Page 27 of Grant’s Flame

Right before the tears came.

But stopping them…utterly impossible. They coursed out, unwelcomed and hot, and I immediately pawed at my cheeks to dash them away. Especially before I ruined the special moment between this amazing man and me. This extraordinary human being who was still living and breathing and simply being there for me.

“Hey, hey,” Grant crooned, capturing my hands in his version of a comforting move. But I just got more frustrated.

I turned my face into his chest, thinking to hide there while I pulled myself together. Of course, Fate and Irony took turns pointing long, arthritically distorted fingers at me while they laughed. Because I didn’t get my shit together. Oh, no. Quite the opposite, in horrific and messy detail. Racking, hitching, hiccupping sobs tore up my throat, escaping with every breath I sucked in and labored out. I didn’t just fall apart. I shattered into a million awful shards.

Yet all the while, even as the fragment count climbed into the billions, this gloriously beautiful man rocked me in the strong cocoon of his capable arms. He hushed a gentle litany of kind words to me. Between his sentences were baritone hums and silken whispers, also replete with his steady strength. He was giving it all to me without conditions or caveats or even smartass remarks. He was giving it all to me as if he’d been waiting a lifetime to do so.

My God.

Where had this man come from? I seriously needed to know. More importantly, when heaven finally discovered they were missing one of their angels, would they insist on having him back? Because I wasn’t sure about much these days, but I knew one thing with complete certainty. I wouldn’t survive losing another man I loved in one lifetime.

Finally—thank God—I settled quietly into the crook of his neck and closed my eyes. I would be a happy girl to fall asleep in his arms, under the moon and stars with the sounds of the Pacific lapping at the underside of the boat in a rhythmic lullaby. Grant seemed equally at peace, and we stayed quiet for a long time. He finally pulled back subtly, I guessed to check if I’d really nodded off, and the slight shift of my weight on his lap made something else obvious between us.

Much. More. Obvious.

I had been so unfair to this handsome, healthy, and virile man. With a lazy smile, I looked up into his gorgeous face. The face with the hopeful blue eyes peering down into mine. We both knew what we had shared the morning before. What we had shared before at my house.

But just as quickly, he looked away, and a stab of insecurity pierced my chest and caused me to avert my eyes too. Grant caught my jaw with his quick hand and with two fingers raised my chin, so I had no choice but to meet his steel-blue gaze in the night.

“I’m trying like hell to be noble here, baby. Don’t take it for anything else.” His voice was low and lust heavy as it vibrated through his chest and into me where our bodies touched.

“Grant.” I sighed. How did I possibly tell him all the things I wanted to say?

“Hmmm?” He nuzzled his nose into my hair just past my ear, and I shivered. “Are you cold? Let’s cover with the blanket.” He was spreading the thing over us before I could get a word out otherwise, but it did give me an excuse to snuggle into him closer. I wrapped my hand around to the back of his neck and ran my fingers through his hair, trying to work out the right sentiments.

“It really hit me this evening, how unfair I’ve been to you. Hot one minute. Cold the next. I owe you an apology for that, except, well—shit.” I laughed a little girlish laugh—so not like me—making me wince hearing how it sounded when it came out. “Well, an apology doesn’t even seem fair either. You’ve been so good to me—a rock-solid fortress. And I’ve been a bratty girl throwing fits. I’ve been rude to you and short-tempered, and—”

I cut in on myself once I found the courage to look up and meet his gaze again. I wasn’t planning on that—there were plenty more shortcomings to list—but before I could continue, he smoothly reached out with a couple of fingers, stopping any more words from coming from my lips.

Right before he swept in and covered my mouth with his. Immediately…I was lost to him.

The man definitely accepted my apology—while claiming contrition from my lips and tongue with his own. He demanded my remorse from the skin along my jaw, all the way back to my ear with sharp bites and soothing licks, as only he could do. But he didn’t stop when he got there—and I didn’t want him to. Grant yanked my body beneath his and then loomed over me, powerful and demanding and decadent in his golden glory. With a sensual groan, he kneed my legs apart and settled into the space between them. At the same time, he slid his bent arms under my shoulders to cradle me in his strength and sanctuary.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” I asked breathlessly.

“Not yet,” he growled. “But you will be by the time we’re done here tonight.” The promise in his words and the playful gleam in his eyes shone as brightly as the North Star. He was just as much my guiding light in the dark. My direction. My affirmation that everything was going to be okay—and soon, maybe he’d even help me find the way home.

The lights flicked off in the cabin behind us, so we knew the crew had finished their nightly duties and were calling the day complete. They were moving about so early that morning, so they had to be exhausted.

“It’s so dark out here,” I whispered up to him.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of anything. Not anymore.”

“What does that mean?” He ran his fingers over the curves of my brows and then my cheeks, studying every detail of my face while he waited for my answer.

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “It feels like the worst has already happened. I’ve already felt the worst pain a woman can feel, apart from losing a child, I suppose. And clearly, that will never be in the cards for me now, so I can put that one up on a shelf somewhere.”

Grant’s ordinarily bright-blue eyes turned dark with sadness, and I wanted to recall every word I had so selfishly let pass over my lips.

With both hands, I reached up and tugged his thick hair. “Please don’t be sad for me. I can’t stand that look of pity on your face right now.”

“It’s not pity, Blaze.”

“No? Are you sure?” I pressed, not convinced, and tried so hard to keep the bitterness from my voice.