CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GRACE

Sunlight pours onto my face as my surroundings come into focus.

There's a blanket tucked underneath me, along with Wes's arm and leg protectively wrapped around my body. I'm pulled tight to him like a butterfly snug in its cocoon, and my eyes flutter shut to revel in the sensation.

I feel safe.

Like nothing can hurt me while under his protection.

My relaxed state doesn't last long, though, when all the water from yesterday catches up to me, and my bladder screams for relief.

Shouldn't I be dehydrated?

I try not to wake Wes, but he tenses around me while I'm extracting myself.

"Are you feeling sick again?"

"No, just have to pee," I say, slightly embarrassed despite it being a completely normal human function.

His arm lifts to let me go, but as soon as I return, he raises the cover and rumbles, "Come back to bed."

Wes's sleep roughened voice twines around my heart, and instinctively, I obey his command, carefully situating myself while he resumes his slumber behind me. His arm and leg sneak back around my body, but I don't mind.

We still need to have a conversation about what exactly we are to each other, but that can wait. I'm too content with what we are right now .

***

When I wake up again, Wes is gone.

Sitting up with a yawn, my curious gaze travels around his room. He doesn't have much. A lone bed, dresser, and nightstand fill the master bedroom. No pictures or plants. Nothing personal.

Wes saunters into the room as I cover another yawn, and the sight of his tattooed body in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt really shouldn't be such a turn-on.

At least not after a horrendous night of being sick.

"You're awake. How do you feel?"

"Better."

"Good. I'll bring you a piece of toast and some juice. We'll see how you handle it," he says before retreating.

Not wanting to be away from him, I gather his pillow and blanket then carry them to the living room couch with me. The space is half-complete by the looks of the carpet partially pulled up at one corner and different patches of paint on one wall.

"What are you doing?" The demanding tone snaps me out of my perusal of the work in progress.

"I want to stay warm, and your couch doesn't have any pillows." Sadly. I'll have to get some for him, because how comfortable could a couch be without throw pillows?

Buying things for a man's house is serious. You're still on the fence about his feelings, remember?

"You belong in bed. I would've brought breakfast to you." Wes shakes his head and brings a small plate with two pieces of toast and a little glass filled with orange juice to my spot on the couch.

He steps over an open toolbox. "Sorry for the mess. I'm in the middle of a long renovation."

He sits beside me and flips on the television, switching channels until Saturday morning cartoons appear on the screen.

I finish half of my breakfast, afraid to eat more even though my stomach has lost that nauseous feeling. I must've had a weird twelve-hour bug or maybe ate something weird to suddenly get sick last night.

Just my luck.

Everyone seemed friendly at the MC compound, and I wouldn't have minded getting to know Luna, Lindy, and Caroline better.

Too bad my stomach had other plans.

After breakfast, sleep must claim me again, because when I wake up, I'm laid out on the couch with my legs in Wes's lap. I try pulling them back, but he stops me with a firm grip on my ankle.

"It's fine. Now, you're not so scrunched up over there." His calloused palm strokes my leg absentmindedly as he continues to watch the television screen.

"I haven't shaved."

His concentration remains on the animated show. "Don't care."

"Well, good…" I mumble, confused and a little embarrassed. Although, he handled me vomiting multiple times, so a few hairy legs shouldn't deter him.

We veg out to cartoons until the channel switches to a football game. Wes turns to me with a brow raised. "Do you want to watch this?"

When I shake my head, he flips to a movie, and I laugh at his choice.

" Cars ?"

He shrugs sheepishly. "It's a good movie."

Okay, that's really sweet.

I tease him until the credits roll, and he tugs me further down the couch until I'm flat on my back, exposed for his tickling fingers. I playfully fight him off without success, my laughter ringing through the air.

Suddenly, Wes stops, poised over me, heat eclipsing the humor in his eyes. "I fucking love your laugh."

My breath hitches as I drag some much needed oxygen into my lungs. His body settles into mine, his hard cock nestling between my thighs perfectly.

"Wes... I need to know what this is. Before one of us runs off again."

Because it occurs to me that I've also given mixed signals. Jetting off after our first kiss. Scampering away after our impromptu ice cream date.

Wes isn't the only one to blame for our situation, but I also won't let it go much further without knowing what he's thinking.

What he's feeling.

He groans then collapses to the side of the couch, anchoring me to his body so I don't roll off the cushions.

"Damn if I know, Grace."

That's not exactly the answer I was hoping for.

"What do you mean? It's a simple question. Am I a casual hook-up or—" His hand covers my mouth to stop my nervous rambling.

"There's nothing casual about what I feel for you, and that's the problem." He scrapes a hand over his beard with a sigh.

"I don't understand."

"You're too good for me. If you're Jane, then I'm fucking Wickham—the no-good womanizer."

His reference to Pride and Prejudice distracts me for a second. Did he go and read the book after our discussion? Because that would be incredibly endearing.

"Wes—"

"No, let me get this out. Please." His thumb sweeps over my lips in a move reminiscent of the intimacy we shared at the ice cream shop. "I've never been interested in serious relationships. I enjoy being wild and free, answering to no one—especially a woman. My dad made that mistake. Married my mom but couldn't change who he was, a man bent on being a rolling stone. Add in the fact that the only connection they had was physical, and it was a recipe for disaster."

"That's why this thing between us shouldn't happen. There's chemistry, obviously." Wes plucks at my peaked nipple beneath his shirt. "But despite what the legend of heart sparks would have people believe, sparks eventually fizzle out to nothing but ash."

Damn. My heart breaks for what he's been through, but it shouldn't keep us apart. I learned that lesson the hard way—living a stunted life because of my family's issues.

"First of all, you are not your parents. If every child was forced to repeat their parents' mistakes, then I'd be in a loveless marriage with four kids and struggling to make ends meet with the measly checks I get from disability. I understand the fear of ending up like your mom and dad, trust me. That worry has held me back for more years than I care to admit. It's only recently that I'm finally breaking free from that toxic cycle, which is how I know you can do the same."

I wiggle from underneath Wes's arm to face him directly because he needs to hear this.

Hear it and believe it.

"There's nothing wrong with being wild and free. I want that, too. But it doesn't have to mean no strings attached. Why can't we be free together? Free to be ourselves and accept each other without conditions? I'm not too good for you, Wes. I'm just a woman doing her best to live a life worth living, and I think you're trying your best to do the same thing. Isn't it worth the risk of finding out if our best lives include each other?"

I'm not sure if it's all the self-help books and podcasts I've consumed or the work of Suitor's Crossing's heart sparks at play, but there's an audience of one cheering me on from inside my head.

Yes, girl, tell him!

Damn, when did you get so wise?

Wes's response will determine whether it actually has any effect, but whatever his reaction, I'm still proud of how calmly and bravely I voiced my opinion, my hope for our future. I've never done that before with anything.

A chuckle isn't what I expected.

It starts small then grows until his chest vibrates with the sound, tingling along my breasts and making my thighs rub together for relief. He may love my laughter, but his is sex personified.

Deep. Raspy. Teasing.

"Glad you find me so amusing," I huff, annoyed with my body's reaction when we're having a serious conversation.

Wes sobers and cups my cheek. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you or what you said. It's just that you kind of proved my point by being so smart and telling me to pull my head out of my ass in the politest way possible."

Well, when he puts it that way…

A tentative grin loosens my pinched mouth. "Does that mean you're going to listen to me? Or do I need to be less polite about what I want?"

"Baby, you couldn't be anything less than who you are, no matter how hard you tried, but you've given me a lot to think about."

He scoots down the couch to rest his head on my round stomach, inhaling loudly before releasing it in a rush. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." As if to punctuate his statement, he brushes his lips over my cotton-covered belly button.

"Okay." Because I'm done talking, too. I want more of his kisses. More of what Wes has only hinted at giving me in the past.

"Okay?" he asks, glancing up to figure out how certain I am.

Nodding, my fingers dive into his hair to drag him upward until our mouths are even with each other. I lick my lips, and Wes's gaze hones in on the spot like an eagle spotting its prey from a mile away.

That's me, the little mouse offering herself up to a dangerous predator, eager to be devoured by the fire in his eyes.