some reason, it warmed her even more that he wanted to know something about her. “It’s a Native American morning star. My grandma Davenport grew up on a reservation and she had this purse with this design beaded in. She said it was her prized possession because the morning star represented strength and bravery.”

  “That suits you.”

  Grace didn’t know about that. “She used to say symbols had power. So I wanted something powerful to remind me to be strong and brave. I needed that.” Some of the joy at memory faded at the past tense. “Need it, I guess.”

  Kyle’s finger traced the diagonal again. “Symbol or not, you are strong and brave, Grace.”

  Emotion clogged her throat, so she only burrowed closer. It was nice someone thought so. “Do you remember any of your grandparents?”

  His body tensed and Grace frowned. It was a rather innocuous question for him to get tense about, but maybe his grandparents were as awful as his parents had been.

  But he didn’t say anything. Instead, silence stretched out, and Grace grew tense enough to match him.

  “No,” he said at length.

  Not exactly the look into his past she’d been hoping for, but at least he’d answered her. With Kyle, that was actually something.

  A loud bang on the door caused her and Kyle both to jump. “Christ, Kyle,” Jacob yelled. “The phone is ringing off the hook. Susan has the day off and you choose this as the one day you sleep in.” The pounding started again. “Are you dead or something?”

  Kyle clamped his hand over Grace’s mouth as she began to giggle. “I’ll be right there. Just give me a second or two.”

  Jacob said something she couldn’t catch, then cursed. “There’s the damn phone again. Be in my office in five.”

  Grace watched Kyle scurry into action, muttering to himself as he flung open his closet and pulled out some khakis and a polo. Grace loved watching him get dressed. Quickly, precisely, all focused Kyle.

  Until he pulled a pair of socks out of his drawer. Suddenly he stopped all his frantic movements and turned to her, perfectly folded over socks in hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “For? I’m just enjoying the show.”

  He shook his head, looked worriedly at the door. “I forgot Susan and Kelly were heading to Sioux City today to meet with their surrogate. I have to get to work. Any other day I’d—”

  Grace rested her chin on her knees, raised one eyebrow at him. “You’d what? Play hooky? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Fair enough.” He crossed over to the bed and sat next to her. “I’d consider it, though.”

  Grace kissed his cheek. “Very sweet of you.” She lingered, inhaling the scent of his soap or shampoo or aftershave or whatever was piney and decidedly male. She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth this time, then the other corner, then the other cheek.

  He groaned. “I have to go to work.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She slid into his lap, sank her mouth to his. His hands came up to her shoulders as if to pull her away, but they simply slid down until they rested at the small of her back.

  “Killing me,” Kyle murmured against her lips.

  “That’s the point.” She gave him one last peck, then slid off his lap to look for her clothes. “All right. Do you want me to go first or should you?”

  “If Jacob’s gone, why don’t you?” Kyle grimaced. “I’m going to need a minute to think about the appropriate kind of pipes for a century-old house.”

  Grace chuckled, pushing her legs into her jeans from last night, then pulling her shirt over her head. “If you find my bra, consider it a souvenir.” She loved this feeling. In-control, sexy, adult Grace. Who didn’t have to worry about a crazy ex-boyfriend.

  Since she didn’t want to be that girl, she’d be this woman instead.

  “Grace.”

  His expression was suddenly serious and it had her stomach doing flops and jitters. “Yeah.”

  “Last night.” He frowned, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before pushing off the bed. “Last night was very...special.” He grimaced again. “That sounds terrible. Last night was...”

  Grace crossed to him, gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Perfect.”

  His mouth curved and he pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Yes. Perfect.”

  “And if you want a repeat of perfect, just know I’ll be keeping my bedroom door unlocked.” She grinned and sauntered to the door, biting back a chuckle as Kyle groaned and stared at the ceiling.

  Grace stepped into the hallway, pulling the door closed as quietly as she could, and then bumped right into a scowling Jacob.

  It took everything she had not to laugh at the anger emanating off him. “Thought you went to answer the phone.”

  Jacob didn’t soften or falter. “You slept with him.”

  “Yup.”

  He shook his head in disgust. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, and then turned around and stalked down the hallway.

  Childish and petty as it may be, she stuck her tongue out at his retreating back. She was not going to let Jacob ruin any of the good she was squeezing out of life.

  * * *

  KYLE WAS JUST about caught up with all the phone calls he’d missed that morning, guilt and irritation threatening to ruin his good mood. But he thought of Grace in his bed and smiled as the caterer droned on about the menu for next week’s party.

  Mostly worth it. He couldn’t afford to linger in bed like that a lot, but once or twice wouldn’t kill him or MC. In fact, it would be downright good for him.

  He finally wrapped up the call, pulled up today’s schedule on the computer and formulated his afternoon to-do list. He was feeling good enough about life that he found himself whistling, and then he laughed because he’d never really known himself to whistle.

  Kyle checked the news and the whistling stopped. One of the leading stories on Bluff City’s news website was a piece about Grace’s fire and Barry’s being wanted for questioning.

  Kyle’s stomach turned. How easy it had been for him to put the threat of Barry on the back burner when he was enjoying life for once, but he doubted Grace felt the same. As happy as she’d seemed this morning, surely this whole thing was always in the back of her mind.

  He thought about last night, about being with Grace. Maybe, just maybe, Kyle had been a distraction and nothing more. But she’d sat with him that morning, hand in his, head on his shoulder. He had to believe she felt at least a little of what he did.

  Kyle x-ed out of the website. He would keep Grace safe and happy. Barry, wherever he was, wouldn’t get close enough to threaten her ever again.

  Surely there was something he could do to make sure of it. Maybe if he talked to Jacob, they could figure something out. Something that wouldn’t smother her, but would keep her mostly inside the house for the next few days. Maybe something with her painting.

  Kyle left his office, descended the stairs, found Jacob pacing the rarely used sitting room. When Jacob saw Kyle, he practically growled.

  “You slept with my sister.”

  Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. Well, that was fine. Not having secrets about him and Grace was for the best. Jacob would have to get used to it, and maybe if he realized they were good together, he’d get over this misplaced anger.

  “Yes, I did. But that’s really not your business, Jacob. Considering you were all but giving me your stamp of approval a few weeks ago—”

  The blow was so unexpected, so out of left field, Kyle barely had time to flinch before Jacob’s fist conn
ected with his face. Kyle stumbled back a few steps, nausea mixing with the radiating pain of bone-on-bone connection.

  He closed his eyes and saw his father, so he purposefully opened them back up. Focused on Jacob. His best friend. Who had just sucker punched him in the face.

  “You stay away from my sister. A few weeks ago was different. Now she’s scared and in danger and you’re taking advantage of her. You go near her again, and...and...”

  Kyle closed his eyes, no longer reminded of his childhood. No glimpses of his father now, because his best friend’s treating him like this was bad enough all in its own.

  He clenched his fists, because if he looked at Jacob the violence he felt in return might escape, and he wouldn’t let anyone, anyone, make him that person again. Dad was the sole owner of that title.

  Jacob pushed him against the wall and Kyle’s eyes popped open. “Do you understand?”

  Do it. Don’t do it. Do it. The chorus was loud and painful as he waited for Jacob’s next move, arms and jaw locked tight.

  Jacob’s face was twisted with fury, his breath coming in short, heavy bursts. “I should kick your ass.”

  Kyle jutted out his chin. “Go right ahead. I’m used to people whaling on me because they don’t have their own shit together.”

  Jacob’s fighter’s stance slumped and Kyle took the opportunity to walk past him. He needed to get ice on his cheek before a mark showed up, because the last thing he was going to do today was explain to Grace that her brother had punched him.

  His arms shook as he pulled a towel out of the drawer, shook so badly he dropped ice while trying to wrap it in the towel. Pathetic. After all, he should be used to this. He should know exactly how to act.

  But violence outside of brief, infrequent interactions with his father had been out of his life for ten long years, and now it was back, both from someone else and zinging through his own veins. It all mixed with a jumpy stomach and searing headache, so Kyle climbed the stairs, went to his room and crawled into bed.

  He held the ice to his cheek, willed the ice to freeze every part of him. He looked over at the rumpled pillow Grace had slept on last night.

  He cared about Grace. He liked her, wanted her. He wanted to soak up her light and warmth. Even with her dark hair and her small fit of anger the other day, even knowing she was still struggling with her own ordeal, he wanted what was between them to grow. To be.

  And it killed him that it put him at odds with his oldest friend, the one person who had been a constant in his life.

  But Jacob couldn’t offer what Grace could, and Kyle couldn’t let Jacob stand in the way of something good. Something right.

  * * *

  GRACE TRIED TO think of anything else, but something about being in the dark, lying in bed, made her brain, which had behaved itself all day, suddenly give her fits.

  When she closed her eyes, she saw the fire, or worse, Barry. When she opened her eyes she thought of everything she’d lost. Her stored paintings. Scrapbooks from high school. Her first and only love letter.

  All the power and anger she’d stored up the past day had melted away. In the dark, alone, she felt weak, afraid, empty.

  She willed herself to believe she’d wake up feeling better, or Kyle would come to her as she’d suggested that morning. She willed herself to believe this downtrodden, pathetic feeling wasn’t permanent, wouldn’t dog her forever.

  Barry would go back to jail eventually. What if they never find him? They would. He wasn’t that smart. Anyone who left evidence of starting a fire in their own place couldn’t escape the police forever.

  Barry would go back to jail and everything would be fine. Except you don’t have a house to go home to. Maybe she could get a job in Bluff City, pay rent to MC, really start living. Until Barry gets out again.

  The tears ran down her face, the wet, pathetic drops sliding down her cheek, neck and then onto the pillowcase. She should get up and paint. She’d been able to lose herself in painting all day. She should keep going until she was too exhausted to function. Then maybe her brain would shut the hell up long enough for her to sleep.

  She should go find Kyle. Be proactive. Like she’d been last night. What was wrong with doing the initiating all the time? Nothing, if it got her what she wanted. A distraction. Actually, Kyle was more than that. Sex with him was, like he’d said this morning, special.

  Three precise raps sounded at the door, followed by it creaking open and Kyle whispering her name.

  Thank God. Thank God. She hadn’t thought last night, and now she wouldn’t have to think again. “Come in.” The door closed, and since her eyes were adjusted to the dark she could see his outline slowly move toward the bed.

  “It’s late. I thought maybe you had changed your mind.”

  His breath was audible in the silence of the room. “I thought maybe...I shouldn’t. There’s a lot to do with the party and...” He trailed off.

  “So what changed your mind?” she asked when he never offered an explanation.

  “I just wanted to be with you.”

  It soothed some of the pain away. That someone just wanted to be with her, even though something horrible had happened. Even though she was in danger, someone needed her. Just another thing Kyle offered no one else could.

  Though she’d been crying and didn’t want him to see that, she also didn’t want him to trip and send Jacob running. “Come here. You can turn on the lights.”

  “No. No, that’s okay.” Footsteps, rustling, then he was in bed next to her, pulling her close, burying his nose in her hair.

  Grace squeezed her eyes shut, snuggled closer. When his fingertips brushed her face she winced. There was no way he’d mistake the wetness on her face for anything but tears.

  “You’ve been crying,” he murmured, kissing her temple, smoothing a hand down her back.

  “Just a little.”

  He didn’t ask her what was wrong or tell her it was going to be okay, he just held her, rubbing calming circles over her back. Which almost had her crying for a completely different reason.

  “I’m glad you came,” she mumbled into his chest. At first it felt silly to say, awkward and pathetic, but he sighed against her neck and some of the tension she hadn’t noticed in his shoulders relaxed.

  Maybe it was something he needed to hear. That she wanted him there, needed a comfort only he seemed able to give. And the way he held on to her, just a fraction tighter than necessary, made her think maybe he was sad, too. After all, the way Kyle could be, had been, she doubted he had too many people telling him they were happy he was around.

  “I’m just glad you’re here,” he murmured against her ear before kissing the sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. “I might not stay tonight. I have to be up early. Really early. But I wanted to be with you for a little bit.”

  Then he kissed her temple, her nose, moving his face until they were nose to nose, forehead to forehead. She could barely make out the features of his face, the square jaw, the high cheekbones, imperfect nose. Handsome and kind and a little wounded himself.

  He brushed his thumb across her jawline, his fingertips glancing her cheekbones. All light, feathery touches like a blind man might touch a beloved object.

  Grace’s stomach flipped as if she was on the incline of a roller coaster. Her heart shuddered when he kissed her forehead. As though she was precious, important, loved.

  Frightening and wonderful and dizzying to think that might be the case. Since she didn’t want to dwell on the frightening, just the wonderful, she wound her arms around his neck. “Make love to me, Kyle.”

  His mouth met hers, soft but maybe a little desperate. And it was right. Even if things weren’t, this was. His hands touching her skin, his tongue skimming her lips. She yanked at his shirt until he pulled away and discarded it. Then he pulled
her shirt off and they both groaned as his palm found her bare breast.

  Then they both laughed breathlessly as they shushed each other, shedding the remainder of their clothes. He shifted on top of her, the hard lines of his body pressing her into the mattress, his thumb brushing her nipple until she arched up against him.

  Everything about him was long and hard and perfect. She clutched his shoulders as his mouth lavished attention on her breasts, then her stomach, then lower. He kissed the insides of her thighs, then licked and nibbled and sucked until she was nothing more than a quivering mass of need.

  Then he touched her, slid a finger inside, slowly moving in and out until the climax ran through her like a delicious wave of heat. Kyle took his time kissing his way back up her body, so that by the time his mouth was on her neck, she wanted more. So much more.

  “I have condoms in the nightstand.”

  His weight shifted, and she heard him briefly shuffle through the drawer until he was above her again, resting between her legs, slowly entering her. Their breaths escaped in twin gusts of satisfaction, of rightness. And then he loved her exactly as she needed him to, slowly and intimately until they grasped each other through their climaxes.

  His weight shifted to the side, but he held on, keeping her close. “We’re going to have to do this in the light some time. I want to see you. Us. I want...” He let out a frustrated laugh. “Okay, I’m shutting up now.”

  “Why?”

  “I sound like an idiot,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face.

  Grace nestled her nose into the curve of his shoulder. Soft skin over hard muscle. “You sound like exactly what I need.”

  “Good.” He kissed her temple. “Give me a second.” He slipped out of bed, moved across the room, fumbling in the dark. The distinctive sounds of tissue leaving its box followed by the rustle of the garbage can liner echoing in the silence. When he returned, he didn’t slip back into bed.

  He sighed heavily. “I should go back to my room. If your brother...” He grunted. “We need to...” Another incomplete sentence, another frustrated sound.