“I doubt that.”
“I know it.”
“So, we both come in with some baggage,” he says. “But we’re both going to be braver today than we were yesterday.”
“Sounds like a good deal to me,” I say, snuggling closer to him.
“Me too,” he says. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“I’m not,” I say, shaking my head. “We’ve been sugary sweet and gooey with each other. It’s not realistic, we’re going to have bumps in the road. It was a nice test to see how we’d handle it.”
“You took me by the reins,” he says. “It was fucking impressive.”
The pride he has in me can be felt in the way he kisses me. There’s a sweet dominance of his lips on mine, a possessive push of his tongue into my mouth. If his actions could speak, I think they’d say she’s mine and she’s amazing.
Rising up on my knees, I try to convey the same to him. I think he’s near perfect and there isn’t a place on the planet that I wouldn’t be proud to be with him. I unfasten his fly. He groans into my mouth, causing heat to rush through my body.
We separate, staring at each other with a new sort of lust, as we pull our shirts over our heads. It holds something different, now, something special. Something almost tangible.
“Less clothes,” I say, standing so we can remove our pants.
“I love how tall you are,” he says, lifting my leg to hook over his hip. His tip plays at my entrance and we still. We’ve always used a condom before. “I’m clean.”
“Me too,” I say. “That’s only one of the issues.”
“I know,” he says, placing a hand on my abdomen. “What are the odds?”
“Pretty low, as I still have a week or so left on my birth control,” I say with a nod of permission, of acceptance, of trust.
He pushes in, pulling my leg up higher and tightening my arms around his neck. I inhale his scent, a woodsy, masculine smell that sends the word home straight to my heart. He fills me, physically and emotionally. It’s a feeling I’ve never had in my life. Settled and content. I’ve never known a calm like this. Even while he relentlessly fucks me, one hand tightly grippingmy thigh, the other firmly on my ass. I pull gently at the hair at his nape. “I love you, Grady.”
“I love you, Lou,” he says between lingering, heated kisses. “I fucking love you.”
Tears stream down my face. For the first time, I believe the words as they are said to me. My parents didn’t say it. Pierre did, at first, but I think I knew it wasn’t real. Somewhere inside, I knew he was more to me than I was to him.
With Grady, I have no doubts. He’s my person and I’m his.
He trails kisses down the column of my neck, across my collarbone, lifting me higher so he can seal his mouth to my nipple. His dick slides out, and I miss it immediately, but his hands and mouth on me make up for it. Gentle and hot with the occasional nibble to keep me on the edge. Except, I don’t need that anymore. Grady shows me every time we’re together that he can get me there without it. I’ve come to realize how conditioned I was into thinking I wanted it, when it was really Pierre who did.
“Grady.”
“What do you need?” There’s no selfishness in this man, and a fresh wave of tears spills when he asks.
“Just you,” I say. “I need you to fuck me how you want to.”
The first time, I asked him to fuck me like Pierre. I hate I did that. I think he did, too. I’ll never make a mistake like that again.
Grady lets me be me and I only ever want him to be him.
Twenty-Three
Grady
“I have learned over the years that when one’s mind is made up, this diminishes fear.”
Rosa Parks
My eyes bounce between hers, finding the understanding in her words.
