Chapter 16 #2
Riley made a soft sound of protest but let Grant help her up. He banked the fire, grabbed the candles, and guided her up the stairs, his hand on her lower back.
His room was dark and cold, but Grant lit a candle on the nightstand and pulled back the covers. Riley climbed in, still wearing her jeans and sweater, and Grant followed, pulling her close.
"Better?" he asked.
"Much better." Riley's hand found his chest, her fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. "Grant?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For today. For the grilled cheese. For sharing your mom's secret with me." She paused. "For making me feel like I belong here."
Grant's throat went tight. "You do belong here."
Riley lifted her head to look at him, and in the candlelight, her eyes were dark and serious and full of something that made Grant's heart race.
"Do I?" she whispered.
Instead of answering, Grant kissed her.
It started soft, gentle, just a brush of lips. But then Riley's hand slid into his hair and she pulled him closer, and the kiss deepened into something hungrier.
Grant rolled them so Riley was beneath him, his weight braced on his forearms. She made a soft sound against his mouth, her legs parting to let him settle between them.
"Grant," she breathed.
"Yeah?"
"I want you."
"You have me."
This time felt different from the start.
Slower. More intentional. Grant took his time undressing Riley, kissing each new inch of exposed skin.
Her shoulder, her collarbone, the soft curve of her breast. She shivered beneath his touch, her hands roaming his back, his shoulders, touching him like she was memorizing him.
When Grant finally settled between her thighs, Riley's hands framed his face, pulling him down for a kiss that felt like a promise.
"I want you," she whispered again.
Grant entered her slowly, carefully, watching her face in the dim candlelight. Her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth falling open on a soft gasp.
"Is this okay?" Grant managed.
"Perfect." Riley's legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper.
Grant moved, setting a slow, steady rhythm. This wasn't the desperate urgency of the barn or the cramped heat of his truck or even the passion of their first night in this bed. This was something else—something tender and real and terrifying in its intensity.
Riley's hands roamed his back, his shoulders, his arms, touching him everywhere she could reach. Grant kissed her neck, her jaw, her mouth, swallowing her soft moans.
"God, you feel so good," Riley gasped.
Grant shifted his angle, going deeper, and Riley cried out softly.
"Right there," she breathed. "Don't stop."
"Never."
He reached between them, his fingers finding where they were joined, circling the bundle of nerves that made Riley's breath hitch.
"Grant— I'm close—"
"Let go, Riley."
Grant kept the same steady rhythm, his fingers working in time with his thrusts, watching Riley come apart beneath him. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes locked on his like she couldn't look away.
"I'm—Grant—"
She came with his name on her lips, her whole body trembling, her hands clutching at his shoulders. The feel of her tightening around him pushed Grant over the edge, and he followed her with a groan, burying his face in her neck.
They stayed tangled together, both breathing hard, neither wanting to move.
"That was—" Riley started.
"Different," Grant finished.
"Good different."
"Very good different."
Grant rolled to the side, pulling Riley with him so she was tucked against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth.
"Stay," he whispered, even though she was already there, even though morning was hours away. Even though he knew she thought he’d meant just for the night. But he didn’t mean that…
"I'm not going anywhere," Riley murmured, already half asleep.
Grant held her close, listening to her breathing even out, and let himself believe it.
Just for tonight.
Grant woke to weak winter sunlight streaming through the window and Riley still in his arms.
She was asleep, her face peaceful, dark hair spread across his pillow. He watched her for a moment—the way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the slight curve of her mouth, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
He was in love with her.
He'd probably never stopped loving her.
And last night had only made it more clear.
Riley stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "Morning."
"Morning." Grant brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Sleep okay?"
"Best sleep I've had in years." She stretched, then settled back against him. "What time is it?"
"No idea. Phone's dead."
"Mm. Guess we're on snow day time."
"Guess so."
They lay there for a while, just talking quietly, touching lazily, in no hurry to leave the warm cocoon of the bed. Eventually, necessity won out, and they made their way downstairs.
The fire had died overnight, but the house was still warm enough. Grant rebuilt it while Riley started coffee on the gas stove, and within an hour they had breakfast going—eggs scrambled in the cast iron skillet, toast made over the fire.
It felt domestic. Comfortable. Like they'd been doing this for years instead of weeks.
"Think the roads are clear enough to get me home?" Riley asked, looking out the window at the snow-covered driveway.
The storm had passed, leaving everything blanketed in white. Beautiful and quiet.
"Probably. The plows will have been through the main roads by now."
"Good." But she didn't sound particularly eager to leave.
Grant wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin on her shoulder. "What are you doing for Christmas?"
"The usual. Family dinner, church service, my dad's terrible eggnog."
"Sounds nice."
"What about you?"
"Same. Except my dad's eggnog is actually good." Grant paused. "Want to do it together?"
Riley turned in his arms to face him. "Together?"
"Yeah. Christmas Eve with your family, Christmas Day with mine. Or however you want to split it." Grant's heart was pounding, but he tried to keep his voice casual. "We're together, right? Seems like the kind of thing couples do."
Something flickered across Riley's face—surprise, then warmth, then something that looked almost like fear.
"Yeah," she said finally. "We're together. And yeah, I'd like that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She kissed him softly. "I'd really like that."
Grant held her close, his face buried in her hair, and tried not to think about how much it was going to hurt when she left after New Year's.
Because she was leaving. She had a job, a life, an apartment in the city. This was always temporary—just a holiday fling that had gotten more complicated than either of them had planned.
Except it didn't feel temporary.
It felt like everything.
"Grant?" Riley's voice was muffled against his chest.
"Yeah?"
"Last night was really special. Thank you for sharing your mom's secret with me."
"You're part of it now. The family secret." He pulled back to look at her. "Now you have to pass it down someday."
Riley's eyes went shiny. "Yeah. I will."
They stood like that for a long moment, holding each other in the quiet kitchen, snow falling soft outside the windows.
Grant didn't say what he was thinking—that he wanted this every day, that he wanted to wake up with her every morning, that the thought of her leaving made it hard to breathe.
Instead, he just kissed her again and tried to memorize the moment.
The way she felt in his arms.
The way she looked at him like he mattered.
The way, for just a little while longer, she was his.
"You could stay, you know," Grant said quietly. "After New Year's. You could stay."
Riley's breath caught. For a second, hope flared in Grant's chest.
But then she just pressed her face into his shoulder and whispered, "I know."
Grant's heart sank. She knew. She knew she could stay.
She just wasn't saying yes.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Grant held her tighter, cataloging the weight of her in his arms, the smell of her hair, the way she fit against him like she was made to be there.
He'd said his piece. The invitation was out there.
Now all he could do was wait and hope she'd choose him.
Choose this.
Choose them.