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“Like what happens when we’re together.” He moved closer, so his body brushed hers. Heat sparked in her abdomen, but it wasn’t enough. She needed him to lift her up and take her then and there. She needed him just like she had in the alley, outside the hotel.
It was crazy. She couldn’t get carried away by their physical responses, but nor could she ignore them.
“Gray –,” she tried to sound sensible, but even his name brought a wave of desire down around her. “We need to discuss this.”
“I think we’ve discussed it enough.” He moved infinitesimally closer, so she had two choices: stand her ground or move back. She chose the former, so his body was in full contact with hers, and she felt the force of his desire, stirring against her stomach.
“This is –,”
“Inevitable,” he said quietly. “Invite me to stay the night.”
To stay the night. Oh, God. What was she doing? Could she seriously be contemplating this?
She pressed a hand to his chest, her eyes huge, desire making her blood throb in her ears. “If I say ‘yes’, it’s to this: one night. Not a lifetime of nights. Got it?”
“We’ll see,” he murmured, dropping his head so the words were whispered into her ear. He knew all the buttons to push – she’d always loved it when he’d kissed her there.
“I’m serious, Gray. I need to think about the future.”
“But not the present?” His fingers lifted the fabric of her singlet, exposing her belly button to the warm summer night’s air. It was nothing compared to the heat that danced beneath her skin.
“No. Thinking about this won’t help at all,” she whispered, as he scooped down and lifted her, carrying her against his chest into a tiny bedroom that she’d never shared with a man before.
Ever since she’dtold him about Charlotte, he’d been weighed down by a thousand thoughts. The legal stuff had been easy. He was a list-maker, and so tackling the logistics of having a daughter was something he could do in an almost detached way, planning for the future he knew was ‘right’. But knowing how tofeelabout it was something else.
Too many emotions were streaming through him, weaving in between his bones and sinew, too thick and heavy to control. There was anger and bitterness, disbelief too. He’d never thought Abby capable of this kind of deceit. But there was understanding as well, because he’d gone out of his way to sever all ties between them on the last night they’d spent together. When he’d broken up with her, he’d wanted it to stick. He’d been afraid that if she’d argued, or followed him to London, he’d weaken and promise something he’d never be able to give her. That he didn’t really want. He was terrified – an emotion that was new and unwelcome – that he’d lose Charlotte from his life before he could get to know her, and the future was suddenly an uncontrollable black hole in which he’d lost any sort of compass.
Even before Iraq, he’d been pretty messed up about relationships and family. Apart from twin sister Max, there wasn’t a single person he could say he loved and allowed to love him – not even their mother. Not in an uncomplicated way. But Iraq was the beginning and end of any inkling he might have felt to work to get past that. In Iraq, he’d learned that life was cheap and expendable; extinguished with the flick of a switch, the detonation of a bomb, the pulling of a trigger. It was easy to extrapolate that out to everyday life. A car going too fast, someone with a gun, an electrical fire. Hazards were everywhere, and while he was fine with assuming any risk for himself, the idea of loving someone else, with the knowledge they could be taken away from him at any point, had guided his every single decision. For years.
And now it had all blown up in his face.
He couldn’t keep his daughter at arm’s length. He didn’t want to. That was the whole point of pursuing this path. He’d never had a dad. He didn’t know what that was even meant to look like. But he knew he wanted to be the best damned father he could.
And Abby?
How exactly would this work between them?
She made a soft moaning noise as he removed her pants and he pushed every single thought from his mind except this.
Because this was simple. This made sense. And this was also a path forward.
They could marry, and they could raise Charlotte together, and they could have sex, because nothing else had changed. She’d understand that he didn’t want a legitimate relationship – and he’d make sure of that in the morning. He’d spell it out for her: he wasn’t looking for their marriage to morph into anything of real emotional substance. This was safer.
Besides, other than in bed, she didn’t really want him either. He’d hurt her too much, he’d made sure of that.The words he’d used to end their relationship had effectively killed any affection she might have been building towards him. He doubted stranding her as a single mother and basically bullying her into marriage redeemed him in any way.
And so there was this. And it was amazing. More than enough to build a marriage on, in his opinion.
He was the same,but different. Or maybeshewas different. When his lips traced a line from her mouth to her chin, then lower to her decolletage, she whimpered, because the kiss was so exquisite yet light, that she needed him to kiss her harder, better, even when she never wanted the sensation to stop. His touch on her breasts was everything. She arched her back, inviting him, more of him, all of him, needing to feel him within her. She parted her legs, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him lower. But he was still dressed. She needed to feel him!
Hands moved quickly, urgently, desperate to touch flesh to flesh. She pushed off his shirt, then fumbled with the button of his jeans until finally they loosened and he stepped out of them without putting too much distance between them. Her lips found his, claiming his mouth as though that kiss would sustain her for all time. Naked, he brought his body over hers, every part of him warm and strong, commanding, addictive.
She remembered this, and yet she didn’t.
He moved his mouth lower, tracing a line over her flat stomach, to the caesarean scar that went from one side of her hips to the other, tracing it with his tongue before lifting his head, regarding her through narrowed green eyes that saw way too much.
His finger moved across the silver scar next, so reverently, as though worshipping her. And it wasn’t an erogenous zone, nor a particularly erotic touch, but her body lifted with a thousand goosebumps and she let out a soft sound of delirium.
“You are so exquisitely beautiful,” he said, his voice strangled. She pushed up onto her elbows, something moving in her chest. Emotions throbbed in the pit of her stomach, confusing her, momentarily distracting her, and then he smiled, a sexy, broad grin, and winked for good measure, so emotion was gone, leaving in its place an undisguised desire to be with each other. Only desire, no emotion.
