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Something about the way he says "together" sends a bolt of desire through me. Suddenly, I'm not thinking about the nursery anymore. I'm thinking about Gray's strong arms wrapped around me, his lips on mine, his body pressed against mine.
Without thinking, I reach out to tangle my fingers in his hair, kissing him hard through the window. He drops the paintbrush on me, sending yellow paint over my knuckles. I'm getting paint all over him, all over me...and I don't care.
Finally, we break apart, panting and laughing. "You should probably finish painting," Gray says, his eyes still dark with lust. "AndIshould fix this porch before one of us falls through."
I somehow manage not to seduce Gray while we work on the house, but it's not easy. Every time he brushes up against me or flashes me a smile, my resolve weakens. By the end of the day, I'm practically vibrating with desire.
We sit on the porch steps, sweaty and exhausted, watching the sunset. Gray cracks open a beer and hands me one. "Cheers," he says, clinking his bottle against mine.
"Cheers," I reply, taking a long sip.
We sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the chirping crickets and the distant hum of the occasional car on the highway.
"Claire," he says quietly. "I know we said this is just about the contract. That it's just about the sex. And don't get me wrong, I amrealexcited about the sex. But I want you to let me court you."
I snort, almost spitting out my beer. "I'm sorry?"
He shoves me gently. "Don't laugh," he says. "I know it's old-fashioned, but I'm from Texas. We do things a little different down there."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Different how?"
Gray leans in, his breath hot on my neck. "We take care of our women. We buy them flowers, open doors for them, take them dancing. We court them until they're ready to get married, then we marry 'em and treat 'em like queens for the rest of our lives."
I can feel my heart racing in my chest. This is not what I expected--and it's not something I ever wanted, but hearing Gray say it makes my whole body tense up.
"And why would you want to do that with me? We’re going to have a baby. We’re not getting married." I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I know it’s a fantasy, and I’m a practical person, but wouldn’t that be nice? If I got to have my own little family, a little kid on Gray’s shoulders as he takes them hiking while I lag behind and ask them to wait up, taking too many pictures.
Nope. Not gonna let myself daydream about that.
I’m only going to daydream about the babymaking part of this.
"Because you're special, darlin'. You're strong and independent, and you don't need a man to take care of you. But I want to be the man who does anyway. I want to make you feel cherished. Whatever our contract is, Claire, you deserve that."
I take a deep breath, feeling like I'm about to jump off a cliff. "Okay," I say softly. "Okay, let's do it."
Gray grins, and suddenly he's leaning in to kiss me. It's slow and sweet this time, and I can feel a promise hidden within it. We pull away, and he holds my hand tightly.
"I'll take good care of you, Claire," he says, his eyes dark and intense. "I promise."
And with those words, everything changes. The contract is still there, but now there's something else too. Something deeper, more profound. I'm not sure what the future holds, but for the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. And safe.
We sit there, watching the sunset, our fingers intertwined, and I know that no matter what happens, Gray's got my back.
Chapter eleven
Gray
IhateleavingClairebehind--even if it's only for a few hours--but I have someone else to take care of.
Two hours after I finish up work with her for the day, I drive on back from my remote cabin with my best friend in the passenger seat. She keeps her head out the window, her tongue lolling outside.
My best friend--Luna--is a grey rescue pittie I adopted in Portland after I first got out of prison five years ago and moved up here.
I didn't tell Claire what I had to go home and do other than shower and spruce up, and I know this is the last test I have to figure out if she's as right for me as I think she is.
Claire is sitting on the porch when I get back, her face in a book as usual. She looks up and gives me a broad smile as my truck's headlights spill across the driveway, and then she puts the book down on the porch swing beside her. Claire heads over to the car, and my dog, Luna, whines and wags her tail at the sight of a new person.
I look over at Luna and point my finger at her. "Now you behave yourself, little missy," I say. "I really like this one."
