For Life (Reclaimed Hearts Book 1) (16 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Cassie

I fly out of Grady’s arms, fingers fumbling with the button on my jeans as Caden knocks on the bedroom door. “Hey Mom, you in there?”

“Just a second, bud!”

Grady has stepped into my bathroom and is calmly wiping his face with a cleansing wipe. I have no idea how I’m going to look my son in the eye.

“What’s the matter?” I meet Caden at the bedroom door and fling it open in a desperate attempt to appear normal. My voice sounds shaky even to me and I pray he doesn’t pick up on it. “How come you’re not at practice?”

“Storm warning,” he says, stuffing Doritos in his mouth, completely unfazed by my behavior. “I called but you didn’t answer, so Coach gave us a ride home.”

And I didn’t even notice the weather, because I was too busy rubbing up against my ex-husband like a bitch in heat.

“He did? Is he still here?” I open the door wider and start to step out but he shakes his head.

“Nope. He had to take Ryan home, so he didn’t stick around.”

“Have you heard from your sister?”

He shakes his head. “I texted her, though.” And then he spots Grady stepping out of my bathroom and does a double-take. “Hey, Dad.” He looks back and forth between us, confused. “What’s Dad doing here?”

Oh, shit.
My mind goes completely blank and I gape at my son, unable to form a single coherent thought.

I stammer wildly. “I… Uh… Your dad is—”

“Fixing the sink,” Grady butts in smoothly. “Your mom asked me to fix it.”

Our naive son falls for that, the confusion replaced by genuine joy at seeing his father. Never mind that Grady hasn’t ever set foot in my bedroom before or that I’ve never asked him to fix a damn thing in this house.

“Oh. Cool. Want to play
Call of Duty
with me?”

“Do you have homework?” I ask, but Grady’s already pushing past me. “Let me wash my hands, bud, and then I’ll see what you’ve got. Fifteen minutes, and then it’s homework time.”

They take off down the hall together and I close myself back in my bedroom to get my head together.

Oh my God.
I just made out with my ex-husband.

I almost just had
sex
with my ex-husband. There’s no denying that. I hadn’t had one of Grady’s “just let me taste you” sessions in years, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten how quickly things could progress from his face between my thighs to his dick buried to the hilt inside me. I would’ve fucked him in a heartbeat and that both thrills and embarrasses me.

We almost got busted by our son, who doesn’t even remember us being married. He was happy in Delaware when we were all together at Donna’s - overly so, I thought - but that doesn’t mean he wants to walk in on us getting it on, which would be not only gross but confusing for him as well.

Oh my God, I just made out with my ex-husband.
But the little voice inside my head sneers.
Making out? Is that what you call it when his tongue is buried halfway up your—

My cheeks are burning and between my thighs I’m a puddle. Grady isn’t going to finish what he started and I can’t walk around in this state, not with him in the house. I’m a landmine of confused desires. I want Grady to touch me. I want Grady to make love to me. I want to be alone with him long enough to figure out what in the hell we’re doing, because in the span of a week we’ve gone from near-strangers to almost-lovers.

But the kids… Caden’s home and Chloe will be here shortly. I have to make dinner before Caden stuffs himself with junk food. I can’t focus on my own train wreck of a love life. Sex life. Whatever it is - I have things to do.

I hustle to the kitchen, passing the boys in the living room shooting things in the dark. I don’t look, because the sight of Grady playing video games with his son as if he belongs here will make me lose my shit. On the table is my phone, and I check it to see that I have three missed calls from Caden and several texts from Chloe.

—
Everyone else went home but coach is keeping us.

—
NVM the evil witch is letting us go.

—
Elizabeth’s driving me.

The last message was about ten minutes ago, which means Chloe will be home soon. Good. No more being alone with Grady. I can’t think straight when he touches me. Despite all the things that have changed in the past eleven years, that much is still true.

I pull salad fixings from the crisper and slice two peppers and a cucumber. I’m slicing a tomato when I hear a car door slam and Chloe’s voice saying goodbye to her friend, and then she bursts in the front door.

“Is that Daddy’s truck?” Her voice is shrill and excited.

“In here,” Grady calls from the living room. “Kicking your brother’s butt.”

“Oh my God, you
wish
,” Caden laughs.

It could be like this every day
, the little voice whispers and I tell it to shut the fuck up.

When the timer beeps I hear Grady tell Caden they have to wash up for dinner, but another ten minutes pass and there’s still no sign of them. Chloe has already been to her room to change and is in the kitchen grazing on cucumber slices.

“So is Daddy going to have dinner with us sometimes now?” she asks, her eyes fixed on me, her voice purposely casual.

I shrug and open a bottle of salad dressing. “If he wants to.”

“It’s just weird because you’ve been so mean to him for, like,
ever
,” she presses.

“I haven’t been
mean
to him,” I correct her.

“He’s never even been to this house,” she counters. That’s not exactly true, but he sure as hell hasn’t been lounging on my couch playing video games with our son, so her point is well-taken.

“Chlo…” I begin, rubbing my neck. “Your dad and I had a difficult divorce, and we couldn’t be friends for a long time after that. With what happened to Uncle Carl, we both want to work on being friends. Life is short.”

She makes some disapproving noise in her throat that has meaning only to her, but her eyes look hopeful. “So what, you guys are friends now?”

“We’re working on it.” That seems to satisfy her, and I’m relieved. How do I explain to my daughter what I can’t even make sense of myself? Grady and I need to talk, and not the kind of talking where we’re groping each other. A real conversation with real things decided. I resolve to lay down the law after dinner, if I can get him alone. Just not so alone that we pick up where we left off.

* * * *

Grady tucks into the pot roast with the kind of enthusiasm I like to see at my dinner table. Caden will eat anything, so watching him inhale his food has the emotional satisfaction of watching a vacuum cleaner on a patch of carpet. Pot roast isn’t Chloe’s favorite, but she’ll eat it although she announces for the millionth time in her life that she hates cooked carrots. I reply, also for the millionth time, that she can pick them off. Immediately Caden leans in with his fork and scoops them off her plate.

“Delicious,” Grady says to me, and although I know he’s talking about the food the back of my neck prickles at the layers of meaning in his voice. I try really hard not to stare at him while he’s eating and wind up staring at my plate when I’m not looking at one of the kids, because I don’t trust myself not to eye-fuck him right at my dinner table.

The kids moan and groan about all the homework they have after missing three days of school. Caden’s taking Calculus even though he’s a freshman, so he has a big test on Friday, and Chloe has a paper due for English that she’s not looking forward to. Several times Grady’s gaze meets mine across the table and I hope my face doesn’t give anything away. We eat like a happy family who does this every day, and I can’t pretend I don’t love it.

After dinner the kids disappear to work on their homework in their rooms and Grady helps me clean up. I don’t know what to say, so I’m silent, and he follows my lead until the entire kitchen is spotless. When I’m drying my hands he walks over to me with a hint of a smile playing on his lips, backs me up very slowly to the counter, and places his hands on either side of me, boxing me in.

At first he says nothing at all. His eyes study mine before his gaze lowers to my mouth. I can hear the change in his breathing, but he still doesn’t speak. His forearms flex on either side of me, and his pulse throbs in his throat. There isn’t any part of me that doesn’t want to attack him, but I wait.

And then his mouth is
thisclose
to mine and I can’t help the sigh that escapes me, but he’s already kissing it away. Clutching the dish towel for dear life, I arch against him and moan into his mouth. The whole kitchen seems to echo with it and I draw back in horror.

“You used to be so quiet,” he murmurs with a grin, rubbing his finger along the apple of my cheek. I feel myself flushing and then he says in a low voice, “I love hearing you, Cass. I love imagining what you sound like when you really let go.”

I feel his words rumble between my thighs, awakening the dormant dragon that’s been waiting inside me since we were interrupted earlier, and through my haze I register that I’ve dropped the towel on the floor.

“Promise me something.” He runs his finger along my jaw, under my chin and tips my face up to his.

“Hmmm?” I’m still reveling in my body’s vibrations. He could ask for anything right now and I’d give it to him.

“Promise me this isn’t all we get.”

His words smack me back to reality.

“We have a lot to talk about,” I whisper.

“Yes,” he whispers back, nuzzling my ear. “We do.”

“Then no.”

He pulls back to study my face, his eyes wary. “No?”

“I mean no, this isn’t all we get.” I wrap my arms around him and stand on my toes to kiss him long and slow and deep. He sighs into the kiss and for the second time today Grady’s body is twined with mine. Soft mouth, soft hair, gentle hands.

Hard muscle. Hard cock.

If he doesn’t stop, I’m going to fuck him on my kitchen counter, which means I’ll be dirtying my kitchen and potentially scarring my children for life on the off chance they walk back in here. By the time we break for air we’re both panting.

“Right.” Grady’s voice is hoarse as I peel myself out of his arms.

“I’m off tomorrow,” I volunteer.

“You don’t have to go to the office? Check in?” He brushes his lips over mine once, then twice, and the third time he catches my bottom lip between his teeth.

“No.”

“We’ll continue this at my house tomorrow, then.”

His words send a delicious tremor through me. I lick my lips and nod.

“Get some rest tonight, because I’ve got eleven years to make up for.”

Oh, God.
“Grady—”

He cuts me off with another kiss and then murmurs against my lips, “I need to go now or I’m not leaving this kitchen and neither are

Grady

She was right in my hands. She was hot and willing and
right there
. I kissed her and touched her and smelled her and tasted her, and it was like coming home.

And then I was cock-blocked by my own son.
Jesus
. The poor kid didn’t even ask questions. I’ve never even seen the inside of Cassie’s bedroom in the eight years she’s owned that house, and Caden just accepted that I was there fixing her faucet. Without tools, no less. Either my boy is clueless or he’s a great actor.

Ares perks up at the sound of his leash. We usually only run in the mornings, but tonight my mind is too full of Cassie, and running is the only way I know to burn off all this adrenaline. The storm has blown past us, but the sky is still wild and the wind is as restless as I am. Luckily, Ares loves this weather, so he wags his tail and prances delightedly as I connect the leash to his collar.

I still can’t believe what happened today. Having Cassie back… and not just having her back. Her complete surrender. She gave me everything when she said she forgives me. When she kissed me and touched me and looked at me with those beautiful, dark, hungry eyes she made the past decade disappear. If only my brother was here to talk to about it.

I can hear Carl’s voice now, giving me the usual few minutes of banter before settling into the calm, steady speech he used when talking about something important. Fresh waves of pain and anger wash over me, and I realize that I haven’t really grieved my brother. I kept busy and then everything happened with Cassie. The searing pain that I felt when my mom called me with the news is back again, sawing through my chest, probing into my brain.

Underneath my joy is a sea of devastation that I have to deal with. I know from losing first my father and then my family that grief is a sneaky bastard best dealt with head-on. Acknowledge the feelings, let them have their moment, and send them packing. That’s been my strategy, and so far it’s worked.

So as much as I want to bury myself in Cassie and make everything else go away, I can’t. I need to go to her with a clear head and a heart that’s all hers to take, which means holding back a bit when all I want is her, every second of every day, to cuddle and kiss and make love to.

I hate taking things slow. But that’s what I need to do, for both of us. I saw the shadows of doubt in her eyes. I don’t want to imagine what would happen if she changed her mind, so I have to proceed very carefully with her.

By the time dusk cloaks the neighborhood half an hour later, Ares and I are the only ones on the street. Everyone else is tucked safely inside their homes, windows glowing yellow, smoke curling from some of the chimneys. The tang of wood smoke reminds me of the bonfire in Delaware and cleaning up with Cassie after everyone else had left. Cassie in my arms, her body pressed close, her face tilting up to mine, lips parted, that look in her eyes…

Shit.
I don’t want to wait days or even hours for that again. I want her now. I want to open the door when I get home and see her there, know that the kids are safe in their rooms, all of us under the same roof. She was mine in that bedroom today, and she was mine in the kitchen afterward. Now all I need to do is make it happen again. And again. Until she realizes we can be everything we dreamed we could be eighteen years ago.