In This Moment

Chapter Fifteen

Rebecca padded back into her bedroom and climbed under the covers. Graham lay sleeping beside her, lightly snoring, and with the sheet draped across his waist.

He’d spent the night. As in, slept over. After an epic night of sex and conversation.

Color her crazy, but it had never been like that for her before. Sure, she’d been in relationships and had lovers, but this seemed different. Felt different. For one, the sex had been fantastic. Like he’d been so in tune with her body that pleasuring her had been automatic. No thought or research required. And then there were the discussions. Before and afterward. Intimate, open dialogue where there had been no judging, no shame. Even when they’d disagreed, it had been a respectful exchange. She’d said things she hadn’t even admitted to her besties. Details she hadn’t let escape from the dark corners of her mind.

Shaking her head, she smiled. He was kind and honest. Open and willing. Present and able. They’d formed a connection in such a short period she’d never achieved with other partners. They just…clicked. It almost seemed too simple. Well, maybe not simple, but fast. Perhaps she was jaded, but she wondered if this was a honeymoon period, and if so, how long it would last. He hadn’t said much after she’d answered his question about going back to her old job in the city if given a better opportunity. Would he? If the scandal blew over and he was given the chance, would he take it? Merely get up and leave? The thought had crossed her mind more than once.

Forget it. She wouldn’t let doubts pop her euphoric bubble.

She shoved skepticism aside and stared at him while he slept. Something she used to find creepy, but now she willingly understood the hype. Unbidden, walls crumbled and pretenses didn’t exist while watching someone in slumber. No guards. Just him. And he appeared to be the same while asleep. Which said a lot about his character. It meant he didn’t hide anything or blanket his thoughts. No ulterior motives.

For the most part, his expressions were easy to read when they’d been together, and she’d greatly appreciated that characteristic. Once they’d gotten better acquainted, anyway. Throughout her adult life, she’d had difficulty in relationships because her communication barrier erected a wall with the inability to understand her partner’s needs. Guys tended to be black and white in the majority of things, but the shades of gray halted her in her tracks. Even when she’d tried to ask, she’d failed, and the relationships dissolved.

Graham was such a handsome devil. Ebony hair that curled slightly at the ends. Angular face. Jaw dusted with dark scruff. Full lips. Eyelashes that any female would maim to possess. Though closed, his eyes were a shocking shade of green, and she could stare into them for hours, yet never fully grasp their hue. Expressive, to boot. Wide shoulders, defined abs, light sprinkling of black hair trailing to his goody zone…

Le sigh. Definitely a looker.

He stirred and turned his head, but didn’t open his eyes.

She smiled, watching from her pillow, and wondered if he was a morning person. Typically, she required two cups of coffee to have any sort of function. She’d bet he was the grouchy type. Adorably so.

He emitted a half-groan and rolled onto his side. As if by afterthought, his arm looped around her waist and he drew her flush in front of him. Rawr. He’d done that last night during the movie, too. An alpha-male action without rendering her weak in the demonstration. She was slender by nature. She knew that, but how he physically manipulated her body to his whims was downright panty-drenching.

Nuzzling her neck, he mumbled something she couldn’t decipher.

She threaded her fingers through his hair. “What?”

“I said, you smell good.”

“Thank you.” So did he. Warm male with lingering traces of his bergamot cologne. “It could be the coffee I brewed.”

“You are the perfect woman.”

Laughing, she kissed his temple.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Just a few minutes. I started coffee and let the dog out.” And hit the bathroom to relieve herself, did a few of her yoga stretches, plus made sure her hair wasn’t finger-in-light-socket crazy.

He picked up his head, and grunting, set it down again. “I’ll need to run home to feed him in a while. But first…”

Taking her with him, he rolled to his back with her sprawled on top of him. She’d put her tee and panties back on after they’d come inside last night, but he’d slept naked. Deliciously, gloriously naked. As she straddled him, his long, thick erection ground against her, and just like that, she was aroused.

His large hands sprawled over her belly and slid north. “You’re overdressed.”

“Am I?”

“Yup.”

Off went her shirt. He sat upright, mouth nibbling and licking her neck. Those amazing, skilled hands of his were traveling her body like a backroad map. In her hair, down her spine, cupping her backside. Over sensory stimulation, and still not enough. Her skin grew feverishly hot, her core throbbed, and she ached from a place so deep, she hadn’t known it existed before him.

“How attached to these are you?” His fingers dipped into the waistband of her panties.

“Um…”

“Never mind. I’ll replace them.”

A tear of fabric rented the room as he ripped them off. At the seams. Just ripped off her panties.

And then, he lifted her the slightest bit. When she came down again, he was buried inside her. She barely had the chance to acknowledge the full, magnificent hardness filling her, and his mouth closed over hers. Demanding, desperate strokes of his tongue matched the rolling motion of his pelvis as he moved.

Ah, yes. So dang good. Like last night, he brushed her clit with each thrust, sending lightning through her nervous system and zings of intense pleasure everywhere. Heavenly friction. From the roots of her hair to her toenails and back again. She prayed he’d never stop, so she could latch onto this amazing sensation forever. Desperate for release, yet not wanting it to end. Hovering in that place only he could take her. His corded, taut muscles against her softer curves clicked like a piece completing a puzzle.

Last night hadn’t been a fluke. They were just that dang good together. Harmony and bliss.

Tension built low in her abdomen, and she broke free from the kiss to throw her head back. She tried to siphon oxygen, but it was futile. Rocking her hips in a rhythm to match his, she rode him, spine arched for better momentum. Faster. Harder.

He held her by the back of the neck, his breathing labored, as his other hand closed over her breast. Kneading. Manipulating the nipple until it was hot, and the slight ache added to her arousal. Desperate guttural noises of pleasure quietly rasped his throat, something he seemed unaware he was doing, and added to her kindling. Stoked the fire within her.

Her orgasm was a slow build, the best kind, and when it peaked, light blasted behind her lids as she quaked. A sharp inhale wedged in her lungs while she spiraled, catapulting her across the waves instead of merely riding them. Tremors wracked her system, but before she could collapse or fall backward, he dragged her to him and held her against his chest.

“You feel so damn good,” he muttered, his body going rigid like when he’d come last night.

Yeah, she sure did feel good. Great, actually. Stupendous. Except, he meant something else, and she smiled against the crook of his neck.

A couple more pumps, and he grunted, stiffened, and choked out a satisfied sound that ruffled her strands. His arms banded tighter as he shook. Then, he went still for a moment.

Panting, he eased his hold on her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

Sluggish fulfillment pulled at her, making her lax. Sated, she nuzzled his neck. “Good morning.”

A rough chuckle, and he inhaled as if he’d not done so since waking. “Damn good morning, indeed.”

And then… Then, he did the sweetest dang thing. He lifted his head, smiled lazily at her, and smoothed her strands, holding her face in his hands like she was a treasure. A caring, tender action no one on earth had ever done for her. Simple, yet it leveled her to rubble.

Throat tight, eyes damp, she stared at him, wrangling her emotions.

His brows wrenched in concern. “You okay?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. It had been so very long since someone had held her or had shown consideration to this degree. Besides Gammy or her besties, she’d not been cherished.

If that’s what this was, anyway.

“Did I hurt you? Your fibro, I mean. I’m not sure how it works or what sets you off. You’d tell me if—”

“You didn’t hurt me, and I’ll let you know if there’s an issue.” Lord, this man. How had she gotten so lucky? Her ex hadn’t had any interest in learning about her condition and would display frustration if she’d been too tired or sore for going out or making love. In Boston, most days, just getting through work was all she could handle between the weather, stress, and bouts of depression causing flareups.

Reaching for the covers, he wrapped the blanket around them, but remained sitting. He studied her expression, gaze roaming, and eventually sighed. “What’s it feel like? The pain. Where is it?”

“Mostly, it targets my upper back, shoulders, and neck. On rare occasions, my thighs. Average day? It’s like the early stages of the flu. Fighting sleepiness and a general, dull ache. When it flares up, the pain is more of a throbbing. Have you ever had a Charlie horse?” At his nod, she shrugged. “The pain feels like that on bad days, all over.”

His eyes widened. “That’s… Shit, Rebecca. That’s horrible.”

No truer words. “It can be. You never really get used to it, but I’ve grown accustomed and adapted. I try to avoid situations that set it off and take preventative measures.”

“Like what?”

“The climate here helps. My fibro would get irritated by extreme weather shifts. The snow and cold were awful in winter in Boston. I make sure I sleep, do massage therapy, stretching, take antioxidants, and try not to get stressed.”

He huffed a dry laugh devoid of humor. “As if stress can be avoided.”

He was correct on that account, too. “It is what it is.”

Resting his forehead to hers, he sighed. “That sucks. I wish you’d told me sooner. I wouldn’t have let you do all that moving around at the office.”

“I know my limits, and I refuse to let it take over my life. Everything we did at the Gazette helped the newspaper and was within my scope. I was a little more sore than normal afterward, but not a big deal.”

He studied her anew, like trying to assess the honesty in her answer. “You say ‘we’ a lot when referring to the Gazette.”

Um, yeah. “Because we’re a we. We shifted things around, utilized what we had, and built it back up again.”

“You did all that. I just went along for the ride.”

The stubborn man. “Did you tell me no? To stay in my lane? Pull the boss card? No, you didn’t,” she said before he could refute. “A good boss listens to their employees, takes into account their wishes, and considers constructive criticism. You knew I had more knowledge of the town and what the residents would want. You listened to me and respected the newspaper’s history. You had ideas of your own we implemented. Since the initial changes, you’ve written great articles that are among our highest clicks on the site. You also edit everything that goes in the paper and design the layout to make sure we go to print on time.”

She exhaled, her shoulders sagging. “So, yes. I say we because we are a we.”

What had begun as a droll expression at the beginning of her rant wound up morphing into something resembling shock and ended with veiled awe. Wide-eyed, lips parted, he stared at her as if she’d belted out a showtune while twirling a flaming baton.

Silence stretched. And stretched.

Maybe she should change the topic? “I’m hungry. Want to go grab some breakfast at The Busy Bean? They have the best croissants. And coffee.”

Unmoving, he did little more than blink.

“Take over the world?” She grinned for effect.

Still nada.

What exactly had she said to render him catatonic? Was he angry? This was one of those rare instances where she couldn’t read him, and her belly cramped. Needles of concern pricked her nape.

Okay, enough. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I…” Sighing, he narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes, I just don’t know what to say to you.”

What did that mean? “Are you upset with me?” She’d tried to bolster him, not hurt him.

“No.” He tucked her hair behind her ears. Tone apologetic, he shook his head. “No, not at all. Journalism is very cut-throat, and your personality is the opposite. I have to be honest. Most people in your position would take advantage, go after my job, and not hesitate to look at the trail of dust behind them. But, here you are, conjuring ways to show my worth and doing nothing except supporting. I just…wasn’t expecting you.”

Oh. Well, geez. “I’d never do something like that, even if we weren’t romantically involved.”

“I know.” The corners of his mouth curved in a smile. “That’s my whole point.”

Before she could reply, he smacked a quick kiss to her lips, and stood, taking her with him. “Let’s go get you a croissant.”

Alrighty. Discussion over.

They dressed and took Twain next door to feed him. She waited outside, letting sunshine bathe her face. Humidity clung to a warm breeze while birds chirped. Cut grass and pollen wafted in the air, reminding her of her childhood where she’d grab a book, climb a tree, and read half the day. She should do that again soon. Maybe minus the tree part and sit under one instead.

Walking toward and down the Main Square in a comfortable silence, townsfolk nodded and smiled knowingly at them. As if others knew something they didn’t, and were leaving breadcrumb hints by way of grins. She’d nearly forgotten the aspects of small towns when she’d been swallowed by mediocrity in a big city. A community. Friends, neighbors. Part of her had wanted that escape. Having almost no privacy and tired of rumors, she’d fled.

And had lost nearly every aspect of her identity.

Outside The Busy Bean, he paused. “Okay, seriously. Did you color on my face with permanent marker while I was sleeping? What’s with all the stares and smiles? It’s creepy.”

Laughing, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s their way of saying they know about our relationship, and they approve.”

“Huh.” He scratched his jaw. “That was quick.”

“Could be worse.” She shrugged. “Take it as a compliment. They like you, or else they wouldn’t accept us together.” He was a transplanted Yankee and not born one of them. Backwards as the mindset was, it was truth. Proof that her town was kind once they got to know someone. Acclimation wasn’t just his process.

“All right. That I take issue with.” Hands on his hips, he frowned. “We shouldn’t need approval from anyone. If we wanna be together, we’ll be together.”

Ah, there was the grumpy goose she’d met at the curb not long ago. The northerner unacquainted with the ways of the south and frustrated to no end.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

She hadn’t realized she was, but that didn’t stop her. “No reason.”

His eyes narrowed to slits.

“Okay,” she said through a sigh. “At the risk of sounding condescending, you’re cute when you’re mad. And, you’re right. We shouldn’t need approval from anyone. But, it’s a good thing that they like you. It means they’ve noticed your character and attributes, and accept you as a good partner for me. This place is your home now. I want you to be comfortable. Besides, it’s not that different than meeting your family. Do they have to like me in order for us to stick? No, but it would make things less difficult.”

A grunt, and he crossed his arms. “Point taken. It’s still archaic.”

She huffed a laugh and opened the door to the coffee shop. “Let’s consume caffeine.”

“Stop that.” He darted his gaze around as if checking for spies. “They see you holding a door for me and I’ll become a pariah.”

Propping the door with his foot, he nudged her inside, letting out a comical breath of relief.

“You’re my kind of dork, Graham.” Laughing, she looped her arm through his and stared at the board above the counter. “Me thinkst you need a double shot.”

“A triple, me lady.”

The shop wasn’t very large, like most in the Main Square, but it was tastefully decorated with Italian tile floors, artistic pencil sketches of coffee in frames, and latte colored walls above a white chair rail. White iron tables were scattered throughout the lobby, nearly all of them occupied.

Candy, owner of the shop and two years Rebecca’s senior, smiled politely as she waved them forward. Stout build with a cherubic face and short brunette bob, she reminded Rebecca of a nicer, more subtle version of the character Janice from the Friends TV show.

“What in the Lifetime movie is going on here?” She eyed Rebecca and Graham. “My ears have not deceived me. You two are an item!”

“Hi, Candy. We sure are.” Rebecca dug her wallet out of her purse. “How are you?”

“Just dandy.” She straightened, eyes wide. “I adore your new Health Column in the Gazette. I’ve learned a lot and it’s very helpful. Oh, and the Town Beat, too. It’s so nice not having to look up activities on ten different sites. And the Recipes addition? I tried one at home the other day. Delicious!”

Rebecca eyed Graham with a told-you-so lift of her brows.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat.

“What can I get for y’all?”

“I’m gonna need three million croissants and a caramel cappuccino.” Rebecca glanced at Graham. “What would you like?”

Laughing, he shook his head. “She means two croissants, and I’ll take an espresso, please.”

He shoved her behind him, blocking the counter when she tried to pay, and dug his wallet out of his back pocket.

She pouted. “I really did mean three million. Candy’s croissants are the best thing you ever put in your mouth.”

He muttered something under his breath she couldn’t decipher, but she’d bet it was naughty.

Amused by their display, Candy grinned as she rang up the order. “Sweet as you can be.”

“You take that back.” Rebecca huffed. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Candy handed Graham a bag with the croissants, then turned to fill the coffee order. After a minute, she passed Rebecca the cups. “Have a blessed day.”

“You, too.” Rebecca nudged her chin toward the door. “Eat outside?”

“Sure.”

They walked and ate, while he muttered sounds of appreciation.

“Damn, these are good.”

“Right? I tried to tell you. Should’ve gotten three million.”

He laughed, tossing his garbage in a can by the curb as they passed.

Winter pansies in the flower boxes along the cobblestone road next to the cast-iron old world lampposts had been replaced by begonias and violas, adding splashes of red, purple, yellow, and white from the blooms. Pink cherry blossom trees had already dropped, scattering petals on the sidewalk. Green leaves budded on the branches in their place. Varying food scents mingled with late spring caught the breeze. Even the hummingbirds had made their way back, sipping from feeders under a few awnings. Busy little things that buzzed like bees, yet twice as anxious. They were entertaining to watch.

Gammy used to have a feeder. Rebecca would have to look for it in the shed later. And maybe do something about Gammy’s decrepit tiered garden boxes in the backyard that had gone unattended for too long.

“If all I need to do is feed you croissants and cappuccino to get you to smile, I’ll do it daily.”

The adorable man. “The company isn’t bad, either. Or the morning wakeup activities.”

They came to the end of the Square, not far from the library, and he wrapped an arm around her waist until she was snug against him. “Gonna have to agree with you.” His gaze swept across her face, his smile fading. “Are you happy? Right now, I mean. With us? In Vallantine?”

Unsure where his question had originated, she brushed her thumb across his lower lip. “I’m quite happy.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Are you?” He’d asked for a reason, and she had to wonder if it was because he wasn’t happy. Or satisfied. Or content…

“Very.” He inhaled, and even that seemed measured. “For the first time in a long while, I think I’m actually happy.”

“Relocation can take time to acclimate.” In her case, she never had adjusted to Boston. She’d stuck it out way too long.

A slight shake of his head, and he glanced over her shoulder, his expression distant. “It’s not only the move down here. Whatever success I had at my old job seemed trite with no one to share it with. I was just another reporter bringing them stories, until one of those articles created problems. Then, I was dispensable. My relationships, too. Not my family, but in my love life. It just… I don’t know. Feels different.”

Accomplishments and successes mean so much more with a supportive tribe encouraging you. Same for when you’re down on your luck and everything goes wrong. The people around you matter. But what she thought he was getting at was that perhaps he was starting to see Vallantine and the townsfolk as home. No matter how far she’d traveled or ventured, this was always home to her.

She smiled. “Different isn’t necessarily bad.”

One corner of his lips curved in a half-assed smile. “No, it sure isn’t.”