Wishing For You (Never Too Late Book 2)

by Mayra Statham

  She was still deep in her thoughts of him and worried he was somehow going to figure out her feelings without tragically ending their wonderful friendship they'd had for so long. Okay, so maybe she was wild, crazy, and slightly dramatic.

  He took her off-kilter when he grabbed her hand and made her look at him.

  "Talk to me." His blue eyes almost pleaded with her. I’m in love with you, the words were right there, ready to be spoken out loud, but the fear was so overwhelming it actually made her lightheaded.

  "Nothing to talk about.” She smiled and decided to talk about Jess. “I'm happy for her. She deserves this. Shit, after the stories she's told me about his ex-wife, it might even be that they both deserve this," she shared, not fully meeting his gaze, because she knew the moment he looked at her, really looked at her, he would know, and what she felt would be confirmed to being completely one-sided.

  She was definitely not his type. One, she wasn't young and starry-eyed anymore. Father time had seen to that. And she was okay with it.

  Two, she wasn't the kind of woman to want to be taken care of by a man. If she ever jumped into something, she'd want a partner, someone to be a team with. With this in mind, she reminded herself that she needed to go out, meet someone, and have that someone scratch an itch. That was all this silly attraction was about. She'd been without sex for too long.

  "You sure?" His voice sounded slightly deeper. She looked up at him and for a moment, her mouth was dry at the heat and lust his blue eyes showed, but as quickly as she noticed it, indifference clouded his eyes. She was sure she was just imagining what she wanted to see. It left her feeling unsure of herself. Something she did not like. Something she had never felt before.

  "Yeah," she mumbled. It wasn't that she was full of herself or overly confident. It was just that she’d always known who she was and had always been happy within her own skin. Seeing him in this new light made her question herself. Shrugging, she pointed at the canvas. "The fumes are getting to me," she lied again.

  "The fumes never bother you."

  "I'm not as young as I was once," she retorted, reminding herself of why she would never do it for him. She took in the way his eyes narrowed, his thumb stroking her knuckles, and she almost wanted to beg for more. More of his touch and caress. Thankfully, she stayed quiet, both staring at one another.

  "Let's go for a walk." She loved their walks. They’d been back to almost nightly for a couple of months, other than the rare nights she’d pretended to go out on a date and stay at pretty boutique hotels, where she would read steamy romance novels by Sophie Samuels and Grace Rivera. "Come on, unless you don't want me to..." he snapped her out of her thoughts. She tried to smile.

  "No. I do," she stupidly mumbled.

  They worked together. They were friends and neighbors. They spent way too much time together, and she should start putting some space between them.

  Tomorrow, she lied to herself, like she had for the last couple of months.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grant

  He watched her silently as she straightened the ugly grey wool shawl over the tight, black tank top and denim shorts with a frayed edge she'd obviously changed into after their morning meeting. What she hadn't removed were her signature thread-thin gold necklaces with odd and numerous charms that hung off the end. The ones that made him wonder what each meant. Only she could pull something like that off. He knew her. It was scary how well they knew one another. He knew that each one meant something in particular. He wondered for a moment if Remington knew what they meant. Calm down. You don’t even know if she’s seeing him, Olivia’s voice of reason chimed in his head, and she was right.

  They walked to her back gate and he opened it for her, letting her go ahead of him. Her sweet, curvy body brushed by his and her unique scent of sweet lemon and mint with a touch of paint hit him, and for not the first time, made him want to groan.

  "Changing your mind?" she asked saucily. He shook his head and grabbed her hand, enjoying the feel of it in his more than he should, yet he couldn't help it.

  He'd been fighting the growing attraction to her for too long. For almost a year. He was done. He couldn’t care less if he was moving in on Remington or any other guy’s woman. He’d fought his attraction tooth and nail and had failed. He wanted her. He wanted everything with her in a way he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Their bare feet hit the sand with the Pacific Ocean in front of them. A cool breeze in the air, they walked silently hand in hand. There was a sweet intimacy of walking in the dark on a beach with someone with only the moonlight to guide them.

  Something was bothering her tonight, and he wondered if the rumors Rhett had heard were right. Was she going to leave him? The lost look in her whiskey-hued eyes he'd never seen before made his heart ache for her.

  Sure, the thought of Shelly Santiago had haunted him repeatedly. The cute way she could be moody and sarcastic made him feel. When Olivia passed, Shelly became his anchor, his closest friend.

  He’d held back from going there with her, because when it came to Shelly Santiago, what worried him was ruining the beautiful friendship they shared, not to mention the work situation they had.

  "What did you think about the new piece in the studio?" she asked him, her eyes looking ahead, he tightened his grip on her hand, wishing her eyes were on him instead.

  "I love it. It's..."

  "It's what?" she clipped defensively, stopping them in their tracks.

  "I would tell you if you stopped interrupting." He was probably a very sick man for enjoying the bickering between them.

  "Sorry," she mumbled. He tilted his head to look at her. Her eyes still weren’t meeting his head-on.

  "As I was saying, it's different than your norm... monotone if you will."

  "You noticed that?” The surprise in her voice was evident as her pretty face moved up. He loved the moment their gaze connected, her eyes slightly narrowed as if trying to read him. He smiled gently at her.

  "Of course I did, why wouldn't I?"

  "I don't know," she shrugged, letting go of his hand before sitting her pretty ass in the sand. His heart thudded. She was sitting with him, in her spot. Did this mean they were getting back to normal? "I was trying something new…” she shared, her legs Indian style on the sand. “I've been stuck," she admitted, and he couldn’t help himself. He sat down right behind her, his hands on her shoulders, making her stiff body soften. Her head went back to rest on one of his shoulders.

  In all the years they’d worked and known one another, she'd never been stuck artistically. Personally? Sure. He'd noticed the way she lived for her friends, her family, never having a man around her for more than a month and never, not once, gracing a man’s arm at one of her showings. He'd always wondered about that. Why she didn't really date, or how it was that a woman as amazing as Shelly Santiago never found herself tied to a man.

  "You never mentioned it."

  "You're my boss. If I'm stuck artistically, you might go out and find yourself a new, young artist to replace me with." The admission shocked him.

  He looked at her, at her profile looking toward the water. His eyes skimmed down the angle of her nose, to the plump curve of her lips, the bottom fuller than the top. They skimmed the line of her uncovered neck, and he couldn’t stop himself. His nose nuzzled the side of her ear. He felt her tremble in front of him.

  He was crossing a major line. He knew this. This was not something they did. Sure, they’d cuddled on the couch, or she’d fallen asleep once in his lap two years ago after a crying jag when she found out her best friend Jess had been fighting breast cancer on her own. But that was it. It had always been innocent.

  This, however, was not.

  His eyes stayed trained on her profile as he watched her lips part, and he skimmed his nose again against her ear, breathing in deep and exhaling slowly, his body coming alive quickly.

  "You're irreplaceable, Shell." His damn voice went low, and she tipped her
head back further on his shoulder, her eyes closing slowly.

  “That’s sweet,” she whispered, and he watched the tip of her pink tongue licking her bottom lip that was still slightly stained red. Fuck, he wanted her to mark his body with that damn red lipstick.

  "It's the truth," he mumbled deeply and took a moment to breathe to get his body to calm down, but it didn’t help. She smelled so damn good. She had him by the balls. His mind fuzzed over as he enjoyed the feel of her soft body in front of him, her scent warming his blood, the cool breeze surrounding them to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. He moved, his lips skimming her lobe, gently nipping it with his teeth, and he heard her soft gasp.

  “Grant.” Her voice was breathy like it had been the day of the mud run, and his dick hardened further.

  “Yeah, Shell?”

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice slightly husky. He smiled, kissing her temple.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, still smiling, knowing exactly, finally, how to handle her. She shifted and looked at him.

  Her soft eyes narrowed on him, but he tried to act as if he had no clue what she was talking about.

  “What was that?” she asked. Her lower lip trembled slightly before she pressed her lips together.

  “What was what?” he asked, sounding aloof. He spread his legs further apart, giving her space, placing his elbows on his knees, hoping to God he knew her as well as he thought he did.

  “Are you serious?” she asked. He raised his eyebrows, fighting like hell not to smile.

  He tilted his head at her as if waiting for her to explain what the hell she was talking about, ready to wait her out. When it came to her, he was pretty sure he’d give her anything she wanted.

  “Grant…” she said his name, and his now hardened dick strained toward her as he saw the fire in her eyes. “I’m not kidding…” he’d had enough. He brought her into his arms, which made her eyes go wide, and made her straddle his lap.

  “Knock it off, Alexander!” She tried to push him away, but he tightened his hold on her and bucked up, so that she knew exactly what this was about. He knew the moment she felt him. Her lips parted, her eyes closed, and her head went back slightly.

  When she opened her eyes, he started talking. “Things are about to change,” he stated. She looked from his mouth to his eyes.

  “What?” Her chest heaved up and down. He gripped her waist with one hand and moved up to the back of her head with the other. "What are we doing, Grant?" she whispered. Their mouths were so damn close he could feel her warm breath against his own lips. A surge of something he hadn't felt in a very long time powered through him. Sure, he'd had women after his wife's death, but none of them had been more than an itch to scratch, a release. This was more than that, he was man enough to admit it.

  "What I should have done a year ago." Tangling his hand in her hair even further, so that he’d control her in case she fought him, he heard her soft intake of air a second before his mouth fell on hers.

  Her lips were plump, and he couldn't help but pull her in closer, pressing his lips over hers, coaxing her mouth to open a little more for him. She tasted sweet like the red wine she'd had, mixed with a hint of heat, probably from the cinnamon gum she preferred to chew during the day. The mix of it with her own taste made his hips buck up, and he felt her arms wrap around the back of his head.

  Her body softened, and she dove headfirst into the kiss, giving him passion and heat like he'd never experienced before, and that was saying something. He'd had a great marriage and a great sex life with his wife and afterwards. Sure he'd been with women, but it had never meant something. Not like it had before with Olivia.

  Pulling her body closer into his, her legs opening to straddle him better, he knew it was because it was her. It was Shelly who made this right. Not better than what he had with Olivia, just different, and just as right.

  He felt her hand move into the back of his salt and pepper hair, tugging it just enough that it enticed his own groan from escaping. The softness of her sweet ass in those denim shorts sat right over his erection. She rolled her hips over him, and he could feel her heat and moved his lips from her mouth to her jaw. She moved to give him access. Snaking his arms around her, his hands grabbed her plump ass just as he bit the pulse point on her neck. He loved the sounds she made against his own neck.

  "Oh..." she breathed, and he licked her skin as she bucked into him.

  "Shell..."

  "Don't stop... Please..." she whimpered. One hand left her ass and moved to cup one of her ample breasts. She leaned so that their mouths could connect. Making out, he cupped her full breasts, her tight nipples making him growl passionately into the darkness as they sat in front of the shore. Everything else but them and the sound of the waves ceased to exist for him in that moment.

  He'd fantasized about this moment so many times. In his office, daydreaming like some kind of lovesick kid, or during the moments alone in his bedroom, when he’d closed his eyes and imagined it was her hand instead of his, touching him, taking him exactly where his body craved and ached to go. He knew they had a lot to talk about, but somehow he knew that the moment they stopped, she would retreat, and he didn't want that. He wouldn't let her.

  "Come home with me," he mumbled against her lips, and she opened her eyes slowly, her eyes slightly hooded. He bucked up, and she arched slightly, her mouth parting, letting him know she enjoyed that. "Come home with me," he repeated, his voice like gravel after she didn't respond. This time he watched, fascinated that she blushed.

  "I want you. You know I do," he told her. She wiggled slightly, pressing herself into him, making him almost groan, but he had to focus. “Shell…”

  "But..."

  "Everything else we will figure out. Please. Come home with me."

  "Am I one of many?" she asked in a way that made him freeze. The vulnerability reflected in her eyes brought out the need to protect the soft side of her she so often kept hidden.

  "What?" he whispered, narrowing his gaze on her.

  "Is it because I'm convenient? We work together… I'm next door..." she started to ramble in a way he’d never seen her do. Not once. Hell yeah, she wanted this. She was just as nervous and hungry for this as he was. He moved his hand to hold her chin in place, so she couldn't look away.

  “You know it's not like that," he answered her honestly.

  "What is it like?" she asked, sitting back, putting slight space between them. He only let her move a sliver, so that they could look at one another. There would be no misunderstandings between them.

  "I'm not the kind of man to play games."

  "I know that," she clipped. He hid his smile. There was something about her fire and sass that made him ache.

  "That being said, I’ve wanted this for over a year and haven’t made a move."

  "A year?" she whispered in wonder, but he ignored it.

  "I know what’s at stake is precious." She double blinked as if letting the words sprinkle over her. The stiff way she'd been holding her body softened over his, her hand touching his face.

  “Precious?” Something about the way she was looking at him under the moonlight in the salt-air-filled space made him wish he knew what he had done. It was as if hope, joy, and love had all been thrown up into a snow globe and had been shaken up hard. It was a gift. A once in a lifetime type of gift. He knew that. He just didn’t know what he had done to deserve it.

  "Five months," she stated, He had no clue what she meant but knew that if he gave her the time, she'd spit it out, and he wasn’t wrong. "I've always cared about you.” Her face went gentle. “You gave me a chance when I was so young, and you've always been there. We've always been friends. After Olivia passed...” She looked over his shoulder and swallowed hard. “I watched over you. I wanted you to be okay. Besides Jess and my sister, you're my only other family. But five months ago..." He was silent, drinking in what she was sharing at the same time captivated by the way she bit her lower
lip nervously as he watched her summon up the courage to keep sharing.

  "Do you remember the day you helped me pick out the couch for my studio?" Her voice was soft, and he nodded into the darkness, something playing over her face that made his heart thunder in his chest. "Something changed... for me... I was afraid of ..."

  "I know." He helped her out, because by the sound of her voice, he knew she had no words to explain the fear she had. He knew the fear of messing with what they had, because he’d had it too. If they didn't work out, it could end more than badly. Still, knowing this, he didn’t hesitate to repeat his order. "Come back to my place," he ordered right before kissing her.

  He was a fair man. Most would say he was a good one. But he wasn't against playing dirty to get what he wanted, especially when what he wanted was soft and currently above him right after having just shared a kiss that blew his socks off.

  "Okay." Her whispered agreement made him smile.

  Both standing, they walked fast, almost ran back to his place. He knew as he looked at her under the moonlight, smiling at him the way she was, having admitted what she had, that life would never be the same.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shelly

  Stepping into Grant's place, her heart beat furiously against her chest. Having walked in from the back, she looked at his home, soaking it in with only one thought in her head. They couldn’t be more different. His space and her own, when compared, were polar opposites even though the layout was the same.

  His place was modern with clean lines, decorated in nothing but dark, neutral colors, where hers was a hodgepodge of things surrounded by nothing but color. She heard the doors shut, the distinct sound of the lock shutting closed, which snapped her out of her thoughts. She felt his body behind hers, close but not touching, only mere inches away. His body radiated heat. Had it always done that?

  Sitting in the sand in the darkness, she'd been courageous in admitting what she was feeling. She'd never done that before. Not once in her entire life. She’d never had to, since she’d never felt how she did with him. In the soft light of his house, his body so close to hers, she wasn’t sure she knew how to be brave.