Grant's hands move to my back, unhooking my bra with practiced ease. Then we're tumbling onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and desperate touches. His mouth finds my breast, and I arch into him, my fingers threading through his hair.
"Grant—"
"I've missed you," he breathes against my skin.
He kisses his way down my body, and I lose the ability to form coherent thoughts. Everything narrows to sensation—his mouth, his hands, the building heat low in my belly. When he hooks his fingers in my panties, I lift my hips to help him, and then there's nothing between us.
"Wait. Are we—is this safe? For the babies?"
"Yes." He brushes hair back from my face, his touch impossibly gentle. "It's perfectly safe as long as you're comfortable."
He kisses me again, slower this time. "But if you want to stop?—"
"Don't you dare stop."
He doesn't. His hand slides between my thighs, finding me already wet, and I gasp into his mouth. He remembers from Florence exactly how to make me moan and he does those things over and over again.
"Please," I finally gasp. "Grant, please?—"
He sheds the rest of his clothes and settles between my thighs. For a moment, he just looks at me, his hand cupping my face.
"This is different," he says quietly. "Than Florence."
"I know."
"If we do this, Emma—" He pauses. "I'm already in too deep. After this, there's no going back for me."
The confession should scare me. Instead, it feels like relief.
"Then don't go back," I whisper.
He enters me slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. The sensation is overwhelming as I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, and he lets out a low groan.
"Emma—"
We move together and the pleasure builds, addictive and insistent, and I cling to him as it crests. When I come, he's right there with me, his voice in my ear telling me how amazing I am.
Afterwards, we lie together, my head on his chest, his hand stroking my back. The city glitters beyond the windows, and I feel utterly exhausted and sated at the same time.
"So much for coming here to have important conversations," I murmur against his skin.
His body rumbles with quiet laughter. "We both knew that wasn’t going to happen."
He presses a kiss to my hair. "Should we try to have the practical conversation now?"
"Absolutely not."
"Good." His arms tighten around me. "Because I'm not ready to let you go yet."
I should protest. Should remind him—and myself—that we can't just hide in this bedroom, in this moment, forever. We still have huge decisions to make. My father to tell. Grant’s ex-wife to deal with. Babies to prepare for, and a thousand other complications waiting just outside this door.
But lying here in his arms, with the city lights spread out below us, I feel a sense of calm.
This is no longer a simple mistake. It's my life.
And I have no idea what to do next.
Chapter 10
