Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(47)

Her eyes sparkle with mischief and happiness.

“Thanks for this.” I’m not sure if it’s the cool air or the moment, but tears shimmer along her lash line.

“Anytime, Gracie.”

On the ground we lift the bar and step out, making our way to the valet.

“You could have told me you didn’t like high places, Davis.”

I hand the ticket to the valet and touch the side of her mouth with one finger. “Yeah, but I would have missed out on this. And that was worth the price of admission.”

This time when she kisses me, I don’t expect it. She jumps to her toes and slams into my mouth, and I stumble back a few steps before catching her against me.

“Now your place,” she purrs.

The valet arrives with my car and I do as the lady asks.





Chapter 17


Davis


Grace’s fingernails rake across my shoulders as I plunge deep again. I search her face for signs she’s close, but she tells me with words instead.

“Almost there.”

Her panted words are paired with her beautiful tits bouncing as I continue working us closer and closer to bliss.

“Yes,” she hisses, clutching me tightly with her thighs and clawing at my back. Then I’m rewarded with my name, again and again—“Davis, oh God. Oh, Davis. Yes!”—as I follow her into oblivion.

In the middle of catching my breath, I kiss her neck, breathing her in and still connected where it counts.

“Worth the Ferris wheel,” I joke.

Her rich-as-chocolate-mousse laughter coats the room. “You’re too much.”

So are you.

I don’t say it out loud because there’s some truth there I’m not sure I want to acknowledge. I’ve arrived at a conclusion about Grace and me. It’s against my better judgment and sense of self-preservation, but I’m telling her tonight.

“Are you staying?” I pace to the bathroom to toss the condom. I check my reflection to find scratch marks down my back and grin. Is there anything better than a sex injury?

“Do you want me to stay?”

I poke my head around the corner of the en suite to find Grace draped on my charcoal gray sheets, her curves still tempting, though I sampled each and every one of them.

“Do you want to stay?” I lob back.

She smiles, tugs the sheet over her breasts—bummer—and nods. “I guess. I wasn’t sure if we were picking up where we left off before California or…”

When she doesn’t finish her thought, I go to her and sit on the edge of the bed.

“What would my going to California have changed?” I’m honestly curious.

“Distance can make things clearer,” she answers cryptically.

Distance made things clearer for me, but not in the way she’s implying. I push a rogue curl out of her eye—the one I’m going to nickname “Jyn” after the character from the new Star Wars movie. Such a rebel.

Another thought occurs, and it’s not a good one.

“What became clear to you, Gracie?”

I can take it. Even if she wants to back off—I can take it. Hanna didn’t clue me in at all, which left me eager to know the score sooner rather than later.

“Wasn’t that obvious when you surprised me at the bar?” Grace asks.

I think back to catching her against me in a hug—her arms choking my neck.

“You’re wondering where I stand,” I say.

She nods, uncertain. It’s cute that she’s uncertain, but only because I can ease her worries.

“I was going to invite you out with me Wednesday. If you’re free?”

“Wednesday is my day off,” she says. “What’s the occasion?”

This is a big step. Huge. I won’t be deterred from what I decided in San Francisco.

“It’s my grandmother’s eighty-fourth birthday. She lives south of Dayton, so I figured we could go hang out with her during the day and then get a nice hotel for overnight. I’ll have you home in time for your Thursday shift at noon.”

Her mouth drops open. “You know my schedule.”

“Dax told me.”

Her shock fades to hesitation. Meeting the family is a big ask. Then Grace does that thing where she surprises me—though I shouldn’t be surprised by her responses any longer.

“I’d love to meet your grandmother—especially if she’s the one who raised you.”

“One and the same,” I say, thinking, She’s going to love you.

“I hope she has a few old photo albums with pictures of you with buckteeth and bad haircuts.”

“Oh, she has those.” I slide into bed next to Grace. “She’s as sharp as a Ginsu knife too, so she’ll probably regale you with several unflattering stories about me.”

“Now I’m excited,” Grace says with a husky giggle.

“Yeah.” I give her a kiss. “So am I.”

—

Wednesday comes and Grace and I make the two-hour drive to the small town of Mysticburg. My grandmother raised me here until she peaced out when I turned nineteen. First she moved into a really cool condo, and then as her health started becoming a challenge and she needed more constant care, she moved to an assisted-living facility.