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She tilted her head to catch his eye. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. I think I got triggered.”
“Triggered?”
“By a past event. Like trauma. A trigger can take you back to that place.”
He blinked, remembering how he’d felt as a teen finding out Cam and his mom had been lying to him about their relationship. How angry he’d been, the same way he’d been angry when his dad had left them.
“Yeah, I get that. What was the past event?” he asked, drawing circles on her arm. Her skin was so soft. He couldn’t stop touching it.
“Pascal ended things with me because his mom chose his wife for him.”
“The French guy?” Michael frowned. “Are you serious?”
She nodded.
“But that’s so Victorian. What kind of guy lets his mom choose his wife?”
“One who wants to keep all the money in the family, I guess. She’s rich. Enough to invest in the vineyards. Plus, she was French and his mom loved that.”
“I’m sorry.” He winced, because his mom had done the same thing. Not with malice – she’d done it because she wanted to see him happy – but he could see how Grace got triggered.
“Would you have stayed with him if he’d fought for you?” he asked.
Her eyes were wide. There was such an honesty in them. That was the thing with Grace. She was mature, but she was still young. She hadn’t learned to hide yet.
He hoped she never would.
“I don’t think so. I’m just glad he didn’t, because I want to be here, with you.”
“Is that right?” He smiled.
“Yep.” She rolled onto him, kissing his lips. He slid his hands down her body, feeling the rise and dip of her curves. God, she was perfect. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good.
This alive.
He’d spent a lifetime avoiding emotions. They were messy, people got hurt. Especially by him. And yet here she was, still with him, after a shitshow of a night.
She was prepared to fight for him, the same way he’d fight for her. It made his skin tingle.
“How long were you and Pascal together?” he asked.
She tipped her head to the side. “You’re asking me that while I’m laying on top of you?”
He laughed. “I’m interested. I want to know about you.”
“You pretty much know everything. I’m an open book.” She widened her eyes, and he chuckled some more. “But we were together for two years. I’d ask about your dating history, but I’d like to leave this bed at some point today, Grandpa.”
“I’m wounded.” He grinned. “I’m not that old.”
“I know.” She cupped his face. “But I don’t enjoy thinking about you and other women.”
“There are no other women,” he said gruffly. “Just you.”
He slid his hands to her hips. Pulled her closer. She kissed him again, her lips soft and pliant. He was falling for her, this woman who shouldn’t be his. But it felt right. Maybe for the first time in his life. Here in this room, with her, was his little slice of perfection.
He sat up, pulling her with him, and pushed her camisole down, revealing her perfect breasts. “Why would I want anybody else when I have you?” he asked her. “When I have this.” He wrapped his lips around her nipple. He teased it with his tongue until she rocked against him.
He was hard.Again. Just like he always was with her.
