Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) (20 page)

“It’s sad,” I reflect.

“I feel it’s appropriate,” he states, then continues. “The man is pleading with her to understand that she’s the only one for him, but she doesn’t believe him, or she doesn’t care. Either way, he’s asking her to draw her swords, to challenge him so she can truly understand how much she means to him. He’s telling her they are meant for each other and to stop wasting time fucking around. At least, that’s my take on it. It probably means something else, but whenever I’ve heard it, I’ve thought of you, always drawing your swords. Still do.”

I lift my head, meeting his eyes, and grin. “Well, if nothing else, I’m definitely challenging.”

He smiles back at me and winks. “Nothing I can’t handle. I’m always up for a good challenge.”

My grin widens tenfold and I surprise myself with my bluntness. “Are you saying I’m the one for you, Grady Bennett?”

“The only one,” he answers, right along with the man singing. His tone is full of conviction, and the sincerity in his returning stare stops my feet from moving.

And in the strength of that gaze, I find courage to ask him the one question that’s been plaguing me since our time earlier at the gym. “You really think I’m a fighter?”

Grady releases my hand to trail his knuckles gently down my cheek. “I do. I see it in your eyes. Your fire still burns, sweetheart, whether you can feel it or not.”

I will myself not to become sad with his words, because I know it’s there. I feel it sometimes, flickering somewhere within the depths of my past, but I’m too scared to approach it. The fight that lies before me is one that threatens to take me into complete nothingness. I’m not sure my fire will ever burn brightly enough to protect me from that.

Grady speaks, interrupting me from my thoughts. “Do you trust me yet?”

I release a tiny laugh as I answer honestly, “I’m getting there.”

He grins and moves closer to resume our dance, but I have something else in mind. I may not be the best at discussing my thoughts or vocalizing my feelings, but I do know how to use my body to communicate. And I want to show him exactly what
getting
there
means for me. It may seem crazy to anyone else, but to me it makes perfect sense. Because in learning to trust Grady, in order to be able do so wholly, I need to bare myself to him. This isn’t about sex for me. It’s about my body, my most protected vulnerability. It’s about the control associated with it, in how I use it and how I allow it to be used, as I readily hand that power over to him.

I lower my arms, tucking my fingers under the hem of my tank, and drag it slowly up and over my head. It hangs in between my clutched fingers before finally dropping to the floor.

He holds my stare, his eyes drifting nowhere else as they desperately search mine, seeking motive. I can’t explain it to him, not yet. I’m not at the point where I can discuss why this is so important, but I know in my heart, this is what I need to do. So, with my voice so soft, it’s barely heard above the music, I whisper, “Touch me.”

Seconds pass, our stares impenetrable, before he finally relents, lifting his hand and trailing his fingers down the skin covering my stomach. The muscles quiver below his feather-light touch, but instead of going lower, they circle around my waist and then run lightly up my back. My lids drift closed from the sensation of his stroking fingers along my skin, and with each pass, my ever-present guard slowly begins to lower.

Swallowing deeply, my gaze returns to his. I reach behind me with both hands to unclasp my bra, leaving the straps hanging from my shoulders as he watches.

He shuts his eyes, drawing in a long breath and clenching his jaw. I know it’s restraint on his part, and in this moment as I watch his reaction, I breathe an inward sigh of relief. In some odd way, even though I’ve never told him of my past, he
understands
me. Something I never thought I would be lucky enough to experience again. But as he looks deeply into my eyes, that same strange pull happens for a third time.

I feel our interweaving connection as it laces. It tightens, securing us together, and I begin to feel lighter as I offer him yet another piece of me. I want so badly to give him everything that has weighed on me since I was eight years old, but I know if I were to do just that, I could lose him. So I give him what I can.

Eyes never leaving mine, he lifts his hands and slides the pads of his fingers over the straps of my bra, then hooks them, gradually sliding them over my shoulders and down my arms. Heat trails his touch as it glides down my skin until the fabric lands on the carpet below us. My hands find the bottom of his shirt, seeking permission before he nods, and I lift it upward. The sight of his muscles flexing mesmerizes me as he takes over, arms crossing in front of his toned stomach before he yanks the shirt over his head and discards it to the floor. We remain fixed where we stand, neither of us moving, but taking the time to absorb the sight of our bare flesh as it’s exposed.

I become intoxicated in a way I’ve never experienced.

My fingers itch to touch—no, devour his gorgeous body. Feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. Scrape my nails down the ripples of his abs. Hear him moan as they inch their way downward.

I want all of that with him.

Under his scrutiny, I don’t feel embarrassed. I don’t feel dirty or thoroughly repulsed by what we’re doing. There is just the beauty of this moment, of two people introducing their vulnerabilities, as we both stand bare-chested in the center of his living room.

I feel completely comfortable in my own skin as desire builds. It rushes me, a surging swell of fire that ignites every cell in its wake. My body is an endless sea of tingles as it comes alive beneath his gaze.

His eyes rake over me, the blistering heat in them evident, but he takes no step in my direction. He stands, unmoving, allowing this time for us both to savor the sight of each other’s bodies. I peruse his muscled shoulders, then down his defined chest and chiseled abs before finally drifting up to his face.

His mouth quirks at the side, forming a crooked smile as he whispers, “Perfection. All of you.”

The ideal of flawlessness stands in front of me, and
he
thinks
I’m
perfection?

Speechless.

I can’t fight the smile as it forms on my lips. Grady simply shakes his head, pleased grin still on his face. “That smile. There it is. And just when I thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful.”

This earns an even wider smile, and I step closer to him, instigating our movement. He closes the distance, and as another song begins to play, he takes my hand and gently tugs me, my naked breasts connecting with the heat of his skin.

I suck in a breath, the sensation overwhelming me. My nipples harden and stiffen with every brush of his chest against mine. He lowers his arm, wrapping it around my waist, and fastens me to his body as we continue our dance.

Wow. I was sorely mistaken before.

This
is heaven.

His fingers trace lightly along my lower back, and mine stroke along the hollow of the muscles lining his. Grady lowers his head and I feel the scorch of his lips caress my temple. His heated breaths soothe me as he makes his way down my cheek to the corner of my mouth.

I turn my head slightly, and when those lips land on mine, a hungry moan escapes me, finding exit into his open mouth. Our tongues touch, stroking and caressing. His hand disappears, finding the elastic band at the back of my head. My hair tumbles with its release, falling across my shoulders and grazing my mid-back. Strong fingers are lodged where it lines the nape of my neck, sifting through the strands and hooking them tightly. My body arches in his hold as I’m lowered, held by his strength and my fingers curl around his biceps, for touch alone, nothing else.

I place in him my ultimate trust as I surrender my weight in his arms, and he doesn’t disappoint. He lowers me away from his body until his eyes find mine. “Fucking phenomenal.”

Keeping his hold firm, he lowers his mouth to trail kisses along my collarbone and between my breasts. Each of his kisses are gentle—reverent as he takes his time—as though worshipping my body. His tongue laps gently along the swell of my breast, alternating with open-mouthed kisses before crossing to find my nipple.

Slick warmth envelops it, spurring my whimper. His tongue works mercilessly, flattening over its hardness before flicking it lightly. My hands find his head, fiercely wrenching his hair free before clutching my fingers tightly through its silky strands. Teeth playfully nibble my skin, and my body jolts in pleasure. I tug the hair wound within my grasp.

A growl erupts from Grady’s chest before he ceases his relentless assault, but only to redirect to the other breast, which has been excitedly waiting its turn. I remain suspended in his arms, allowing the sensations of passion and need to flood me. Feelings I have never allowed myself to experience, their enjoyment never before possible. I smile and bite my lip, desire overtaking me with each lap of his tongue.

His lips seal around my breast, and he presses a kiss on its surface before pulling me closer and lifting me to his chest. He rises, taking me with him, and as soon as I’m standing, he bends, taking my mouth with his. I open for him and he moans deeply. His warm tongue sweeps along mine, deeply and languidly with each stroke, tasting me. Our mouths are perfectly aligned, sealed together, nothing able to break us apart.

I’ve never felt worshipped before.

Savored.

Tasted.

Cherished.

I’m in dangerous territory here, because when he gives up trying to find me . . . When his patience eventually ceases . . .

As though reinforcing my worry, his phone vibrates on the coffee table beside our legs.

Slowly, his tongue traces the seal of my mouth before his teeth nip my bottom lip, then he ends the kiss with a sweet peck. As he steps back, our gazes remain unbreakable and our heavy breaths alternate with vibrations of his cell as both fill the air.

“I need to get this. I’m sorry.”

His expression is one of apology, and I shake my head.

“Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere.”

A contented smile crosses his face when he lifts his hand, curling his fingers at the base of my neck and stroking my cheek with his thumb. “Good thing, sweetheart, because neither am I.”

I jerk my head in the direction of the table, indicating for him to answer the call. Grin still present, he leans to kiss my forehead, then bends to retrieve his phone. While leaning, his fingers hook my bra and he tosses it clear across the room. Then, he snakes my tank top off the floor, impishly waggling his eyebrows. Smiling openly, I accept the shirt and he releases me with a wink then turns, answering the phone on his way out of the room.

I just stand there, watching the muscles of his back work as he walks away, thinking that Grady Bennett is indeed a very
decent
man. And along with that thought circle many other unrelenting assertions.

I’m in danger.

I’m beginning to trust this man.

I can no longer deny it.

I’m falling for Grady.

And all I can think when he shuts the door behind him is, will he leave me too?

LYING IN GRADY’S BED
, I inhale deeply, listening to the sound of his bare feet cross the floor. As his scent fills my nostrils, my entire body relaxes and I nestle comfortably into the warmth of the cotton sheets draped around me.

This isn’t the first time I’ve spent the night in this room. Over the past couple weeks, this sleeping over nonsense has become a very dangerous habit. One I seem incapable of breaking.

The mattress dips as he slides in next to me, and with the magnetism of his presence, my body turns on its side, pulled in his direction to face him. I tuck my hands under my cheek and lock eyes with his as he turns, positioning our faces inches apart.

His mouth curls into a satisfied grin and he lifts his hand, pressing the hair off my forehead before trailing the tips of his fingers along my cheek.

“Hi.”

Laughter bubbles through my nose with my response. “Hi.”