40. Then
FORTY
then
Sunshine slanted through Gray’s trio of windows by the time I woke. I found him asleep next to me, frowning, with one muscled arm raised over his handsome face and the other bent across the naked expanse of his torso.
Grateful for the privacy, I slipped into the bathroom. Then I tiptoed into Gray’s kitchen and started simmering some water for his French press.
When I spun from the stove to the island, his sketches stopped me in my tracks. I took in their placement—haphazardly stacked, at best, on the corner of the granite countertop over the pull-out trash can—and looked up to scan the walls, noting that he had removed every last drawing.
Were they gone when I came in? Did he do it while he was drunk? I vaguely recalled him stirring sometime in the wee hours of the morning… Did he wake up and take them down?
I knew Gray well enough to know that I wasn’t witnessing the aftermath of rash action. He got impatient when impassioned, but the sketches weren’t torn. The edges appeared pristine, the pieces of tape folded decisively around the corners they once secured.
He took them all down slowly and carefully; yet, they were clearly going out with the garbage the next time he changed the bag.
I bit my lip as I sifted through the thin pages, brushing my fingers over some of my favorites. They boggled my mind. How could he not see how talented he was?
The blend of practicality and whimsy, hard and playful, seemed so singularly Grayson . I couldn’t bear the thought of his creativity moldering in the trash… being crushed by a dump truck… disintegrating…
Besides, I wanted them. They were little pieces of his mind. How could I let him throw those away?
I knew I couldn’t force him to keep the pages. That would have been akin to him asking me not to delete a chapter in one of my books just because he liked it. And if getting rid of his sketches would somehow make whatever he was going through easier, how could I deny him that right?
Would he notice if I took one?
A little devil on my shoulder told me he probably wouldn’t. The stack contained more than three dozen pages… Surely, if some went missing, no one would be the wiser….
And that way, I would have a couple in case he ever regretted throwing the rest out.
After leafing through them as quietly as possible, I secreted my favorites away, rolling them up and carefully slipping the cluster of scrolls into the pocket of my backpack. I narrowly made it back to the kitchen undetected before the kettle started to whistle, and Gray rolled over, yawning.
I busied myself, stirring the simmering water and the coffee grounds in the French press while he padded over the cold concrete floor. His hard body, still deliciously warm from the bed, settled against my back. A pair of bare, muscled arms hugged my waist while he wordlessly rested his chin on my shoulder.
Turning my face into his, I brushed a kiss over the prickly slash of his cheekbone. “Good morning.”
Gray didn’t reply right away. He turned to press his nose into the crook of my neck and exhaled heavily. “Thank you for being here,” he finally murmured, gruffly somber.
I twisted in his hold. Gray instantly hauled me into an embrace, squeezing the air from my lungs.
“I need to apologize,” he muttered against my shoulder. “For a lot of things.”
“Gray, you don’t have to?—”
He pulled back and looked down at me. His green eyes flashed as his warm hands framed my face, capturing my complete attention.
“No,” he insisted. “I do. Because you were right. And I made you cry, Ellie. There is no excuse for that, no matter how mad I was at myself or you or the situation. So I’m not going to make an excuse. I’m just going to say, again, that I’m so sorry, and I’m going to do better.”
His thumb drew a path from the corner of my mouth to my temple. The electricity in his eyes dimmed, then blinked out. His gaze shuttered.
When he continued, he sounded too formal, almost businesslike. “And I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday. I was out of my mind. Please forgive me for the lapse in judgment.”
I recognized the cool, professional tone this time—he was hurting. Trying to be strong .
Staring into his brilliant depths, I gently stroked my palm across his face. “Tell me what happened.”
His fa?ade cracked right before my eyes. Pain sliced across his features. A wince marred his brow while his chiseled lips parted. I heard the grit in his jaw as he finally bit his words out.
“My dad has cancer. It’s spread quite a bit. His prognosis isn’t good.”
His pain was my pain. It sank its claws into my chest, tearing at my heart. I think I gasped. “Oh, Gray.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself up his body. One breathless moment passed before he spun me around and lifted me onto the island, stepping between my legs to hide his face against my chest.
A slight tremor rolled through his body. “I didn’t know what to say,” he whispered. “Ella, he sat there telling me he was dying, and I just…”
His thick, silken hair rubbed my forearms as he shook his head. “He’s Mason Stryker . He’s always in command. Always the guy everyone else looks to. He’s unyielding and influential and invincible . How could he…”
Die .
I understood what he meant, even if he didn’t yet. Four years earlier, after losing my own dad, I felt the same baffled disbelief. The feeling had yet to dissipate. I still grappled with a jolt of shock every time I remembered that he was gone and would never come back.
Not knowing where to begin, I pressed soft kisses onto the crown of his head and waited. Minutes later, he huffed out a tattered sigh.
“I should tell you everything,” he exhaled, nuzzling my neck. “This changes a lot of my plans with the company. I’m sure my schedule will have to change, too. I won’t have as much free time…”
He was worried about how much time he could devote to me? When he had just found out his father was dying? The notion seemed equally sw eet and silly. Part of me wanted to reprimand him or maybe tease him, but the moment felt too fragile.
Instead, I vowed, “I will help you. You can do this, Grayson. I know you can.”
He leaned back far enough to bring us face-to-face. “No, listen,” he insisted, his eyes bright and wild. “I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into because you deserve to make an informed decision. I thought I had decades before I’d have to step into his place at Stryker. And now, it looks like I may have three years instead of thirty.
“He expects me to start acting in the capacity of a chief operating officer immediately. He’s talking about having me take over entire teams , projects… He said something about an office,” Gray rambled, shaking his head as if to clear it.
“Honestly, it was all like a sick blur to me at the time, so he’ll have to tell me again. But the bottom line is: My life is going to become really busy, and the stakes will be much higher than I anticipated. I’ll have to get a different place over winter break—something closer to the office, Downtown, probably with a home office in it. But, Ella…”
He stopped speaking long enough to spear me with a penetrating stare. “I want you to come with me.”
Come with him? To work? To look for an apartment? To help his parents?
“I don’t think I understand,” I replied, “You need help finding a new place to live?”
“Yes. I need you to help me find a place… for us , I hope.” His regard intensified. “I want you to live with me. I want to come home to you and take care of you and let you take care of me.”
Elation burst through my chest, swift and instinctive. But while my body and heart and soul all clamored for me to accept without hesitation, my mind whirred with worries.
He’s not in his right mind , I thought. Just look at him .
Gray was… raw.
Reddened eyes, cracked lips, and the faint scent of gin clinging to his nude ski n. He looked haggard and paler than his olive complexion ordinarily allowed.
“We don’t have to make any decisions right now,” I hedged, my voice tremulous from suppressing the desire to agree instantly.
His throat worked on an audible swallow. “Please, Ellie,” he mumbled, resting his forehead on mine. “I know this isn’t even a fraction as romantic as you deserve. And I know we’ve only been together for a couple of months but I— I can’t explain it. I just know that you are the most important thing to me now. As long as we’re solid, I’ll be solid.”
My heart broke. Whether from aching for him or bursting with joy, I did not know. But it shattered into a pile of glittering shards right on the spot, sending a rush of tears to my eyes.
Gray’s mouth molded into mine, skimming softly at first, and then settling in. His lips were dry but warm. And needy.
He needed me so much that I could feel it pouring off him as he fisted the hair at the nape of my neck and held me closer, licking into my mouth. The velvet heat of his tongue started an answering pulse between my thighs, so close to where his boxer briefs outlined his cock.
The bulge grew more insistent as I kissed him back, angling my face to run my tongue over his and softly graze his lower lip with my teeth. A helpless groan escaped him, vibrating through me as he broke away, turning his attention to the sweet spot just below my left ear.
“Please, Ella,” he rasped, biting the lobe. “Move in with me.”
Before I could reply, his mouth landed on my neck, his teeth scraping the tender place where it met my shoulder before his tongue swirled smoothly over the sting. He dragged kisses over my collarbone next, feathering it with just the faintest brush of his lips until both of my nipples furled into tight buds.
His knowing hands skirted the sides of my breasts, tormenting me, then skimmed down to the curves of my hips. While one dipped under the edge of my yoga pants, the other slid beneath my camisole, roaming up my spine until he found the place where the built-in bra left its indentation. He paused there, sweetly massaging the marks with his fingertips.
His lips gentled against my shoulder, his desperate kisses turning reverent. “Please, baby,” he whispered.
His gorgeous face loomed in front of mine again. Our connection snapped into place, offering me a glimpse of his inner turmoil—lust, entreaty, determination. And something else. Some stark, brilliant force that enthralled and intimidated me in equal measures.
He wanted me. He meant it. He was offering me a real future with him.
It changed me.
His sincerity fit all of the broken pieces of my heart back together. Different from before. The smooth, colorless pane was gone. A kaleidoscope of vivid color forged from jagged edges beat in its place.
And I suddenly knew, so certainly, that I loved him.
Which made my answer an easy one.