“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against my lips.
And he does.
Every touch is deliberate. Every kiss is consuming. Every thrust is worshipful and wild at once. He holds me like he’s scared I might disappear, like he’s never letting me go again.
We fall apart together, tangled and breathless.
He collapses beside me and pulls me onto his chest, rubbing slow circles on my spine.
My limbs feel loose, boneless, glowing. Sleep tugs at me, and just before I slip into slumber, I swear I hear Grant whisper something.
Something that sounds an awful lot like, “I love you.”
I try to answer, but sleep drags me under. Drifting somewhere between dreams, one soft, dangerous thought slips through me.
Maybe loving him won’t be a mistake after all.
NINE
Grant
Rowan yawnsinto her coffee as she climbs into the passenger seat of my truck, her hair still damp from the shower, cheeks flushed from rushing around the house this morning, tearing through boxes to find her clothes. She looks soft and sleepy and so damn cute that it takes effort not to lean over and kiss her senseless before we even pull out of the driveway.
“Morning,” she murmurs, buckling her seat belt.
I lift the coffee cup I bought her to her lips. “Drink.”
She smiles around the rim and takes a sip. “Bossy.”
“Efficient,” I correct, starting the engine. “You didn’t have time to make breakfast.”
I pull out of the driveway and head toward the medical clinic. My shoulder aches this morning. The scar tissue always pulls when the weather gets cold, but today I don’t let the irritation show. I’ve got another doctor’s appointment, another round of tests, and mobility assessments. I hate the appointments, but I’m trying not to bring that into the truck with Rowan. She doesn’t need to worry about me.
I drive her to work first, pulling into the clinic parking lot. Before she can get out, I reach across the console and cup the side of her neck, rubbing my thumb lightly at the spot below her jaw.
“You good?” I ask.
She nods, eyes fluttering shut for a second as if she likes my touch more than she’ll admit. “You’re picking me up for lunch?”
“Mm-hm.” I tap her bottom lip. “Eat your breakfast. Drink your coffee. Text me if you need anything.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
I smack her ass lightly when she gets out of the truck, and she squeaks, shooting me a glare over her shoulder. It’s adorable, and it keeps her thinking about me all morning, which is exactly how I like it.
I head over to the DEERS office to get the paperwork filled out for Rowan. I have to give them a copy of our marriage license, along with important documents like her birth certificate and Social Security card. I make an appointment for 1 PM so she can get her picture taken for her ID card.
Then I head back home. Rowan’s boxes are littered around the living room, most of them already opened. I smile as I get to work.
It takes me a few hours to put all of her things away. Clothes, toiletries, shoes, study guides, pictures of her and her dad. I put everything away where it makes sense—where she’ll be able to find it, where she’ll know I cared enough to think about it.
Her dad’s old recliner is in the corner of the living room. I tighten the bolts on it and fix one of the squeaky armrests. I run my hand along the worn fabric and exhale slowly.
He’d be proud of her, proud of the woman she is.
I love seeing her stuff next to mine. The house feels fuller. Lived in. Warmer. Her pink toothbrush next to my blue one.Her sweater draped over the back of the couch. Her textbooks stacked on my coffee table.
My house looks like a home now.
