Five Days Grace Page 19

  "Ahh, honey. Don't do that. Don't cry—"

  "I know. I promised I wouldn't. It's just... You've been through so much, and it was so hard."

  "Grace, you asked me not to treat you differently, after I found out your husband just died."

  She nodded, knowing where this was headed.

  "Please don't do that to me, either—"

  "I'm not sure I can." Because she ached for him and what he'd endured. "I hate thinking of you going through anything like that—"

  "Then don't. Don't think about it." He gave her something close to a real smile, the first she'd seen since he told her what had happened to him. "The last few months, I was in a hospital full of wounded soldiers, wounded so badly I don't know how they survived. I know some of them weren't sure they wanted to survive. I was there or in rehab, and rehab hurts like a son of a bitch. That's been my world. But now I'm here with you, and that's been amazing—"

  "I've been whining about my sad, little life—"

  "No, baby. You're laughter and beautiful smiles and soft, sweet-smelling skin. You actually made me laugh when I hadn't in months, when I wasn't sure I could. You made me happy to be alive, for the first time in a long time. You are pure sunshine. Don't stop. Don't change."

  "Okay. I won't." If that was what he needed from her, she'd do it.

  She wrapped her arms around him and just held on, because she wanted to. Because there was no place she knew that felt as good as being in his arms, and she hoped he felt the same way. Grace wanted him to be happy. No, not just happy. She wanted him to feel safe and needed and loved.

  She'd thrown herself at him—verbally—earlier in the day, and he hadn't taken her up on that offer. He'd wanted to get his story out first.

  Well, now he had. So, did she need to say, By the way, just in case you were wondering, my earlier offer's still good... Or maybe words just wouldn't cut it. Maybe the time had come for action.

  Grace took a breath. He felt so good, so solid and warm, a big, strong man, so different from anyone in her world. She'd been in art school for her whole life, it seemed, and then married to a painter. Men in the art world did not have muscles like these. They didn't have a big, dangerous side and go off to wars and live through horrible things. They weren't wounded like this. She'd never been with a man like him, never wanted a man this much, never wanted so much to make everything better for a man.

  Should she go for the subtle approach or do something like be naked under the blankets when he came to bed?

  "It's been a long day," she said finally, slipping out of his arms. "Let's go to bed."

  He looked like he might argue, like he might wonder what she was up to, but he didn't argue, just took the dog out one last time, while she ran through the shower. She wanted to smell really good. She wanted her skin to be warm and her cheeks pink from the heat of the water.

  God, she was nervous.

  Grace had never tried to seduce a man. She'd never had to. Men came after her, came onto her, and she knew that was not about who she really was. It was some accident of birth, a certain mix of DNA. Men of a certain kind really liked the way she looked. She would never let it mean more than it actually was.

  But Aidan saw her. He knew her. Oh, he liked the way she looked, but that was just a part of why he liked her and wanted her. But he thought his life was too messed up to have her be a part of it, so he wasn't going to make the first move. It was up to her.

  Grace didn't do first moves. She fended them off like crazy, only letting a man get close to her once she was certain it was about much more than him loving her blonde hair and blue eyes, her smile or her breasts.

  In the shower, under the spray of the water, she thought again of being there with Aidan, his hands brushing accidentally against her, his heated gaze on her, her whole body coming alive again. The sight of herself in that bathroom mirror, soaked, the cloth of her thin T-shirt acting less to conceal her body and more to accentuate every one of her curves. It had reminded her of the photos she'd seen of women wearing nothing but body paint, naked but not quite naked. She'd felt exactly like that—like she might as well have been naked in front of the man.

  Her whole body felt overly warm and sensitive, even under her own fast-moving hands. She missed being touched by a man, being held, being kissed, missed having a man's firm, hard body on top of hers, and she wanted Aidan. Grace had meant it with all her heart when she'd told him she wanted him, regardless of what they could or couldn't do. She firmly tried to shut out of her mind the question of whether she'd be able to satisfy him, whether she'd be able to arouse him to the point where they could have conventional sex. If they went into this with that as their goal... Well, that just wouldn't be the goal. As she'd told him, there was so much more to sex, so many things that felt so good.

  Okay, that would work, Grace decided. She knew she could make him feel good, and he could certainly do that for her. That would be her goal, the sole criteria. She would make the man feel really good. What else did they really need?

  Chapter 16

  Once she made up her mind about that—she'd focus on simply what felt good and making him feel good—it got easier. She slipped into her plain, cotton pajamas, wishing she had anything else she could wear, and walked into the living room, telling the dog to lie down on the blanket she had put out for him in the corner and hoping he'd stay there.

  Aidan was already lying on the mattress by the fire, a big, strong man, hurting in every fiber of his being. She ached to take some of the pain away and replace it with pleasure and joy, and she believed she could, at least for a little while.

  She climbed into bed, stretching out on her back, and Aidan leaned over her to press a hand to the side of her face. She pulled his head down to hers for a soft, sweet kiss, thinking it was so nice to climb into a bed already warmed by a man's body, even better to be able to snuggle up against him.

  She gave him a gentle push onto his back and curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder. Time to make her move. She started with a hand pressed flat over the bare skin over his heart, then let it wander. Ever so slowly, using her fingertips, she stroked lightly down that little hollow in the middle of his chest and played in the little curls of hair there. She traced that path, nearly down to his belly button, again and again as his breath hitched and then came out on a long hiss. She felt her whole body getting heavier, humming with desire, her blood thrumming pleasantly.

  He rolled onto his side once again, dislodging her hand, kissing her forehead softly. "Go to sleep, baby."

  Instead, she traced the line of his collarbone and then that hollow at his throat. It wasn't until she stretched out her fingers and rolled her fingertips in a wide arc around one of his nipples, playing with that intriguing mound of warm, male flesh, that he objected.

  Catching her hand in his and holding onto it, he said, "Grace, you should think about this. Think about all that I told you today and figure out if you really want—"

  "Shh. Just let me touch you. Just for a little while." Determined, she rushed on before he could say anything else. "I happen to like touching you, very much."

  Grace traced every intriguing indention in his chest, all those taut muscles that gave it such definition, down along the ribs, down the center and around his belly button. With her head on his shoulder, she could watch every move. It seemed like a thousand tiny muscles clenched and released as she brushed past each and every one of them.

  Her fingertips traced little circles around his belly button. Below it, the thin line of hair on his belly broadened and thickened. She ran her fingertips through every bit of it, savoring the fact that his heart wasn't beating nearly as slowly now. Next, she used her fingernails lightly, until he moaned, his hand gentle as it cupped her head, like he just couldn't keep from touching her for a moment longer.

  Working up her nerve, she slid her hand down beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, brushing along the side of his cock.

  His sucked in air, tensed i
nstantly.

  He wasn't hard. Not really.

  Okay.

  "Honey, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't think—"

  "Don't think," she said, still stoking him there as lightly and slowly as she had everywhere else. "Just feel. Does it feel good? Having me touch you like this?"

  "Yes," he said raggedly.

  "Then I'm going to keep touching you, because I like it, too."

  "What about you?" he asked, reaching for her with his other hand.

  "Later," she said, firmly pushing his hand away.

  She felt a new kind of tension come into his body, as if he wasn't sure about that. Or maybe he thought it would take some effort, some concentration on his part, to not touch her.

  And that gave her an idea of how to give him something else to think about besides whether he had an erection. Tell a man he couldn't touch you, and the thought seemed to consume him. Let him think of that instead.

  Grace raised her head from her spot against his shoulder. She took his free hand in hers, bent his elbow and tucked his hand in behind his own head. "Keep it there."

  He raised an eyebrow at that. "You're going to order me around now?"

  "Yes. If you follow the rules, you can keep the other hand on my head." Now that she'd thought about it, she liked the idea of ordering him around. She doubted many women had. "You can breathe. You can moan. You can tell me if something feels especially good and maybe ask nicely for more. But that's it. It's my turn, and I get to do whatever I want."

  He thought about that for a moment. "And when it's my turn, I get to do the same? Anything I want to you?"

  "I've already told you that you could, silly man. Don't blame me if you didn't take advantage of the offer the first moment I made it. Now you have to wait."

  He shook his head. "I just... don't want you to regret this."

  She laughed. Was he kidding? He had to be. "Aidan, I could never regret this."

  "Okay, honey." Firelight danced off his face, his whole body, as he said it. "I surrender. It's your show."

  An interesting choice of words.

  Her show?

  She could put on a little show for him, if she had the nerve.

  Grace rose up on her knees, wishing again that she had something a lot sexier than plain, cotton pajamas. Next time, she promised herself. At least she had a few buttons to work with on her top.

  Lifting the fabric up from the bottom, she let him get a peek at the skin of her abdomen, then opened the bottom button. She had the man's full attention, as he lay there with one hand tucked behind his head, as ordered, obedient as could be.

  She pulled the ends of her top open and drew little circles on her belly, as she had on his, to see if he liked that. Judging from his expression—his mouth stretching into a tight line, eyes following every move she made—he did.

  "I've never really understood men's fascination with watching women touch themselves," she said.

  "We imagine it's our hands doing the touching," he said. "Or maybe, that it's yours, but only because we're not there to touch you, and you really wished we were."

  "Oh."

  "I'm allowed to say that?"

  "You're allowed to answer questions," she decided, stroking her hand along her own collarbone and, as he suggested, thinking that hand was his.

  Mmm. That was more interesting. Especially watching his face as she did it.

  She undid the top button of her pajama top, pulling the ends open, with her fingertips stroking along the now-visible top curve of her breast.

  "You wish you were the one touching me?" she asked.

  "Yes." It came out as nothing more than an urgent hiss.

  Oh, she liked this more than she thought she would, playing this little game, her fingertips stroking the top of her breasts, pretending it was him touching her this way.

  "And if you can't touch me, you want me to touch myself for you?"

  "Yes." He sounded like he was wound up even more tightly than before.

  Grace laughed, feeling powerful and so happy.

  She undid the third button, another one from the bottom. Only one left, right between her breasts, which had gone all heavy and tingly. They wanted his touch so badly, his gaze, his mouth. She let out a little moan of her own as she stroked the delicate underside of her breasts, always so sensitive. Men never paid enough attention to the underside or the outsides, she thought. Aidan made a choking sound and swore softly.

  "You wanted to touch me like this in the shower yesterday."

  "God, yes."

  "From the way it looked, I really might as well have taken all my clothes off and been naked in front of you."

  "Not quite, but close," he said.

  She put her fingers on the last button and asked, "Are you ready for this one?"

  "Yes, please."

  She decided more tormenting was in order. "I don't think so."

  Instead, she leaned over his body, kissed him softly on his wonderful mouth, pulling back and shaking her head when he tried to deepen the kiss. When he accepted that without protest, she decided he needed a little reward.

  Unbuttoning that last button, she let her top fall open in the middle, then clasped his free hand in hers and stroked the back of his hand down the strip of skin she'd bared. It did no more than graze the insides of her breasts, and his body felt so tense, she thought he was going to end her little game at any moment, flip her onto her back and take charge completely.

  But he didn't.

  "Very good," she told him, pulling one side of her shirt away and baring one breast to him.

  His gaze was so intent, it felt like a physical presence on her skin, and her nipple turned hard as a pebble. She ached for him to touch her, especially there. How long she could keep tormenting them both, she didn't know. But she had the man's full attention, and she'd bet every thought in his head was a happy one at the moment.

  She pulled her top off and threw it aside. Pushing past her own inhibitions—for him, just for him—she let her own hands slide up her ribcage and palm the underside of her breasts, imagining those hands were his big, hot, gentle, patient hands on her. They'd feel so good. She ached for those hands.

  "Mmm," she said, because it was so easy to imagine his hands on her.

  When she let her fingertips roll around her nipples, she earned another urgent hiss of breath from him. She thought she detected a hint of sweat along the line of his upper lip, and his eyes had turned so dark they were almost black in the firelight.

  Not sure how far she could bring herself to take this, she let her hands sink down her belly, grazing the top of her pajama bottoms. They had a little string tie in the middle, tied in a bow. He groaned when her hands started playing with the strings.

  "You've been thinking about these?" she asked, holding the ends of the strings.

  "Yes."

  "About what would happen if you let yourself pull this little string?"

  "Yes."

  She pulled one end until the bow disappeared. The pajamas were loose without the strings tied, loose enough to slide down her waist to the top of her hips, but no farther. He watched as her pajamas fell and then held low on her belly. She played with the skin there below her belly button and above the material, and he looked like he was being strangled.

  "You're doing very well," she told him.

  His expression turned even more grim. "The only thing keeping me going is knowing I get to do all of this to you."

  She wondered for the first time exactly what he might want to do to her in return, realized with a bit of alarm that she really hadn't thought this through before she'd started it. She'd worry about that later. He was having a very good time, she thought, doing exactly as he'd been told.

  Grace rewarded him with one, slow, delicious kiss and forgot for a second that she was naked from the waist up. Which meant when she leaned over to kiss him, her breasts ended up pressed against his bare chest, and didn't that feel perfectly delicious? Too good, actually, if she
was going to keep playing this little game a while longer. Denying him, at this point, was denying herself, as well, and her whole body ached for him already.

  She sat up, while she still could, breaking the kiss while he was trying to take it deeper. But he let her stop it. It gave her a delicious, little thrill that he'd given her this kind of control. She leaned over him again, propping her weight up on her arms, and sank down just enough that her nipples grazed his chest, and then she slowly crawled down his body, trying to keep them just like that. Barely touching him. She succeeded, kind of, laughing as she did it, and then gave up on that idea. Too many dips and swells to that chest and abdomen of his, rising and falling with every breath he took. Besides, she wanted to touch him all over, had hardly any patience left.

  So she let herself lie there against him, one thigh slipping between his hard-muscled ones, her breasts pressed to the warm skin of his abdomen. She started licking him, that little hollow down the center of his chest that she'd traced with her fingertips, even nibbled on one of his bottom ribs.

  His hand settled against her head once again. She could feel the tension in his fingers, but he didn't use any pressure, didn't try to guide her in any way, just held his hand there on her. So she allowed the touch.

  When she dragged her tongue across one of his nipples, his whole body bucked beneath hers and he groaned out loud, thrilling her to no end to know she could draw that kind of reaction from him. Especially when she knew how hard he was trying not to move.

  She raised herself up on her arms, tried to give him a stern, disapproving look.

  "You gotta be kidding me," he protested.

  And she rose up on her knees and just stared at him, not touching him at all, until he looked properly sorry, or at least tormented. Then she turned her attention to his other nipple, licking it like a little girl with an ice cream cone and then sucking—hard—liking having that hard nub in her mouth as his breathing became ragged and his whole body tensed.