Cherish Her

by Johnston, Andrea

  “Off,” I order, tugging at his shirt. With a smirk, he lifts up slightly, ridding his amazing body of the offending garment. I’ve never thought of a shirt as offensive, yet here we are. Seeing him half naked has me declaring clothing a bad life choice.

  Ripples of muscles across his abdomen are inviting. I have no doubt I’m staring at him like my last meal. His chest is sprinkled with hair, dark with strands of silver poking through. It’s manly and sexy as hell. Dear lord, how is this man single? Whatever I’ve done to deserve him, thank you. I will keep doing it.

  Lifting his hands, he cups my breasts, my nipples hardening below the lacy fabric of my bra. Slowly, he pulls the edges, exposing more of my skin. Never losing eye contact, I run my fingers up his torso, lightly scraping his skin with my nails. Goosebumps pebble his skin and I lean down to kiss him but am stopped when he frees my breast from the cups of my bra.

  His tongue swirls one nipple while his thumb and forefinger pinch the other. The movement sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core. The buildup is slow but the result is the opposite. Like a flame deep inside of me igniting, I burn for his touch. His hips lift, grinding against my core.

  “Omigod.” I barely recognize my own voice. Panting I see flashes of bright light behind my eyes, consumed by the feeling building I rotate my hips.

  Grant’s grip on my waist tightens, his own sounds of euphoria louder than my own. Throwing my head back, I release a long moan as my orgasm explodes deep inside me. Pulling me close to him, Grant tucks my chin to the crook of his neck; a slow kiss to my shoulder causes my skin to pebble.

  Embarrassment of having just orgasmed while fully clothed by only a flick to my nipple, I begin to giggle. The action has my body shaking where I lie atop Grant. It isn’t long before he’s laughing too. In one motion, he rotates us to our sides, facing one another.

  Brushing hair from my face he doesn’t say anything, only stares at me. My giggles slow, the atmosphere around us crackling.

  “That was unexpected.”

  He can say that again. I feel my skin warm at his words and twist my body to move. “Not so fast. Are you okay?”

  I assess my feelings, allowing them to work through my body, head to toe. Worry that guilt and regret will consume me, I brace myself for the fallout. For the crashing emotions to take over. They never do. Instead, they peek around corners like a scared child. Over the years, I’ve wondered how I would feel in this scenario. Sharing moments, intimate moments, with a man other than my husband. How would I feel to give a part of me to someone else?

  Surprisingly, I feel relaxed. Sated and cared for. Thoughts of Jeff are in my heart, but I know there’s room for someone else. I don’t know if that person is Grant, but I have a feeling it may be. I want to believe the universe put this man in my life for a reason.

  “I feel slightly mortified but relaxed.” A slow grin appears on his handsome face and any humility I felt dissolves.

  “I’m the one who should be embarrassed. I think I need to use your washer.”

  Confused I open my mouth to speak when his eyes shoot to his leg. Eyes wide, I don’t bother stifling the obnoxious roar of laughter.

  “Shit. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll clean up in the restroom and head home.”

  “No!” I shout far too loudly. “I mean, you don’t have to leave. You can stay. The girls won’t be home until lunchtime.” That’s an excellent recovery if I do say so myself. Of course, I mentioned my children which probably just doused any passion he was feeling.

  “Are you sure? I know this was . . . well, a lot. I don’t want to rush you.”

  Leaning forward, I kiss him. It’s chaste at first. My intention to quiet him before he talks us both out of my offer. But, like every moment with Grant, it becomes more. Like a crescendo of a beautiful love song, the buildup is slow, and before I know it, I’m consumed by him. My body is flush to him and if we don’t stop, we’ll lose more of these damn clothes and take things further than I’m ready for.

  Pushing away, I gasp for breath. I don’t need to see myself to know my lips are beautifully swollen and my cheeks red from the scratches of his beard. Panting, I jump from the bed quickly, putting space between us. When he reaches for me, I point my finger in his direction and sternly give him a look I normally save for Arizona when she’s at her sassiest.

  Groaning, he throws himself onto his back, arm flung across his eyes. With a mind of its own, my gaze slides down his gloriously naked torso toward the very present bulge in his pants. Well then.

  “You owe me dessert, and we need to wash your pants,” I declare before rushing to the closet and shuffling around before finding a pair of sweats I wore during my pregnancy. I have no idea why I saved them, but I’m glad I did. Before I exit the closet, I kick off my jeans and slip on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank.

  “Here, put these on and bring your stuff to the laundry.”

  Spinning on my heel, I rush from the room and make my way to the kitchen. I need a little distance and a few minutes to gather myself. Who am I? Did I just make out on my bed like a teenager, dry humping my new boyfriend? Yes, I think I did. Is he my boyfriend? I mean, we’re obviously dating, and he did say it had been half the time we’ve known each other. Regardless, he better be my boyfriend by the way I threw myself at him.

  Pushing the thoughts aside, I assess the status of the abandoned ice cream from earlier and determine it’s a complete loss. Normally I’d mourn its demise, but considering what I got in return, I smile instead and toss it happily into the trash before pulling another from the freezer.

  Tossing the lid on the counter, I slide the spoon across the top and lift it to my lips when I hear Grant’s footsteps. Turning to look in his direction, I stop, spoon in my mouth, unable to take my eyes off him. He’s still shirtless and the sweats I gave him are sitting low on his hips.

  Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. Wow.

  Rubbing his head with a towel, droplets of water on his chest catch the light. Wow.

  “Thanks.”

  Shit. “Shut up.” Mortified, I turn my attention back to my ice cream while his chuckles disappear into the laundry room.

  Still giving myself a pep talk to get my act together, I feign the highest level of coolness when he sidles up beside me and takes the spoon from my hand, helping himself to my ice cream.

  “I’m serious, Dakota. I have no expectations of staying. I’ll head home.”

  An out. It’s one I can take and we’ll go about everything like business as usual. Only, I don’t want him to go. For the first time since leaving for recovery I’m not thinking of anyone but myself. My concern isn’t about what others will think, what Jeff would think. No, this is about me, and I want him here. This bubble we’ve created tonight feels right, and while I don’t know what dawn will bring, I don’t want this feeling to end.

  “I don’t want you to leave. It’s so unlike me but I’m taking a chance that this won’t blow up in my face. If the girls were home, things would be different, but they aren’t. I’d like you to stay.”

  Pulling the drawer open next to me, he slips a spoon out and dips it into the ice cream. Guess we’re having ice cream.

  Chapter 28

  Dakota

  Slowly, I peel my eyes open, the morning light bright in the room. Grant’s breath is warm on my neck, his arm wrapped around my midsection. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my bed with anyone other than my children. I’ll admit, this is much nicer than two pair of feet in my back or whacking me in the face.

  Allowing myself a few minutes to enjoy the feeling, a huge grin takes over my face as memories of last night flash through my mind. Grant’s kisses. His tongue on my body. The orgasm. Just thinking of the way I let myself go has my heart racing. We didn’t fool around again after our ice cream. Instead, we lay facing one another, our legs tangled up in the sheets and talked. We talked for hours about everything and nothing.

  As my eyes became too heavy to keep open, Grant mentioned
it was normally the hour he wakes each morning. Just like when he said it, the thought makes me cringe. Scarlett told me about Taylor’s insomnia and the memories of war that keep him awake. Grant saying he was an early riser didn’t surprise me. Most of his adult life was spent in the military, rising early and surviving on minimal sleep.

  Holding in a breath, I quietly slip my body out of his hold and off the bed. A chill sends a shiver up my body. The flimsy tank top and sleep shorts I’m wearing are not nearly warm enough to ward off the brisk morning. Before leaving the room, I turn and look at Grant. He said he doesn’t need a lot of sleep but you’d never know that by the way he’s snuggled up in the middle of my bed.

  I tug on a hoodie before padding my way down the hall. After a quick stop in the bathroom, I focus on the most important part of the morning. Coffee. And by the rumble of my stomach, breakfast.

  Music cued, I move around the kitchen, enjoying the alone time. Flipping the bacon, I lift the cup to my lips but don’t manage a sip when two warm hands land on my hips.

  “Mornin’.” Grant’s voice is gravelly and oh so sexy. He pushes my hair aside and kisses my neck.

  “Mmm . . . orning.” It’s a slow response but as long as he keeps doing what he’s doing with his mouth, I’m okay with it.

  With a final peck to my cheek, he releases his hold and shuffles around the kitchen making his coffee. Turning to face him, I note he’s slipped on his T-shirt but it doesn’t distract me from the way the sweats still hang on his hips. I never thought gray sweats on a man were sexy. In fact, I thought seeing men in sweats was kind of awkward with how everything shows. But, with Grant, it’s a welcome sight.

  His phone chirps, pulling my attention away from ogling him. The sound reminds me that I never plugged my phone in last night. It must still be in my purse, which is . . . hanging by the front door. Removing the last of the bacon from the pan and setting it on the plate with the rest of the slices, I shuffle to the front door to retrieve my cell phone. One look at the screen tells me it’s dead. That’s unusual for my phone. Of course, leaving it in my bag is also out of the norm.

  The sound of two voices when I appear in the kitchen startles me. Sitting at the breakfast bar, Grant is holding his phone before him laughing. The fine lines around his eyes only appear when it’s a full and happy smile or laugh. They are prominent now and I wonder who he could possibly be talking to when I hear the voice of an older gentleman.

  Slipping the plug into my phone, I set it down and sidle up beside him, draping an arm over his shoulder.

  “Mr. Wilkins, I presume,” I comment with only a portion of my face on the screen. The gentleman on the screen leans forward like he’ll see me better and neither Grant nor I hide our amusement.

  “Grant, move your fat head so I can see this lovely lady of yours.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Grant hands me the phone and vacates his seat, motioning for me to assume his position. Before he walks away, he kisses my cheek and points a finger at his friend.

  “Good morning, Dakota. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Although, I am worried you’re spending too much of your time with that fella of yours. We both know you could do better.”

  “Watch it, Gene,” Grant warns from the refrigerator. I smile as I peek around the phone and watch as he pulls eggs, cheese, and milk from the shelves.

  “I don’t know, Mr. Wilk—”

  “Gene, please.”

  Nodding, I settle in and get to know the gentleman that Grant told me about last night. I was shocked to learn he spent his time in Fayhill volunteering at a retirement and assisted living facility. Not because he was volunteering, but because I would have assumed he’d be working with veterans not the elderly. But as he pointed out, many of our elderly are veterans who either don’t have family or whose family is not in the area.

  The call with Gene isn’t long and I’m a little sad for it to end. Promising to chat again soon, Grant and I say our goodbyes before turning our attention to the delicious omelets he made. We eat in silence before my phone comes to life, a tremendous amount of alerts coming through. Not only texts but voicemail and email alerts. It isn’t unusual for me to receive several messages, but on a Sunday morning after my phone has been dead, it seems odd. I didn’t have any missed messages last I checked before we left Country Road.

  Curious, I slide off the stool and pull the phone from the charger. Resuming my position, I begin scrolling while sipping my coffee.

  “Everything okay?” Grants question startles me a little and I jolt before giggling in embarrassment.

  “Huh?”

  “You made a noise like you were confused.”

  I am confused. Not responding immediately, I continue to scroll and see a number of text messages from an unknown number. The rest are Thad. Of course they are. By the looks of things, he was up late and again early. I swear this guy has no concept of time or boundaries.

  “It’s just potential clients and one that is driving me crazy.”

  Setting his fork down, Grant turns to face me. His stature is rigid, which sends a chill down my spine. Not the excited and flirty chills he usually gives me. No, this is different. The look on his face is serious and causes me to pause.

  “What do you mean by driving you crazy?”

  Furrowing my brow, I tilt my head trying to decipher his tone. Angry? No. Confused? No. Concerned.

  “Relax, he’s harmless.” Reaching over, I clasp his hand and squeeze. Some of the tension in his shoulders releases but his jaw is still tight, eyes focused on me. “Thad is young and recently came into money. He’s itching to buy a property, but he can’t seem to figure out what he actually wants.”

  Setting the phone down, I turn my attention back to my breakfast, but he doesn’t do the same. Instead, he asks, “Do you have a safety protocol when you’re working?”

  Choking on my omelet, I compose myself and push the plate aside before spinning back to face him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Safety. Do you carry a weapon? Pepper spray? What about a safe word should you be in an uncomfortable situation?”

  Eyes wide, I don’t respond. His words are rushed, and it takes a minute to process what he’s asking. Do I have a plan for safety? I took a kickboxing class once but doubt that would save me in an emergency. Pepper spray? No. I don’t have anything more than two keys and a car fob. I doubt the fob would work as a weapon.

  “I uh . . .”

  “Not even pepper spray? Dakota, you put yourself in isolated spaces with strangers. You have to be careful.”

  Deep down I know he means well but regardless of what I know, my instinct is to defend. To put up a wall and protect myself.

  “Grant, I’m a grown woman and if push comes to shove I could protect my—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, the patter of feet and squeals catches both our attention. Rushing into the kitchen is Arizona with a huge smile on her face. One that immediately vanishes when she takes in the scene before her. Oh boy.

  “Who are you?”

  “Arizona. Don’t be rude. You met Mr. Grant before. Remember, he’s friends with Uncle Owie.”

  Grant snorts at the nickname and I smack his leg.

  “Hi honey, you really need to lock your—” My mom comes to stop in the entryway, losing her ability to speak while setting Cali down. Toddling over to me, Cali pauses, looking between Grant and me before raising her hands.

  “Up, pwease.” Her toothy grin is focused on Grant. Eyes wide, I look from her to him and back to her. Cali’s unfazed by the awkward silence and repeats her request only this time, with a stern tone.

  Picking her up, Grant settles her on his knee and looks at me like a deer in headlights. Shrugging, I turn my attention to my mom.

  “What are you all doing here so early? I wasn’t expecting you until closer to noon.” My tone is light but with a quirked brow my mom understands what I’m saying.

  “I tried calling but your phone went straight to v
oicemail. Perhaps you were still sleeping? It was early.” Her teasing isn’t lost on me, and I simply roll my eyes in response. “Someone lost a tooth last night but since the tooth fairy didn’t know where the girls were staying she didn’t make her stop. Ari wanted to get home and immediately place it under her pillow.”

  Ah, well played, Grandma. Plastering a huge smile on my face, I hop down from the stool and kneel to eye level with my little girl. Suddenly, she doesn’t look like such a little girl anymore. She’s growing up before my eyes, and regardless of how much I think I’ve prepared myself for this moment, I haven’t.

  “You lost your first tooth?”

  “Yep. It didn’t even bleed. Grandpa said you and Auntie Min were messy teeth losers. Is that true? Did you make a mess with your teeth, Mama?”

  “If Grandpa says we did, then no. He likes to tease us and is just playing.”

  That response gets a laugh from everyone in the room except Cali, who is currently tugging on Grant’s beard. It’s obvious she remembers him, unlike Ari.

  “Dakota, don’t you want to introduce me to your friend?”

  My mother walks toward us, a ridiculous grin on her face that tells me I’ll be receiving a phone call later. Great.

  “Mom this is Grant Ellison. Grant, my mom, Lydia Walker.”

  Extending his arm around Cali who is still tugging away at his facial hair, Grant offers his hand to my mom. “Mrs. Walker.”

  “Oh please, call me Lydia. Sorry to interrupt your breakfast.” Her emphasis on the meal has me rolling my eyes again. When I was a teenager she always threatened grounding me for this “ridiculous behavior.” Doing it as an adult does give me some sort of satisfaction since she can’t punish me.

  “Ari, why don’t you go run and put that tooth under your pillow. Since you girls are home early, maybe we’ll do a trip to the park. What do you say?”

  Instead of hightailing it out of the room, she stands staring at Grant, who is crossing his eyes, sending Cali into fits of giggles. I glance at my mom, who is too busy looking at Grant like a girl with a crush. I get it, Mom. Really, I do.