Too Close to Resist (14 page)

He undid the button on her jeans, pulled down the zipper. He couldn’t maneuver his hand inside, so he tugged at her waistband. Taking the hint, she moved off him for a second, and after some rustling was back straddling him in only her panties.

Though he was desperate to be inside her, to feel the joining of their bodies on that purely basic level, he also wanted the moment to last.

He traced his finger along the waistband of her underwear, then down, cupping her until she whimpered. He slipped his finger underneath the soft cotton, then bit back a groan as his finger found her wet. He teased her there, and she returned the favor until they were both breathing heavily into the otherwise silence of the dark room.

She moved away and tugged at his sweats until he arched up enough that she could pull them and his boxers off. She removed her panties and crawled back, over him this time, and grasped him again, rolling on the condom.

When she lay next to him, he lifted up over her, wishing he could make out more of her face. Wishing he could see everything, because this was perfection. Romance or not, it didn’t matter. Not with the right person.

He eased into her and she expelled a little sigh, pulling him down so that he was crushing her into the mattress. And then she held him there, as if she wanted to savor a little, too.

She kissed his collarbone, his neck. “This is exactly what I wanted,” she whispered.

Nothing had ever meant this much. No moment. No person. It shook him right down to the core of everything he thought he understood. She moved against him, and he met her urging with slow, unwavering thrusts. He wanted to draw out this moment for as long as was possible.

Nothing in his life had ever been perfect, but this moment was. It always would be.

She held on for dear life as they moved together, and so did he. He whispered her name as her breathing hitched, her movements became more frantic. Kissed the spot just behind her earlobe, let his tongue slide down her neck.

She pushed hard against him, a lengthy sigh escaping her mouth, and he couldn’t hold back his own release. He pushed into her and held on as the overwhelming sensation blasted him.

She relaxed beneath him, sighing contentedly as her fingers danced up and down his back.

He wasn’t sure how he understood this would be a culminating moment in his life, he only knew it was.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

G
RACE
ROLLED
OVER
and into solid male. Since that was such a foreign experience, her eyes popped open immediately. And then her mouth curved into a smile as her eyes met a pair of very blue ones.

“Good morning,” Kyle offered, placing his phone on the nightstand next to his head. He was sitting up against the headboard, torso bare.

“Morning,” Grace returned, making no bones about admiring all that yummy muscle. “Shirtless is a good look for you.”

He made a scoffing noise, then reached out and touched the ends of her hair. “It’s short and black.”

“Yup. Don’t like it?”

“Of course I like it,” he murmured, rubbing the ends between his fingertips. “I might miss the color.”

Grace laughed, inching closer. “You didn’t like the color.”

“That’s not true.”

“Kyle, you don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying. I liked it just fine. It suited you. It suits you. I just...” Wrinkles creased his brow and he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You scared me. Color. Life.”

Grace curled up next to him. “And I don’t scare you anymore?”

He let out a breath that might have been a laugh, rested his arm across her shoulders and pulled her closer. “I don’t know about that. Maybe I’m ready to face my fear.”

She kissed his shoulder, then rested her cheek there. Fear lurked outside this room, but for as long as she could savor the moment, fear—his and hers—could stay locked outside that door.

Kyle rested his cheek on the top of her head and entwined his fingers with hers. They sat, quietly soaking in each other’s presence.

This was the most intimate she’d been with a man. She’d slept with a couple guys before her incident with Barry, but she’d always been living at home and hadn’t ever spent the night in a man’s bed.

Grace wasn’t sure if it was sad or nice, but she closed her eyes to just embrace the moment, live in it, wallow in something that felt absolutely right.

Kyle’s thumb traced her tattoo. “You never told me about yours,” he murmured against her ear.

For some reason, it warmed her even more that he wanted to know something about her. “It’s a Native American morning star. My grandma Davenport grew up on a reservation and she had this purse with this design beaded in. She said it was her prized possession because the morning star represented strength and bravery.”

“That suits you.”

Grace didn’t know about that. “She used to say symbols had power. So I wanted something powerful to remind me to be strong and brave. I needed that.” Some of the joy at memory faded at the past tense. “Need it, I guess.”

Kyle’s finger traced the diagonal again. “Symbol or not, you are strong and brave, Grace.”

Emotion clogged her throat, so she only burrowed closer. It was nice someone thought so. “Do you remember any of your grandparents?”

His body tensed and Grace frowned. It was a rather innocuous question for him to get tense about, but maybe his grandparents were as awful as his parents had been.

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, silence stretched out, and Grace grew tense enough to match him.

“No,” he said at length.

Not exactly the look into his past she’d been hoping for, but at least he’d answered her. With Kyle, that was actually something.

A loud bang on the door caused her and Kyle both to jump. “Christ, Kyle,” Jacob yelled. “The phone is ringing off the hook. Susan has the day off and you choose this as the one day you sleep in.” The pounding started again. “Are you dead or something?”

Kyle clamped his hand over Grace’s mouth as she began to giggle. “I’ll be right there. Just give me a second or two.”

Jacob said something she couldn’t catch, then cursed. “There’s the damn phone again. Be in my office in five.”

Grace watched Kyle scurry into action, muttering to himself as he flung open his closet and pulled out some khakis and a polo. Grace loved watching him get dressed. Quickly, precisely, all focused Kyle.

Until he pulled a pair of socks out of his drawer. Suddenly he stopped all his frantic movements and turned to her, perfectly folded over socks in hand. “I’m sorry.”

“For? I’m just enjoying the show.”

He shook his head, looked worriedly at the door. “I forgot Susan and Kelly were heading to Sioux City today to meet with their surrogate. I have to get to work. Any other day I’d—”

Grace rested her chin on her knees, raised one eyebrow at him. “You’d what? Play hooky? I find that hard to believe.”

“Fair enough.” He crossed over to the bed and sat next to her. “I’d consider it, though.”

Grace kissed his cheek. “Very sweet of you.” She lingered, inhaling the scent of his soap or shampoo or aftershave or whatever was piney and decidedly male. She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth this time, then the other corner, then the other cheek.

He groaned. “I have to go to work.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She slid into his lap, sank her mouth to his. His hands came up to her shoulders as if to pull her away, but they simply slid down until they rested at the small of her back.

“Killing me,” Kyle murmured against her lips.

“That’s the point.” She gave him one last peck, then slid off his lap to look for her clothes. “All right. Do you want me to go first or should you?”

“If Jacob’s gone, why don’t you?” Kyle grimaced. “I’m going to need a minute to think about the appropriate kind of pipes for a century-old house.”

Grace chuckled, pushing her legs into her jeans from last night, then pulling her shirt over her head. “If you find my bra, consider it a souvenir.” She loved this feeling. In-control, sexy, adult Grace. Who didn’t have to worry about a crazy ex-boyfriend.

Since she didn’t want to be that girl, she’d be this woman instead.

“Grace.”

His expression was suddenly serious and it had her stomach doing flops and jitters. “Yeah.”

“Last night.” He frowned, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before pushing off the bed. “Last night was very...special.” He grimaced again. “That sounds terrible. Last night was...”

Grace crossed to him, gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Perfect.”

His mouth curved and he pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Yes. Perfect.”

“And if you want a repeat of perfect, just know I’ll be keeping my bedroom door unlocked.” She grinned and sauntered to the door, biting back a chuckle as Kyle groaned and stared at the ceiling.

Grace stepped into the hallway, pulling the door closed as quietly as she could, and then bumped right into a scowling Jacob.

It took everything she had not to laugh at the anger emanating off him. “Thought you went to answer the phone.”

Jacob didn’t soften or falter. “You slept with him.”

“Yup.”

He shook his head in disgust. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, and then turned around and stalked down the hallway.

Childish and petty as it may be, she stuck her tongue out at his retreating back. She was not going to let Jacob ruin any of the good she was squeezing out of life.

* * *

K
YLE
WAS
JUST
about caught up with all the phone calls he’d missed that morning, guilt and irritation threatening to ruin his good mood. But he thought of Grace in his bed and smiled as the caterer droned on about the menu for next week’s party.

Mostly worth it. He couldn’t afford to linger in bed like that a lot, but once or twice wouldn’t kill him or MC. In fact, it would be downright good for him.

He finally wrapped up the call, pulled up today’s schedule on the computer and formulated his afternoon to-do list. He was feeling good enough about life that he found himself whistling, and then he laughed because he’d never really known himself to whistle.

Kyle checked the news and the whistling stopped. One of the leading stories on Bluff City’s news website was a piece about Grace’s fire and Barry’s being wanted for questioning.

Kyle’s stomach turned. How easy it had been for him to put the threat of Barry on the back burner when he was enjoying life for once, but he doubted Grace felt the same. As happy as she’d seemed this morning, surely this whole thing was always in the back of her mind.

He thought about last night, about being with Grace. Maybe, just maybe, Kyle had been a distraction and nothing more. But she’d sat with him that morning, hand in his, head on his shoulder. He had to believe she felt at least a little of what he did.

Kyle x-ed out of the website. He would keep Grace safe and happy. Barry, wherever he was, wouldn’t get close enough to threaten her ever again.

Surely there was something he could do to make sure of it. Maybe if he talked to Jacob, they could figure something out. Something that wouldn’t smother her, but would keep her mostly inside the house for the next few days. Maybe something with her painting.

Kyle left his office, descended the stairs, found Jacob pacing the rarely used sitting room. When Jacob saw Kyle, he practically growled.

“You slept with my sister.”

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. Well, that was fine. Not having secrets about him and Grace was for the best. Jacob would have to get used to it, and maybe if he realized they were good together, he’d get over this misplaced anger.

“Yes, I did. But that’s really not your business, Jacob. Considering you were all but giving me your stamp of approval a few weeks ago—”

The blow was so unexpected, so out of left field, Kyle barely had time to flinch before Jacob’s fist connected with his face. Kyle stumbled back a few steps, nausea mixing with the radiating pain of bone-on-bone connection.

He closed his eyes and saw his father, so he purposefully opened them back up. Focused on Jacob. His best friend. Who had just sucker punched him in the face.

“You stay away from my sister. A few weeks ago was different. Now she’s scared and in danger and you’re taking advantage of her. You go near her again, and...and...”

Kyle closed his eyes, no longer reminded of his childhood. No glimpses of his father now, because his best friend’s treating him like this was bad enough all in its own.

He clenched his fists, because if he looked at Jacob the violence he felt in return might escape, and he wouldn’t let anyone,
anyone,
make him that person again. Dad was the sole owner of that title.

Jacob pushed him against the wall and Kyle’s eyes popped open. “Do you understand?”

Do it. Don’t do it. Do it.
The chorus was loud and painful as he waited for Jacob’s next move, arms and jaw locked tight.

Jacob’s face was twisted with fury, his breath coming in short, heavy bursts. “I should kick your ass.”

Kyle jutted out his chin. “Go right ahead. I’m used to people whaling on me because they don’t have their own shit together.”

Jacob’s fighter’s stance slumped and Kyle took the opportunity to walk past him. He needed to get ice on his cheek before a mark showed up, because the last thing he was going to do today was explain to Grace that her brother had punched him.

His arms shook as he pulled a towel out of the drawer, shook so badly he dropped ice while trying to wrap it in the towel.
Pathetic.
After all, he should be used to this. He should know exactly how to act.

But violence outside of brief, infrequent interactions with his father had been out of his life for ten long years, and now it was back, both from someone else and zinging through his own veins. It all mixed with a jumpy stomach and searing headache, so Kyle climbed the stairs, went to his room and crawled into bed.

He held the ice to his cheek, willed the ice to freeze every part of him. He looked over at the rumpled pillow Grace had slept on last night.

He cared about Grace. He liked her, wanted her. He wanted to soak up her light and warmth. Even with her dark hair and her small fit of anger the other day, even knowing she was still struggling with her own ordeal, he wanted what was between them to grow. To be.

And it killed him that it put him at odds with his oldest friend, the one person who had been a constant in his life.

But Jacob couldn’t offer what Grace could, and Kyle couldn’t let Jacob stand in the way of something good. Something right.

* * *

G
RACE
TRIED
TO
think of anything else, but something about being in the dark, lying in bed, made her brain, which had behaved itself all day, suddenly give her fits.

When she closed her eyes, she saw the fire, or worse, Barry. When she opened her eyes she thought of everything she’d lost. Her stored paintings. Scrapbooks from high school. Her first and only love letter.

All the power and anger she’d stored up the past day had melted away. In the dark, alone, she felt weak, afraid, empty.

She willed herself to believe she’d wake up feeling better, or Kyle would come to her as she’d suggested that morning. She willed herself to believe this downtrodden, pathetic feeling wasn’t permanent, wouldn’t dog her forever.

Barry would go back to jail eventually.
What if they never find him?
They would. He wasn’t that smart. Anyone who left evidence of starting a fire in their own place couldn’t escape the police forever.

Barry would go back to jail and everything would be fine.
Except you don’t have a house to go home to.
Maybe she could get a job in Bluff City, pay rent to MC, really start living.
Until Barry gets out again.

The tears ran down her face, the wet, pathetic drops sliding down her cheek, neck and then onto the pillowcase. She should get up and paint. She’d been able to lose herself in painting all day. She should keep going until she was too exhausted to function. Then maybe her brain would shut the hell up long enough for her to sleep.

She should go find Kyle. Be proactive. Like she’d been last night. What was wrong with doing the initiating all the time? Nothing, if it got her what she wanted. A distraction. Actually, Kyle was more than that. Sex with him was, like he’d said this morning, special.

Three precise raps sounded at the door, followed by it creaking open and Kyle whispering her name.