Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
I glance over at him, sitting across from me at the kitchen table, his strong hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Bear snores gently by the fire, his big black body stretched out in a way that makes my heart ache with how much he belongs here, how much I want to belong here too.
Grady catches me staring. His dark eyes narrow slightly, his lips pulling into that almost-smile that I’ve come to crave. “What’re you thinking about over there, beautiful?”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. He always does this—asks simple questions in that deep, gravelly voice of his and makes me feel like I’ve been stripped bare. “Just... Bear. How peaceful he looks.”
He snorts, leaning back in his chair. “Bear doesn’t have a care in the world. That old dog’s got it made.”
“And you?” I ask softly, before I can stop myself. “Do you feel like that? Like you’ve got it made?”
His gaze sharpens, and the playful flicker in his eyes turns serious. For a moment, I think I’ve overstepped, but then he stands and walks toward me, his heavy boots thudding softly against the wood floor.
I stay rooted in my chair, my heart thundering as he looms over me. He leans down, one hand braced on the back of my chair, the other gripping the edge of the table. His face is so close now, I can see the flecks of gold and green in his irises, the slight stubble on his jaw.
“Ask me that again,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble.
My breath hitches, and I swear I forget how to speak for a moment. “Do you feel... like you’ve got it made?”
His lips twitch, and for a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes fully. “Not yet,” he says simply. “But I’m starting to.”
The air between us feels electric, like one wrong move could set it ablaze. I force myself to look away, my hands clenching in my lap. “You say things like that, Grady, and I don’t know what to do with them.”
He straightens, his presence still heavy and commanding. “Maybe it’s time you start figuring it out, Sarah. Because I’ve been trying to hold back, and I’m not sure how much longer I can.”
My head snaps up, his words hitting me like a freight train. “Hold back?” I repeat, my voice trembling.
He nods, his jaw tight. “Since the moment Bear stole your cookies, sunshine. You walked into my life with that smile, looking like you didn’t have a clue how dangerous you were to me. And I’ve been fighting it ever since.”
I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Grady—”
He silences me with a kiss, his lips capturing mine with a tenderness that takes my breath away. For all his rough edges, his touch is impossibly soft, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter if he pushes too hard.
My hands find his shirt, clutching at the fabric as if it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. He deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against mine in a way that sends heat spiraling through my body. Every part of me feels alive, electric, like I’m discovering a whole new language in his arms.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breathing ragged. “Marry me tomorrow,” he murmurs. “Let me love you, Sarah. Let me show you.”
Tears prick at my eyes, and I nod, unable to find the words. He steps back, taking my hand and leading me toward the bedroom. The firelight dances across his face, highlighting the raw emotion in his eyes. I’ve never felt so exposed, so wanted.
The room is bathed in a soft glow from the lamp on the nightstand. Grady turns to me, his hands finding the hem of my sweater. “Can I?” he asks, his voice rough.
I nod, lifting my arms as he pulls it over my head. His eyes rake over me, dark and full of something primal that makes my knees weak. “You’re beautiful,” he says simply, the words carrying a weight that makes my heart ache.
I reach for him, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He stills my hands, guiding them with a patience that steadies me. When his chest is bare, I let my hands roam over his warm skin, marveling at the strength beneath my fingers.
“You’re staring,” he teases, his lips quirking up.
I bite my lip, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Maybe I like what I see.”
His laugh is low and rich, and he pulls me close, his lips finding mine again. This time, there’s no hesitation, no holding back. His hands explore my body with a confidence that leaves me breathless, his touch igniting a fire that burns hotter with every passing second.
“You know, I never pegged you for the kind of guy that talks at town meetings,” I say.