by Mia Kay
While he traced her muscles, she tasted the skin at his throat. His pulse hammered against her lips before she traveled to his collarbone and then down to his flat nipple. As it pebbled against her tongue, she unfastened his pants.
He reclined on the bed, pulling her with him, and she started over, kissing him until they were both breathless and then continuing down his body. His salty skin smelled of bay and citrus and his muscles rippled under her attention.
“Grace.”
She felt as if she was smiling all over. The way he said her name, the look on his face, made her feel like she was made of gold.
She kissed down his body until she reached her goal and closed her lips over him. His large body quaked under her as he tangled his hands in her hair. She didn’t stop until his groans echoed from the walls.
Climbing up the mattress, she looked into his hazy eyes and sleepy, satisfied grin. Then she snuggled against him and fell asleep.
When she woke, he was staring through her, deep in thought.
“Hi.” She pushed the cobwebs from her brain. “What’s up?”
“Is it that obvious?” He grimaced.
“‘S okay.”
He took a deep breath. “I have a job away from London when we get back. I’ll be gone from home for six months, at least.”
“Okay.” She struggled to string together the connections she knew he’d already made. The combination of sex, a nap, and his proximity addled her brain. “And?”
“It wouldn’t be fair for you to come to London and be alone, or for me to drag you with me.”
She started to protest, but he pressed a gentle finger against her lips. “But I want to.”
“Oh.” The word was small, and she felt smaller, less somehow at the mention of life without him.
“I don’t want to lose this.” The look on his face melted her heart, and it threatened to spill from her.
“Me neither. But honey, I’m committed to a project, too. A lot of other people are depending on me.”
Her tears leaked free. She hated to tell him no, to deny herself.
“Baby,” he groaned as he pulled her to him. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I didn’t expect . . .” She lost her words and simply waved her hand up and down his body.
“I know.”
She fell silent, working on a solution to the new problem in front of her, listening to him breathe and the rapid thud of his heart.
After a long moment, he huffed a deep breath. “We need to get ready for dinner.” His eyes were shadowed and his grin was sad. “We’ll get this sorted.”
Grace unwound from the covers and stood. “Ben . . .” It was on the tip of her tongue. I’m an urban fantasy writer. A reclusive nerd with an obsessive fan following, and my first novel is becoming a movie. My life is a zoo, and it’s not fair to drag you along.
He stood and nudged her to the bathroom. “No more heavy stuff.”
She’d never think of showers the same. Water dripped from his hair and down his nose. She trailed her nails along his skin, following rivulets over his muscles and hearing his groan over the hiss of spray. Her body responded as his touch grew insistent, and when his teeth scraped from her neck to her ear, her whimper earned a deep, sexy laugh.
She struggled for words as he stroked his fingers up her thighs. “Do you think the housekeeping staff wonders why there are condoms in the shower?”
“They’re probably counting how many are in the dustbin.”
“Ben.” Her indignant squeal dissolved into a groan. “Oh God, Ben.”
By the time they were finished, they were late. As Ben ran for the elevator, Grace tried to walk, balance her purse, and tie her hair into a style that didn’t advertise their afternoon’s activities.
The elevator doors closed, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. He still smelled like soap, and his muscles yielded against hers. She had to tell him the truth tonight.
He nudged her, and she blinked up into his expectant, knowing grin. “Sorry, what?”
“I’m not the only one with an expressive face, doll.” He held her gaze. “I like it. But to ask my question, again—what was your father’s name?”
“Lucas. Why?”
“Something I have on my mind.”
“Be-en.”
“No whinging.”
“Huh?”
“Whining,” he explained as he kissed her nose. “And you won’t have to wait long.”
She didn’t. Ben had arranged for a private table in the restaurant, and the four of them were alone to enjoy memories and celebrate people who’d meant so much to each of them.
He raised his glass. “To Bill, a wonderful man gone too soon. Who is now sharing memories and laughter with Lucas over the women they loved. And who have hopefully been joined in their laughter by Douglas and Andrew, much as we have been joined by our own. May we remember that those men, who wanted nothing more than to see us happy, are watching us live lives they never expected, and they are proud of us for living them.”
Grace dabbed her eyes with a napkin, her intended confession forgotten.
Chapter 9
To keep the vacation from becoming “the great hotel tour,” Ben and Grace followed through with every planned outing and made memories with their mothers and the others in their group.
Ben actually made a list of all his favorite places, and Grace asked every concierge for sightseeing suggestions. In Venice, they went with Adam and Nora to St. Mark’s Square and listened to their laughter echo as they danced to an informal concert. Ben had insisted on a gondola ride under the stars. In Florence, Adam had coaxed them all into a tour of the Cimitero degli Inglesi, and they’d ended the night in a guitar bar. In Rome, they spent an afternoon in the sun at the Villa Borghese and then stayed for the fanciest Shakespeare in the Park Grace had ever witnessed.
Paris came too soon.
For their last night together, Ben and Grace spent the evening on their own. They had dinner at Le Pre Catelan and then walked through the city, ending up in Montmartre on the steps of Sacré Coeur. With the lights of Paris laid out before them, they sipped beer they bought from a corner shop and enjoyed the revelry around them. They had a memorable evening talking about everything except tomorrow. Until they returned to the room.
“All right,” Ben said, loosening his tie, “so we’re both committed through November. Christmas, maybe?”
“I don’t think I’ll be out of town. But . . .”
“Mum,” he sighed.
Grace nodded. “New Year?”
“I can’t guarantee it.” He looked up from the calendar she’d found shoved in the bottom of her purse. “That’s six months, Idgie. Can’t you—”
“It’s not like I’m playing hard to get. Can’t you?”
“I don’t work for myself,” he countered. “It’s more difficult for me.”
“And I have to work when I can.”
“Halfway then,” he pitched. “New York?”
“I never get there. L.A.?”
“I’m not scheduled for there.” He hurled the calendar across the room. His shoulders deflated as it smacked against the wall. “Try, Grace.”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
She was trying anything but the truth. She wanted one last night with him. The movie would be released and he’d thank his lucky stars he’d narrowly escaped the traveling circus.
Sharing a room was great until she needed to cry. When she stood, he grabbed her hand.
“I hate arguing with you.” He looked up at her. “I sure as hell don’t want to do it tonight.”
“We’re not arguing.” She touched her forehead to his. “I’m going to shower.”
In the bathroo
m she smothered her tears in a washcloth as she stood under the spray. Then she dried her hair and brushed it until it crackled with static and reached for the bristles on its own. By the time she slipped her negligee over her head, she could look her reflection in the eye.
The scrap of turquoise silk was a replacement for the watercolor negligee they’d forgotten in Salzburg in their rush to pack. Ben had almost rented a car to go back for it.
She came around the corner to find him reading in bed and oblivious to her presence.
She’d seen the glasses on the bedside table, but she’d never seen him in them. It was touching to watch him engrossed in something so normal, his eyes sharp behind the frames, his hair falling across his forehead, his torso bare.
There was no rationalizing this. She didn’t know his birthday, but she knew he’d gotten the scar on his knee during a fight with his best friend. She knew he liked long runs on the treadmill and preferred dance music, but she didn’t know where he was going after tomorrow. The thought of leaving him made her physically ill.
“Good book?”
He slid the glasses down his nose. “It is. Fe insisted I bring it in case things got dull.”
“Bored, are you?”
Appreciation lit his eyes. “Not a chance, doll. I think turquoise is my new favorite color.”
“About the book?” she asked, glad they’d both concluded tonight was more important than tomorrow.
“It isn’t something I would have chosen, but the characters are well done and the plot isn’t formulaic. There’s a wit to it, but it’s not heavy-handed.” He reached for her, encouraging her to join him. “And the end kept me from thinking of you in the shower.”
Tangling his fingers in her hair, he rubbed the strands before he pulled her close to nuzzle and nip at her ear. “I’m sorry, honey.”
He continued down her body, tormenting her neck, her collarbone, and her nipples, only to drift lower and torture other, deeper places. His silky hair tickled her skin, and Grace gave up caring about what the guests in the next room might hear.
He climbed back to eye level, his gaze haunted as he traced her muscles, the bones of her jaw, the shells of her ears, the ridge of her nose, the shape of her lips, almost counting her freckles.
He was memorizing her, storing up enough sensations to last the rest of his life. He was telling her goodbye.
When her tears started, he pulled away. She twined around him, urging him closer. Ecstasy melded with grief as they built toward a climax together.
Then Grace took her turn at saying goodbye.
Dawn broke as he reached for her again. “I should let you sleep.” His voice was raw from too little sleep and too much sex.
She stroked muscles she knew as well as her own, ones that would haunt her when she was alone in the dark. “I can sleep on the plane.”
Hours later, they trudged into the dining room, hand in hand. Avoiding every other traveler, they sat at a corner booth shaded by a forest of potted ficus trees.
For the first time in two weeks, Grace couldn’t eat. Even her coffee threatened to rebel. From the corner of her eye she saw the shuttle arrive. It was time to go.
“I hate this.” Ben’s jaw clenched. “I should be—”
She wrestled with her bag. “I won’t be able to do it if you’re at the airport.” She blinked her eyes clear. “We both know we have to—”
Careless of who might see, Ben fastened his lips to hers in a frantic, hungry kiss. “I love . . .”
She stifled the declaration with a light touch. If he said those words, she’d collapse into a salty, snotty pile, and that wasn’t the last memory she wanted either of them to have. Instead, she took one last look at his face. His eyes were flat and empty. His laughter had vanished. His stubbly jaw pricked her fingers.
She straightened her spine and walked away.
After she left, Ben sat alone and glared at the empty chair across from him. The Greers stopped to say goodbye, then the Goldsteins, and finally the Cains.
“Go catch her,” Adam counseled.
His mother already had a taxi queued. The ride took forever, so did check-in, then security. He couldn’t run and leave his mother behind.
“Go, Bennett,” she urged him as he cleared the metal detector. “Run.”
Sprinting through the concourse, he weaved between travelers as he searched for Grace’s hair and strained to hear Sunny’s cheerful nattering. He reached the correct gate, but it was empty.
Trudging away, he walked to his gate, caught his mother’s eye, and shook his head. He slouched in the adjacent seat as she patted his knee, and they waited in silence. Once on board the plane, he grasped one last straw and asked an attendant if the London to Atlanta flight had left on time. She came back to report, with a smile, that the flight had left Heathrow.
Grace was gone.
Arriving in London, he slogged up the concourse at his mother’s elbow and into Fiona’s waiting arms. Noah stood behind her, cheerfully ready to take carry-on bags.
Ben’s insides twisted. They were his best and oldest friends. Their wedding had been one of the happiest times in his life. Now he fleetingly wished Fe had broken Noah’s heart so he wouldn’t have to be miserable alone.
“Have a nice trip, you two?” Fe chirped, obviously trying to be bright in response to the frown he knew had frozen on his face. He couldn’t be bothered to care.
“We had a great time, Fe. Thank you.” His mother stepped into his breach of manners.
“Boss?” Fe smirked at the joke. He’d known her since prep school, and she’d pushed him around even then. Still, she was trying to cheer him and he should put out an effort.
“I’m right knackered, Fe.”
Noah pulled their bags from the turnstile. “Let’s get you two home. Are you crashing with Cam?”
“Bennett needs to go home,” his mother instructed.
They dropped her first, and Ben kissed her cheek without making eye contact. He wanted to cling to her the way he’d done in childhood. Instead, he stayed put and left it to Noah to get her settled.
“You look like the sixth degree of hell, Nobby,” Fe teased from the front seat. He hadn’t realized she’d stayed with him.
His breath made the long journey from his toes as he forced himself alert. Wandering around London in a gormless fog would get him into trouble. “On your bike, Fe.”
“You’re in a grump,” she complained before hazarding a guess. “It’s a woman, isn’t it?”
“Grace.” My Grace. “She’s a Yank.”
“Oh, my God. You’re arse over tit for an American you met on the train?”
He took another deep breath. She was going to give him hell for this. Might as well have done with it. “I’ve spent every minute of the last fortnight with her.”
“Every minute?”
“Our mothers roomed together.”
“Wow. Go Cam,” Fe teased before her eyes narrowed. “Wait. Why isn’t she here? Or you there?”
“She doesn’t know who I am.”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“When? How?” His frustration and grief boiled over. “Having a bit of the old rumpy pumpy and I whisper ‘I’m in films’ in her ear? She’d run like hell if she knew what my life is like.”
“But you didn’t give her a chance to say so.”
He slumped in the seat and tried to explain reasons that had sounded so good hours ago. “She’s private. She has a life of her own.”
“And?”
Ben couldn’t meet her eyes. He was being pulled in two, with the largest part already halfway across the Atlantic. If Fe saw that in his face, she’d never leave him alone.
“I’m due on location next week. You know that. What am I supposed to do?
Uproot her and dump her in a strange city where the only person she knows is my mother?”
“She’d have us.”
“Fe, I live in a city of millions and I have three friends—four if you count Mum, which I refuse to do because that’s just sad. How long before Grace gets lonely? And what about when the paps get wind of her and hound her with questions? How long until I come home and she’s gone or my life makes her into something I can’t stand?”
“You’d have more than three friends if you weren’t so quick to cut people off. Not everyone is out for themselves, Bennett.”
He didn’t feel like rehashing the old argument at the moment. “Fe,” he growled.
“I know. Bugger off.” She made a face, and he smiled in spite of himself.
Noah came down the steps, and Ben fell silent. There were some things he could only discuss with Fe.
As they pulled away from the curb, Ben returned his book to its original owner. “Thanks for this. It was great.”
“I knew you’d like it. They’re casting the film version. You ought to see if Archie can get you a meeting.” She opened the cover, smiled, then offered him the scrap of paper.
Numbers were scrawled across a sheet of crumpled hotel stationery. Feeling like a nutter, he brought it to his nose. Musk, jasmine, and vanilla—it smelled like Grace.
Fe grinned from the front seat. “It’s her phone number, y’ daft knob.”
Hours later and thousands of miles away, Grace closed the door of her home, ignoring both her mother’s goodbye to Angela and the young woman’s cheerful wave. Angie’s enthusiasm made up for her shortcomings as an assistant. And she’d chattered with Sunny for the entire two-hour drive from the airport. Grace had been content to sit in the backseat and brood.
She couldn’t even write because she’d opened her notebook in Atlanta and seen the hurried scrawl across the face page.