Page 50 of Somewhere in the Sunset

I find that soft nook between her neck and shoulder blade again and smother my face into it. My heartbeat is through the roof as my body convulses. Gracie knots her fingers through my hair and slows down her movements just as warm, throbbing waves of pleasure pump through me. The final contraction passes and the euphoria of the release is over too soon. Both Gracie and I become still, and even now, she strokes my hair. It’s so goddamn soothing.

I have no words. She is mesmerizing. “Wow.”

“I’ll be right back,” she whispers, planting a kiss on the corner of my mouth. She pushes off my lap and darts to the bathroom to clean up.

I fall back onto the bed, blowing out a breath. Tonight feels like a blur, but this moment? Crystal clear. My head feels less fuzzy now, my body feels more stable. I’m okay.I’m okay.

Gracie returns from the bathroom. She gathers her clothes from the floor, considers putting them back on for a second, but ultimately tosses them away again. She crawls onto the bed next to me and rests her head on my chest. I wrap my arm around her, and she hooks one leg over mine. The skin-to-skin contact is so intimate, but I could hold her like this all night. Intimacy with Gracie doesn’t make me nervous, it makes me feel shielded.

“I needed that,” I tell her. “I neededyou.”

“I’m glad you came to me,” she whispers, skimming her fingertips down my arm. I wonder if even in the dark, she realizes she’s tracing my tattoos. “You can trust me, Weston, because I .?.?. I care about you. A lot. More than I thought I could.”

“Do you?”

I sense her smile against me. “Of course.”

GRACIE

I almost don’t want to wake him. He’s an adorable sleeper. He sleeps on his stomach, face buried into the pillow, his breathing slow.

“Weston,” I say quietly, but he’s in too deep a slumber to register the sound of my voice. He didn’t even stir when I pulled open the curtains half an hour ago and let blinding sunlight into the room. I sit on the edge of the bed and touch his shoulder. His skin is warm, clammy. “Weston,” I repeat, louder.

Weston flinches. He lifts his head from the pillow, eyes half closed with sensitivity, and takes in his surroundings. I think it takes him by surprise, the sight of an apartment that isn’t his own, because he instantly flips over and bolts upright. His hair is tousled in a thousand directions, but I don’t know if that’s from sleeping or the way I raked my fingers through it last night. He rubs a hand down his face.

“Hey. I made you some breakfast,” I say with a smile. I hold out the plate of poached eggs on sourdough toast I’ve just cooked up for him. “No avocado, because I remember you once said you don’t like it.”

Weston blinks away the tiredness in his eyes as he adjusts to the sunlight. It’s after ten, but hewason the night shift, so his body clock is probably screwed. “This looks great, Gracie,” he says, taking the plate from me. I pass him a fork and knife. “Thanks. Seriously. Thank you.”

Suddenly, I’m hyperaware of my pulse. I can feel it throbbing in my wrist. Pounding in my neck. Weston’s morning voice .?.?. It’s so low, so husky.So hot.

“How are you feeling this morning?” I ask, clearing my throat.

I’m kind of nervous. I’ve been awake for a few hours while I left Weston to sleep, so I’ve had plenty of time to gather my thoughts. When Weston knocked on my door in the middle of the night, he was completely broken. He was shattered, distraught. He could barely stand upright. Seeing him so destroyed like that even hurtme. All I could do was hold him with every ounce of strength I had in me while he cried on my shoulder. And of all the doors he could have knocked on, I’m so glad he knocked on mine.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve developed a soft spot for Weston. I ignored it at first. Denied it. But last night, I realizedjusthow much I cared for him when I held him in my arms and wished I could take that pain away from him. I felt, as insane as it seems, that he was mine to take care of.

“Better,” Weston replies. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve seen some awful things already, but this one really got to me. It was .?.?. Gracie, it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I got dismissed from my shift, but I couldn’t bring myself to go home. I’m sorry for waking you. Can you please forget you heard me cry like that? Because I’m mortified about that now.”

He blushes as he says this, but I reach out to touch his forearm with a sense of reassurance. I haven’t forgotten that he’s still naked beneath my comforter.

“Don’t be embarrassed. What you do can’t be easy,” I say. “Do you have to go back today?”

Weston takes a bite of toast, but he chews lethargically. “Yeah. Back tonight, but we’re encouraged to talk about this stuff, so I’ll check in with Bill and our sergeant when I get to the station. I’m praying for a shift full of noise complaints. Can you and your friends play your music too loud again?” He manages to crack the smallest of smiles, and I laugh.

“Sorry. I’m a law-abiding citizen.” I lean forward and peck a kiss on his cheek, then hop off the bed. I point to the dresser where his uniform sits in a neatly folded pile. “Your clothes are there, but there’s still some things of Luca’s here that you’re more than welcome to steal.”

Weston cocks his head and says, “I’m also a law-abiding citizen.”

I scoff dramatically. “Fine.” I grab Weston’s uniform and set it down on the bed beside him, running my fingers over the fabric. “So, I have plans today. Independent woman kind of plans. Gracie-being-brave kind of plans.” I lift my gaze to meet his, and I get those butterflies again. The ones that hurt. “I’m renting a bike and I’m cycling across the Golden Gate Bridge, because I’ve never done it before even though I’ve always wanted to. Luca said it was lame and refused to do it with me. So, I’m doing it. By myself.”

Weston nods with spirit. “There ya go. I told you: you can do anything you want to do in life, Gracie, even if it means doing it alone.”

“Except.?.?.” My cheeks flare red. “I’d now really like you to join me.”

“That doesn’t make it an independent woman kind of plan anymore.”

“So? It counts because Iwasgoing to do it alone,” I argue. “But now I’m extending an invite to you, because I think it would be good for you to keep yourself busy today before you go back to work. Don’t you agree?”

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