Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
The house is dark and quiet as I carry her through it. I feel the way she relaxes against me, arms looped around my neck, fingers idly tracing the back of it like she’s memorizing a pattern. Everything in me settles at that touch, which I find bizarre given our circumstances. Everything should be more complicated but truly, it just makes sense.
In my room, I set Maddie on the bed, her body glowing under the warm bulb of the bedside lamp. My eyes take a slow, greedy pass over everything I’ve been trying not to want for weeks. She returns my gaze with the same declaration of desire.
I join her, covering her body with mine. Her palms span my chest, and I feel like I might actually come apart from tenderness alone.
Is this because of what we share outside of sex? Did Gray’s death and Grayce alone bond us more deeply than we had imagined possible?
All questions I’m not keen to answer right now, because all I can think about is making love to her in a much different way.
I’m not in a hurry now. There’s less fire, more crackling embers. I take my time relearning the mouth I just devoured, mapping the places that make her tremble, figuring out what gentle feels like when I want to destroy. We move together again, slower this time, unhurried, and it’s just as fucking fantastic.
Maddie holds me and I hold her and there’s no couch to complain under us, no rush, no fear, just a joining that feels like it might carry us over the walls we’ve both lived behind. When she breaks again—quieter, deeper—I follow with a groan I couldn’t swallow if I tried.
After, we lie tangled in the hush and Maddie’s breath evens out against my chest. I fit my hand to the curve of her back to hold her close as she sleeps.
I stay awake a little longer, listening to the quiet house and thinking about how everything I’ve ever wanted seemed dangerous until the second we had the guts to reach for it.
I don’t know what we are in the morning. I don’t know what rules we need or how hard the world will try to shake this. I only know I’m convinced that this is the path we’re supposed to be on.
CHAPTER 19
Maddie
The baby monitor crackles, and for a second I think I’ve dreamed it, but then my whole body snaps wide awake. Until Grayce came into my life, I’d never been able to be so instantly alert and ready to battle demons when called.
I guess it’s a mom thing.
I stretch my arms over my head and cool air slips over my bare shoulders, and—oh God.
Atlas is in my bed.
No, wait… I’m in his bed.
Naked and tangled in sheets, his arm heavy across my waist. A full-body, theatrical memory slides through me, of what we did and how easily I let myself fall into him. Heat blooms in my cheeks even as a thread of anxiety blooms under my sternum.
The monitor pops again, cheerful, oblivious. “Da-da-da.”
Atlas jerks awake beside me, a sharp inhale, his hand going reflexively to the nightstand like he’s trying to turn off his alarm. Then the sound threads through—Grayce’s singsong da-da—and his expression changes all at once. The sleep falls off his face and he realizes he’s needed.
“I’ve got her,” I blurt, already ripping the sheet back before he can move.
He does the same. “No, I’ve got her.”
Atlas swings his legs over the side, grabbing sweatpants out of a dresser drawer and shoving long legs into them with athletic efficiency.
I stand there naked, because my clothes are down in the man cave and I’m frozen in place.
Atlas’s eyes flick down my body and his lips curve as appreciation shines in his eyes. “Now that’s a pretty picture.”
My cheeks flame, even though I’m not normally self-conscious. But his sexy tone throws me off and I pull the sheets back over me.
My hair is a wild snarl, the kind that says you made questionable decisions, and I rake my fingers through it to distract from this awkwardness.
It’s clear he finds me utterly adorable in my embarrassment and like a gentleman, he grabs one of his T-shirts from his drawer and tosses it to me. “Okay. You change her, I’ll get breakfast and coffee.”
A truce born out of deference to morning-after weirdness and I’m grateful. I nod like a bobblehead, because if I try to speak, the mix of tenderness and terror will slosh right out.
Atlas leaves the room, feet padding down the hallway. I roll out of bed and pull his t-shirt on. It swallows me up and smells like him, and yeah… I pull the collar up over my nose and inhale deeply.
So good.
But then Grayce babbles again, and I make my way upstairs to the nursery. I find her standing in her crib, tiny fingers hooked over the rail, hair a wispy halo of bedhead. She beams when she sees me—two bottom teeth, cheeks like peaches—and flaps her hands like I came back from war.