Chapter Forty-One
AJ
Steam billows out ahead of me as I yank the bathroom door open, the towel knotted low on my hips. No amount of hot water could wash away the ache in my chest.
The room still smelled of lavender when Grace emerged ten minutes ago. I’d asked her if she needed help getting dressed, but she’d just looked me up and down, brows lifted.
“You help me now, and I’ll end up needing another bath. Or…maybe I’d just have to join you in the shower.”
Since our kiss the other night, I’ve wondered about the next step. About when she’d be ready for more. But having her break in my arms this morning changed everything.
I know she doesn’t blame me, but that ain’t gonna stop me from blaming myself for the rest of my life.
She sits cross-legged on the little bench in the closet, wrapped in one of my old, flannel shirts, her damp hair curling against her shoulders. Waiting. For me.
“Didn’t mean to take so long,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “Just needed…to get my head on straight.”
She studies me like she can see every thought—every emotion—I’m trying to bury. “I just need you, AJ. Straight, crooked, or ass-backwards, I don’t care.”
I scrub a hand over my face, then force myself to meet her gaze. “Grace…the lantern. God—you needed me then, and I wasn’t there.”
“Stop.” She rises, sways for a breath, then crosses to me. The shirt hits her mid-thigh, exposing one of the deep, jagged scars running almost to her knee. She’s still so thin. Still unsteady. But so much stronger than she knows.
“You keep saying you should’ve protected me. But…you did. I don’t need my memories to know that. You’re the reason I didn’t give up. The reason I’m still alive. The reason I’m here now.”
My chest tightens. She’s staring up at me like I hung the moon. But she’s wrong. “Grace—”
She takes my hand and presses it to her chest. Her heart beats steadily against my palm. “Feel that. Feel me.”
Draping her arm around my neck, she pulls me down to seal her lips to mine.
Her taste is sunlight and spring time and fresh mint. My dick throbs, and under the old flannel, I feel her nipples harden to tight buds against my chest.
The towel I’m wearing like armor keeps us apart when we should be coming together. But it’s too soon. She’s not ready.
Her other hand slides down my back to my ass.
Fuck. Fuuuuck.
“Grace, are you sure? Don’t do this because I’m an idjit who can’t find his way—”
She silences me with another kiss. Her tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for her. Three years fade away in an instant as my wife presses closer, her hips grinding against me.
Pulling back a fraction of an inch, she whispers, “I’m doing this because I’m strong enough to choose you. Because even without all my memories, I know I want you, Aaron.”
The air leaves my lungs.
Aaron.
I never told her what AJ stood for. I couldn’t. It was something sacred I thought we’d never have again. But she remembered. Somewhere deep down, she remembered.
“Then I’m yours, darlin’,” I manage. “Always.”
Hooking my hands behind her thighs, I lift her so she can wrap her legs around my waist, then carry her to the bed.
We sink down together. Her fingers comb through my damp hair as I press kisses along her jaw. The scent of her arousal is sweeter than honey, and fuck if I don’t want to bury my face between her thighs right now and taste her.
But this ain’t about me.
“What are you ready for, darlin’?”
She slides her hands over my chest, tracing the curves of my pecs, down my abs, all the way to the towel knotted at my waist.
I catch her wrist before she can tug it loose. “Grace.” My voice is so raw, it hurts. “Are you sure you want this?”
Tears shimmer in her eyes. “I want…to see you. To touch you. I want you to touch me.”
Behind the need, behind all that strength, there’s still a hint of fear.
“You can touch all you want. But I’m gonna keep askin’. Enough you’re gonna yank that towel off just so you can smother me with it.”
Her lips twitch, the smile giving way to a nervous giggle before she sobers. “I’d never smother you, AJ. You’re the reason I remember what it feels like to breathe.”
The knot in my chest loosens a fraction. I shift her off my lap so we can lie down side-by-side, leaving enough space between us for her to make the next move.
“I’m yours, Grace. In whatever way you want.”
She releases the knot on the towel, and her gaze slides down my body, all the way to my dick. Wriggling closer, she presses her lips to mine. There’s no hesitation. No fear. Only the two of us together.
Her hands explore my torso, sketching tentative patterns over my ribs while she trails kisses down to my shoulder.
A drop of precum leaks from my tip. The scent mixes with her arousal, and she stills.
“Grace…” I reach for the towel, ready to cover myself in a heartbeat. “We can stop.”
With a small, steady smile, she lets her fingers brush my shaft. “I know we can. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to. Touch me. Please.”
I kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, then pause a breath away from her lips. “Here?”
“Yes.”
I linger there, my tongue dancing with hers, until she cups my ass and gives it a squeeze.
My hand shakes as I smooth it down her spine, all the way to the hem of my shirt she’s wearing. “What about here?”
She shudders, but it’s not from nerves. “Yes.”
Undoing the buttons is pure torture. I pause after each one, my gaze finding hers, checking for any sign she’s pushing herself too far, too fast, too soon.
But every time, I see only desire in her eyes.
I help her sit up, ease the flannel from her shoulders, and drink in the sight of her.
I’ve seen her every day. Helped her in and out of the bath, washed her hair, fastened her bra. But every time, I tried to keep things…light. Quick. Gentle.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I manage over the lump in my throat. “And I’ve missed you. God, I’ve missed you.”
A tear slips down her cheek. “You don’t have to miss me anymore, AJ. I found my way home.”
With a choked sob, I wrap her in my arms, hold her there, memorizing this moment. Every inch of her pressed against me is a vow. She’s still here. Still choosing to fight. Still choosing…me.
The guilt, the grief, and the pain I’ve carried for three years melts against the warmth of her skin, and I find something I thought I’d lost for good.
Hope.