Sanctuary Island

by Everett, Lily

  His strong brown throat moved as he swallowed convulsively, knocked sideways by her confession.

  Excitement rolled around her chest, warm and tingly. Ella silently vowed to open up and spill her innermost thoughts and feelings more often if it got this kind of response from him.

  “I’m right here,” Grady said, low and steady.

  *

  Ella looked every bit as wrecked as Grady felt, her eyes huge and shocked in a face as white as a gull’s wing.

  Her pale pink mouth worked silently for a second before she let out a muffled little sound and leaned up on her toes, both arms going around his neck.

  Grady caught her more by instinct than any sort of romantic smoothness, his mind still churning over the revelations of the past few minutes, but the moment her lips touched his, all thought beyond pure, animal desire flew out of his head.

  She was soft and smooth against him, a bundle of nerves and tension that wound tighter and tighter the longer they kissed. Waves of sound crashed and broke in his ears as the blood rushed through his body.

  They stumbled into the house, knocking elbows on the door frame and scraping shins on their way up the stairs. Grady was so caught up, lost in the honeysuckle scent of Ella’s hair, the salt-sweet savor of her skin, he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her long enough to get their clothes off.

  In the end, it was Ella who disengaged with a tremulous smile, shuddering breaths heaving her chest against his, and said, “Can I … is it okay if I take your shirt off?”

  The ingrained instant of denial was followed quickly by a trickle of warmth. He liked the fact that she’d asked, that she’d seen his scars before and hadn’t run. Maybe it was time for him to stop running, let someone catch him.

  Gripping the hem of his shirt, Grady held his breath and pulled it off over his head. The cool air of the room hit his skin in a ripple of goose bumps.

  He felt naked, even though his pants were definitely still on. He could tell because of the painful constriction around his cramped erection, which hadn’t subsided at all. Apparently, his dick was completely fearless when it came to Ella Preston.

  Grady looked down at the first slow, tender touch of Ella’s fingers. She brushed timid fingertips along the lines of his chest, her hand warm and heavy enough not to tickle as it drifted down his side. And the look on her face … Grady had to close his eyes again to avoid climaxing on the spot at the frank, honest desire in Ella’s eyes.

  “We’ve been here before,” she murmured. “This time I want to see it all. Show me?”

  He tensed, understanding at once. She wanted him to turn around, display the worst of his scars for her, and trust that she wouldn’t be scared off.

  “I don’t know if I can yet.” The aching words ground out of him like gravel under truck tires, but Ella only nodded.

  “It’s my turn, anyway.” She gave him a particularly female smile, one of those mysterious lady smiles that hinted at secret knowledge, and slowly unbuttoned her black cotton shirt.

  The smooth, subtle curves she revealed dried out Grady’s mouth. He found himself licking his lips and staring, as if he could pierce through the scalloped edges of her black bra with the power of X-ray vision.

  But he didn’t need to, because Ella twisted an arm behind her back and deftly unhooked the bra, letting it fall to the floor in a flutter of filmy lace seduction.

  All of a sudden, Grady could breathe easier.

  Okay, he was still breathing pretty hard, but it no longer felt like a boulder was sitting on his chest, crushing his lungs.

  They were both naked from the waist up, their skin glowing pale in the yellow light of his ancient bedside lamp, and Grady couldn’t think about the scars that had dominated a corner of his mind since he first woke up in that hospital covered in white bandages.

  He could only look at Ella and appreciate the pure, perfect symmetry of her form. The lean, uncomplicated lines of her body, the slope of her ribs and the roundness of her breasts, topped with dark pink nipples that tightened under his gaze.

  It wasn’t that the scars no longer mattered—if he blinked, he still pictured them like neon glaring through the darkness—but devouring Ella with his eyes mattered more.

  The longer he stared, the more pink she became as a flush spread from the tops of her breasts all the way up her neck and onto her cheeks. Grady’s fingers itched to discover the heat of that blush, the silken grain of her skin.

  But before he could touch her, Ella backed up a step with a shaky smile and uncertain eyes. “Your turn.”

  Grady froze, and Ella’s eyes went soft and understanding.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to. We can just…”

  “No.” Grady cut her off with a firm shake of his head. He might not be a daredevil anymore, but he was still a man. He was doing this. They were doing this. Ella had stripped herself bare for him, in more ways than one. He could return the favor. On impulse, he leaned down and stole a quick kiss for luck.

  Her lips parted easily beneath his, welcoming him in, and Grady took heart.

  With fingers that were remarkably steady, Grady unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs, along with his underwear. His erection was so hard it slapped against his stomach as he straightened up. Ella’s bright eyes went straight to it, hot and needy, but the tough part was still to come.

  Pushing out a strengthening breath, Grady turned around and let Ella look her fill.

  The muffled gasp from behind him made Grady close his eyes. He knew what she was seeing—an ugly tapestry of red, pink, and white lines scoring up over the left side of his back and hips, ending in a concentrated mass on his left shoulder blade.

  It took everything he had, every ounce of the courage he used to take for granted, to stand there in front of her.

  Ella sucked in a breath as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Grady spoke to the blank white wall in front of him, picturing the compassion and empathy on Ella’s beautiful face.

  “You were right—they basically had to build me a new shoulder. I’m like Darth Vader, more machine than man, at least on that side.”

  “Oh, Grady,” Ella said, sounding as if she’d swallowed something that made her throat hurt.

  He shrugged, vividly aware of how the movement tightened and stretched the scars across his shoulders.

  The first tentative brush of her warm fingers against his back startled him. No one but doctors, nurses, and physical therapists had touched him there in years. Summoning all his self-discipline, Grady planted his feet and braced himself to endure—but to his shock, the way Ella traced slow lines across the scars seemed to uncoil something inside him, a knot he’d been clutching tightly to himself for a long time.

  “I’m glad you got out of that building alive.”

  “You know, we didn’t manage to rescue everyone that night. There were casualties from the first explosion, even more from the second. Not everyone made it out alive.”

  Grady struggled for a breathless moment, but the thought that was always with him, running under every moment and through every action, spilled out of his mouth.

  “Some days, I’m not so sure I made it, either.”

  “You did.” Conviction filled her voice, her words hitting his skin like a cleansing rain. “You’re right here, like you said. With me.”

  She didn’t say anything more, but her gentle touch said everything Grady could’ve hoped to hear.

  Ella was still there. He’d showed her a glimpse of the deepest, darkest part of himself and it hadn’t scared her away.

  Facing her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but the moment his eyes met Ella’s, he forgot the struggle. He forgot everything but the quiet strength of her, the complete acceptance in her deep blue eyes.

  Grady raised his hand and cupped the delicate line of her cheek. His thumb nestled into the hinge of her jaw as his fingers slid into the dark waves of her hair. The shape of her sku
ll under his hand was impossibly fragile, but when she lifted up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, she was the opposite of weak or breakable. She was a force of nature, a storm breaking over him, and he rode the storm down to the expanse of the mattress.

  Laying her out on his sheets, Grady worshipped her with his hands and mouth, every gasp and high, thready sound entering his bloodstream like a drug. And Ella gave it all back to him with unstinting generosity, tumbling across the bed with him until they were so wrapped in each other, Grady didn’t know if he’d ever untangle the mess they’d made of his sheets. Or his life.

  Much less his heart.

  CHAPTER 22

  Ella stretched luxuriously, feeling the satisfying twinge of muscles she hadn’t used in a while. The unfamiliar lines of dark wooden rafters slashed across the white ceiling above the bed, and some part of her brain immediately started working on describing it: warm, cozy, elegant in its simplicity.

  She could only imagine the way Grady would roll his eyes if she told him his house was a perfect example of “rustic chic.”

  Huh. She really could only imagine his reaction, because when she reached one bare arm out of the covers to pat the bed beside her, it was empty.

  Flopping onto her back with a frown, Ella let the images from the night before wash over her in the early morning light.

  Last night. Fighting with Jo and Merry. Almost fighting with Grady—and his startling, upsettingly correct insight into what was really bothering her.

  She didn’t want to think about that, so she turned her mind to what came after: kissing Grady, touching him, the way he opened up … the way he’d opened her, making her feel everything, every touch, every glance, so acutely.

  It was as if every other time she’d been with a man, she’d kept all her clothes on and been half asleep.

  With Grady, she was wide awake and alarmingly, deliciously naked.

  The way he looked at her, the intensity in every caress, made Ella feel as necessary as sunlight, as air. She smiled, touching one fingertip to sensitized lips that were swollen by kisses. Last night, she and Grady had needed each other.

  So where was he now?

  The mattress next to her was empty, but he couldn’t have gone far. It was his house, after all.

  Fighting disappointment, Ella swung her legs over the side of the bed and started feeling around for her underwear. When she was decent, or decentish, since she never did manage to locate her bra, she made her way down the creaking hardwood stairs with her shoes in one hand and the other combing through her hair in a futile attempt to tame the morning mess.

  “Um, hello?” she called out, disliking the tentative question in her tone but unable to suppress it.

  All her usual defenses had been obliterated last night, and now in the bright light of morning, she felt as awkward as a newborn colt, shivery and vulnerable.

  “In here!’

  Grady’s shout from the kitchen warmed her and brought a smile to her face. He was at the stove, which was starting to become a wonderfully familiar sight, but he spared her a quick smile and a coffee-flavored kiss when she sidled up to him.

  “Your timing sucks,” he told her. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, if you’d waited a little longer.”

  Ella raised her brows, but inside, she’d gone as mushy as the oatmeal he was stirring on the stovetop. “Should I go back upstairs?”

  She made as if to leave, then laughed in delight when he snagged her around the waist, his big bare hands hot even through the cotton of her shirt.

  “I ought to say yes,” he growled, “since that’s the image I’ve been holding in my head all morning. You, in my bed, with your hair all spread out on my pillows.”

  Ella caught her breath at the heat in his gaze, before it slid to the side and he set her gently back on her feet.

  “But it’s probably good that you’re dressed. Less distracting.”

  She tried not to pout, but she wasn’t sure how successful it was. “Oh, come on. That oatmeal can wait an hour, I bet.”

  Grady’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “An hour, huh? I must have done something right last night to give you that high an opinion of my stamina.”

  “Mmm.” Ella grabbed for Grady’s hand and tugged, giving him her best flirty, fluttering lashes. “Let’s go test your stamina.”

  But he set his heels and resisted her pull. “Ella. We need to talk.”

  Her smile wanted to fade, but Ella kept it in place even though her cheeks ached stiffly. “Do we? I don’t think so. Wouldn’t you rather take me upstairs and … get distracted?”

  She waggled her brows suggestively, but instead of laughing, Grady closed his eyes tightly for a brief moment, as if gathering his strength. “Hot damn, yes. I’d rather, and if you still want to in a minute, I’ll be the first one up the stairs. But first, I need to say this.”

  Suppressing a sigh, Ella dropped his hand and ran frustrated, fidgety fingers through her messy hair. She had zero desire to stand here and try to define this thing between them.

  “Fine. But I feel compelled to point out that you’re messing with a lot of gender norms here.” She shrugged. “I’ve read all the self-help books.”

  Irritation sparked in his shadowed eyes. “Let me guess—those books say men are supposed to be strong and silent, and never want to talk about things? Well, tough. Because the way I was raised, real men aren’t afraid to speak up when they’ve got something to say.”

  Ella was sure the stubborn, dogged clench of his jaw shouldn’t be so appealing. Pulling out one of the kitchen chairs, she sank into it and gestured to the seat across the table. “Believe me, after last night, I’m the last person on the planet who’d have doubts about your masculinity. So go ahead, talk.”

  With movements jerky enough to make her realize how uncommonly graceful he usually was, especially for such a big guy, Grady hooked a hand through the ladder back of the chair and flipped it around to straddle it backward. He rested his strong forearms on the top wooden slat and regarded her so solemnly, Ella had to fight the urge to squirm.

  “I need to make sure,” he began, “that last night happened because you wanted it.”

  Ella felt her eyebrows shoot up. “Grady. I don’t know how long it’s been since you were with a woman, but here’s a hint: I pretty much could not have wanted it—or enjoyed it—more.”

  Red scorched his cheekbones, but he didn’t break her gaze. “It’s been a while,” he admitted baldly. “But that’s not what I meant. When I found you here waiting for me, you were very upset. There are rules about that. I need to know that I didn’t take advantage of you.”

  “Is that something else you learned about how to be a man?” Ella propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm, almost unbearably charmed. “I’d like to meet your dad sometime.”

  A smile ghosted over Grady’s lips. “He’d love you. But I can’t help noticing you haven’t answered the question.”

  Choosing her words carefully, Ella said, “Look. While I very much appreciate the Southern-gentleman routine—believe me, it’s a welcome change from most of the guys I’ve dated—you don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult, I make my own, usually very rational, choices. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

  It was Grady’s turn to arch a brow. “Right. Because you were just dying to use your vacation days to come out here to Sanctuary Island.”

  “That’s different,” Ella objected, and Grady held up a hand.

  “Yeah. It was about Merry. And you’d do anything for your sister. She’s your soft underbelly.”

  There was no judgment in his tone or expression, but Ella still shifted in her chair. “Look. I know you think I’m borderline psychotic when it comes to Merry—and, trust me, my friend Adrienne Voss, my ex-therapist, is more on your side than mine there—but Merry’s my family. My whole family, really.”

  Grady sat back, his eyes soft and searching. “What about y
our father? He’s still around, isn’t he?”

  She wrestled with herself for a moment, then confessed, “He did his best for us when we were kids. But once we got old enough … there’s definitely some distance, on both sides. I think it’s hard for him to be around us. And he still works a lot, so he’s busy.”

  All Grady did was nod, but as Ella heard the echo of her own words, she slumped forward to rest both elbows on the table. “I know,” she said. “I make a lot of excuses for him, and I never give Jo a break. It’s been pointed out to me that this is a double standard.”

  “Not by me.” Grady held up his hands in surrender. “Families are complicated. Jo’s my friend, and I hope you’ll give her a chance to be good to you—but maybe some scars are too deep to ever really disappear.”

  “I don’t believe that.” Ella’s denial was instantaneous, instinctive, in the face of Grady’s quiet shrug, the pain in his eyes.

  “At least,” she amended ruefully, reaching across the table to clasp his scarred right hand. “I don’t want to believe that.”

  He turned his hand palm up and curled his fingers over hers, warm and solid. Giving her one of his slow smiles, Grady said, “Come riding with me.”

  Up until now, Ella had resisted all efforts to get her into a saddle. As much as she’d loved seeing their little foal through the first moments of his life, and had felt strangely empowered by helping Tough Guy’s dam through the birth, Ella was still nervous at the thought of perching on the back of that much pure muscle and animal instinct.

  Plus, when she’d asked Grady where he kept the gelding he’d been riding when she met him, he’d told her he boarded Voyager out at Windy Corner Stables. Which meant that any horseback riding they did would involve a trip to Jo’s barn.

  As if reading her mind, Grady said, “You’re going to have to see her eventually. Might as well get it over with.”

  He was right. Ella squeezed his hand and tried on a smile. “I’d rather do it with you at my side. Thanks.”

  Another thought occurred to her as Grady stood up and walked over to the stovetop to stir the oatmeal—a thought that almost wiped the smile off her face.