Chapter 13 Kensie
KENSIE
Ican’t seem to stop my hands from shaking. All through the car ride back to my apartment, while I poured myself a glass of wine, even while I paced around the living room, they continue to shake. Hell, I think my whole body is trembling.
It’s all too much. The experience with those guys in Grant’s playroom. My panic when they tried to take things to the next level. The universe-tilting realization that my feelings for Grant have somehow gotten much bigger than I can control.
Before I could even get out of there, Fred appeared, like my worst nightmare come to life.
In the one place I’d been able to feel truly safe since the divorce.
The one place where I had finally started to understand myself.
Seeing him standing there, tainting the space that had come to mean so much to me, had been like a sucker punch.
When he put his hands on me and started spewing his usual verbal shit, it was like going back in time two years.
Back to when he kept me beaten down and alone.
Back to the sick feeling in my stomach every day, never knowing what kind of mood he’d be in, never knowing what new wound he’d create with his vile words and manipulative actions.
I laugh to myself now, the sound bitter in my silent apartment. I thought I’d grown so much, become so much stronger. But just seeing him had sent that illusion crashing down.
And then there was Grant. Suddenly appearing between me and my worst nightmare. Putting my ex-husband on the ground for daring to touch me.
Andres hand had been gentle but uncompromising as he led me away from the melee. I went without a fight, too overwhelmed and terrified to do anything else. He put me in the back of Grant’s car and told the driver to take me straight home.
There was a part of me that was disappointed when he pulled up in front of my place and not Grant’s—which is ridiculous. Andres had said “take her home” and Grant’s place certainly isn’t my home.
But still, there was comfort in imagining myself in his penthouse, in thinking about his soft, comfortable bed, the gas fireplace in his living room, the shelves lined with books—all of those little details that I was just starting to know.
“Stop it,” I order myself before taking a deep swig of Pinot. The last thing I need to be doing is thinking about spending time with Grant. Didn’t I leave his playroom in the first place because I needed space? Needed time to wrap my mind around the terrifying realization of my feelings for him?
I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.
And that’s a fucking disaster in the making.
I don’t need to look any farther than the man Grant punched just a half hour ago to remember all the reasons why I don’t want to do love, not again.
Love makes you vulnerable. It allows the type of people who want to hurt you way too much ammunition.
Love—because I did love my husband, at least at first—had nearly destroyed me, putting me in a position where I had nothing of my own and no way out.
Love is bullshit.
But even knowing that, there’s a pain in my chest thinking about Grant fighting with Fred.
Andres had assured me that they wouldn’t let it get too far while he bundled me off to Grant’s car.
“I don’t particularly enjoy cleaning excessive amounts of blood out of my carpets,” he’d said in that cool, unflappable voice of his.
So at least I’m pretty sure Grant won’t actually murder him.
I bring my wine to the living room and collapse on the couch. As worked up as I am right now, the one thing I’m not feeling is fear. In fact, it’s been a while since I’ve felt fear in this apartment.
Probably because Grant insisted on setting up a new security system here after our intruder fantasy.
The front door to the building actually locks now, and requires a key code to open.
The elevator, too, now requires a code. There are security cameras in the lobby and all the hallways.
He had a video doorbell installed at my unit so I can always see who’s outside before opening my (brand new, highly fortified) door.
Because that’s what Grant does, isn’t it?
He takes care of me. Makes sure I’m safe—physically and emotionally.
I’ve never really doubted that, not since we first started this crazy relationship.
Trusting him the way I do is the only reason I was able to allow myself to experience everything we’ve done over these last few months.
Even tonight, when I’d panicked in the private room, I hadn’t worried for one second that he wouldn’t take care of me. I knew the instant I said the safe word everything would stop. He would never try to pressure me to keep going, would never want to do something that I wasn’t totally into.
So why had I pushed him away?
Fear is such a funny thing. I hadn’t actually been afraid of Grant tonight, not in the slightest. I know he would die before he hurt me, that he would do anything in his power to make me happy.
So why does the idea of loving him scare me so much when the man himself only ever makes me feel safe?
Before I can find an answer to that question, there’s a pounding on my door. I startle, almost spilling my wine, before relaxing when I hear his voice. “Kensie, it’s me. Open the door.”
For a split second, the fear I’d felt earlier flashes in my chest. But it’s drowned out almost instantly by the strongest desire to see him.
To hear his voice. To feel his arms wrapped around me.
Tonight was a lot, too much to deal with, and I know he’s the only one who has the power to make me feel better.
I check the peephole—because I promised him I always would—before opening the door. As soon as it swings open he’s pushing inside, his hands coming up to cup my face. “Are you okay?” His voice is urgent, worried. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” I gently pry his hands away so I can shut the door behind him. “I’m the one who bailed.”
He runs a hand through his hair, and from the messy look of it, I’m pretty sure he’s been doing that constantly since he left the club. “I shouldn’t have let you leave without me,” he says. “I should have walked you through the lounge myself. You never should have been alone with him.”
“I asked you to let me leave.” I remember shouting at him, telling him that I didn’t want him, and I feel a surge of shame. He’d looked so broken hearing those words. “Grant,” I begin, but he’s not ready to stop castigating himself.
“It doesn’t matter. Your safety comes first.” He takes my wrist in a gentle grasp, bringing it up to the light and studying the skin. “He had his hand on you,” he mutters in a low voice. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I assure him. “Scared me, that’s all.”
His jaw goes tight. “That’s hardly better.” He closes his eyes. “I wish I hit him again. Fuck, I want to go find him and hit him now.”
I tug his arm, bringing him over to the couch. “I’d prefer not to have to bail you out of jail,” I tell him, sitting beside him. “I think whatever you already did is more than enough”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know Fred Cunningham was your ex. I’ve done business with that asshole,” he sneers. “He was in my building two months ago. I can’t believe I sat across from that man in my board room and didn’t beat the shit out of him for hurting you.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You didn’t even know.”
There’s no humor in his face or voice. “I don’t give a shit. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
Something warm is rising in my chest. It’s the same feeling I had earlier, back when he was holding me in the private room after I’d fallen apart. The same bone deep realization of what he means to me. Fear comes with the warmth, like it did before, but it’s not so overwhelming now.
Is that how this works? Will the fear keep getting less and less until I’m finally able to admit that I have feelings for this man?
He reaches up to run his hand through his hair again and I notice something I didn’t see before—his knuckles are red and bleeding.
“Grant,” I gasp, pulling his hand away. “You’re hurt!”
He scoffs. “I’m fine.”
“But you’re bleeding—”
“I’m fine,” he says firmly, pulling his hand free. He doesn’t go far—instead he cradles the side of my face, leaning in close and pressing his forehead against mine. “That scared the shit out of me,” he mutters. “Walking into the lounge and seeing you with him.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t have run off like that.” I swallow. “I just…got overwhelmed.”
He pulls back, his smile sad. “I know, baby. And that’s my fault.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head, stopping me. “It is, Kensie. I pushed you too far.”
“Tonight was my idea,” I blurt out. “I put in on my list months ago”
“I don’t mean the scene,” he says. “I mean all of it. At the restaurant that night, when I asked you for more, that was me pushing. And all the weeks since all I’ve done is push. I was trying to get deeper and deeper into your life when you were pretty damn clear that’s not what you wanted.”
He sighs, putting distance between us, and I hate it. I want him to come back, want him to pull me up into his lap and put his arms around me. “I pushed you for more before you were ready,” he says, voice low. “And I’m so sorry.”
“Grant, you don’t have to apologize.”
“I do.” His dark eyes lock on mine and the emotion I see there takes my breath away.
“I let my own feelings get in the way of what you said you needed from me. I was supposed to be helping you experiment, not pushing you for something you didn’t want.
” He takes a deep breath, and I just know I’m going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth next.
“I need to end our arrangement.”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in. “You…what?”
“I can’t keep doing what we were doing before that conversation at the restaurant.” He shrugs a little, his expression helpless. “I love you too much to go back to what we were before, and I love you too much to try and force you into what we’ve been doing since.”
I feel like I can’t catch my breath. I’m confused and I’m overwhelmed—did he just say he loves me?—and I’m hurt. But there’s something else there too, some huge emotion crashing down on me that feels too big to even identify.
Grant pushes some hair out of my face, his touch so gentle. “I refuse to pressure you, Kensie. I’m not going to manipulate you or push you into something you aren’t ready for.” His tone hardens. “But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I’ll never give up on you.”
“I…I don’t understand.” My words come out a broken gasp. “Didn’t you just end us?”
“I’m going to give you space,” he says. “I know that you’re still healing from what that asshole did.
I know you aren’t ready for what I want.
So I’ll give you the space you need.” His eyes flash.
“But I’m going to come back, Kensie. I’m always going to come back to see if you’re ready for me.
” He runs a finger under my eye to collect the tears that have started to spill over.
“I have to believe that someday, you’ll tell me you’re ready.
Because we’re meant to be, baby. I know we are. ”
The tears come faster, coursing down my cheeks. That feeling I hadn’t been able to identify before is crashing over me and I finally see it for what it is—fear. But it’s a fear far greater than anything else I felt tonight. Maybe greater than any fear I’ve ever experienced.
I’m terrified to lose him.
“I was afraid of the wrong thing,” I whisper, realizing the truth. “All this time I’ve been afraid of getting too close but that’s not the scary part. Not at all.”
“Kensie?” Concern and confusion lace his voice. He doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Of course he doesn’t—I’ve just figured it out myself.
“I love you,” I blurt out. “I think I’ve loved you this whole time. And I’m fucking terrified.”
I can see the utter shock on his face and I’m pretty sure he’s stopped breathing.
This time I take his face in mine, bringing him close.
“I’m afraid, Grant, because love hasn’t been kind to me.
I’m afraid because this feeling is so much bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced.
But mostly I’m afraid that I might lose you.
” I close my eyes, letting the truth wash over me. “I don’t ever, ever want to lose you.”
“Kensie.” His voice is ragged with emotion. Disbelieving and hopeful at the same time. “Are you saying—”
“You don’t have to push me for more, Grant. I want more. I want everything.” I shake my head, more tears falling, but they’re not sad, not anymore. “I want you.”
His lips are on mine before the last word is fully out of my mouth. I melt into his arms, relief hitting me so hard I can’t hold myself up anymore. He’s here and he loves me and I’m safe. With him, I’m always safe.
“I’m probably going to mess this up,” I say against his lips because he refuses to let me go any farther. “I know I’m going to get scared again and I’ll probably freak out.”
“You’re allowed to freak out,” he says in between kisses. “Just promise you’ll always let me back in when the freak out is over.”
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in ages. “I promise.”
“I love you,” he mutters, kissing me again, over and over. “God, Kensie, I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
He finally pulls back, cradling my cheeks, those dark eyes darting around my face like he’s trying to read every thought I’ve ever had. “I promise that I’ll always take care of you. When you’re scared, when you’re not scared. You’re safe with me, no matter what.”
“I know,” I say easily, because there isn’t a doubt in my mind.
Grant will take care of me, just the way he always has.
I can trust him. I do trust him. “I’ve finally realized that my trust is bigger than all my fears,” I whisper, and the smile he gives me is so breathtakingly beautiful I have to pull him in for another kiss.
And I don’t let go for a long, long time.