Page 13 of Lonely Beard
It’s not rocket science. And she’s a smart girl, so I know she gets it.
“I… you…” Grace clings to my elbows, lost for words.
…So maybe not. Maybe I think I’ve been obvious, mooning after her with hearts in my eyes, but that’s not enough. Maybe I need to be crystal clear.
The sky tilts overhead as I bend down, pressing my shoulder against Grace’s stomach. She yelps, scrabbling at my shirt, and I hide a smile as I straighten up with my girl slung over my back. The morning breeze ruffles my hair, scented with wet rock and pine, and I feel brand new. Wide awake for the first time in months; scrubbed clean by the storm.
“You can leave if you want,” I call, marching back toward the cabin. She smacks my ass, cursing loudly for me to put her down. “This ain’t a kidnapping. But if you’re asking what I want, it’s this. It’s you coming back inside, and staying for good this time.”
Dangling behind me, Grace falls quiet.
The wooden steps creak beneath my boots. When I open the door, it smells like smoke and chili and paint and fresh mountain air. It smells like home.
I carry my girl over the threshold, and I pray that she’ll stay.
* * *
This time, when Grace falls back on my bed, I follow her down, my hands sinking into the deep red covers on either side of her head. Strands of her silky brown hair tickle my knuckles.
You could join me, she said last night, and I could kick my own ass for being so stubborn. For refusing to hear what she was trying to tell me, calling for me to join her in the bed.
No more. We’re both done being bone-heads. “This okay?” I ask, and Grace nods so fast that her teeth click together. She’s gripping two handfuls of my shirt, squeezing tight like I might lurch away from her again.
No chance. This is it.
Me and her. It’s finally happening.
“The first time might not rock your world,” I warn her, trying to make my own peace with that fact. “But I’m a quick study. I’ll get you moaning for me soon enough.”
If it’s the last thing I do, I will feel this woman come around my cock. So help me god.
Grace hiccups a laugh. “I believe you.”
And I can see that she does, can read it in her big doe eyes, and it fills me up so much that I might explode. I duck my head and trail kisses down her throat; I shift until my hips rest in the cradle of her thighs. Nearby in the log burner, the fire’s burned down to a few glowing embers.
“Aiden?”
Her voice is strained, her hands plucking at the back of my shirt. I lift my head, my thoughts already tangled up from her vanilla scent. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
Grace bites her bottom lip and addresses the top button of my shirt. “This isn’t a one time thing, right? You meant what you said out there? You really want me to stay here with you?”
Stay here.
Live here.
Marry me and have my babies. Whatever she’s offering, that’s what I want, and I try to show her with a deep, hungry kiss.
“I’ll come to you if you prefer that.” My words vibrate against her lips, and Grace’s breath hitches before she kisses me back. “I’ll find work in the city. Fuck you every night in your reading nook.”
A scandalized gasp. “Not mynook.”
“Yeah.” Jesus, is making love always this fun? I can’t stop grinning as we kiss and rock together, limbs tangled and cheeks flushed. “Is that what you want, Grace? A mail order groom?”
She snorts, and I bury my laugh in her hair. This can’t be real. It can’t be.
Feels too good. So light and warm, like my chest is full of embers.
“No,” she says a few minutes later, sitting up to let me peel the shirt and blazer off her perfect body. “No, I don’t want to go back to the city. God, you’d hate it. Let’s stay here.”
