CHAPTER 29
MAPLE
My hand shakes as I set my phone down, hoping that he gets the text, that he looks at it before he gets in his truck and leaves.
Seeing him here, waiting for me at my apartment, surprised me so much that it took a second for my brain to register what was going on. Then Hank had warned me when I was putting away my groceries, telling me to be careful, to not let him hurt me…as if Graydon has ever laid a hand on me.
I reassured Hank over and over that Graydon wasn’t that kind of guy, but when he stands there, towering over you, hands flexing, I can understand where Hank gets that idea. But Graydon would never.
I know Hank is going to text me later to ask if I’m okay, and as I’m standing here, hoping Graydon comes back, I honestly don’t know what I’m going to say because I’m so confused.
He painted a mural…for me.
He came and apologized.
And that hurt look in his eyes that he seems to carry more often than not, I looked straight into it as he apologized from the depths of his soul, and I felt, at that moment, my walls break and crumble.
The walls I haphazardly put up after he embarrassed me.
With one apology, they were torn down, and I was left with a raw, beating heart and the need to comfort this man, to reach out to him and…
and…God, I don’t know, but I need to see him.
I can also admit to myself that the only reason he had the capacity to hurt me so much…is because I care about him so deeply.
There’s a quiet knock at my door, and my body freezes as I stare at it for a second.
Heart hammering.
Chest heaving.
I reach out and grab the door handle, opening it to find Graydon on the other side, his head bent down, his shoulders slumped and defeated.
“Maple,” he says quietly.
“Don’t say anything.”
His eyes flash up to mine, sorrow so strong in his expression that I feel the threads that are holding me together unravel. That look, it’s torture, and within seconds, it’s my undoing.
Any last bit of anger I have toward him fades into a distant memory as I move in close, bringing my hands to his chest and slowly sliding them up to his face. When his dark, hurt eyes meet mine, I know there’s nothing left that I could hold back.
This is it.
I’m handing my heart over.
I stand on my toes, bring him down closer to me, and press my lips to his.
He sucks in a sharp breath of surprise and then, as if the stars have aligned, his arms slide around my waist, and he deepens our kiss, bringing us both into the apartment and shutting the door behind him with his foot.
He gently presses me against the wall, where his hand moves to my cheek, and he angles my chin up with his thumb while his other hand grips my waist tightly, keeping me in place.
Keeping me close.
Shivers of need, of lust, spike up my spine as his kiss continues to deepen, continues to grow with more passion, and when he lifts me, I wrap my legs around his waist while he holds me against the wall, making the angle of our kisses so much more intense.
“Fuck,” he breathes shallowly, his forehead pressing against mine. “I don’t…I don’t deserve this.”
I nod. “You do.”
He pulls back just enough for me to look him in the eyes.
“I don’t, Maple. I really fucking don’t.
” His eyes search mine. “But, fuck, I’m just selfish enough to take it.
” And then his mouth is on mine again, his hand moving into my hair, his chest pressing against mine like he can’t get close enough.
His lips, although exploratory, are urgent, like he can’t believe this moment is happening, and he isn’t going to let it slip through his fingers. And I feel that same urgency as I part my lips to catch his gasp, his lips parting as well.
Tendrils of desire pool in my stomach as I grip his face, my thumbs rubbing over his scruff while my tongue slips past his lips and strokes his.
The touch causes a groan to slip from him, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. Given that he’s such a dominant man, I wouldn’t expect to be able to control him with a swipe of my tongue. But from the way he’s pressing against me, I know that I have him in my grasp.
And I want so much more.
I pull away for a moment and look him in the eyes, my thumbs running over his cheeks. He expertly navigates my apartment and brings me to my bedroom, where he lays me down gently on the bed and kneels on the mattress as well, his arms caging me in as he stares down at me.
I reach around his back and tug up his shirt. He grabs the hem when I bring it close to his neck, and in one swift motion, he has it over his head and drops it to the floor.
My eyes immediately fall to his chest, the planes and curves carved out by his rock-hard muscle enticing my fingers.
It’s not the first time I’m seeing him shirtless, but it’s the first time I get to feel his smooth, hot skin against mine, and I can’t stop myself from letting my fingers explore every contour of his body.
Our eyes connect as he allows me to feel, allows my fingers to skim across him, over his pecs and across his abs.
He swallows thickly when I draw closer to his waistband and loop my fingers in his jeans, tugging him down so he’s on top of me, his bare chest to my clothed one.
His forearms cage my head, and his hand pushes some of my hair off my forehead in a very intimate act before he slows down our kisses and expertly lowers his mouth to mine, now taking his time, letting our tongues tangle and our heady attraction to each other mix.
One of his hands travels down to my waist, where he untucks my shirt from my pants, then slides his hand under the fabric, his palm connecting with my skin.
A bundle of nerves tightens in my stomach from his touch, and I wiggle beneath him, wanting to take off my shirt completely.
Thankfully, he lifts up for a moment to let me do just that and I move it to the side, lying beneath him in just my pink bra and pants.
He growls in my ear before kissing the skin just below it, then my jaw, then my neck, and as he works down to my collarbone, anticipation rips through me when he nips at the swell of my breast. He glances up at me, looking for me to stop him, but when I don’t, he pulls down the cup of my bra, releasing my breast to the lustful air that surrounds us.
He kisses it, his beard like a delicious sandpaper across my skin right before he kisses the tip of my nipple.
I suck in a harsh breath as he parts his mouth and brings the tip right between his lips and sucks, torturing me with the thought of so much more.
Like for him to take off the rest of my clothes, spread my legs, and remind me what it’s like to be held, licked, sucked, and fucked by a man.
“More,” I whisper, my nerves grabbing hold of me, but my hunger driving me to speak up.
But he doesn’t listen. He lets go of my breast and drags his mouth, kissing the whole way up, to my neck, then my jaw and back to my lips, intoxicating me into a drunken state, his mouth in control.
How did we get here so quickly? I mean, I’ve been attracted to him since day one—even if I’ve told myself I haven’t been—but here we are making out…a prelude to sex.
Sex. With. Graydon.
But I am so ready. He was so remorseful for hurting me, and right now, I don’t feel anything but desire for this man. He could have kept his distance, but he sought me out. Made me hear him. Showed me how he had heard me. How could I not want him?
I run my hands down his ribs, his lungs sucking in a breath, tightening his muscles as I lower my hands even farther, to the waistband of his jeans.
His mouth continues to take charge, his tongue luxuriously driving into mine, tangling, dancing, so I bring my hands to the front of his jeans, and I undo them, just enough to push them down over his ass.
He continues to make out with me, his mouth never leaving mine, so I slide my fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs and run them along his firm ass.
“Fuck,” he breathes against me, pausing for a moment, so I take advantage of it and slide my thumbs forward, over the V in his hips and right above his hard-on.
“Maple,” he says darkly, a warning on his tongue that I don’t bother to acknowledge.
I push down on his briefs, wanting them to fall off, but he doesn’t give.
He lifts up before I can make the move and stares down at me.
My eyes fall to the massive bulge in his briefs, my nerves getting the best of me as I come to terms with the fact that it’s been a really long freaking time since I’ve done this, and I’m about to be with easily the hottest, most attractive, and probably most experienced man I’ve ever kissed.
“Don’t,” he says, probably noticing the worry in my brow.
“It’s…it’s been a long time,” I say, embarrassment staining my cheeks.
He leans down again, kissing my forehead, then my cheeks, my nose, and my lips, keeping it a light kiss before he presses his forehead to mine and quietly says, “If it makes you feel better, this is the first time I’ve ever been with someone I care about, that I have feelings for.
” His nose lightly rubs against mine. “I’m just as nervous. ”
And if I wasn’t sure how much I liked this man, I’m pretty aware now, because the way he so easily just soothed my nerves, with a simple confession, I know that I want this. That I want him, and no amount of time will stop me from wanting him.
I wrap my arms around his neck, bring him closer, and then hungrily lock his lips with mine, devouring him while he works his hands to my pants, undoing them and tugging on them. He lifts just enough to pull them all the way off, leaving me in just my underwear and bra.
He pauses for a moment, staring down at me, his eyes feasting.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says in awe, his gaze roaming. “Fuck, I’m so lucky.”
The worth he makes me feel, like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, does me in.