Grady raised his hand and cupped the delicate line of her cheek. His thumb nestled into the hinge of her jaw as his fingers slid into the dark waves of her hair. The shape of her skull under his hand was impossibly fragile, but when she lifted up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, she was the opposite of weak or breakable. She was a force of nature, a storm breaking over him, and he rode the storm down to the expanse of the mattress.
Laying her out on his sheets, Grady worshipped her with his hands and mouth, every gasp and high, thready sound entering his bloodstream like a drug. And Ella gave it all back to him with unstinting generosity, tumbling across the bed with him until they were so wrapped in each other, Grady didn’t know if he’d ever untangle the mess they’d made of his sheets. Or his life.
Much less his heart.
CHAPTER 22
Ella stretched luxuriously, feeling the satisfying twinge of muscles she hadn’t used in a while. The unfamiliar lines of dark wooden rafters slashed across the white ceiling above the bed, and some part of her brain immediately started working on describing it: warm, cozy, elegant in its simplicity.
She could only imagine the way Grady would roll his eyes if she told him his house was a perfect example of “rustic chic.”
Huh. She really
could
only imagine his reaction, because when she reached one bare arm out of the covers to pat the bed beside her, it was empty.
Flopping onto her back with a frown, Ella let the images from the night before wash over her in the early morning light.
Last night. Fighting with Jo and Merry. Almost fighting with Grady—and his startling, upsettingly correct insight into what was really bothering her.
She didn’t want to think about that, so she turned her mind to what came after: kissing Grady, touching him, the way he opened up … the way he’d opened her, making her feel everything, every touch, every glance, so acutely.
It was as if every other time she’d been with a man, she’d kept all her clothes on and been half asleep.
With Grady, she was wide awake and alarmingly, deliciously naked.
The way he looked at her, the intensity in every caress, made Ella feel as necessary as sunlight, as air. She smiled, touching one fingertip to sensitized lips that were swollen by kisses. Last night, she and Grady had needed each other.
So where was he now?
The mattress next to her was empty, but he couldn’t have gone far. It was his house, after all.
Fighting disappointment, Ella swung her legs over the side of the bed and started feeling around for her underwear. When she was decent, or decentish, since she never did manage to locate her bra, she made her way down the creaking hardwood stairs with her shoes in one hand and the other combing through her hair in a futile attempt to tame the morning mess.
“Um, hello?” she called out, disliking the tentative question in her tone but unable to suppress it.
All her usual defenses had been obliterated last night, and now in the bright light of morning, she felt as awkward as a newborn colt, shivery and vulnerable.
“In here!’
Grady’s shout from the kitchen warmed her and brought a smile to her face. He was at the stove, which was starting to become a wonderfully familiar sight, but he spared her a quick smile and a coffee-flavored kiss when she sidled up to him.
“Your timing sucks,” he told her. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, if you’d waited a little longer.”
Ella raised her brows, but inside, she’d gone as mushy as the oatmeal he was stirring on the stovetop. “Should I go back upstairs?”
She made as if to leave, then laughed in delight when he snagged her around the waist, his big bare hands hot even through the cotton of her shirt.
“I ought to say yes,” he growled, “since that’s the image I’ve been holding in my head all morning. You, in my bed, with your hair all spread out on my pillows.”
Ella caught her breath at the heat in his gaze, before it slid to the side and he set her gently back on her feet.
“But it’s probably good that you’re dressed. Less distracting.”
She tried not to pout, but she wasn’t sure how successful it was. “Oh, come on. That oatmeal can wait an hour, I bet.”
Grady’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “An hour, huh? I must have done something right last night to give you that high an opinion of my stamina.”
“Mmm.” Ella grabbed for Grady’s hand and tugged, giving him her best flirty, fluttering lashes. “Let’s go test your stamina.”
But he set his heels and resisted her pull. “Ella. We need to talk.”
Her smile wanted to fade, but Ella kept it in place even though her cheeks ached stiffly. “Do we? I don’t think so. Wouldn’t you rather take me upstairs and … get distracted?”
She waggled her brows suggestively, but instead of laughing, Grady closed his eyes tightly for a brief moment, as if gathering his strength. “Hot damn, yes. I’d rather, and if you still want to in a minute, I’ll be the first one up the stairs. But first, I need to say this.”
Suppressing a sigh, Ella dropped his hand and ran frustrated, fidgety fingers through her messy hair. She had zero desire to stand here and try to define this thing between them.
“Fine. But I feel compelled to point out that you’re messing with a lot of gender norms here.” She shrugged. “I’ve read all the self-help books.”
Irritation sparked in his shadowed eyes. “Let me guess—those books say men are supposed to be strong and silent, and never want to talk about things? Well, tough. Because the way I was raised, real men aren’t afraid to speak up when they’ve got something to say.”
Ella was sure the stubborn, dogged clench of his jaw shouldn’t be so appealing. Pulling out one of the kitchen chairs, she sank into it and gestured to the seat across the table. “Believe me, after last night, I’m the last person on the planet who’d have doubts about your masculinity. So go ahead, talk.”
With movements jerky enough to make her realize how uncommonly graceful he usually was, especially for such a big guy, Grady hooked a hand through the ladder back of the chair and flipped it around to straddle it backward. He rested his strong forearms on the top wooden slat and regarded her so solemnly, Ella had to fight the urge to squirm.
“I need to make sure,” he began, “that last night happened because you wanted it.”
Ella felt her eyebrows shoot up. “Grady. I don’t know how long it’s been since you were with a woman, but here’s a hint: I pretty much could not have wanted it—or enjoyed it—more.”
Red scorched his cheekbones, but he didn’t break her gaze. “It’s been a while,” he admitted baldly. “But that’s not what I meant. When I found you here waiting for me, you were very upset. There are rules about that. I need to know that I didn’t take advantage of you.”
“Is that something else you learned about how to be a man?” Ella propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm, almost unbearably charmed. “I’d like to meet your dad sometime.”
A smile ghosted over Grady’s lips. “He’d love you. But I can’t help noticing you haven’t answered the question.”
Choosing her words carefully, Ella said, “Look. While I very much appreciate the Southern-gentleman routine—believe me, it’s a welcome change from most of the guys I’ve dated—you don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult, I make my own, usually very rational, choices. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
It was Grady’s turn to arch a brow. “Right. Because you were just dying to use your vacation days to come out here to Sanctuary Island.”
“That’s different,” Ella objected, and Grady held up a hand.
“Yeah. It was about Merry. And you’d do anything for your sister. She’s your soft underbelly.”
There was no judgment in his tone or expression, but Ella still shifted in her chair. “Look. I know you think I’m borderline psychotic when it comes to Merry—and, trust me, my friend Adrienne Voss, my ex-therapist, is more on your side than mine there—but Merry’s my family. My whole family, really.”
Grady sat back, his eyes soft and searching. “What about your father? He’s still around, isn’t he?”
She wrestled with herself for a moment, then confessed, “He did his best for us when we were kids. But once we got old enough … there’s definitely some distance, on both sides. I think it’s hard for him to be around us. And he still works a lot, so he’s busy.”
All Grady did was nod, but as Ella heard the echo of her own words, she slumped forward to rest both elbows on the table. “I know,” she said. “I make a lot of excuses for him, and I never give Jo a break. It’s been pointed out to me that this is a double standard.”
“Not by me.” Grady held up his hands in surrender. “Families are complicated. Jo’s my friend, and I hope you’ll give her a chance to be good to you—but maybe some scars are too deep to ever really disappear.”
“I don’t believe that.” Ella’s denial was instantaneous, instinctive, in the face of Grady’s quiet shrug, the pain in his eyes.
“At least,” she amended ruefully, reaching across the table to clasp his scarred right hand. “I don’t want to believe that.”
He turned his hand palm up and curled his fingers over hers, warm and solid. Giving her one of his slow smiles, Grady said, “Come riding with me.”
Up until now, Ella had resisted all efforts to get her into a saddle. As much as she’d loved seeing their little foal through the first moments of his life, and had felt strangely empowered by helping Tough Guy’s dam through the birth, Ella was still nervous at the thought of perching on the back of that much pure muscle and animal instinct.
Plus, when she’d asked Grady where he kept the gelding he’d been riding when she met him, he’d told her he boarded Voyager out at Windy Corner Stables. Which meant that any horseback riding they did would involve a trip to Jo’s barn.
As if reading her mind, Grady said, “You’re going to have to see her eventually. Might as well get it over with.”
He was right. Ella squeezed his hand and tried on a smile. “I’d rather do it with you at my side. Thanks.”
Another thought occurred to her as Grady stood up and walked over to the stovetop to stir the oatmeal—a thought that almost wiped the smile off her face.
It took sheer determination to keep her voice light as she said, “I really shouldn’t pass up this opportunity, since I’m leaving in three days. Who knows when I’ll be around horses again.”
Grady’s long-handled spoon paused for a moment before he resumed stirring. “You never know. Maybe you’ll fall in love with it and never want to leave.”
Ella shivered. Were they still talking about horseback riding? She opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of a sensible reply. Of course she was leaving in three days. She had a job, a life, back in D.C. There was no way she could even consider staying.
But as Grady pulled two rough, hand-thrown earthenware bowls from his cupboard and started dishing up oatmeal, Ella couldn’t stop thinking that for two people who hated change so much, she and Grady were building something between them that could change everything.
* * *
Three days. He had three days to convince her to uproot her entire life and move to Sanctuary Island.
For the first time in years, he wondered if he’d ever be able to bring himself to leave the island. It was completely unfair to ask Ella to be the one making all the sacrifices here—but when he even considered the trip across the bay to Winter Harbor, a cold sweat broke out along his hairline and the tips of his fingers went numb.
He could lose her, he realized, despair like bile in his throat. And all because he was too much of a coward to take a damn ferry ride.
It was an impossible situation, but a voice in Grady’s head kept repeating that he had to “stay positive, man.” The voice sounded a lot like Tom, his ex-partner back on the task force.
Grady wasn’t sure what it meant that after five years of not thinking or talking about his time on the team, he was suddenly hearing Tom’s relentlessly cheery, upbeat nagging in his head.
He suspected it had something to do with the woman in the passenger seat of his Jeep.
Stealing a glance at Ella, who had her arm propped on the open window so she could ride the air currents with one hand while they drove deeper inland toward Windy Corner, Grady felt his body stir and heat with the memories of the night before.
He had to admit, if only to himself, that he’d been more than halfway certain he’d convinced Ella to stay. Which was stupid, of course. So she went to bed with him—that didn’t mean she was in love with him. God knew, he hadn’t been in love with every single woman he’d ever slept with.
Still, he hadn’t been able to suppress a sharp pang of disappointment when she made it clear that her plans hadn’t altered.
Because nearly everything was different for him since he met her.
Grady downshifted as the paved road turned to gravel, the Jeep grinding across the ruts from last week’s storm.
“Gosh,” Ella said, pitching her voice to be heard over the engine. “If only Jo Ellen had a handyman to help her smooth this driveway out.”
Her teasing grin was infectious. Grady found himself smiling back. “Once we officially hit summer, closer to the end of June. But we’re likely to get a few more serious rainshowers and windstorms between now and then. It’s not worth it yet.”
“I was kidding.” Her eyes were round and surprised. “But you really do everything around here, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Whatever I can do to help Jo, I’ll do it.”
Ella looked away for a moment, wind blowing her hair into her face. “How did she earn so much loyalty?”
“I told you before—she saved my life when I came home to Sanctuary.”
“But how?” Ella made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat.
“It’s hard to explain.” Grady pulled the Jeep around the final bend. The barn rose up in front of them, sturdy and solid with its clean, fresh coat of dark green paint and its white doors thrown wide open.
He parked the truck on the grass next to Jo’s pickup and lifted Ella’s fist from her lap, kissed her curled fingers until they relaxed. She met his eyes, and Grady smiled. Time to play his last, best card.