Chapter 25 Lynley
Lynley
The sheets are cool where they lie against my skin—a confusing contrast when every other inch of my body feels like it’s burning up as I rest my leg over the top of Grafton’s thighs.
His arm is under me, his fingers tracing a pattern over my lower hip.
Every time he creeps too high, I flinch and jerk away, making his chest jump under my cheek as he chuckles.
“Who knew you were so ticklish?” he murmurs against the top of my head, right before his fingers dig into my side, and I yelp.
I swat his hand away. “Stop that!” I admonish. “I’m naked—”
“Very much aware of that.”
“—and I’ve had children, which means you’re playing a really dangerous game.” His chuckle deepens into a full-body laugh, and I smile as the sound washes over me.
The early morning sun is filtering into the room around the edges of the curtains, brightening up the room, and I know it’s only a matter of time before the kids wake up and come looking for food. But there’s no part of me that wants to leave Grafton.
It’s been three weeks since our first night together, and I’ve gotten used to waking up beside him. We haven’t told Mase or Ginny yet, wanting them to process everything that has happened with Christopher, but I think they’re ready now.
They adore Grafton, no two ways about it. I try not to think too hard about the why of that, because it hurts too much, and it’s easy to start blaming myself for what I let pass over the years.
I don’t want to linger in the past anymore. I’m ready to put it behind us and move forward…with Grafton.
“You alright, darling?” A heavy hand settles against my hip, his fingers kneading. The words are casual, but he has become an expert at reading me, and I can hear the thread of concern woven through the question.
I turn over, lying half on top of him. My hands are folded over his chest, my chin resting on them. “I’m perfect,” I say honestly. “I know that some people might think we rushed this—”
He lets out a low hum, his eyes darkening. “Not to my face, they wouldn’t.”
“But I can’t imagine being anywhere else,” I continue, like he didn’t interrupt.
“Or with anyone else. I know there’s still so much in the air, and that he could still cause problems.” We haven’t heard from Christopher since the divorce papers were filed—not me, and not the kids.
But the silence doesn’t fill me with reassurance.
One side of Grafton’s mouth tugs up. “Thank you for not saying his name.”
“You told me it was a rule,” I return cheekily, but the smile fades away as I say seriously, “Anyway, he doesn’t deserve any space here, not even in words.
” Grafton hums, a hand sliding over my head and stroking my hair.
“Being here with you? It feels like I’m finally taking a piece of happiness for myself that was always missing. ”
His hand tightens in my hair, pulling. I push up, allowing him to tug me up his body until my face is hovering over his.
His other hand slides down my back and under the sheet, firmly cupping my ass.
I shiver, my eyes drifting shut, but they fly back open when he tugs my hair again, his grip just on the right edge of being painful.
“You’re mine now. Your marriage was over the minute that asshole”—I huff out a laugh, and he smirks—“betrayed your vows.”
The words are firm. But there’s something behind his glacial eyes that makes me think he also needs a little reassurance. I reach out with one hand, cupping his bristly jaw, stroking my fingers over his skin.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “I can’t even pinpoint when everything changed, but it was long before I saw the proof of his cheating.
Maybe that rot was always there, and I was willfully blind…
I don’t know, and I might never know. But the day he walked into that hospital with makeup on his pants”—I grimace at the memory—“I only felt… There wasn’t any surprise.
Just anger and resignation. I was betrayed, but not the way someone in love should have felt. ”
“You can still love someone without being in love with them,” Grafton tells me, his expression severe. “If there’s still a part of you that feels something for a man you shared a decade and two children with, that’s okay—”
I shake my head. “No. No. The only thing I feel is gratitude that he gave me Mase and Ginny, but there is nothing else beyond that.”
I lean down, ignoring the way his hand tightens in my hair, my scalp stinging as the strands pull tight.
He doesn’t respond as I press my lips to his, but it only takes a second, and then he lets out a low groan.
A gasp of surprise escapes me as he rolls us, his body pressing me into the mattress as he sinks his tongue into my mouth, devouring me like he can never get enough.
I let my legs fall open, cradling his hips between my thighs as his rapidly thickening dick presses against me.
He slowly pulls back, his eyes heavy-lidded and his tanned cheeks flushed. I slide my tongue over my lips, tasting him, and his eyes drop, tracking the movement with such intensity that I feel the arousal pool between my thighs.
“You’re mine,” I tell him fiercely. “The way I feel about you… I never felt even an ounce of this for him.”
His lips curl into a wicked smirk. “Is that right, darling?” he drawls, and then he presses his hips down, grinding against me. “You confusing lust for something else?”
I whimper, arching my head back, my hips writhing against the pressure. “No, but that doesn’t help.”
He laughs, and I feel the vibration of it through his chest as he leans down to steal another kiss, the soft hair on his chest brushing against my sensitive nipples, teasing them into tight peaks.
I loop my arms around his neck just as he nips my lower lip, but that’s when I hear the rapid patter of footsteps running down the hall.
“Mom!” Ginny yells. “I’m hungry.”
Feeling as taut as a rubber band, I blink wide eyes at the man hovering over me, his cock throbbing sensually against my core.
“Oh, you have to be kidding.”
“There’s no air mattress,” Mase announces after breakfast. I straighten from the dishwasher, looking at him with a frown. He’s standing in the doorway that leads to the living room, the television remote clutched in his hand. “What?”
He blinks, gesturing with the remote over his shoulder. “Grafton’s here. Didn’t he stay the night? When he stays, he uses the air mattress.”
I’m not surprised by the question, but I’m a little shocked it took this long for him to ask.
Grafton has been here more than not, but he’s not usually around before breakfast because he sneaks out of my bed before the kids are up.
He goes to get coffee for us and then comes back, acting like he’s just turning up.
It’s a risky system, but I’m not too worried about getting caught, already knowing this isn’t a temporary relationship.
Grafton has got me firmly in his clutches, and I’m pretty happy about it.
“He did,” I say slowly, mind working rapidly to figure out what the best course of action is here.
I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, but now Mase is standing in front of me, my brain is eerily blank.
I won’t lie to him, though. There have been so many lies in the last year of his life…
Longer, even. “He actually slept in my room, baby.”
“Huh.” Mase’s brow furrows before it clears away. “Okay.” He turns and walks away, the noise from the television blaring seconds later. I blink at his nonreaction.
The space is taken up by Grafton, but he’s looking over his shoulder. “Turn it down a little, Mase,” he calls.
“Okay!”
Grafton turns to face me, pausing at the look on my face. “Lynne? What’s the matter?”
I clear my throat. “Mase just asked where you slept.”
His brows rise. “Oh?”
I lick my lips. “He was…fine. He didn’t even seem surprised.” I worry my lip with my teeth. “I should talk to the therapist about all of this. I’m probably screwing them up forever, and they’ll never be able to have a normal relationship, and Ginny is definitely gonna end up in prison.”
His chin jerks back before he barks out a laugh. “I have a few thoughts. First, why is Ginny the one in prison?”
I scoff. “Have you met her? Anyway, Mase wouldn’t get caught.”
Grafton thinks about that for a beat before he nods. “Fair.” He comes around, placing his hands on my shoulders and steering me to the table, pushing me down into a seat. “Second thought. What’s Christopher’s responsibility in their ability to have healthy relationships?”
I wrinkle my nose. “That’s not the point.” Grafton strokes my neck, and then he moves across the kitchen, grabbing us another coffee. I watch as he adds the perfect amount of creamer to mine, leaving his black, and then he takes the seat next to me. “Thank you.”
“Third thought,” he says after sipping his drink. “You don’t give them enough credit. As much as it’s horrible to think about, they’ve been part of this situation for just as long as you have.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better at all,” I complain.
“I know.” He bumps my knee with his. “But you’re doing everything right, and I’d bet everything I own that the therapist will tell you that too.”
“You’re probably right,” I murmur. But the doubt doesn’t ease, leaving my chest tight. Grafton watches me silently. I can’t read his expression, and after a minute or two, he taps his fingers on the table.
“Remember that first night? You were asking me all these what if questions,” he says suddenly, and I send him a bemused smile. “Now, I want to ask you one.”
“Okaaay,” I say slowly.
“Less of a what if, actually”—he shrugs—“and more of a what now.”
“Stop talking in riddles!” I demand, and he chuckles.
“You talked about going back to school or work. What would you do, Lynley?”
I suck in a breath, startled by the question. “I don’t know—”
He shakes his head. “I think you do. I think you’ve got something brewing in your head, and you need to breathe it to life.” I hesitate, but his expression firms, and I know he’s not going to let me wriggle out of this. “Tell me, Lynley.”
I glare at him before my eyes dip away. “It’s nothing. Just a passing thought more than anything else.”
“Tell me.”
I sniff. “There’s no need to get growly with me.
” He does growl then, reaching out to tickle my sides, and I jerk away, my chair scraping loudly against the tiled floors.
“Okay, okay, okay! No torturing.” He’s sitting there, poised for another attack, so I blow out a breath.
“There’s this building on the main street of town.
It’s been empty for over six months, and I’ve walked past it more than once and just thought… ”
I moisten my lips, terrified he’s going to tell me the idea is stupid or something. Grafton is a CEO. He’s experienced and successful, and if my idea is terrible, I know he’ll have no issue telling me so.
“I thought that it would be really cool to open up, like…a local boutique. A shop that exhibits and sells local artists’ work—paintings, sculptures, photos, clothing.
” I shrug, tension thrumming down my spine.
“Anything, really. I thought the shop could work either on a commission rate for each item sold or on rented space. But I could also create a website and sell online, too, and it would give artists a new market, you know? And maybe give some of them a way to sell their stuff when they might not have been able to before.” I’m rambling because his expression is unchanging, his eyes fixed on me.
“I’m thinking I could even focus on specific artists…
Maybe stay-at-home mothers who have no other source of income. ”
I fall quiet, and it feels like eternity passes before he says, “I like that. What would you call it?” My cheeks warm at the fact that he already knows I’ve named it. “Tell me, darling,” he coaxes, lowering his voice as he leans toward me. “What’s it called?”
“The Sterling Thread,” I blurt. “If it’s terrible—the name or the idea—don’t tell me.” I close my eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face, but he doesn’t say anything. Still, I keep my eyes glued shut until I feel his palms cupping my face, one thumb trailing over my bottom lip.
“Lynne, darling,” he says. “Open your eyes.”
“Nuh-uh.” I shake my head as much as I can in his hold, and he huffs out a laugh.
“Come on, darling. Need to see your pretty eyes,” he says softly. “Need you to look me in the face when I tell you this and know that I mean every damn word because I already told you, darling. I don’t plan on ever lying to you.”
My heart feels like it’s beating a mile a minute, but I eventually drag my eyes open, finding him pressed in close, his nose almost touching mine.
“There you are, baby,” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up. “You listening?”
I push my lip out. “I suppose.”
“It’ll do.” He waits another second because he’s apparently into that slow kind of torture. “I fucking love that idea.”
I blink as my eyes fill without my permission, making my vision watery. Relief steals the oxygen straight from my lungs, and even though not a single part of me doubts him, I ask in a whisper, “You do?”
“I do. And I want to help you make it happen.”
My lips are trembling, and I roll them between my teeth, trying to get a hold of my wayward emotions. “I’m not…” I shake my head in his hold. “It’s just an idea. A fantasy.”
His smile widens. “Not anymore.”
“I would have to finish my degree,” I protest weakly. “And the building… It’ll probably be gone by the time I’m ready.”
“These are nonissues,” he counters evenly.
“And the thing is…” His expression is serious.
“Lynley, I want to give you and the kids everything you ever dreamed of. I don’t want you to put your life on hold any longer, and if I have the ability to give you those dreams?
I’m going to do everything in my power to make them happen. ”
I let out a shaky breath just as his thumb lifts and catches a tear escaping my eye. “You can’t be real,” I whisper. “This can’t be real life.”
He drops a hard kiss on my lips and then pulls away, his hands dropping to tangle with mine.
“I’m not ever going to pretend your past didn’t happen, Lynne.
Christopher has been a big part of your experience and of who you are today.
I don’t discount that, but I’m also not going to let those experiences color our relationship going forward. Understand?”
My eyes search his. “I think so. But sometimes, the speed of it all, and the intensity… Sometimes, it scares me.”
“Me too,” he confesses quietly. “But I’m not letting that fear stop me from taking hold of our future.”