Too Close to Resist (15 page)

Thank God. Thank
God.
She hadn’t thought last night, and now she wouldn’t have to think again. “Come in.” The door closed, and since her eyes were adjusted to the dark she could see his outline slowly move toward the bed.

“It’s late. I thought maybe you had changed your mind.”

His breath was audible in the silence of the room. “I thought maybe...I shouldn’t. There’s a lot to do with the party and...” He trailed off.

“So what changed your mind?” she asked when he never offered an explanation.

“I just wanted to be with you.”

It soothed some of the pain away. That someone just wanted to be with her, even though something horrible had happened. Even though she was in danger, someone needed her. Just another thing Kyle offered no one else could.

Though she’d been crying and didn’t want him to see that, she also didn’t want him to trip and send Jacob running. “Come here. You can turn on the lights.”

“No. No, that’s okay.” Footsteps, rustling, then he was in bed next to her, pulling her close, burying his nose in her hair.

Grace squeezed her eyes shut, snuggled closer. When his fingertips brushed her face she winced. There was no way he’d mistake the wetness on her face for anything but tears.

“You’ve been crying,” he murmured, kissing her temple, smoothing a hand down her back.

“Just a little.”

He didn’t ask her what was wrong or tell her it was going to be okay, he just held her, rubbing calming circles over her back. Which almost had her crying for a completely different reason.

“I’m glad you came,” she mumbled into his chest. At first it felt silly to say, awkward and pathetic, but he sighed against her neck and some of the tension she hadn’t noticed in his shoulders relaxed.

Maybe it was something he needed to hear. That she wanted him there, needed a comfort only he seemed able to give. And the way he held on to her, just a fraction tighter than necessary, made her think maybe he was sad, too. After all, the way Kyle could be, had been, she doubted he had too many people telling him they were happy he was around.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he murmured against her ear before kissing the sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. “I might not stay tonight. I have to be up early. Really early. But I wanted to be with you for a little bit.”

Then he kissed her temple, her nose, moving his face until they were nose to nose, forehead to forehead. She could barely make out the features of his face, the square jaw, the high cheekbones, imperfect nose. Handsome and kind and a little wounded himself.

He brushed his thumb across her jawline, his fingertips glancing her cheekbones. All light, feathery touches like a blind man might touch a beloved object.

Grace’s stomach flipped as if she was on the incline of a roller coaster. Her heart shuddered when he kissed her forehead. As though she was precious, important, loved.

Frightening and wonderful and dizzying to think that might be the case. Since she didn’t want to dwell on the frightening, just the wonderful, she wound her arms around his neck. “Make love to me, Kyle.”

His mouth met hers, soft but maybe a little desperate. And it was right. Even if things weren’t, this was. His hands touching her skin, his tongue skimming her lips. She yanked at his shirt until he pulled away and discarded it. Then he pulled her shirt off and they both groaned as his palm found her bare breast.

Then they both laughed breathlessly as they shushed each other, shedding the remainder of their clothes. He shifted on top of her, the hard lines of his body pressing her into the mattress, his thumb brushing her nipple until she arched up against him.

Everything about him was long and hard and perfect. She clutched his shoulders as his mouth lavished attention on her breasts, then her stomach, then lower. He kissed the insides of her thighs, then licked and nibbled and sucked until she was nothing more than a quivering mass of need.

Then he touched her, slid a finger inside, slowly moving in and out until the climax ran through her like a delicious wave of heat. Kyle took his time kissing his way back up her body, so that by the time his mouth was on her neck, she wanted more. So much more.

“I have condoms in the nightstand.”

His weight shifted, and she heard him briefly shuffle through the drawer until he was above her again, resting between her legs, slowly entering her. Their breaths escaped in twin gusts of satisfaction, of rightness. And then he loved her exactly as she needed him to, slowly and intimately until they grasped each other through their climaxes.

His weight shifted to the side, but he held on, keeping her close. “We’re going to have to do this in the light some time. I want to see you. Us. I want...” He let out a frustrated laugh. “Okay, I’m shutting up now.”

“Why?”

“I sound like an idiot,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face.

Grace nestled her nose into the curve of his shoulder. Soft skin over hard muscle. “You sound like exactly what I need.”

“Good.” He kissed her temple. “Give me a second.” He slipped out of bed, moved across the room, fumbling in the dark. The distinctive sounds of tissue leaving its box followed by the rustle of the garbage can liner echoing in the silence. When he returned, he didn’t slip back into bed.

He sighed heavily. “I should go back to my room. If your brother...” He grunted. “We need to...” Another incomplete sentence, another frustrated sound.

Grace sat up in bed, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you and Jacob not getting along? Is it making work too hard? He’s getting so worked up about this. I don’t understand. He was fine with us, like, a week ago. I don’t know why Barry changes it. I’ll talk to him.” She wouldn’t be the reason Kyle and Jacob were on uneven footing. Even if it was Jacob’s fault for being an idiot, she didn’t want to play the role of Yoko Ono, either.

The bed shifted. “Everything is fine.” He pulled her against him so they sat together against the headboard, much as they had that morning.

“Everything isn’t fine if you’re worried about him seeing us together. He knows. We shouldn’t have to hide it. Is he making things hard for you? That isn’t right. And it’s my fault, so I’ll talk to him and make sure it’s okay.”

“Everything will be fine with me and Jacob, I promise. Once everything blows over with...everything, it’ll all go back to normal.”

Normal. Back to normal. As much as she wanted everything to be normal, she didn’t really want to go back. “Not everything, I hope.”

His fingers entwined with hers and he kissed the back of her hand. “You’re right. Not everything.”

Grace nestled back into Kyle’s chest, but she still chewed her bottom lip. Things were hard enough without her family making things worse. And she shouldn’t have to wait for the whole Barry debacle to be over—if it ever would be.

She deserved a relationship. She deserved
this
relationship. So did Kyle. And they both damn well deserved everyone to be on board with it.

That was something she could control, or at least try to.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

K
YLE
WASN
’
T
SURE
if it was noble, cowardly or just necessary to sneak out of Grace’s room early the next morning before the sun rose or she woke up enough to see the shine of bruise on his cheek. He just knew he didn’t want to have to explain when she’d already spent time last night worrying about him and Jacob getting along.

Nothing she, or he, could do until Jacob decided to stop being unreasonable.

Jacob was being unreasonable, right?
Kyle carefully closed Grace’s door behind him and walked as soundlessly as possible down the hall. All the while, a niggling insecurity tapped away at his brain.

Maybe Jacob was right. Maybe in some twisted way Kyle was taking advantage of Grace. Taking advantage of her bad experience so he could have something he’d always deep down wanted. Someone to look at him as if he mattered, as if he was important, as if he was loved.

Maybe it was all fiction. His mind reasoning and justifying to make his actions seem noble rather than questionable.

He gathered his clothes for the day and slipped into the bathroom. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw someone different from the man he’d been for the past ten years. There was no blankness in him now.

He felt things. Good things. If he could quash the bad, everything would be fine. So he refused to entertain the doubts another second. No old insecurities allowed. Not after the past two nights. Grace accepted him as though he meant something and that was...

Something.

Kyle studied the faint bruise. The ice had helped, but it was still visible to anyone staring at his face, which Grace was wont to do. If he stuck to his office for the day, kept busy until Grace’s mom picked her up for their movie night, maybe tomorrow it wouldn’t be noticeable.

Kyle let his head droop.
Asshole.
He didn’t want to keep something from her, but he didn’t want to make things worse with Jacob or between Jacob and Grace. So he had to choose asshole A or asshole B. Keeping scarce for a day or two while the bruise faded, when she had plans anyway, seemed like the better option than creating a bigger rift between siblings.

So that was what he would do. One little lie for the sake of the greater good couldn’t be
that
wrong.

Kyle ran through the shower and got ready for the day. He’d already knocked out half his email and half the payroll for the month when Jacob stepped into his office.

His posture was stiff, his usual easygoing expression granite. “I’m running to the bank for Susan. Anything else that needs doing while I’m there?”

How had things flipped? How had it gotten so he’d gained something special but lost the anchor that had brought him here? Kyle didn’t know. Didn’t know how to change it. “Not that I can think of.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been pretty busy not working and not doing what you should lately.”

The slight made him feel tired. The childish prodding was so unlike Jacob, even Kyle couldn’t keep his mouth shut about it. “So this is just how it’s going to be? Because I’m...”

Because he what? He could finish that sentence with “sleeping with Grace,” but it was more than that. This wasn’t a few nights of sex. Kyle felt as though he’d finally found someone he could be with for a very long time. Finally found someone he could trust himself to love.

Because he loved Grace? Yeah. Too soon and really frightening, but it was a truth he couldn’t deny. Still, while those words might ease some of Jacob’s misplaced anger, he couldn’t be the first to hear them from Kyle.

“Because of Grace and me,” he finally finished. Lame, but the best he could do in the circumstances.

“Yeah.” Jacob sneered. “This is how it’s going to be. As long as I think you’re going to hurt my sister, this is exactly how it’s going to be.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have hit you. That was wrong, but I still think you and her together, right now, is wrong.”

Kyle knew it was the closest he was getting to an apology, and that was fine. As he’d said the night before, he was used to it. Maybe not from people he trusted, but until Grace, Jacob had been the only person he trusted. Maybe he could only have one trustworthy person in his life at a time. Some curse or punishment for his own violent tendencies.

“She’s dealing with a lot, and you’re taking advantage.”

“Regardless of what she’s dealing with, she’s a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.” That was true. Grace knew what she was doing. What was happening between them was happening because she wanted it as much as he did. That wasn’t taking advantage. It wasn’t.

“She’s going through something bad. You really think you made the best decisions right after your parents went to jail?”

Kyle pushed back from his desk. Jacob didn’t know the whole story, but he knew enough to poke at old wounds. “I was eighteen. And maybe I spent a few nights at the wrong end of a bottle, but I got my act together. This... Grace... It’s different. You can’t compare me then to her now.”

“Maybe you’re Grace’s wrong end of a bottle.”

Because it scared the hell out of him that it might be true, his fists itched to connect. They weren’t going to keep doing this. Not this. He had to put a stop to it. “You don’t need to pick another fight or try to justify what you did. I didn’t tell her you hit me. Everything will be better if we forget it ever happened. So your lame apology is fine and enough. It doesn’t change my feelings toward Grace any more than anything you’re saying does.” If he said it, it was true, right?

Jacob’s brows drew together. “Grace doesn’t know I hit you?”

“I’m not going to be the one to cause her more problems.”

Any glimpse at a possible truce evaporated into a scowl. “And you’re saying I am?”

Kyle sighed. When was this going to resolve itself? “Well, you’re not helping.”

“Maybe
you’re
not helping.”

If he’d had siblings growing up, maybe he would understand this petty fighting. If he’d had a different life, maybe he could keep engaging in it. He couldn’t do either. “I’m done getting in pissing matches with you. You want to be silent business partners, I can do that.”

“Fine.” Jacob hesitated at the door, but Kyle didn’t know how to bridge this gap between them. This was new. Untested. Kyle could only handle so many new things at a time.

Jacob finally disappeared and Kyle looked at his computer. The numbers and columns that had once made sense now jumbled in his brain.

He’d worried he wasn’t right for Grace. Before the fire, he’d wondered why she couldn’t see that. Why she made him feel when no one else did. He’d thought there was a connection, even beyond that similar traumatic past.

Now Jacob’s words rang in his head. Maybe Kyle was Grace’s mistake. Her version of something bad for herself.

Kyle pounded a fist onto the desk. He wouldn’t think that way. Wouldn’t think that little of himself or her.

But Jacob’s words lingered.

* * *

G
RACE
PACED
IN
front of the doors that led to the second-story porch. She was going to paint there, damn it.

But the thought of sitting on the porch alone, even on the second story, even in the bright afternoon light, even with Kyle and Susan inside and Mom texting every ten minutes, had her shaking with fear.

“My life. My life. My life.”

What a joke.

She had her gun in its case in her bag of supplies. She had the confidence that she was making her own decisions, her own life, but she didn’t have the belief that Barry couldn’t touch it.

Power, weak and unsteady, tried to push over that depressing thought. Though her whole body was practically shaking with fear and nauseating dread, she pushed the door open. On unsteady legs, she stepped onto the porch with her things.

It took a lot of breathing, a lot of very specifically not looking beyond the balcony’s rail, but she set up her easel and paints. Once everything was set up, she took a long, deep breath, and then forced herself to look out over the street.

Houses. A short row of parked cars. Trees beginning to leaf, lawns beginning to green. A picture-perfect world. Nothing to be afraid of.

Her hands still shook, but she wouldn’t let that stop her. Even if this painting ended up being an unusable mess of shaky strokes, at least she was doing it—doing something.

Though her heart continued to pound in her ears, her arms began to strengthen. The more she looked out over the street and houses below, the more she felt like she was accomplishing something. Getting over something.

Barry wasn’t winning. He wasn’t.

The sound of a car door slamming punctuated the easy silence, making Grace jump, a dark blue splash of paint going across the sunny sky she’d been painting. She swallowed and looked below.

A man strode out of a car parked against the curb. He stalked toward the house. She couldn’t make out the man to identify him, but her mind whispered her worst fears.

Grace whimpered, her legs almost giving out as she grasped the railing. She squeezed her eyes shut. This was like the gym. It wouldn’t really be him. It would just be an MC client. It could be anybody. Not Barry. There would be no way he was just walking up to the house. Didn’t make sense. Wasn’t possible.

She just had to stay calm, reopen her eyes. And on the offest of all off chances it
was
Barry, she was on the second story. What could he do? Unless he had a gun.
No. No. Not him. Not again.

Since no sounds rang out into the quiet afternoon, Grace reopened her eyes. Her whole body shook and her lunch threatened to revolt, but as she frantically scanned the street unable to breathe, she realized the man below was Henry, Jacob’s plumber.

Blond hair, smaller frame, tan skin. He didn’t look a damn thing like Barry as he disappeared around the corner of the house.

Tears spilled over her cheeks. Relief? Continued fear? Utter despair that this, this was her life again
?
She didn’t know. She only knew she wanted to go back into her safe little room, under the covers. Forever.

Don’t give up.
But she began to toss her supplies willy-nilly into the bag she’d used to bring them out.
Pathetic.
But she left the painting “to dry” and would come get her easel later. Or have someone else bring it in.

She tripped on her way to the door, righted herself. This was just a process. First step was getting outside. Tomorrow she’d try again. Take longer. Baby steps. Wasn’t that what her therapist had always said? Step two tomorrow.

Even the thought of it made her sick. She stumbled inside, hurried down the hall.

Don’t let him win. Don’t let him win.
Oh, but it’d be so much easier to let fear take over. Easier to hide and cry and wait for everything to resolve itself, for however long it would.

“Grace?”

Grace stopped halfway down the hall and fumbled with the disorganized array of stuff she was carrying. Paint was probably seeping over everything in her bag, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except hiding.

“Hi. Hey.” She tried to look casual, but with her breathing unsteady and her brain a jumbled mess of fear and adrenaline, she didn’t know what that might look like.

Kyle frowned as he crossed to her. “Are you all right?” He scratched a spot on his face, rested his hand awkwardly over his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah.” Grace mustered the fakest, brightest smile she could manage. “I was just painting, but I remembered...I’m supposed to go to a movie with Mom tonight.” In five hours. “So I was going to clean up and, um, head out to Carvelle.” How? She didn’t own a damn car, and was she really going to take a cab?

Kyle studied her, so she stared at the collar of his blue shirt. No fading, no wrinkles. Everything about it was crisp and perfect and put together. Kyle to a T.

She wished his composure would rub off on her.

“Did something happen?”

“Huh? No. Everything’s fine.” She attempted to look at him again, managed to get her eyes to focus on his forehead. As long as she didn’t meet his eyes, she’d be okay. So she stared at his hand resting on his own face.

His brows drew together, worry creasing his forehead. “If something is wrong...” He trailed off, pursing his lips together.

“I’m just jumpy, you know?” She looked at the wall behind his shoulder, grimacing. “I am fine. Really.” He was silent. A little standoffish. The awkward silence reminding Grace of her first days here. She met his gaze. “Are
you
okay?”

He managed a small smile. “Of course.”

Grace frowned. His “of course” seemed less than convincing.

“I have to get back to work. A lot of things to catch up on.”

As he passed her, she grabbed his arm. When his hand left his cheek, she noticed a mark. Frowning, she held on tighter as Kyle tried to tug his arm back into place. The mark was slightly bluish-purple and it hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him. Which wasn’t last night, because she hadn’t actually seen him through the dark last night.

Grace reached out and touched the bruise. “What happened here?”

He stiffened. “Oh, um, I don’t know.”

It was strange to realize he was lying. Strange because it was probably the first time. As far as she knew. A sobering, uncomfortable thought. Maybe he lied to her all the time and she’d never caught him in one. She pulled her hand away. “People don’t usually get bruises on their faces without knowing what happened.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Clumsy, I guess.” This time it was him not meeting her gaze.

Grace’s heart sank at another lie. “The last thing you are is clumsy, Kyle.” His blue eyes sharpened on hers, guilt blanketing his expression so deeply it made her stomach cramp. “What happened?” she asked, her voice demanding, but not as steady as she had hoped.

“I don’t want to keep you from meeting your mother. We can talk about this later.” He nodded as if it would convince her the mark on his cheek was unimportant and caused by himself rather than someone else.