“You want this?” I ask, not sure I can believe what I’m hearing. “After everything I’ve shared, you’re not running for the hills?”
“If you’d let me,” she says, her voice thick, “I’d come to your place. Right now. Tonight.”
“I want that,” I tell her. “I don’t care if it’s late or if it’s strange. I want to see you.”
She gets out of bed and steadies the phone on something with the camera facing her. “You’re not streaming this over the internet, are you?” she teases.
“Of course I am,” I say. “I want the entire universe to know about my sordid past.”
While I watch, she wiggles out of her sleep shorts and gifts me a nice view of her bare ass. My dick takes notice, and I clench my fists, groaning at the sight. She’s even more gorgeous and far more toned than I’ve seen under those shredded jeans.
She pulls on a pair of comfy-looking sweatpants and drags a cardigan over her sleep shirt. Then she looks into the camera. “Are we doing this?” she asks and I nod. “See you in fifteen minutes?”
I lean forward and stare into her stunning gray eyes. “The key is under the mat.”
11
GRACIE
When I getto Ryder’s, he’s standing in the open front door. I’m wearing a pair of trashy sweats and a cardigan over my T-shirt without even a bra to keep the girls from bouncing, but I don’t care. I practically run up the driveway and launch myself into his arms.
We don’t speak.
He just holds me, fists the back of my hair, and presses my head to his heart. I can feel its steady beat through the soft fabric.
I hold him as tightly as I’ve wanted to for the last two months. Through every flirty text, every video chat, every longing look we traded over a table, a child, or a coffee… It all comes together in this moment.
The front door is still wide open when he lowers his face to mine. He claims my lips with his in a first tentative kiss. Just a taste. A touch that sends my body into overdrive and my heart into outer space. I reach my fingers to the back of his neck and gently scratch my way through his hair. Our mouths open, and we deepen the kiss, his tongue dipping past my lips to explore me.
He tastes fucking divine. Better than I’d remembered and more addictive than a peanut butter crisp. Our mouths fit together perfectly, and we kiss and taste and grope until finally he pulls back, gasping for air.
“Come in. Please.” His words are as ragged as his breathing. I follow him inside, and he locks the door, then looks a little shy. “Upstairs? Downstairs? I don’t know what comes next.”
I take his hand and lead him to the couch. There is a large afghan and enough throw pillows to make this the perfect place to do what I came here to do. Hold him. Be with him.
I have no intention of fucking him, and I practically say it out loud, so my body is forced to pay attention. I want him. That kiss was more than enough to show me that our first kiss wasn’t a fluke. We have the heat. But it’s way too soon to dance with this kind of fire.
He’s got some potent swimmers, and I have unresolved fertility issues. There’s no reason to make things harder than they have to be. Sex is off the table, but that’s not what I came here for anyway. Despite how tempting he looks in his thin, form-fitting sleep sweats and ultra-soft tee. Despite how my body feels like it’s finally waking up after a long, uncomfortable sleep.
I don’t say a word as I settle into the cushions and strip off my cardigan. I toss it over the back of the couch and pat my chest. “Here.” I murmur just the one word and he complies.
He climbs onto the couch and angles his legs so they intertwine with mine. He curls onto his side and rests his face between my throat and collarbone. We lace fingers and tighten our hands together.
“So, all I had to do was spill my trauma in your lap to get you alone?” He whispers the words against my thin top, and I untangle my fingers from his and stroke his hair.
I don’t want to speak. We’ve done nothing but talk for months now. The flirting and the banter have been great, but if you want to really know someone, you need to spend time in their space.
Sharing the quiet.
Sharing peace.
I run my fingers through his hair and scratch lightly against his head.
“This is torture,” he whispers. “Having you here like this. But the best kind. Don’t stop, okay? Can you stay with me, Gracie?”
I feel his hard cock pressing against my thigh, but I say nothing and only nod.
I hear the white noise machine that must be running in Cora’s room. I close my eyes and inhale the rich scent of Ryder’s hair, the clean shampoo and soap smell of him refreshing and real. This is a place that feels good. It feels like home. I can’t imagine a man like this ghosting me. I can’t imagine anything beyond resting my head against the pillows and staying here until the sun comes up.
