The last time had been a slow learning process for them both. This time, their movements were rushed and frantic. The last time had been marked by intimate preliminaries. This time, by unspoken mutual consent, they shed their clothing, desiring nothing more than to be joined as one.
Griff thrust into her, burying himself as deep as her body would allow. Yet despite the physical need that drove them, Chelsie felt an intense rush of sensation flood her heart and her mind. Almost, she thought, as if the most intimate part of her body had a direct channel to her heart. And Griff had penetrated both.
* * *
Griff awoke with a start. Chelsie slept curled beside him, her head on his chest. With every breath he took, he inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo. In sleep, she looked more trusting. Yet he felt a barrier had tumbled in the last few hours. In a very real sense, she had given herself to him, heart and soul. The question was, what did he intend to do with the gift?
The day he had won the custody hearing, the path of his life had been bleak but certain. His future held nothing except the promise of raising Alix. He had planned to focus on that one ray of sunshine and block out the need for anything more. So what had changed?
Not his past. His brother was gone, taken by an unfair twist of fate. Jared would never willingly have left his only child. Not so for Griff’s mother. She, too, was long gone. As Ryan had discovered on Jared’s request, she had died an unhappy and lonely woman. Ultimately, she had given up her family in search of an elusive dream that had never materialized. His father had passed away a few years back.
Instead of learning from the past, Griff had merely repeated it. Like his mother, his ex-fiancée was a woman short on feelings for anything except cold hard cash. Why had he ever thought Deidre would be different? He hadn’t, he realized with a sudden flash of insight Griff had chosen her because she exhibited the same traits as his mother. Because when she left him, too, he could say he’d expected it all along.
Chelsie stirred and he pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. Her naked body snuggled closer into his embrace. Being right offered little comfort in the middle of the night. But for now, with Chelsie beside him, Griff was no longer alone—physically or emotionally.
No woman had ever made him face his past, had ever reached inside him. Chelsie touched the man who wanted love but feared being abandoned. He understood that now. Was he ready to put aside his preconceived notions and past hurts and try again?
Damned if he knew. The living-room clock chimed five. At that moment, the only thing he felt sure of was that he didn’t want Mrs. Baxter to arrive and find them naked in the den.
He untangled himself from her body and stood. When he lifted her into his arms, her eyelids fluttered open. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, walking towards his bedroom.
She mumbled something unintelligible, then twined her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder. Trust wasn’t something she gave easily, either. For the moment, however, she did seem to trust him.
Would her faith last into the waking hours of the morning? He had no answers. When they had their talk, he hoped they’d each do their best not to undermine the progress they’d made—and not to hurt each other in the process.
TEN
Griff placed a hand on the sheets, only to discover they felt cool to his touch. He didn’t panic. Chelsie had promised him she wouldn’t run and he believed her.
He started down the long hallway. When he’d bought the house, he’d tried to imbue the place with warmth and felt he had succeeded everywhere except for the kitchen. Even with Alix’s high chair and bibs strewn about, the room still felt cold. With a table large enough to seat eight and no feminine knickknacks lying about, the place looked as welcoming as his old bachelor-style apartment.
When he reached the kitchen, he immediately sensed a difference. An old Eagles song drifted towards him, accompanied by soft but slightly off-key humming. Griff paused in the doorway, attempting to understand the comforting feeling that settled around him.
The decor hadn’t changed. In fact, the scene that awaited him was similar to the one that greeted him every morning. Alix sat in the high chair, happily shoveling handfuls of food into her mouth while babbling at the same time. Two places were set at the table, and the delicious aroma of pancakes surrounded him, making his mouth water for a hot stack with warm maple syrup and steaming coffee. But instead of Mrs. Baxter helping his niece with her meal and puttering around the kitchen, there was Chelsie.
Between sips of coffee, she wrestled with Alix as the child tried to stuff in more food than her mouth would hold. Chelsie laughed at the little girl, gently chiding her for misbehaving. Yet Chelsie never lost her temper and she never seemed annoyed at being placed in the role of caregiver for her sister’s child. If anything, she seemed born to be Alix’s surrogate mother.