Too Close to Resist (13 page)

He knew the feeling so well it cracked his heart down the center. A painful, throbbing ache. But what could he do? The only thing that had ever made him feel like he wanted to be himself was MC and...Grace.

Since the violence had leaked out of her, he found he could move once again. He took a spot next to her on the floor and put his arm around her, drawing her close.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” What possible reason could she have to apologize to him?

“I... I’m sorry for throwing things.” She shifted so her eyes met his. Her fingertips brushed across his jaw. “It bothered you.”

He looked away, trying to hold on to the feel of her hand on his face over the cold tension that wanted to creep into his muscles at the concern in her expression. “No. Of course not.”

“I saw your face when I turned around. You were pale. You were...”

He didn’t like the way she trailed off, as if she was going to say
afraid.
He hadn’t been. Not afraid, only...surprised. He’d expected tears and he’d gotten rage and it had surprised him. That was all.

“I was, and am, fine. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

He swore he could
feel
her gaze, as though it was a touch. He could
feel
her desperate attempt to search his face, his expression, and find some answer. An answer he could never, ever allow her to have.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. Quiet, but fierce. Determined. The core of Grace that was the center of why he cared for her, and the absolute reason why she terrified him.

“You don’t have to pretend it’s not there. Not with me.”

She didn’t understand. That was exactly what he had to do. To survive. To move on. To be him. This better version of himself. The version of himself that was almost worthy of her.

“You’ve had a rough day.” His voice was rustier than he intended, and his muscles were tight with tension, but he forced himself to move. He ran a hand over her hair, her cheek, her neck. He kissed her temple and willed himself out of the equation.

This was about Grace. Not him. “Maybe you should lie down.”

“You don’t have to shut me out.”

He forced himself to look at her, directly in the eye. To touch her face. The lie was hard, but the truth would be harder. “I’m not. I’m worried about you. Not wanting to be you.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, because that wasn’t a lie. Those words from her did worry him, when he saw her as so brave and strong—braver and stronger than him—and she didn’t want to be herself.

Yes, that killed him. Far more than an uncomfortable reminder of his volatile past.

Eyebrows drawn together, she studied him. He knew she saw a puzzle, and that she thought she could fit all the pieces together, but he’d never allow her to have those bad pieces of him, the ones with the jagged edges and violent images.

“But you understand how I feel, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand.”

It seemed to appease her, because she rested her head on his shoulder and they sat there for a very long time while the world went on outside her bedroom door.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

G
RACE
WAS
A
little raw and a lot angry. She didn’t understand it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t eating her alive. Something about the police confirming the fire was set by Barry, and still not having Barry in custody filled her with more anger than fear.

Crying on Kyle’s shoulder had helped ease some of the self-pity. Vocalizing it and crying over it had taken away some of its power. But the anger...the anger still burned.

So Grace knew she had to act. Even if it was foolish. Even if it was a silly, empty gesture. She needed it.

She looked at her reflection in the hairdresser’s mirror.

“Do you like it?” the perky, young stylist asked.

Gone were the colors and a lot of length. Gone was her natural brown hair. Instead she had a short black bob.

“I love it.” She went through the steps of paying for her haircut and then walked out into the mall to find Leah. Of course, she hadn’t gone far. No, no one who knew what was going on would let her out of their sight for too long. Leah was sitting on the bench just outside the salon, her nose glued to her phone.

“So what do you think?”

Leah looked up. “Holy shit.” She pushed off the bench to study Grace’s hair. “You look badass, Grace.”

Grace smiled and touched the blunt ends of her hair. “Good. I like that. So should we head out to Shades? I’m ready to give old Betsy a workout.”

“We still have about an hour. Mind if we go into Harpers? I need a damn dress for this stupid anniversary party next week.”

“You know what, that’s an even better idea because I need a dress, too.” Grace smiled. If that was going to be her first “date” with Kyle, she would make sure in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t looking for sweet or nice after the party. She wanted to be
wanted.
By him.

“Ugh. I hate shopping. I hate dresses.” Leah pawed through racks. “I should just wear jeans and a T-shirt and tell your brother and his snide comments where to shove it.”

“Why, what’d Jacob say?” Grace didn’t naturally gravitate toward dresses, but with a specific cause in mind, it was kind of fun. She pulled three black dresses off the rack in front of her and draped them across her arm.

She was done with color for a while.

“He gave me this lecture about how it was going to be a fancy party with all our hoity-toity clients and maybe Susan and Kelly could help me find something appropriate to wear.” Leah scoffed. “I’m an electrician, for Pete’s sake. What the hell do I need with a fancy party?”

“Well, just think, if you wear something really elegant and fancy, you’ll totally shut him up.”

Leah stopped absently pawing through the selections and chewed on her bottom lip. “I’ll just look stupid.”

Grace shook her head and pulled a few dresses that she would have worn if she wasn’t going for black. A royal blue, a poppy red, a flowery print. She shoved them at Leah. “You’ll try those on.”

Leah stared down at the dresses. “These are all...really bright.”

“Go big or go home, Leah,” Grace said, enjoying herself. She hadn’t shopped with another female aside from her mom since high school. Mostly she’d rather spend money on art supplies than clothes, but this was a special occasion and it was fun having someone to boss around.

Besides, all her clothes aside from the ones she’d brought for her month at Jacob’s were gone.

Leah looked down at the dresses, frowned. “I...can’t wear low-cut dresses.”

Grace shrugged, took back the floral print and picked out a few more dresses for her shopping companion. “You have to try them all on and you have to show me at least three.”

“But—”

“I’m in charge. Embrace it.” In charge. Because she couldn’t be in charge of what was actually happening in her life, but she could be in charge of something silly like this.

Grace went through her stack of dresses. All but one fit well enough, but the one she gravitated to, the one that made her wince at the price tag but suited her new hairstyle perfectly, was exactly what she wanted. Black, sleek, sexy.

It might be a little short for a stuffy party, and the scoop neck might show off a little more than some of the older, rich clients would deem appropriate. The sleeves were long, though, and the black color meant that it didn’t scream “look at me.” She didn’t imagine that her dad would enjoy seeing her wear it, but she couldn’t stop looking at herself in the mirror when she was in it.

She looked hot. Powerful. Like someone she’d never, ever been. And that made the decision for her.

“Okay, I’m in one,” Leah grumbled from the room over.

“Come out,” Grace instructed, stepping out of her little cube.

“How about you come in?”

Grace chuckled and stepped inside the tiny dressing room. Leah had on the bright red dress. It was long-sleeved, too, but the neckline didn’t stray beyond her collarbone. The skirt was as short as Grace’s, which made Grace a little more confident about her own choice.

“It’s perfect. Classy, bright and it shows you actually do have a body under there. Jacob’s eyes will pop out of their sockets.”

Leah laughed uncomfortably, but she smoothed her hands over the dress and then smiled at her reflection. “Jacob doesn’t, you know, look at me that way.”

Grace shrugged, admiring her own reflection and how powerful she looked. “Maybe he will now.”

“I don’t want that,” Leah squeaked. She smoothed her hands down the dress again. “But I look pretty good, don’t I?”

“We both look amazing. Which means we owe it to ourselves to buy them.”

Leah looked at the price tag and grimaced. “I hate to spend that much on something I’ll never wear again.”

“Hey, you never know. You could wear it to weddings or other parties or on a date.”

Leah snorted. “Yeah, I attract a lot of men who take me to places I could wear this.” She sighed and studied herself in the mirror one last time. “Thanks, Grace. I needed this. And now I kind of feel like a tool because you’re the one going through...stuff, and I should be, you know, helping you.”

Grace smiled. “It’s fun. Having a friend who’s a girl. I’m not used to that lately, so no thanks needed.” It was nice having friends who didn’t make a huge deal out of what happened. “Going through stuff” was Leah’s first mention of it.

Where Kyle was comforting because he understood, a friend like Leah was comforting because she was a distraction. There was no reason to dwell on Barry.

Leah grinned. “Good.” She wrinkled her nose. “Look, I don’t do the whole hugging-people thing, but if I did, just know that I would hug you right now.”

Grace laughed. “Thanks. Now let’s go make our purchases and shoot some guns.”

“I like the way you think.”

They bought their dresses and headed out to the gun range. Susan was already there, in perfectly tailored jeans and a button-up shirt, loading her gun.

The range Grace had started going to after the first incident with Barry was in Bluff City. An inside range, there’d been a lot more hoops to jump through and people around. It had always been a nerve-racking experience. But Grace should have been doing this all along. Being outdoors, no hoops, just set up your own target and
boom.

Leah and Susan set up the targets. More than one friend. Life was not all bad. Grace pulled out her holster, squeezed her hand hard around the handle. She would not let all the bad seep over the good.

“Whoa. Look at you,” Susan said, shading her eyes against the slowly descending sun as she walked back with Leah.

Grace gave a little twirl that bounced her hair. “Like it?” She unsnapped the strap and began to load as Susan studied her.

“Well, it’s a good look for you. It is strange, though.”

“Strange?” Grace stepped up to the line and studied the target.

“It’s just so not you. Dark and edgy and all.”

Grace eyed the target. “Maybe it’s the new me.” She pulled the trigger, enjoyed the satisfying
zing
of hearing bullet hit target. Let Barry try to get near her. Just let him.

* * *

K
YLE
STARED
AT
the ceiling
.
His room was dark and he was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. Though Grace had texted both him and Jacob that she was going to be at Leah’s until eleven, he couldn’t sleep knowing she wasn’t home safe.

But he wasn’t going to prowl the living room like Jacob, grumbling about Leah, ready to pounce the minute she arrived. Grace didn’t need that.

Unfortunately, that was exactly what he
wanted
to do, and trying to work had only given him excuse after excuse to wander downstairs with a question for Jacob. So he’d forced himself to get ready for bed and lie there, no matter how little sleep he got until he knew Grace was back.

Kyle glanced at the clock. Eleven-ten. Was she home and he just hadn’t heard the door open? Quite possible.

Kyle clasped his hands over his chest, told himself he was not going to get up to check up on her. Unless he could come up with a really believable excuse.

No. No, not going to be that guy.

But his eyes didn’t close, and his thoughts didn’t shut off. He strained to hear any sound that might be the door opening or closing. Footsteps on the back staircase.

Eleven-fifteen. Kyle was about to say screw it and get out of bed when his door creaked open. Through a sliver of blinding light from the hall, he could make out Grace. She closed the door so quickly he only got a sense that she looked different without being able to pick out exactly why.

“Hi,” she whispered. The lock on his door clicked loud enough to be a gunshot.

It took him a minute to make his throat push out the word. “Hi.” It was dark in his room except for the glow of the clock and the shaft of streetlight from the gap between curtain and window. He could make out a shadowy figure and that was it.

But he could feel his bed dip, and then Grace’s warmth next to him. He swallowed, remaining perfectly still because if he moved, any honorable intentions he had were toast.

She scooted closer, her shoulder brushing his, strands of her hair shifting across his face. Her fingertips tentatively touched his neck, tested the weight of her palm against his chest, then roamed up to his shoulder, as if she was searching for bearing.

Kyle was just searching for some semblance of control.

“Kyle.” Her breath whispered across his cheek, and without thinking it through, he turned toward her. Her hand slid up his shoulder to his neck, and her lips touched his.

Screw control.

He pulled her to him so their bodies touched everywhere he could manage. He traced her lips with his tongue until she parted them, allowing entrance. She nibbled at his lip, pressed her leg between his.

Hell. He wasn’t supposed to do this yet. The moment was supposed to be special and full of roses and romance and all that stuff he wasn’t sure he was any good at, but he knew Grace deserved.

“Grace,” he muttered against her mouth. “I—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time.” Her voice was breathless but determined. She pulled his mouth to hers again, a hard, demanding kiss that shattered any noble thoughts well and truly to dust.

“Well.”

“Don’t worry. I came prepared.”

An uneven laugh escaped his mouth, which he then pressed to where her shirt met her shoulder. The kiss was half on skin, half on fabric. “Are you sure about this?”

Her arms tightened around him. “Yeah. Really, really sure.” Good enough. More than good enough. Perfect.

He found her mouth again, eager and willing. It wasn’t like that time before when they’d been interrupted. No, because now he’d already surrendered to Grace. There were no questions in his mind, or at least the questions were silent. Now he would just savor them together. Because he wanted it. Because she wanted it. Because it was theirs to have, no matter what baggage might take up space in his mind.

This wasn’t about his mind. It was about her body and his heart and everything in between, but his brain certainly didn’t have a say.

Kyle slid his hands under her shirt, taking his time smoothing his palms up the silky skin of her stomach, then the side of her breast. She pressed closer to him, hooking a leg over his until she’d shifted on top of him.

He could make out the outline of Grace taking off her shirt, and he moved up into a sitting position, so she straddled his lap. He slid the straps of her bra off her shoulders, planting kisses along her arms as she arched against him.

She pushed his hands away, finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Her mouth explored his neck while his hands explored her back. He could hear only the sound of their breathing and it made it feel as if nothing else in the world existed.

He unclasped her bra and she let it fall. Kyle moved his mouth across her collarbone, then down, finding her nipple with his mouth and using his tongue to trace its outline. Grace groaned, clasping her hands around his neck and pulling him closer. He wished he could see her, but maybe that would break the illusion that this was somehow right.

So right.

“You have to be quiet,” Kyle whispered against her skin, running his knuckles over her sides, smiling as he felt her skin break out in goose bumps.

Taking a lazy path across her chest, Kyle found her other nipple, gave it the same teasing attention, Grace grinding softly against him until it was him who had to bite back a groan.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, realizing there wasn’t quite enough of it. “You got your hair cut.”

“Mmm.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, her chin, fingers tracing the waistband of her jeans. “Let me see.”

“Later.” Her hand found the waistband of his sweats, sneaked its way down until it brushed him. He whistled out a breath. When she took him in her hand, he groaned.

She clucked her tongue. “Quiet. Remember.” Her hand stroked the length of him as she bent forward to kiss him. Was that why she was so different? Because even with her hand around his dick, when she kissed him it felt like more than just a fun trip to release. It felt more like showing her what she meant to him, too.