I position myself over him, lining us up. I sink onto him inch by delicious inch, biting my lip at the unbelievable pleasure starting between my legs. But what’s most amazing is the aching tenderness swelling in my chest.
I reach down and thread my fingers through his, holding him tight. “You’re mine,” I say as I start to move up and down.
“I will always be yours.” His eyes glitter in the dark as he responds. His vow promises more in the silence of the night.I’ll never leave you. You’ll always have me. You’ll always be mine, too. Mine to love, mine to protect, mine to cherish.
I don’t know how I can know all that, but I do. It’s as though somehow our hearts are linked, and each of us understands exactly how the other is feeling.
The pleasure mounts, and I grind my hips against him as I move up and down. He thrusts with controlled power, deepening our connection. I arch my back as I climax, all my senses spiraling out into space as I shudder over him and around him.
He joins me at the peak, his pelvis pushed upward, driving into me until he can’t come any deeper. My name tears from his lips, like the lost piece of his soul he’s finally reclaimed.
I collapse on his chest, wrapping my arms around him. He holds me, stroking me tenderly, then swipes his thumb across the skin underneath my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers. “Are you…okay with what we just did?” The question’s tentative, but he’s hiding his uncertainty and sadness well.
I nod. “I don’t regret anything. I didn’t even know I was crying.” I sniffle. “I don’t know why, but really. I’m fine.” I tighten my hold around him, and he pulls me even closer. “All I know is I just feel lighter. Like everything’s going to be okay. I don’t know how to explain it.”
He presses a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I’m glad.” But underneath those two simple words, I sense determination—that hewillmake sure everything’s going to be okay.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Aspen
When I open my eyes, I’m alone in bed. I try to sit up and find that Grant tucked me in tight before he left. It’s an effort to rise against the sheets.
I don’t know how long I slept, but I feel well rested. My eyes don’t feel awful, and my head doesn’t ache much. I smile a little. That’s one way I took after Grandpa—no hangovers. And weirdly enough, thinking of him doesn’t make my heart feel like it’s about to rip into pieces. I look up at the ceiling, blinking slowly.
I think I’m going to be okay.
My stomach growls like an annoyed and unfed kitty. I struggle and finally get one edge of the sheets to come free from under the mattress. The T-shirt Grant gave me last night is on the pillow next to me, neatly folded. I put it on, letting it hang like a loose dress.
I brush my teeth, splash some cold water on my face, then pad out of the room. My bare feet are silent, and nothing creaks in this home. With the brilliant SoCal sun pouring inside, the hallway looks bright and inviting. As a matter of fact, the whole place looks lovely. But then, Grant has excellent taste.
As I go down the stairs, I hear him on the phone. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but he sounds exacting and commanding. I smile a little. He soundshot. And supremely confident, as though he’s convinced that he’ll always get what he wants.
I find him in the living room, casually standing by the window and looking at the garden as he speaks on the phone. He’s in a V-neck shirt as blue as the Pacific and worn jeans. His feet are bare, like mine. A layer of stubble covers his chin, and I like how relaxed and at home he looks. It reminds me of how he was all those years ago.
He wraps up the call as soon as he realizes I’m downstairs. His eyes collide with mine, then he takes me in. He goes still for a moment and expels a breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sight.”
“What?” I look down. “What sight?”
“You in nothing but my shirt, in my home.” It isn’t just desire that glitters in his gorgeous eyes, but satisfaction—that everything’s right with the world. I know I’m the reason he feels that way, and pleasure warms my heart.
“Maybe after a couple of days…?” I suggest with a wink.
He shakes his head. “Maybe after a century or two.”
“I don’t know. I’m going to get old. You may not be so awestruck then.”
“Aspen, your hair can go gray and you can be covered in wrinkles, and I’ll still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. And I’m going to think what a lucky bastard I am to have you in my life.”
He wraps his arms around me, and I melt into his embrace.
“How’s your head?” he asks.
“Great. I don’t get hangovers.”
“That’s useful. So, are you hungry? It’s late.” He glances at the wall behind me.
