Safe, In His Arms: The In His Arms Series Book 1

by Donn, KL

  Grace shrugs with a thoughtful look. “Not that I’m aware of, but I don’t have access to her life either. Maybe one of the house staff would know?”

  Jesus. How lonely she must be. My heart aches for her.

  “Well, I think that’s all the questions we have for now. Unless something comes up, we’ll be marking Mrs. Hawthorne’s death as an accident.” Marty stands to leave, shooting me a questioning look.

  “I’ll meet you at the car,” I tell him, unable to take my eyes off Gracie’s face. I don’t know what it is that draws me in but leaving doesn’t hold any appeal right now.

  As soon as the door closes behind my partner, I cup Grace’s cheeks in my hands, holding her still as I draw closer. I give her just enough time to pull away should she not want my advances. Instead, she closes her eyes and holds her breath, anticipating my move. The touch of her lips. My first taste is electric. There’s a jolt of pressure that runs rampant through my body as her hands reach up to hold onto my shoulders. Our tongues touch in a light caress, and I’m lost. I’m gone for Grace Hawthorne, the girl in the tower. The girl in need of a knight.

  When her body shivers with pleasure, I slide my hands down her arms and around her waist, bringing her to sit across my lap. I’m still bigger than she is. Her petite size is an attraction I never knew I would have had. She has curves in all the right places, just enough to fill my hands, but she’s small enough to remind me of a fairy.

  A light moan breaks the silent air, and I deepen the kiss, plundering her mouth with my tongue. She holds nothing back from me either.

  When I pull back for a breath of air, her eyes are closed, savoring our kiss. “Onyx,” she murmurs as they slowly open. Her pupils are large, hiding her bright blue irises with desire.

  Leaning my head against hers, I mumble, “Gracie,” while licking my lips, getting a second taste of her. “I have paperwork, but I’m coming back tonight.”

  “Okay.” She huffs a burst of air against my cheek.

  “I’m going to make you mine, Gracie.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be ready for me.” I kiss her one last time before laying her on the couch and, regretfully, leave. The entire ride back to the station is wrought with Marty teasing me about my obvious obsession and the heavy desire pulsing in my pants for a woman I barely know.

  One thing is for sure, though. After tonight, Grace Hawthorne is going to get a taste of passion she’s likely only ever dreamed of.

  I’m going to make her mine.

  Robyn is dead.

  The words play over in my mind like a bad movie, and I have to wonder when it will sink in that she’s really gone.

  I never liked my stepmother. I tried to, but it was always something unachievable. I never wished her dead, though. I never imagined it would happen either. She’s one of those people that you always wonder, will she live for eternity?

  Now, knowing that I’m completely free of her is exhilarating, I no longer have to look over my shoulder, constantly wondering if or when she’ll try to strike again. Once I left her home, I was done with her, but she could never let me go.

  After spending so many years worrying about her effect on my life, I find I have a little extra jump in my step as I make a traditional dinner of spaghetti and meatballs for Onyx.

  I’m going to make you mine, Gracie.

  His words, so much sweeter than any others I’ve heard, play in a loop through my head as I hum around the kitchen. I don’t know what he means exactly, but I know I want him too.

  I’ve always loved fairytales, happily ever afters, men coming to the damsels’ rescue. I’m a cliché, and I know it. I can’t help it. Before Robyn came into our lives, my mother and father had been desperately in love.

  When my mother fell ill from cancer, I never thought my father would recover. He was a wonderful husband and always doted on us. Seeing him so broken, so fragile after her passing, I knew I wanted that kind of love, even if it had the potential to destroy me.

  Meeting Onyx, I feel it straight to my bones that we could have that. He has this look in his dark gaze that screams obsessive when he watches me. I feel…alive with him around. Even when his partner was telling me the bad news, my heart beat a little quicker because Onyx was touching me.

  I’m sure some people would call me dependent because I’ve gone from one home to the streets to this new home that I hardly ever leave, and I’m not afraid to jump in head first with Onyx. Truth of the matter is, he makes me feel.

  I believe in soul mates. I know that mine sees him as its other half. His spiritual essence was a part of me before we even met.

  As the timer on the oven dings, I rush to the kitchen and pull the pan out of the oven so the meatballs don’t burn. After cutting into one and double checking it’s cooked all the way through, I use the tongs to place the balls into the sauce I’ve had simmering for the last hour.

  Pleased everything seems to be coming together so nicely, I turn the temperatures down and put the lids on the pots and make my way to my room. I may not be a very social person, but I enjoy looking nice. It gives a small boost to my confidence and helps me to break out of my shell sometimes.

  Sifting through my closet, I search for something I think Onyx will like. When my eyes spot the silky plum-colored dress I bought only a few weeks ago, but haven’t worn, I know it’s perfect for this evening. With my blonde hair and light skin tone, the color will pop out.

  Slipping the garment over my head, it glides gently down my frame and pools just above my knees. Reaching for a pair of white ballet flats with tiny bows on the heels, I slip my feet into them and scrutinize myself in the mirror. Deciding to keep my long hairstyle simple, I do a quick fishtail braid, apply some mascara and a light-colored lip gloss, and call myself done.

  More excitement thrums through me for tonight than any other time in my life. I feel some lingering sadness over what brought him to me today, but I push it aside, knowing it will do me no good.

  With no idea when Onyx will be here, I wait to put the homemade spaghettini noodles on so they don’t overcook.

  “The table!” I’ve always loved a perfectly set table. It was one thing my mama and I always used to do together. She loved to have candles lit and placemats laid down.

  Reaching into my hutch, I grab the fine china I inherited from my father’s estate and grab the cute placemats I found at a farmer’s market a few weeks ago. They have the carriage from Cinderella embroidered in one corner with the print “Happily Ever After” underneath.

  I suppose if I want Onyx to really know me, then my little eccentricities will have to shine through. I only have a small dining table for two, so I grab my rolling cart to put the food on when it’s ready and place it beside the table.

  Stepping back, I eye the place settings and do a little happy dance on the inside as I find the candleholders I bought along with the mats. After setting them down with candlesticks inside, I lay the lighter beside them and go check on the food.

  Just as I’m putting a spoon to my mouth to taste the sauce, a loud knock sounds on the door and startles me into splashing the small bit of sauce onto the front of my dress. “Swizzlesticks!”

  “Gracie?” Onyx’s rough timber sends shivers down my spine. I panic when I see the mess the sauce has made and know I have to change. I don’t want him seeing me like this.

  “Just a minute!” I call out, hoping he’ll wait. I don’t hear if he replies. Lowering the burner on the boiling water for the noodles, I turn to run down the hall to my room and trip over the small table in the hallway and everything goes crashing to the floor.

  “Grace!” Onyx’s voice sounds panicked as I pick myself up off the floor. “Grace, are you okay?”

  “Crud,” I mutter, upset with myself for being so klutzy. Again. “I’m fine.” Embarrassment heats my face as I open the door to see him looking handsome in a pair of dark-washed jeans that hug his thick muscled thighs just right and a dark blue Henley rolled up at the sleeves, sho
wcasing tattoos on both arms.

  “Are you okay?” His hands go to my shoulders and slowly work their way down as his gaze roams my body, looking for injury. Observing nothing wrong, his intense stare darts back up to my face. “Say something, Gracie.”

  “I’m fine. You startled me, and I spilled sauce on my dress. I was going to go change, but klutzy me tripped over the darn table and knocked everything to the floor.” My words are so rushed, I’d be shocked if he understands anything I just said.

  “But you’re not hurt.” He says it so matter of factly.

  Laughing, I shake my head. Reaching up, I place a hand on his cheek. “No, Onyx, I’m fine. I promise.”

  His grin is contagious as his mouth descends on mine for a lightning fast kiss. “Hi,” he murmurs, closing and locking the door behind him. “You look beautiful.”

  Heat flushes back into my cheeks as I duck my head from his praise. “Well until the sauce…” I laugh waving a hand at the splatter on my chest.

  “Even with it.” His words are soft as his eyes darken and his stare deepens, giving away his desires for me. “Delicious,” he says, and I fight to control my burning face.

  This man, he’ll be my everything.

  She’ll be the death of me; I fucking swear. She’s a gorgeous, innocent package wrapped up in a small bundle of surprise. I never know what to expect from Grace, and I like it. She’s going to keep me on my toes.

  “Umm, I’ve almost got everything ready, I just…need to change…” Her words trail off as she dashes down the hallway and over an upturned table. Following her, I stop to pick up the table and its furnishings before wandering into the kitchen to see what smells so delicious.

  Lifting the lid of one pot, I see meatballs in marinara sauce and give the bubbling contents a quick stir as I move onto the next pot. The noodles aren’t quite done yet, so I leave them and wait anxiously for Gracie’s return.

  “Oh shoot,” I hear muttered from the direction she headed off into, and I slowly make my way there.

  “Everything alright, Grace?” I don’t want to invade her space just yet, so I stay on the opposite side of the closed door.

  “Fine!” she calls but sounds out of breath. I lean against the opposite wall and take a closer look at her small apartment. Now that I’m not distracted by the news we had to deliver her, I can see she has a love for the whimsical.

  I noticed the unicorn and fairy knick-knacks earlier but thought nothing of it until now. A painting above the table that was knocked down of a fairy garden has caught my eye. It’s obviously not professional from the clumsy brush strokes, but you can see the care and commitment dedicated to it while it was created.

  “My mother painted it for me before she passed,” Grace’s lyrical voice explains from behind me.

  “It suits you.” The more I look at it, the more I see the clumsy spots of paint in odd parts as well as the unique splashes of color that don’t match but blend well.

  Raising her hand from behind, she points to the spots that clash. “When I was five, Mom gave me my first paintbrush and told me to add what I wanted. To make it how I would like to see it.” Her voice is sad but full of happy remembrance.

  As she steps forward, I can see what talking about her birth mother does to her. She’s a mix of pain and elation. The woman apparently loved her daughter very much to have left such an impact.

  My gaze searches Grace’s face, wanting to remember every moment of this time. The soft lines around her eyes as she recalls that flash of joy. Her mouth quirks up to one side for just a split second, and I realize that even though we barely know each other, I’m falling for her.

  Drastically.

  Deeply.

  Irrevocably.

  Right as I’m about to break the silence, a timer dings in the kitchen, and she jumps before smiling and ducking her head, then rushing to the kitchen.

  “Sit.” She points to the charmingly made up table for two. Doing as she says, I use the lighter to ignite the candles and then watch her as she strains the noodles from the water and carefully brings two full plates of spaghetti and meatballs to our seats.

  It’s then that I see it. The small horse and carriage. The prince and princess. The fairytale her painting spoke of embroidered on the placemats. My girl dreams of being swept off her feet and falling in love more than I had expected her to.

  I’ve been trying to go slow even though my instincts scream to pick up the pace. That I show Grace who she belongs to, now. I’ve been waiting for a sign, and here it is. Crystal clear, in gold and blue thread.

  “Grace?” I ask as she places bruschetta down on the sideboard beside the table.

  “Yes.” Her cheeks are flushed.

  Holding out a hand, I wait for her to come to me. She places her palm in my own as softly as a butterfly’s wings, and I turn in my chair. Lifting her legs to drape on either side of me, I cradle her hips in my hands, marveling at how well she fits against me.

  “Onyx.” She breaths softly, looking up through her lashes shyly. “What are you doing?”

  I don’t say anything, not right away. I admire her. Her innocence, her strength, her desire to trust me. “I wanted to go slow, Gracie.” She licks her lips. “I wanted to give you time to be sure of how you feel.” Her sapphire gaze sparkles with what she’s likely too nervous to voice. “I want you to be mine.”

  Cupping the back of her head, I don’t give her time to respond to my demand as I close the distance between us and capture her soft lips with mine. I kiss her slowly at first, giving her just enough time to pull away before I slide her hips closer to my rigid length. When her breath catches at the contact, I deepen the kiss. Her little mewls and sighs prompt me to go deeper, explore more.

  Grace’s arms wrap around my neck, and she arches her back so her perky tits brush my chest. Her hard nipples can be felt through the fabric of our clothes, and I can’t wait to get a taste. Sliding my hands around her back, I find the tab for the zipper and gingerly slip it down, exposing the soft flesh of her back as I go. My knuckles caress her skin and goosebumps breakout as she shivers in my lap.

  Pulling back from her eager kisses, I admire her desirable form draped over me, anxiously waiting for more. Hooking the straps of her dress in my fingers, I guide them down her arms, unveiling her succulent frame, discovering that her flush of desire starts in her chest and rises to her cheeks.

  “Gorgeous, Gracie.” I praise her quietly and am pleased to see her blossom from rosy to crimson. Her dress pools at her waist, leaving nothing but her pussy to my imagination.

  “Thank you,” she whispers softly, hiding behind her hair now.

  “No need to be shy, princess.” I don’t like her hiding from me, but it’s also arousing for me to have to chase her.

  “No one’s ever seen me before…” She trails off, turning her head to the side and leaning forward, resting her head on my shoulder.

  Rubbing my face into her neck, I lay a gentle kiss on the back. “I’m honored, Gracie.” My hands roam across her back and thighs as she grows comfortable in my lap with her nudity.

  An idea forms as I hold her, and I pull my phone from my pocket. I hit a music app and open a random playlist. Soothing music comes on about dancing, and I encourage her to stand.

  “Dance with me, Gracie,” I request as her dress falls to the ground, leaving her in nothing but light purple cotton panties. My mind blanks, and I have to fight my way back to rational thought. “Fuck, you’re a gorgeous creature,” I mutter, leaning forward to kiss just above her navel.

  “Onyx, please.” Grace sounds like she’s trying to dissuade my notion and beg me for more all at once.

  Kissing my way up her stomach to her breasts, I hold her hips in place, so she can’t backstep from me. I rub my scruff against one nipple, chaffing her skin, before sucking the hard peak into my mouth. The taste of cherries explodes on my tongue, and I can’t hold onto my groan of pure delight for this woman. Letting her go, I give the same attention t
o the other mound, and her hands grip my hair tightly, pulling the strands as I work her into a frenzy.

  “Oh my,” she whispers into the room.

  Standing tall, I pull my shirt over my head, needing to feel her bare against me. With one hand on her hip and the other holding her hand, I guide her into a slow rhythm to a country song I don’t recall.

  In my arms is where Grace belongs, and I’m going to show her just how right this is.

  His touch, hard yet soft.

  Loving but possessive.

  Onyx Inwood is the man I’ve been dreaming of protecting me, loving me, holding me since I was a little girl. His overwhelming desire to possess me leaves me light-headed and unable to concentrate on his words. But his actions do the speaking for him.

  His fingers hold reverence in the way we sway to the music.

  His heartbeat holds strength and resolve.

  His body holds his desire for me. Not just in the flesh but soul and heart, too.

  His words leave me speechless and begging for so much more.

  Onyx Inwood is the man who his going to hold my heart forever. He is the man who I will cradle between my thighs. Give my life for.

  We’ve barely known each other a minute, but this connection can’t be broken. He is mine, and I am his.

  “Onyx,” I whisper against his lips as our foreheads touch. “Take me.”

  I watch in fascination as his gaze darkens, and his breathing picks up pace. His hands tighten their hold on my body as he lifts me into his arms. We’re barely three steps away when my back slams into the wall with the same force as his mouth crashing down on mine.

  I never dreamed that kissing would be so…wonderful. Pleasing even. Onyx takes hold of my body in ways I never imagined possible. I’m held captive as he controls the depth and angle of our mouths.

  I lose myself in the rapture of his confident touches. His hands freely roam my body, exploring every bend and crevice. He devours my sighs and mewls of pleasure while I try to gain my footing. Holding his shoulders in my hands reminds me of just how large this man truly is; however, I don’t feel unsafe. In fact, I feel wholly coveted with the way he holds me so gently. Gingerly taking what he wants while giving me everything I long for.