Touching Down(78)

“Put me inside you.” One of his hands dropped to my hip, sliding me forward even farther. “Let me feel you.”

My body was already wet and ready, aching with need. Guiding him closer, I fitted him to me. A primitive sound echoed in his chest when he felt how willing I was to take him.

His head came around toward mine, and our foreheads pressed together again. “I want you, Ryan Hale. Your heart, your soul, your body, and your very existence. I want this life and your next. I want it all.”

My heart was pounding with the kind of speed that made me lightheaded. Rocking my hips closer, I took him inside me. I took as much of him as I could. I wanted more. Just like him, I wanted it all too.

As he started to move inside me, looking in my eyes with every thrust, I managed to spill a few words past my lips. “You have it all.”

His hands curled around my ankles, pulling me toward him until we couldn’t have been any closer unless our bodies fused together. His mouth found mine, and he kissed me like he had no plans to stop.

“Let me feel you, Ryan,” he whispered against my lips. “Let me feel you fall apart in my arms, baby.”

My hands raked down his back, curling into the canyon drawn down the center of his spine. He held me close, giving me what I needed, his entire focus on me. Everything he’d done had been for me or our daughter. His whole existence seeming to have one sole purpose—taking care of us.

As I felt my body reach the precipice of falling apart, I opened my eyes into his. “Why me, Grant Turner?” My nails dug deeper into his back when he moved deeper inside me. “Why me when you could have anyone you wanted?”

He waited for me, watching me carefully as the tremors spread through my body. Then he lowered his face over mine, looking mesmerized as he watched me come undone in his arms. “I’d rather have one day with you than an eternity with anyone else.”





IT WAS THE best sound in the world to wake up to—my daughter laughing. Rolling over in bed, I found the rest of it empty. I didn’t remember crawling into bed after last night’s adventures. The last time I remembered falling against him in a trembling, sweaty heap, we’d been spread out on the living room couch.

As I slid out of the covers, I realized that while he might have carried me into bed last night, he hadn’t clothed me. Not that I could ever expect Grant to willingly put clothes on me when he was such a fan of the alternative.

After pulling his bathrobe from the back of the door, I slid into it and tried my best to make it gather around me so I could tie the belt. Then I moved out of the bedroom and down the hall, following the sounds of the two voices I loved most in the world.

The sight I found when I emerged from the hall made me come up short. Charlie was sitting on Grant’s knee around the kitchen table, a bowl of cereal in front of them that both of them were taking bites out of. Beside the cereal was an open book that Charlie and Grant were scanning as they chomped on their cereal.

“So the chorea is why Mom’s been so clumsy, right?” Charlie tapped the end of her spoon at something on the page.

Grant finished chewing his bite of Lucky Charms. “Well, your mom’s always been clumsy, so she can’t blame it all on the chorea.”

Charlie’s face lit up like she’d just remembered something. “Once, Mom walked right through a screen door at our old apartment. We had to replace the whole entire screen. And then she did it again a month later.”

Grant’s back rocked from his laughter. “Well, your mom used to roll out of bed so much when we were younger, if I didn’t wrap my arms around her tight, she’d wake up the next morning on the floor.”

Charlie giggled as she flipped a page. “Why did Mom have to sleep in your bed? Didn’t she have one?”

I could see just enough of Grant’s face to see the way it froze with his oh shit look. He rolled his neck, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “Sometimes I’d share mine with her.”

“Why?” Charlie shrugged.

I could hear Grant’s drawn-out exhale from back here. A minute later, he answered, “Because sometimes hers wasn’t working.”

Charlie made a face before twisting her head back at Grant. “Mom’s bed wasn’t working?”

Grant distracted himself by digging into the cereal. “Out of commission.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Charlie mused. “How many times did Mom have to sleep in your bed when hers wasn’t working?”

My smile couldn’t be tamed. This ought to be good. Especially since, to answer honestly, he’d have to admit that I slept in his bed most nights. It might have started out innocently—a protector watching over someone who needed protecting—but that had changed over time. From the look on Grant’s face, it looked like he was reliving some of the same memories I was.