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I lean into her, crashing my body into her own like a series of ocean waves. I want to release so desperately, but I hold myself in check. The time will come for giving in to my most primal urges, but not until I make Charlotte feel more amazing than she ever has before.
“Oh god, baby,” I gasp.
She grinds her body against my own, a sharp cry signaling her own incredible need. I let myself go at last. We ride the waves of pleasure together, our bodies interlocked as surely as our souls.
I’m not thinking about the future, or the past. I exist in this perfect moment with the perfect woman, and I never want to leave.
17
CHARLOTTE
Grayson’s soft exhalations soothe my soul. Almost as much as the passion we shared, I enjoy watching him sleep. His face seems at ease right now. I trace my finger lightly over the care worn lines on his face. Gray is no stranger to suffering, but in this moment he looks content.
I settle against him and let my eyes close, thinking I’ll grab a quick nap and then get up to explore the pantry. But when I open my eyes again, the gentle light of dawn wafts in through the curtains, and Grayson is no longer laying against me.
I raise up on one arm, groggily blinking away the sleep from my eyes. My nostrils flare as a wonderful aroma spreads over my palate.
“Good morning.”
Gray looks over his shoulder as he stands by the stove. He vigorously stirs something in a sizzling skillet. Something that smells like bacon. My stomach growls as I sit up on the sofa and rub my eyes.
“Good morning,” I reply, my voice thick with sleep. The morning after is usually awkward, but I don’t feel that way this time. At least, not as much. “Whatcha doing?”
“Making breakfast, or attempting to. My biscuits don’t seem to want to get done.”
He steps away from the stove and opens the oven door. Inside, I see a black dutch oven covered with red-lined smoldering logs. He uses a poker to knock the logs away, then grasps the lid with a potholder and removes it.
“I think we’re getting close,” he says, peering inside the pot before replacing the lid and arranging more logs on top of the dutch oven. I go to the stove and lean my head on his shoulder.
“You need any help?”
“Sure. Can you get some paper towels out of the pantry so I can drain the bacon?”
I head over to the pantry and pull the door open. It smells strongly of pine. I start at the sight of a spider up in the corner. Carefully, I extract a wrapped paper towel roll, not stirring a single thread of its web.
Triumphant, I return to Gray with the towels. He pauses, and turns to face me. Gray kisses me while taking the roll from my hands. Not as hard or intense as last night, but deep enough to let me know where we stand…on a physical level, at least.
Inside, I feel a measure of elation that our intimacy is going to continue. But for how long? No one’s said anything about the future yet. I’m afraid to even think about it.
For now, I just want to bask in the glow of last night, and eat some of that torturously good-smelling bacon. I’ll sort the rest out later.
Gray uses powdered milk to try and make bacon gravy for the biscuits. The results are lumpy and a strange gray color, but taste just fine. Even the biscuits, which are a little bit on the dry side, are palatable.
Despite the fact I often eat fancier meals in more upscale settings, I think I enjoy the breakfast more than any other meal I’ve had for as long as I can remember. The company certainly helps.
“I can’t believe we got freaked out by a raccoon,” I say while mopping up the last of my gravy with the golden brown edge of a biscuit.
“It’s better to be safe than sorry. Besides, it was a really big raccoon.”
I do a double take.
“You’re making jokes! Are you the same guy? I didn’t suck your brains out through your dick, did I?”
Gray’s eyes go wide. Then he sucks in a deep breath of air and lets it out as pure laughter.
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Why? Because I watch my language online? There’s no sponsors to alienate or trolls to enrage around here.”
