Page 130 of Every Chance After

A laugh rumbles from me. “My sexy boyfriend, the strategist.”

He leans in for a soft kiss that electrifies me. “I only wanted to think about us. Make yourself at home.”

I kick off my shoes by the door and drop my bag on the couch. He dumps his keys and wallet in a basket by the door. He starts a fire in the fireplace that crackles and pops and mesmerizes me. After a few sips of wine, we relinquish our glasses to the coffee table. Then, he takes my hand and leads me to the piano.

CHAPTERFORTY

Grady

She easesbeside me on the piano bench—two beauties I’ve denied myself together in the same place. She slips one hand behind me and flashes her sweet smile that encourages me to go on. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and think of Sara, for once letting the memories come, knowing it’s time to let them go. Trading whatcould’ve beenfor whatismakes room for the beautiful future that still could be.

That’s what I want—a future with Marina.

When I finally lift the key lid, it’s like releasing my paper boat and everything that should’ve made the page.

I don’t sing, preferring quiet. I stroke the keys softly, and Norah Jones’s “Come Away With Me” comes to life under my fingertips. I’m rusty and nervous at first. Tears blur my vision, thinking of times I playedthispiano. Memories slip through me onto the ivory keys and fade behind the slow, soulful notes, easing my guilt away with them.

I breathe. Straighten my back. And the song emerges like a gift, assuring me that it’s okay to move on. To smile. To play.

To love again. Marina nestles to my side like she was always meant to fit there, and I feel like an ass for ever saying she was too-anything for me. She’s only perfect.

I don’t know when I stop playing or if I even finish the song. But drained of all those bad feelings, I lean against the keys, head low, and relax.

Truly relax.

Soon, Marina stands and shifts my left arm. I push the bench back, and she moves between my legs and the piano, her ass lightly grazing the keys. Her pink lips curl into a soft smile as she looks down at me. I’m struck by how beautiful and understanding she is. This couldn’t have happened without her. The orange glow from the fireplace flecks her eyes like fireworks, and her gorgeous red hair trails down her shoulders like ribbons. She’s my celebration. My heart’s song.

I latch onto her by her hips, dragging her closer. My ear presses against her stomach, hearing the gentle thump of her heartbeat underneath. Her fingers slide around my neck and shoulders, accepting me fully. I caress her lower back, her hips, her ass, bringing her as close as possible like this.

But soon, she drags back, bumping the keys again. My gaze draws up as she starts unbuttoning her dress, opening herself up to me a few inches at a time. She smiles and nods when I find the bottom-most button and undo it, racing upwards to meet her.

Her dress falls open. Her hands drift to her sides as I explore her. Pink lace on pale, speckled skin, satin-soft and flushed warm, she’s glowing and hopeful and sexy as fuck.

Her scars catch my gaze, and I trace them with my fingertips. The surgical incisions are barely there, just ghosts etched into her skin. The knife wound is darker, more jagged, and longer—a forever scar. The deeper scars within, I only imagine. My lips follow my fingers, kissing the wounds, tugging her into me, tears in my eyes once again. Loving her, kissing her pain away like I’ve longed to do all along.

Part of me wants to whisperI’m sorryone last time. Sorry for how I hurt you. Sorry for what I took from you. Sorry for what will never be.

But she doesn’t need it. Neither do I. We areexactlyas we should be. No more. No less. Just us. And that is enough.

My hands graze the edges of her pink panties, unabashedly discovering her. I steal a glance at her daring expression. Her eyes meet mine, and she nods again. I lock my fingers around the lace and rid her of them completely. The sweetest moan escapes her. I push her against the keys, instigating a clanging cacophony, before peppering her with delicate kisses. Her inner thighs. Her lower stomach. Then, the triangle between her legs. And when she whispers my name in a moan, I take her… desperately… fully… achingly in my mouth.

Her legs spread, hitting random keys, but the sound doesn’t distract me from my feast. She perches one leg against the piano bench and wraps the other around my shoulder. I take my time, tasting, teasing, and then devouring her with my tongue. Her hands slip, banging the keys on her sides and creating a strangely beautiful background to this, her sweet undoing.

“Grady, please,” she breathes out as she gets close.

My fingers push into her gently. Her breath hitches in a low moan. Then, she comes, convulsing deliciously against my fingers. I drink her up, relishing it. My dick aches against my jeans like it’s never been this hard before—fuck, maybe it hasn’t—but I’m patient. I want to take my time with her. Go slow and easy until I can’t anymore.

Her legs return to the floor like she’s melting off the piano. She fists my shirt at the neck, bringing me to her. “Kiss me, Grady.”

She doesn’t have to ask twice. Her kiss enflames every tight and throbbing muscle in my body with its sweet intensity. Her lips are strong, and her tongue playful as she taunts mine. Her hand slides down my chest to the bulge in my jeans, making me groan and bite her neck.

She laughs and utters breathlessly, “You are terribly overdressed.”

“A problem easily remedied,” I return, my tongue slipping behind her ear. “Want to move upstairs?”

Her eyes go wide, and she nibbles her bottom lip. “To your bedroom? For more? Absolutely, yes!”

A laugh catches in my throat, and she launches into a full-on giggle when I scoop her into my arms, whisk her through the living room, and carry her up the stairs. I lay her on the bed, but she doesn’t stay there.

---