Chapter Fifty
Grace
“And there’s Mr. Overprotective now,” Parker says. “Want to bet he’s been pacing for at least the past ten minutes?”
I laugh, and my stomach muscles ache from the motion. Clearly I haven’t laughed this much in a very long time. “I’d lay odds he’s been standing there since we left Isabel’s.”
AJ’s at my door before she even puts the car in park, helping me up, then letting Belle out of the back seat.
“Uh…thanks for bringing Grace home,” he says. “I know it’s a long way, but I—”
“Ain’t no nevermind.” Parker stifles a yawn. “It’s not like I’ve gotta get up early for work in the morning. Don’t forget, we’re talkin’ to Zephyr at noon.”
“Parker?” AJ asks before she can roll up her window. “You sure you’re okay to drive home?”
She lifts a travel mug from her cup holder. “Isabel made me coffee so strong it could double as rocket fuel. I’m good, boss. Oh, and Grace? Next week, you’re pickin’ the movie.”
The idea of another night with friends—and the lingering buzz from two margaritas—has me practically floating all the way into the house.
But as soon as AJ locks the door and removes Belle’s harness, his shoulders tense. He runs a hand through his hair, his body nothing but coiled tension and nerves.
The headache that hasn’t truly faded in days comes back with a vengeance. “AJ, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve got somethin’ to show you.” My heart rate spikes, my mouth going dry until he holds out his hand. “It’s nothin’ bad. At least…I hope not.”
I lay my fingers over his palm, and he brushes a kiss to my wedding ring before wrapping his arm around my waist and guiding me down the hall to my studio door. It’s been closed for days. I thought…maybe it’d stay closed forever.
“No,” I whisper. “Please, AJ. I had such a great time tonight. I can’t go in there right now.”
“Trust me, darlin’.”
God help me, I do. So much that I nod while preparing myself for the warm glow of the evening to fade in an instant.
But when he opens the door, the studio…isn’t the studio anymore.
Every wall has been painted white. The drafting table and chair still hold their space in front of the window, but the drawings I left half-finished three years ago are gone.
The paintings that the other me did—before the scars and the loneliness and the pain stole her away—no longer rest in easels all over the room.
Blank canvases are stacked neatly in the far corner, but the rest of the room is bare. Just…waiting. Like me.
“You shouldn’t have to live with choices you didn’t make, darlin’.” His voice drops to a whisper, and he touches his wedding ring. “Any of ‘em. Really.”
I shuffle forward, alone, until I reach the drafting table. A circle of paint swatches—there must be fifty of them—is fanned out like a rainbow.
“You can pick whatever you want. Colors. Furniture. Fabrics. The room is yours now.”
The words crack something loose inside of me. Warmth and light and freedom and joy.
AJ didn’t just repaint a room. Or banish some clutter. He’s making it clear I don’t have to be the woman I was before. I don’t have to find her or become her to matter. To be loved.
I can be someone new. I can be the woman I am now.
“AJ…” His name escapes on a whisper. So quiet, yet still so loud in the blank slate of the room.
He shifts his weight, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stares at the floor. “If you hate it, we’ll put it all back. Everything’s in the garage, labeled and organized and—”
“Hate it?” In two wobbly steps, I’m in front of him, my arms winding around his waist. “I… You did all this in four hours?”
“Not alone.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a weak grin. “Jas, Connor, Hardison. They helped.”
Tears give the room—my room—a gentle glow. “I don’t have words for what this means to me.”
AJ nods in the direction of the drafting table. “You can always start with a color.”
I turn, still leaning against him, and brush the swatches—the endless possibilities—until I land on a purple so pale, it can’t be more than a drop of tint in an ocean of white.
“This one.”
AJ
Did Grace understand? That when I told her she shouldn’t have to live with choices she didn’t make, I wasn’t just talkin’ about this room?
I love her with all my heart. The woman she was before and the woman she is now. But I’ll hand her a clean slate a thousand times over, even if that means she fills it with a life without me in it. Her freedom—her chance to be whoever she wants or needs to be—matters more than anything.
The light turns her dark blond hair a hundred shades of gold. She’s so fucking beautiful, and I hope she knows that every life I’ve ever imagined has her in it.
Grace turns her gaze to me, steady and sure. Her fingers tremble as she rests them over my heart. “You keep doing this, AJ. Giving me back pieces of myself I thought were lost forever.”
“Not givin’ them back, darlin’. I’m just reminding you they’re yours to claim. On your terms.”
Her breath catches, eyes shining. For a moment, I think she’s about to cry. But then she wraps her free arm around my neck, pulls herself up, and kisses me.
There’s nothing careful or tentative about the way she seals her mouth to mine. This is desire. Need. Passion. This is Grace finally letting herself want.
Pulling Grace closer, I slide one hand up her spine, the other resting just above her ass. She steals the breath from my lungs, but what the hell do I need air for anyway when I have her in my arms?
She’s here. Alive. Stronger than she’s ever been. Every stroke of her tongue, every tiny moan, every shift of her hips tells me she’s choosing this.
She’s choosing me.
When Grace finally breaks off the kiss, she peers up at me, breathless. Completely unafraid. “It’s been days since you…since we almost…”
Brushing my thumb across her cheek, I catch a single tear that slips free.
“I didn’t want to push you, darlin’.” My chest is too tight.
My heart pounds like it wants to escape right into her hands.
I’m not surprised. It’s hers, after all.
“We have time. There’s no need to do anythin’ unless—or until—you’re sure you’re ready. ”
Her lips part, eyes searching mine, and then she fists her hands in my shirt, holding on as if her life depends on it. “Of all the choices I’ve made and don’t remember, there’s one I’m sure of. You, Aaron. It’s always been you.”
I gather her in my arms, crushing her against me. Because if I don’t hold on tight, I’ll come apart. My mouth finds hers, and I take my time. Each kiss is a slow, reverent promise I’ll spend my whole damn life keeping.
Coming up for air, I trail my lips along her jaw and down to the hollow of her throat. “I love you, Grace. I loved the woman you were. But I love the woman you are now even more.”
Every touch, every taste of her skin, every tiny moan pulls me deeper. And then she hooks her fingers in my belt loops and tugs me toward the door.
I follow, stumbling along with my dick so hard, each step is pure torture. I ache to carry her to the bed, lay her down gently, and hold her so close, she’ll never doubt a single damn thing ever again. But this ain’t about what I want. It never was. Never will be.
Grace isn’t mine to claim. I’m hers.
She deserves the chance to choose this—to choose me—without the weight of anything that came before. And I’ll walk through Hell barefoot and burning to prove it to her.
We reach the bed, and for a moment, she stops, shoulders so tense, it’s like she’s holdin’ up the whole damn world. I’m about to tell her I’ll carry the weight when she guides my hands to the hem of her sweatshirt.
“Are you sure, darlin’?” The words escape, dry as dust and twice as broken, and she ain’t the only one breathin’ hard.
Her lips press together, part, and a breath catches in her throat. “I’m scared,” she whispers. “I don’t remember how not to be. But when I look at you—when you touch me—I know.” Tears shimmer in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. “You’ll never hurt me.”
I can’t speak. I don’t have the words to tell her how strong she is. Or what her trust means to me. Slowly, I tug off her sweatshirt, then toss it away. Her nipples are hard points under her pink lace bra, and I dip my head to capture one between my lips.
Goosebumps cover her shoulders and race down her back under my palm. She melts against me, her arms winding around my neck as I curl my fingers into the waistband of her yoga pants.
“If you need me to stop—”
She silences me with a searing kiss. Shoving the offending material to the floor, I drop to my knees in front of her lace-covered mound. God, her scent is enough to undo me. I could come right here, with my zipper threatening to do permanent damage, and not care a lick.
Grace eases herself down onto the bed, legs spread, and I press my nose to the lace. The gentle pressure coaxes a moan from her lips.
Her thighs tremble, but not from nerves. From arousal.
“AJ… I need you. Naked.” Her soft words carry so much emotion. She’s still scared—maybe she always will be—but underneath, her fierce determination to survive, to fight, to claim the life she wants is so damn strong.
I get to my feet, strip off my paint-splattered flannel, and work my jeans and briefs over my erection with a wince.
Grace lets her gaze trail up and down my body, until it settles on my dick. Her eyes go glassy for a beat, but then she licks her lips and scoots back on the bed. “Come here. I want to touch you.”
When I stretch out next to her, the dark shadows that have haunted her gaze for the past two weeks finally start to fade away.
She presses her lips to my collarbone, trailing kisses across my chest and up my neck. Her teeth score the shell of my ear as she skims her fingers over my aching shaft.
“Fuuuuuck.”
I’m not gonna last if she keeps touching me like this, but I won’t stop her. Not when she’s just finding her footing.
Moving lower, she swirls her tongue over my nipple. My God. The sensation shoots straight to my dick. Her hand slides along my length to the precum beading on my crown. Her breath stutters.
I try to sit up, to tell her we can stop, but before I can get the words out, she lifts her fingers to her lips and tastes me.
It’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
And then she kisses me.
The world could burn down around us, and I wouldn’t care. There’s nothing rushed about her movements. Every brush of her fingers across my skin is a question, and my body’s answer is always the same.
I’m here. I’m yours.
“Take off my bra,” she whispers. “I don’t want anything between us.”
My hands ain’t steady, but I manage to undo the hooks as she wriggles out of her panties.
Her focus lands on the scar from the blade, slashing across her skin like an angry bolt of lightning. Her shoulders hunch, and I nudge her chin up, meeting her gaze.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Grace. I don’t know what I did to get lucky enough for you to choose me once, let alone twice.”
I lean in for another kiss, cupping her breast and skating my thumb over the hard point of her nipple. My other hand slides down her back to her ass. “Still okay?” I whisper against her lips.
“No.” She slides her fingers into my hair, a small smile curving her lips. “Because you’re not inside me.”
Easing her onto her back, I brace one arm on the headboard and position myself between her thighs. “Well, I reckon we could fix that.”
With my other hand, I guide myself to her entrance. My eyes don’t leave hers as I slide my crown past her lower lips. She’s so damn tight, I have to ease myself in by inches. After every one, I stop, kiss her until she’s breathless, then nestle myself deeper.
She’s shaking by the time my hips are flush against her. “I’ll go slow, darlin’.”
Grace nods, then lifts her hand to my cheek. “Just to start. I’m not fragile, AJ. I want this. I want you. All of you.”
There ain’t nothin’ in this world I won’t give her.
My first thrusts are gentle. Letting her get used to me. To my weight pressing her against the mattress. But when her muscles start to tremble, and a moan spills from her lips, I risk sliding deeper. Harder.
Grace arches her back, and a flush blooms over her skin. “Touch me, AJ,” she whimpers.
Fuck me.
I find her clit with my thumb, circling the tiny nub, teasing, trying to draw her pleasure out as long as I can. But between her desperate cries and tight channel, my own release is barreling down on me like a bullet.
“Aaron…I’m….”
Grace’s eyelids flutter. Her muscles seize, heels digging into the mattress as she flies apart. Her channel throbs around me, and with one final thrust, I let myself soar with her.
We cling to one another, our legs tangled under the sheets, her breath warm against my chest. I should get up. Turn the lights off. Give the security system one last check. But then I’d have to let her go, and I can’t. Not yet.
Not when I can feel the world shifting around us. Like all the jagged pieces of my life finally fit together—with Grace at the center.
Her fingers trace slow patterns over my skin, then still. “Aaron?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
She lifts her head just enough to meet my gaze. Strength and vulnerability battle in her blue-green eyes. “I love you.”
The words gut me. Break me open and put me back together in the same heartbeat. My eyes sting, and I crush her tighter against me, my voice ragged when it finally comes. “I love you, Grace. More than anything. Always.”
She lets out a shaky breath, burying her face against my neck as her tears dampen my skin. We’re both crying. Both healing. Together.