The evening’s plans are all but forgotten now. This makes sense. How do we progress together when my ex’s overtures just intensified?
And yet, now that the initial shock and worry have subsided, which only took a few minutes, I’m angry. Watching Grant pace and shoot off a text to who knows where, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this amount of rage directed at a person. It boils over, spilling out from inside me and into the room.
“How dare he?”
Grant whips around to eye me. I haven’t spoken until now, and after showing him the card and watching his entire demeanor harden, I walked inside. My heart clamored, a feeling of being invaded pinched between my shoulder blades, and exhaustion came on like a tidal wave. I’ve been sitting on the end of my bed watching him. Until now.
“How dare he come into my life and try to act like he has any claim on me now?” I bolt to my feet. “I’m so tired of this.”
I storm past him and out the door, down the stairs, and out to the porch where I grab the flowers, rush to the wilderness behind the garage, and dump the contents of the vase. Grant’s giving me space, supervising from the driveway, so he witnesses the anger-fueled stomp toward the trash can which I open, hurl the glass vessel inside of, and slam shut.
After stomping back up the stairs and washing my hands with unnecessary aggression, I hear the deadbolt of my front door engage. Grant still doesn’t speak, and I’m grateful he’s giving me the time and space to run through all of this.
Drying my hands, I try to explain.
“I’m sick of being a victim. I don’t want it. I want to be done with him. I don’t want him to have any effect on my life ever again.” It’s a small, stupid thought in the scheme of things, but… “I don’t want him to ruin tonight.”
He moves to me. “Then he won’t. We’ll deal with reporting it tomorrow.”
I expected resistance from him. He’s such a letter-of-the-law kind of guy—heisthe law in Juniper View and beyond—part of my frustration centered on the disappointment that he’d insist we report the incident tonight. Ormaybe even that he’d tell me I couldn’t possibly want to spend time with him if I was having a bunch of feelings about Andrew.
The most freeing twin realities hit me in this moment. I am no longer hurt or even ashamed of my time with that man. And second, Grant is the best man I’ve ever known.
He approaches, sliding one hand into my hair and holding my gaze. “What do you want, Sam?”
My stomach flips but I don’t hide. “You. I want to feel alive with you.”
What I don’t say is I want to feel safe, feel loved, feel peace with him, but all of those apply. All of those are true, too.
Heat flashes in his eyes and he cages me in with one hand resting against the wall I’m now realizing he’s backed me up against. Solid brick at my back, solid man at the front. I’ve barely let out a gasp when he dips his head and slides his nose along my jaw, then nuzzles behind my ear before his lips brush my ear. “And how do you want to do that, love?”
His voice is rich and deep with a dark edge of desire that sends need spiraling to every part of me. The brush of his breath against the sensitive skin of my neck sends a flush of awareness spilling over me. My body hums for him, and I don’t pretend to have an explanation.
He asked me the question, but we move together like we planned this from the beginning. I’m reaching for the buttons on his shirt while he coaxes my mouth open with his. Soft, demanding lips mesmerize me and I nearly whimper when his tongue touches mine.
His hands slide down my body, touching with reverence and desire, and my mind has forgotten the existence of anyone but him.
His lips. His teeth. His tongue. His hands.
He’s heaven, warm and smooth, with coarse hair on his chest once he yanks his undershirt over his head with one hand, then immediately returns his big, warm palms to my body. His calloused hands against the softest parts of me make me shiver and press closer, wishing there was nothing between us.
Soon, he’s bending, hiking me up so my legs lock around his waist, and we’re moving to the bed with one of his hands sliding along my bare thigh and eliciting lightning all over my skin. I might’ve been nervous for our date, but there’s no part of me that’s scared now.
Elated? Expectant?
So, so ready.
Every touch and word he’s shared with me has been thoughtful, kind, and good. He isn’t perfect, but he’s wonderful. He’s a dream, but he’s right here with me.
“You’re so beautiful, Sam, it hurts. I can hardly breathe when I look at you.” His gruff voice fills the space between us. He’s sitting on the end of the bed and I’m straddling his lap. He’s urging me closer and I’m meeting him right there.
It wasn’t long ago we sat just like this on his deck with the sky overhead and flames crackling. But instead of slowing, letting the fire bank, we’re stoking it. Every whisper and touch only fans the heat, and nothing in my life has ever felt more inevitable.
“You are, too.” It’s breathy and I might be embarrassed some other time if I heard it, but not now.
He chuckles low. “I’m beautiful?” He shakes his head.
“You are. And I’m so glad your sister made me move in here.”
