Page 40 of A Season Of Sin

Carrying her up the stairs to our bedroom, I curl up in bed behind Gracie. The bright afternoon sun beams through our bedroom windows, but we have nothing else to do. So, we nap—me the big spoon to her smaller one, her ass nestled against my cock.

I kiss the back of her head and whisper, “I love you, babe.”

Snuggling against me, Gracie pulls my hand between her breasts and folds her fingers through mine. “I love you more.”

We sleep for hours.

Ten

I’ve been gone a damn week. Seven whole days. That wasn’t the plan, yet here I am, finally sitting in Jace and Gracie’s driveway. It’s well past midnight. All the lights are out in the house, save for the Christmas tree twinkling through the gauzy curtains.

Speaking of Christmas, it’s in three days.

Three.

Time has flown by this month—well, it always does. The older you get, the faster it seems to disappear.

After my first drop, I disinfected the van and napped for a few hours before another call came in.

Kentucky.

A seven-hour drive one way and another seven back to Kings Cursed.

Then another.

And another.

I’ve been running on caramel coffee and beef sticks. I haven’t showered in three days.

Lifting my arm, I sniff my armpit and damn near choke.

Gross.

Hauling my ass out of the van and up the front steps of their house like a dog with a tail between its legs, I knock. I know I shouldn’t. They’re likely asleep, and I don’t wanna be that asshole who wakes them, but I don’t wanna spend another night in my van. I need a hot shower and a warm bed to crash in.

Brittle wind stings my cheeks as I wait for someone to answer. When nothing comes, I consider calling Jace, but if he’s anything like me, he puts his phone on silent, and I don’t have Gracie’s number.

Gracie.

I still can’t get that video Jace sent me of them together on the couch out of my head.

I’ve jacked off to it a dozen times.

Sighing loudly, the cold air swirls with my hot breath as I try one more time, just once, to go inside. I lift my knuckles to rap on the door, but I stop to check the handle instead, just in case. By some miracle, it’s unlocked.

“Thank fuck,” I grunt as I quietly enter the silent house, leave my boots by the door, and tiptoe like a burglar up the stairs, hoping the creeks don’t wake them, or worse, they do, and Jace beats me with a baseball bat.

I snicker at the thought.

Fighting him.

Wrestling him to the ground.

We’d be hard before either of us got our clothes off and…

Christ…

Not now.