For Life (Reclaimed Hearts Book 1) (18 page)

Grady

“So you weren’t kidding. You can actually cook.” She sips her wine and sighs softly as I knead one of her bare feet.

“I cook. I give foot rubs. I’m the whole package.” I smirk at her and she smacks me lightly.

“You are the whole package,” she agrees dreamily, gazing at me, her head propped against the back of the couch.

“Maybe too much wine?” I tease.

“No, come on,” she laughs. “You’re smart and talented and good-looking. You have a great job. You make beautiful babies. You’re good in bed.”

“Speaking of that…” I slide my hand up her ankle, then cup her calf inside her pajama bottoms. She gives me a look.

“The kids are still awake and I get that we’re not having sex tonight,” I say. “But surely we can make out quietly on the couch for a bit.”

Her mouth curves up at the corners. “You’re naughty.”

“You just told me I'm good in bed,” I grin, tugging her onto my lap. "A man can't resist that kind of sexual flattery." Cass settles on me, her knees on either side of my hips, and her heat through the thin material of her pajamas makes my cock stir. I cup the back of her head and bring her mouth down to mine.

Our kiss last night wasn’t sweet and neither is this one. It takes about five minutes before she’s writhing on my lap. My hand is inside her pajama top, cupping one of her breasts over her bra. My dick feels like iron and I’m not even touching her bare flesh.

I work her bra down so it’s underneath the soft swell of her tit. Then I lift her pajama top and duck my head, drawing one stiff, rosy nipple between my lips. She gasps softly and arches so it pushes further into my mouth. I respond by working my hips so that the ridge of my cock is rubbing steadily between her thighs as I suck and lick her nipple. When she’s shivering I pull the other cup down and pay the other breast the same attention, until both nipples are hard, wet peaks and Cassie is grinding herself down on me.

“Wanna come, baby?” I whisper.

She fixes dark, glossy eyes on me and forces herself to respond, “Grady, no, the kids…” I slow the rhythm of my hips and her body keeps moving even as her mouth says, “They’re right upstairs… We can’t…”

“What do you think other parents do? Not fool around when their kids are in the same house?”

She glares at me, and I shrug. “Okay. No orgasms. Got it.” But when she climbs off me to take her wine glass into the kitchen, I follow her. While she’s at the sink, washing out her glass, I come behind her and slide both hands into her pajama bottoms, one cupping her ass and the other finding her slick folds. She makes a little sound of protest, but I my lips brush over the back of her neck her head falls forward in defeat. I rub and stroke and tease with my fingers while she cleans that glass. Her hands are covered with suds and trembling when she finally places the soapy goblet on the counter, grips the edge of the counter, and lets me take her there. With a choked whimper, she shudders and collapses against me.

“You’re bad,” she whispers, her head leaned back on my shoulder.

I kiss her earlobe. “I thought I was the whole package?”

“That was before you were naughty.”

“Naughty would’ve been yanking down those pants and bending you over this counter. I thought I showed remarkable restraint.”

She groans. “Why does that turn me on so much when I just came?”

“Because,” I reply, turning her so she faces me and wrapping my arms around her. “You need more than pleasure. You can give yourself that. You need to be adored.”

“Yes,” she sighs, closing her eyes as if to feel my words.

I kiss her throat, right at the pulse point. “Cared for.”

“Mmm…” She licks her lips and sighs again, softer this time.

I nuzzle her ear. “Worshiped.”

She turns her cheek and rubs her face against mine. I revel in the sensual feeling of our connection, Cassie soft and agreeable in the afterglow of her orgasm.

“And then pounded so thoroughly you can’t think straight,” I growl into her hair.

She gasps as if she’s shocked, but she grabs my face and attacks my mouth, nipping my top lip before she slides her tongue against mine. I grab a handful of her hair and hold her head steady so I can take control of her mouth. She may have initiated that kiss, but it’s not ending until I say so.

Cass tastes like my favorite memories and moves like every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had. Her hips press against my erection, her hands slide their way into my shirt, and her nails tickle my stomach. My cock feels like it could tear my jeans apart with its next twitch, and when I see the glint in her eyes that tells me she wants to take care of my problem I groan from needing her so badly.

But we jump apart again when we hear footsteps on the stairs. Cassie starts rinsing her glass while I hide my embarrassing condition by leaning against the kitchen island.
Twice in one week
, I think, gritting my teeth as my son comes into the kitchen, chattering happily about this weekend’s cross-country meet.
I love you, son, but your timing sucks.
As soon I can move freely without shaming myself, I start making plans to get my woman alone so she and I can make this happen without any more interruptions.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Cassie

On Wednesday night Jai and I attend a Chamber of Commerce dinner in honor of one of our board members. It’s an important move for me, because this particular board member is one of my biggest supporters. I want the director’s position, and it can’t hurt to be seen publicly as the face of the organization. But my heart isn’t in the schmoozing, and Jai can tell.

Jai is extremely tight-lipped about his own life, and he never pries into mine. But we have a strong, unspoken communication in our work relationship, and I know that he can tell something’s bothering me. On the drive home, he ventures, “I’m so sorry about yesterday, Cassie. I wanted to give you a heads-up, but they caught me off guard.”

“Jai, it’s fine. Really.” I smile at him, but his forehead is still crinkled.

“We have an honest rapport, and that’s important to me. So this is difficult for me to say.”

“What’s that?”

He frowns. “Madeline has another candidate in mind for your position. She doesn’t want you as the next director. I wanted you to know, because I know how much you want that job.”

He’s so earnest, and it’s taken him so much courage to say that to me, that I want to pull my car over and hug him. Instead I smile and say, “The Dragon Lady not wanting me for the position isn’t news. Really. She’s made it abundantly clear from day one that she doesn’t want me here.”

“I think her choice shows exceedingly poor taste.”

“Oh, you actually know who her choice is? Do tell.”

When he purses his lips I amend, “Unless you feel uncomfortable saying. I don’t want you to be in a bad position. You’re good at your job, and you deserve to stay in it whether we’re working together or not.”

Jai snorts. “I am
not
working with Calvin Roberts. If you go, I go.”

“Cal Roberts? She wants
Cal Roberts
for my position? Is she insane?”

Cal Roberts is a local man from a wealthy family. His extensive history of indiscretions includes a string of DUI arrests, fraud charges (which were settled out of court, although popular opinion is his father paid his way out of that), and several media gaffes. Having him as the face of our organization would be suicide. If Skip Malick is the frying pan, Cal Roberts is the fire.

So why would she do that?

I allow myself to ponder that all the way home. The kids are in bed when I get there - Caden listening to his iPod and Chloe reading - so I say a quick good night and hop in the shower.

There’s a text message waiting for me when I get out.

Good night, gorgeous girl.

Even though I know he won’t see it until morning, I text him back.
Good night, beautiful man
.

* * * *

The next two days at work are horrendous. The Dragon Lady pops in unannounced, keeping Jai and I on edge. I have several conversations with Karen’s husband, trying delicately to convince him to let the board know that Karen won’t be coming back to work, but as it turns out it’s Karen who’s in denial. She won’t tender her resignation and she’s depressed and angry, which breaks my heart for both her and her husband.

Grady and I have talked every night, but he’s avoided initiating any serious discussions and I couldn’t be more relieved about that. He doesn’t pretend for a second that he’s content with our current situation, but I’m grateful for the work distractions. Without them I would be forced to really think long and hard about what Grady and I are doing.

That would mean memories and old pain rising to the surface, and I want them buried. I want this new Grady without having to remember the Grady I had at the end of our marriage, the one who broke my trust and my heart.

By the time the weekend rolls around, I’m in such need of a release that I don’t care which Grady I have so long as he takes me to bed, and fast. On Friday night I call him to remind him that the kids will be at a meet on Saturday.

“So you’re coming over, right?” His voice melts me everywhere it touches.

“As soon as I drop them off,” I promise.

“You’ve had a rough week that you need to forget.”

God, do I ever.
“Yes.”

“Text me when you’re on your way tomorrow, yeah?”

“Okay, Grady.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he whispers after we say goodbye.

I’m alone in the dark, and suddenly I want him next to me, not across town on the other end of a phone line, in a different bed from me.

It’s about more than sex.

It’s about more than stress relief.

He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel taken care of. He calms me when I’m coming undone.

And I want to do the same things for him. We should be curled up together in this bed, making our plans while touching, our kids sound asleep upstairs.

But I don’t know how to beat back the doubts that creep to the surface every time I allow myself to want him back. I don’t know how to really forgive him like I said I did.

It wasn’t a lie. I know he’s sorry. I’m proud of him for cleaning up his act, and I believe him when he says he was only trying to give me more back then. But there’s still a hurt child inside me who demands that he be just a bit sorrier for the pain he caused. And that hurt child, the one who thinks the rug is about to be yanked out from under her at any moment because that’s what life has been like for her with people she loves, can’t forget the past.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Cassie

On Saturday morning, I make it in and out of the shower in record time and start to stress over what to wear before I realize that whatever I wear is going to be on the floor in seconds. I bargain with myself that I can wear something hot the next time.

Next time.

The thought pours over me, coating me like warm caramel. There will be a next time. This isn’t a one-and-done. I have no idea what in the hell we’re doing, but I do know it won’t end today. I throw on a cami with a built-in bra, leggings, and a cardigan. No point in wearing underwear other than to contain the massive ball of heat between my thighs. I slide into a pair of boots and I’m ready.

I drop Chloe and Caden off at the high school and by the time I send Grady a quick text and pull out of the parking lot I’m quivering with excitement. His house is fifteen minutes from the kids’ school, and I press the speed limit the whole way, but just barely. A ticket wouldn’t be the end of the world - I have a spotless driving record - but it would tack on another half hour, at least, until I can see Grady. And that won’t do.

When I reach his house, I have a moment of hesitation before I pull into the driveway. What if someone recognizes my car? What if his neighbors see us and gossip? What if the kids find out? What if we’re making a really horrible mistake?
What if—

All my silly “what ifs” die away when Grady appears in the doorway wearing only navy basketball shorts. My mouth goes dry as I take him in. His body is a masterpiece; years of sports and healthy living have paid off. Still slightly tan from summer, the tops of his shoulders are kissed with freckles. His chest is furrier than I remember, but the delicious treasure trail I used to trace with my tongue is just the same.

He watches me watch him all the way from the car to his door, his eyes heated, a tiny smile on the corner of his lips. When I reach the front steps he murmurs, “You’re really here.”

“I’m really here.”

Tugging me toward him, he wraps one arm around my waist and kisses me, deep and insistent, right in the doorway. So much for hiding from the nosy neighbors. He drags me inside and locks the door behind me, and we’re finally alone. Within seconds he’s got me pinned to the wall.

“I tasted you in my dreams,” he murmurs against my lips between kisses, his hands twined in my hair. I’m wrapped around him, impatient and greedy, and he tries to slow things down but I’m not having any of it. I can feel him, hard and ready, through the thin fabric of the shorts and I want him. Without delay.

“I wanted to make myself come as soon as you left the other night,” I confess, and his answering groan into my mouth tells me the thought pleases him.

“Fuck,” he growls. “Did you?”

“No. I saved it all for you.”

He curses again into my mouth, and the way he’s kissing me tells me he’s barely able to keep this slow.

Just past the tiny foyer is the living room, and as we’re kissing he leads me there, backing me onto a large chocolate-covered sofa and kneeling in front of me. He plants a soft kiss on the inside of each knee before slowly unzipping the boot on my left foot, drawing it off, peeling the sock over my foot, and planting a kiss on the inside of my ankle, right on the bone.

“Lose the sweater,” he orders, lifting my right foot to repeat the same actions - unzip the boot, take off the sock, kiss my ankle. I scramble to peel off my cardigan and when it’s on the floor he murmurs, “Shirt, too.”

I lift my cami up over my head and when I drop it on the floor his mouth covers mine and he starts yanking down my leggings. When he realizes I’m not wearing underwear he whispers, “Jesus, Cass.” One vigorous tug and I’m naked on the couch in his living room.

He kneels before me, his erection tenting his shorts, and runs his hands over my shoulders, my arms, my breasts, my belly. He splays his palms over my thighs and parts my legs, and there’s nothing slow or gentle about the way he does it. His lips and tongue follow his hands, so that each stroke sets me tingling and his mouth scorches a path behind his touch. I sigh and arch my back, leaning back on my elbows, parting wider for him.

And then Grady’s mouth is on me, hungrily feeding at the source of my ache. At the first swipe of his tongue a moan escapes me, so deep and needy that he answers it with one of his own. It makes a pleasurable hum against my pussy and I shiver. He sucks my clit, setting off fireworks in the back of my brain, and I writhe in his hands and spread my legs wider.

After a few seconds he pops his head up. “Can you still come like this?” he asks breathlessly. I answer by shoving his head back down between my legs and gripping his hair. He laps and sucks and tongue-fucks me and all of a sudden I’m right there, where I was the other night, clinging to a precipice, waiting to fall into a blissful whirlpool of pleasure. When I whimper and buck my hips he remembers what I need and slips two fingers in me, rubbing my G-spot while he sucks my clit.

His tongue on me hurls me over the edge, and I spasm around his fingers, crying out his name. My arms slip out from under me and my back arches but he stays latched on to me, sucking the dregs of my orgasm out of me, holding me by the hips and whispering things I can’t even make out through the roar of blood in my ears and my own cries.

He waits for me to blink and clear the stars from my vision before he says, “I need to be inside you, Cass.” He looks surprised when I slide down until I’m kneeling in front of him, bent face-first over the couch, exposing my ass to him. He sighs as he squeezes a bare cheek with one hand and tugs his shorts down with the other.

There’s a moment of awkwardness when he mutters, “Shit. Condoms are in the bedroom. We’ve got to—”

“No,” I pant. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill. Don’t—”

He enters me before I’m even done speaking, and I rock back against him so he’s buried to the hilt in just two strokes. Being stretched by him is so delicious and familiar that my eyes fill with tears and I whisper, “Yes, Grady,
yes
,” as he thrusts into me, one hand wrapped around me so he holds me at the breastbone. His mouth latches on to the sensitive spot at the base of my neck as he moves in me.

We’ve got the urgency of new lovers, but Grady and I know how to touch each other, how to read each other’s unspoken cues, how to take each other right where we need to go. It’s as if no time has passed. The way we are together is just as it was when we said goodbye, and I realize how much I’ve missed it, even though I would’ve never admitted it before today. He keeps his fingers on me as he moves in me and before long I cry out again, shuddering from the aftershocks as he pounds me harder.

Just a few seconds later he gasps an apology. “Fuck, Cass, I have to come, Cass. It’s too intense.” I feel him tensing from his efforts to hold back.

“Come, baby. Come inside me,” I urge him, and he groans as his body stiffens with his orgasm. Holding me close, he pulses inside me, his arms wrapped tight around me, his face buried in my hair. On my back I can feel his racing heartbeat as he cuddles me close. For the first time in forever I feel really and truly alive.

* * * *

When Grady hauls me to my feet my legs are trembling and I’m dripping down the insides of my thighs. He holds me close and kisses me tenderly. “Eleven fucking years apart. I can’t believe I didn’t take you to my bedroom,” he apologizes, wiping me with his shirt. “Jesus, what an asshole.”

“Shhh…” I protest. “It was perfect.”

His mouth closes over mine again, sweet and slow. I can taste myself on his tongue, and knowing I’ve marked him with my scent gives me a little shiver. He murmurs, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up so we can cuddle,” and leads me down the hall.

We clean up without any awkwardness at all, which is amazing and strange, but when we crawl into his bed I balk for a second. I can’t help but think that he’s probably made love to Yveta here, but I push the thought away and curl around him. He didn’t owe me his fidelity. I was with Adam when he was with Yveta, anyway.

We lie like we used to, my head against his chest, our feet twined. We haven’t done this in over a decade but our bodies remember it. There’s no awkward rearranging of limbs, no struggling to get comfortable. We just fit.

He speaks first. “I know there’s a lot to figure out, but I love you and I’ll do whatever it takes.” I don’t answer, but he squeezes me close and kisses my hair anyway. “And I know I have to earn your trust back.”

And that’s where I stop him, my fingers flying to his lips to keep him from taking all the blame. “No, Grady, shhh.” I shake my head. “You don’t have anything to prove to me. I know the man you are.”

He looks into my eyes and tenderly kisses my fingertips. There’s more I should say, but the words won’t come. Instead I lean across him and replace my fingers with my lips, kissing him softly, and that seems to settle him. His cock stirs against my thigh and I reach for it, my fingers eagerly wrapping around his hardening length.

“Babe,” he groans. “I think you need to give me a minute. I’m not a young man anymore.” But despite his protests he’s soon rock-hard under my touch and I slide down his body, my lips and tongue dragging across every inch of him. The light fur on his stomach tickles my nose as I kiss lower, and the tang of our mixed orgasms invades my nostrils, making me instantly wet for him again.

He gasps and twines his fingers through my hair as I circle the head of his cock with the tip of my tongue. He’s ready, a tiny drop of pre-cum heralding his arousal. I lick it away and take him halfway into my mouth while tickling his balls gently with my fingernails. My gentle suction and teasing fingers make him twitch in my mouth, and then I suck him in earnest.

I’ve never been able to take him all the way down, but I give it my best shot as he thrashes below me, watching me with hooded eyes as I devour his cock. My hair spills across his thighs and I make eye contact as often as I can, knowing how much it turns him on. He grips the sheets with one hand and caresses the back of my head with the other, making the most delicious little noises of pleasure in his throat.

I know what I’m doing, taking him higher and bringing him back down, edging him closer to orgasm. I perfected the art on this man years ago and it never felt right to do it with anyone else, but I love doing it with Grady. My lips and tongue and teeth and fingers work their magic until he stills my head.

“Ahh, shit,” he groans. “I want you to keep doing that, but if you do I’m going to come again and I really want to be inside you when I do.”

Reluctantly I give his cock a few last licks and crawl back up his body, straddling him so I’m rubbing against his length.

“You’re so wet,” he marvels.

“From sucking you.”

“
Fuck
, Cass.” He wraps his arms tightly around my lower back and moves his hips so the hard ridge of his cock rubs against my clit. We gaze into each other’s eyes and rock together slowly and the moment is perfect.

And then he reaches between us and slips himself inside me, keeping his thumb on my swollen clit, and somehow it gets even better. He fucks me languidly but his thumb rubs fast, and before long I’m riding him harder, slamming myself down on him, trying to get him deeper inside me, as if that’s even possible.

I shiver from the delicious tingles breaking out all over my body. My face flushes and my whole body goes hot. He can tell from watching me I’m going to come soon, and he keeps the pressure and pace perfect.

“Grady…” Oh, God. I’m so close. So fucking close.

“That’s it, baby, give it to me. I want to feel you flood my cock.”

I whimper and grind down harder.

“Look at me when you come.”

I nod, feeling the heat radiate up my spine and coil in my belly.

“Yes,” I promise, locking eyes with him as my climax washes over me. I bite my lip to keep from closing my eyelids at the pinnacle of my pleasure. He keeps his hips in motion and his thumb pressed against me, hard, while my orgasm goes on and on and on. I whimper a string of nonsense as I give out and flop to his chest, but he’s still moving in me. He swears loudly and jerks his hips, burying himself in me to the root. With a satisfied groan, he fills me.

For several long moments, I can’t even move. I’m a shuddering, sated, sweaty pile of boneless limbs. My heart still pounds in my chest, and when Grady rolls me against him, spooning me, I feel his heart pounding, too.

“Sex fiend,” he teases against my hair. “Just like I remember.”

I manage a giggle and kiss his arm, which is tucked tightly around me, keeping me safe.

We lie spent and motionless and sticky together. I can’t bear to get out of this bed and clean up because it will mean minutes away from him, and he must feel the same, because he doesn’t move, either. He traces little circles on my hips with the tips of his fingers and hums contentedly into my shoulder.

“Now what?” I whisper.

“Now we cuddle,” he whispers back.

“Then what?”

“Then we figure it out.”