Chapter 32 Heather
Heather
The event is going better than I could have hoped.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Grant Parker just sang in front of a room full of people to save my ass. And it actually worked!
The whole vibe shifted. People are relaxed now as they laugh and mingle. Karaoke has become a hit, with a steady stream of volunteers taking the microphone. The food is excellent, the donations are coming in, and I can finally breathe.
I’m standing near the edge of the greenhouse room, watching everything unfold and savoring that first deep, relieved breath, when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Heather.”
I turn to find the executive director of New Horizons—aka my boss—smiling at me. And now I’m about two seconds away from panicking again.
“Oh! Hi. Is everything okay? Do you need—”
“Everything is perfect,” she interrupts, still smiling.
“I just wanted to tell you what an incredible job you’ve done.
This event has exceeded every expectation.
The turnout, the atmosphere, and the donations are already coming in.
It’s remarkable what you’ve been able to achieve with limited time and resources. ”
I can breathe again, and I have to resist the urge to do a little happy dance right here in front of her. “Really? You think so?”
“I know so.” She nods so emphatically that I have to believe her. “You should be very proud of yourself, Heather. This is going to make a real difference for the families we serve.”
“Thank you,” I manage past the sudden lump in my throat. “That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
She heads back into the crowd to talk with donors, and I take a moment to let the compliment sink in.
I did it. I actually pulled this off.
April runs up to me, her face flushed with excitement. “Mom, did you see? Mr. Reese is about to sing! And he says he’s really good!”
“I’m sure he is, sweetheart. Why don’t you go watch? I’ll be right there.”
She darts back toward the karaoke setup, and I’m about to follow when my phone buzzes in my clutch.
I pull it out and see a text from Grant.
GRANT: Go to the orchid room. East wing. Now.
My heart starts beating faster. The orchid room is one of the smaller greenhouse spaces, away from the main event area. It’s beautiful but secluded, and not supposed to be part of tonight’s setup.
I glance around, looking for him in the crowd, but I don’t see him anywhere.
Another text comes through.
GRANT: Trust me.
I read it twice, just to be sure, then look around again. The event is running smoothly now. April is occupied. And Grant is asking me to meet him somewhere private.
I shouldn’t. I should stay here and be the responsible hostess. I should make sure everything continues going well.
But my feet are already carrying me toward the quiet, deserted hallway that leads to the east wing.
The sounds of the party are fading behind me with each step as I pass through the glass-walled corridor lined with ferns and hanging plants, but my attention is already fixed on the door straight ahead.
The door with a small plaque reading “Orchid Collection.”
I push it open and step inside.
The room is dim, but not completely dark. The overhead lights have been lowered since this area isn’t part of tonight’s event, but there’s enough moonlight coming through the glass ceiling to see the shapes of delicate orchids on tiered glass displays.
The air is warm and humid, like the tropical environment the orchids need to thrive. It’s almost stifling, but that could also be my nerves kicking into high gear.
“Grant?” I whisper, taking another step into the room.
Before I can say anything else, a hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me deeper into the space. My back hits the wall beside a display of white orchids, and then Grant’s big, muscular body is pressed against mine.
“You came,” he says, his voice rumbling low from his chest as he claims my lips with a hard, deep kiss.
His hands are all over me, from my breasts down to my waist, then sliding up my sides to pull me closer. Everything he’s doing seems hungry and desperate, like he’s been starving for this.
For me.
And god, I’ve been starving for him too.
My body lights up immediately as every nerve ending comes alive under his touch. I kiss him back just as hungrily, fisting my hands in his jacket to pull him as close as I possibly can, until there’s not even a fraction of an inch separating my body from his.
This is what the aftermath of weeks of stolen glances and careful distance looks like. Of lying awake at night frustrated because I can’t have him. Every bit of that pent-up sexual tension is crackling between us as we kiss.
His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, trailing hot kisses down the side of my neck. I tilt my head back and let out a soft moan that I don’t even try to keep inside.
“Thank you,” I manage to say, while I’m breathless but still mostly coherent. “For what you did out there. For singing.”
“You’re welcome.” He chuckles against my neck, making me melt a little more into his arms. “I don’t think I’ll ever live that down.”
“You’re truly a terrible singer,” I add with a laugh, tracing his chiseled jawline with my thumb.
He pulls back just enough for me to see his face in the dim light, and there it is—that rare smile. The real one. The one that transforms his usually stern features into something ridiculously sexy and charming that I’ve decided is just for me.
“Believe me, I know,” he says, his voice low and rough. “But it worked, didn’t it?”
“It worked,” I confirm, reaching up to cup his face. “You stole the show and everyone loved it. You saved the whole night.”
“I didn’t do it for everyone.” His eyes lock with mine, intense and sincere. “I did it for you.”
My heart does a flip in my chest, and I pull him down for another kiss. This one is slower but still hot as hell, and his hands slide into my hair as we both start to get carried away.
But then he pulls back, and it’s obvious he’s trying his best not to mess up my hair or my dress, or to leave any visible marks on my neck.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whisper against his mouth, even as my hands slide under his jacket to feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. “Someone could find us.”
“I locked the door.” His lips move to that spot just below my ear that makes me weak. “And I don’t care.”
“We’ll be in so much trouble if someone finds us.”
“I’ve barely been able to touch you for three weeks.” I can actually hear the desperation in his voice. “Watching you tonight, seeing you work that room and hearing you give that speech… I’ve missed you. And I need you.”
God, he knows just what to say to make me melt. I arch against him, and he grinds against my hip so I can feel exactly how much he wants me.
“How long do we have?” My practical side is desperately trying to reassert itself even though my body is absolutely on board with forgetting about logistics.
“Not long enough to do everything I want.” He slips a hand under my dress, and I help him by hiking it up around my hips and thighs. “But long enough to make you come. Don’t worry, though, Hurricane. I’m a lot better at this than I am at singing.”
I laugh, probably louder than I should, but it turns into a moan as he pushes my panties to the side so his fingers can find my clit.
“God, yes.” I rock against his hand, desperate for more pressure. “But if we only have a little time, you might have to put that legendary focus of yours to good use.”
“Fuck,” he groans as he slips a finger inside me. “You’re so wet for me already.”
“Can’t help it.” I spread my legs as wide as I can without ripping my dress. I’d give anything to be back at home, naked in bed right now. But I’m more than ready to make the most of these few stolen minutes. “Your fingers feel so good. I’m already close.”
He keeps teasing and playing with my clit, working me up and then backing off until I’m writhing against the wall and trembling with need.
“You’re so beautiful,” he growls. “Beg for me.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
“Please, Grant. Let me come. Make me come. Please.”
“God, I love hearing you like this.” He adds a second finger and thrusts them in faster, harder, stretching me until I have to grind my teeth to keep from crying out. “Nothing turns me on like the sound of your sweet voice begging. Give it to me, Hurricane. Come all over my hand.”
He drives his fingers deeper while he rubs my clit with his thumb, and the sensation sends me over the edge.
“Yes, beautiful, that’s it.” His voice sounds like it’s miles away now, but he’s still pumping his fingers inside me as I ride out the waves of pleasure. “So good for me.”
I’m barely able to stand, but he’s holding me up and against the wall, supporting all my weight while he leans in to kiss me.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, trying to catch my breath and steady my shaking knees.
“I know.” He takes my hand in his and moves it down to his crotch, where his cock is throbbing so hard it feels like it might tear through his pants. “You feel that? You have no idea what you do to me.”
I start stroking him without thinking, needing to touch him.
He lets out a low, desperate groan and starts pumping his hips against my hand, letting me feel every thick, hard inch of him.
“Hurricane, you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”
“No. Don’t come.”
He grimaces, then looks confused as I take my hand away. “Wait, what? Seriously?”
“Not like this.” I wait a beat, then spell it out for him. “I only want you to come once you’re inside me.”
“Oh, fuck,” he growls as his eyes flash with heat. “Just so we’re clear, you’re saying I can fuck you? Right here? Right now?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”