Chapter 20
Grace
Waking up in Dean’s bed has to be the greatest way to start a new life. The ache between my thighs is glorious. We’ve had so much sex I’m starting to worry his dick’s going to snap off. As for me, I’m doing just fine. My pussy is practically purring twenty-four-seven.
Reaching out for him, I find his side of the bed empty.
Not surprising. For the three days, I’ve slept in, and he’s been up before the sun working on various projects. There’s a note on the pillow that says, Stay right there .
No problem.
My yawn nearly unhinges my jaw as I cozy up under the covers that smell like my man, and my cell dings with a text.
Nicole : How does this look? Too much?
A picture comes through of her in a black, skin-tight dress.
Nicole : Is it giving Morticia Addams?
Grace : Yes! You look incredible.
Morticia Addams is goals. She’s got it all—glossy hair, banging body, Gomez . They don’t make men like him very often. I’ve always wished for Gomez-level man. I want to be worshipped and spoiled and loved until we’re both rotting, side-by-side in the ground, with worms eating us.
So romantic.
Nicole : I’m surprising the guys with a scene when they get home from work.
Grace : Please tell me you’re going to be cutting the heads off long stem roses when they get there.
Nicole : OMG. Genius.
I shoot her a bunch of black heart emojis and check my emails and social media. Well, well, well, what do we have here? MountainWood has uploaded a new video.
I tap it to play.
At first, it’s just the snow-covered ground which I’m pretty sure is his front yard. Then he walks into the camera from the right of the screen, shirtless. His jeans hang low on his hips and his dark brown hair is slicked back. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, which almost makes him look a little shy, especially when he drops his head with the faintest smile on his handsome face.
“Good morning, gorgeous.” He looks directly into the camera. “I hope you slept well. I didn’t mean to keep you up all night but…” He bites his lip seductively. “I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”
My motherfucking ovaries explode.
“How about I bring you breakfast in bed? Would you like that, sugar?” He pauses long enough for my heart to pound three times. “Stay right there for me. I’m coming.”
He definitely will be when I see him, that’s for sure .
Squealing, I hurry up and leave a comment: How about I be your breakfast in bed?
I’m giddy already and he probably won’t see the response for a few hours. I don’t care. It’s fun doing these little videos where he talks to me, but no one else knows it. It’s like we have the most public secret relationship there ever was.
Forgoing work stuff, I roll out of bed and pull one of Dean’s shirts on and head out to the kitchen. I’m sure coffee is brewed, and he has a mug out for me. He’s done it every morning, and I look forward to seeing what notes he leaves around the house for me to find.
The fire roars in the living room. Oscar is in her bed, chewing on what’s left of the lamb I bought her. “Good morning, girl.”
Tucking my bed head behind my ears, I yawn again and shuffle into the kitchen. There’s my mug. And my coffee. And my note that says, I told you to stay in bed .
He can punish me for it later if he wants. I’ll look forward to it.
Pouring a cup of ambition, I curl up on the couch and watch the snow fall. There’s a few more inches on the ground, but nothing too crazy. Just enough to make it look like a beautiful postcard.
Boots stomping on the front porch has both me and Oscar perking up.
Dean steps inside carrying a bin of firewood. Snowflakes are all over his head, and he still doesn’t have a shirt on. He takes one look at me on the couch and narrows his eyes. “Bad girl. I told you to stay in bed.”
Laughter bubbles out of me. “So punish me. ”
He treks through the house in his boots, leaving little puddles of melting snow in his wake, and heads right to the fireplace to drop the bin. Then he prowls over to me and kisses me so thoroughly, my brains cells melt too.
“Fucking hell, you’re so pretty in the morning,” he says.
“I look like an electrocuted, drunk cat.”
Dean frowns and slow blinks. “Now that you mention it.”
I smack his arm.
He nips my neck.
I run my hands down his back.
He slips his hands up my shirt.
“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this,” I tease.
“I’m obsessed.” He kisses down my neck, around my collarbone, and up the other side of my face. “Hungry?”
“For dick or breakfast?”
“Both.”
“Yes.”
He flashes me a wild grin and scoops me up. “First, you’re going back where you belong.” The man tosses me onto his bed so hard, I bounce. “Now stay.”
Oscar trots in, wagging her tail, and sits down like she’s following orders too.
We both know that’s not happening.
“I can help you make breakfast,” I argue, knowing damn well he’s going to say no. Yesterday I burned the bacon so badly it was unrecognizable, and I set off all his smoke alarms. The day before that, I made oatmeal that was as hard as cement .
“Let me take care of you, Grace.” He winks before leaving me alone in his room.
I don’t know how to feel about all this. The honeymoon phase of a relationship always makes me nervous, because it’s a ticking time bomb that will eventually go off. Only… we don’t have anything to hide from each other. I’m not on my best behavior with Dean. I’m not faking anything at all.
And he can’t seem to get enough of me.
But is he on his best behavior? Is this just an act? Anyone can be perfect temporarily. I can’t imagine Dean’s truly going to act like this for the rest of however long we have together. It’ll get draining for him. He’ll get frustrated and angry, eventually. He’ll want me gone.
My mother pokes my mind. “Do you really think a man will spend his life spoiling you all day and night, selfish girl?”
“Shut up.”
“You’re so privileged, you just expect people to be at your beck and call. Do you really think this man doesn’t have better things to do than make you coffee and cook your pancakes?”
“I’d do the same for him.”
“Yes, and what a disappointment you are in the kitchen . You’re just giving him more work to do. He’s going to leave you if you keep being a burden.”
My stomach clenches and eyes well with tears.
Dean bumps the door open with his ass and carries in a tray of food. “Here we go,” he says proudly, but the smile on his face instantly falls when he looks at me. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, swallowing around the tightness in my throat. I want to say “nothing” but if I open my mouth, I’m going to cry. So, I stay frozen in the bed.
“Grace.” He rests the tray on the bedside table and sits down next to me. His hand on my thigh is warm. Calming. “What’s she saying in your head, baby?”
He must think I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Hearing your mother’s voice say mean things to you all the time must be on the list of red flags, right? Instead of blowing it off and pretending it’s nothing, I say, “I’m going to be a quesadilla.”
“Impossible.”
“What if, though?”
“Grace, I’m not going to get sick of you. Ever.” He kisses the top of my head. “Why would you think that?”
“I just keep thinking how perfect everything is. How perfect we are. But this is the honeymoon part. Soon, you’ll get sick of me, and I’ll be the quesadilla.”
“Is that really what you think?”
Yes. No. “I don’t want to burn you out.” Another tear falls. “You have so much work to do, and I’m taking up all your time and energy. It’s not right.”
“It’s my time and energy, so don’t I get a say in what I spend it on?” His hand is buried in my hair, at the back of my neck. “Hey.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t you ever do something, or spend time with someone, and just being in their space makes you so super happy, you feel like you could fly? And then for the rest of the day and night you’ve got more energy than ten coffees can bring you?”
I’m like that with Nicole most of the time. We feed off each other a lot, which is always fun. And I always get wild bursts of happy energy whenever I even so much as look at Dean. “Yes.”
“Well, one minute in your sunshine, Grace, and I swear I could move this whole mountain.” He kisses my head again. “You will never be a burden to me. You will never be a drain on me either.”
Why does he sound so convincing? “Will you promise me if I get to be too much, you’ll tell me?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Promise me, Dean.” I pull away from him a little. “Please.”
His dark brown eyes meet mine and his facial features go from hard to soft. “I promise. But only if you do the same for me.”
“Tell you if I’m a burden to myself?”
“No. Tell me if I’m too needy. Too overbearing and suffocating.” He shakes his head and looks at the pancakes. “I’m an acts of service kind of guy. I was worried this morning that maybe I’m going to drive you crazy trying to make you stay in my bed. Cabin fever, remember?”
“It’s nice to be taken care of,” I say quietly. “It’s also nice to be productive and needed.”
His brows pinch.
“I love that you want to spoil me. But… I really, really love helping you with work around here.”
“You’ve been a huge help, Grace. Truly. The drywall and cabinets went up in half the time with you by my side.”
“I want to keep doing it.” Being by his side. Screwing holes in things. Sanding stuff down. Leaning back on his pillows, I sigh. “I’m scared I’ve bulldozed into your life in every way possible. ”
“I don’t see it that way.” He plucks the tray from the table and sets it between us. Then he starts cutting up the pancakes and feeds me a bite. “I think you came into my life when I needed you most.”
“I pushed to stay through winter. I’m now in your house.”
“You’re also in my thoughts, my bed, and… I hope like hell you’ll be in my future.”
I want that more than anything.
“Take another bite for me.” He raises the fork to my mouth, offering me a piece of maple syrup drenched pancake. Sweetness bursts on my tastebuds when I eat it. “That’s my good girl.”
He feeds me the entire stack of pancakes like this. One bite at a time. One praise after another.
“I love bread and haven’t had it in forever,” I say, licking the corners of my mouth. “My trainer wouldn’t allow it. She said carbs go straight to your ass.”
Dean schools his expression and holds out the OJ for me to drink. “Well, I’m never going to tell you what you can and cannot eat. And whatever your ass looks like, I’m going to attack it.”
The weight on my chest eases. “I hope so.”
“You’re not a show pony, Grace. You’re a woman. A terrifyingly brilliant, gorgeous woman. Nothing you eat will change that. Nothing you wear will either. And I’m here to love all of it.” He holds up a piece of bacon. “Eat.”
I polish off the whole tray of food by myself. “Wait. You didn’t have any,” I realize once he’s put the fork down .
“Oh, I’m about to have my meal. Don’t you worry.” He clears the way and spreads my legs. “My breakfast is hot, juicy, and perfect to eat in bed.”