Accidentally on Purpose 6 Book Box Set

by L. D. Davis

  He chuckled when I gave him the finger and told him to go fuck himself. Then he was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was asleep on the couch in the nook when Grant finally returned. I was awoken by Dusky licking my hand excitedly and trying to climb into my lap. Too sleepy to be bothered, I tried to push him away.

  “Go lay down,” I murmured without opening my eyes.

  Grant began to pull me to my feet. “Come on.”

  “You go lay down, too,” I said irritably as I tried to push his hands off me.

  He chuckled. “Only with you, Baby Girl.”

  I opened my eyes and let him pull me up. He kissed my temple and began to guide me toward his bedroom with one arm wrapped around me. Anxiety suddenly swelled inside at that thought. It wasn’t my first time sleeping in a bed with Grant, but it was my first time sleeping in a bed with Grant in more than thirteen years. Hell, I hadn’t slept with any man in a bed in years.

  I looked up at his face to try to gauge his thoughts and feelings. He smiled down at me, but I didn’t see lust or anything like it in his eyes. He just seemed exhausted. When I started to look away, my eye caught a familiar hot pink strap over his shoulder. My eyebrows shot up.

  “Why do you have my duffel bag?”

  “I needed something to put your clothes and toiletries in. I even grabbed a couple dresses for you out of your closet. They’re still hanging up in the car, but I’ll get them for you in the morning.”

  I stopped just as we reached the hallway to the bedrooms and pulled away from him.

  “You went through my closet?” My eyes widened as another realization hit me. “You went through my underwear drawer?” I shrieked.

  “Sshhh!” He put a finger to my lips and glanced down the hall behind me.

  I smacked his finger away from my mouth and put my hands on my hips as I glared at him.

  “It’s bad enough that you stole my keys and deserted me here with your spawn, but then you stole my dog and rooted through my closet and panties!”

  “Keep it down,” he quietly commanded, but he wore a smile on his lips. He was so amused that he was almost laughing, which only fired me up more.

  I managed to keep my voice down when I demanded, “What is so funny?”

  “You are.” He put a hand on my waist and forcefully pulled me close. His head dropped close to mine as he peered into my eyes. “Stop trying to start a fight just because you’re nervous.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are, but we’re just going to sleep tonight. I promise.”

  I looked at him with distrust, but other than bending the truth about our reunion, Grant wasn’t one to lie. His face was open and honest.

  “Okay,” I said with some reluctance. “But I’m still not happy about you going through my underwear.”

  He gave me a one shoulder shrug and a grin. “Well, I rather enjoyed it.”

  I punched his arm, unamused. He rubbed at the spot, laughing quietly. Dusky came over to investigate, doggy-smiling up at us. It reminded me of how Nat had grinned up at us earlier. They were both cute, but one was hairier, and I knew for sure that Dusky was housebroken. I couldn’t say the same about Natalie.

  I rubbed his furry head affectionately—Dusky’s, not Grant’s.

  “Did you have any problems getting my boy?”

  Grant groaned. “Your neighbor thought I was trying to rob you. He came at me, dukes up, and asked me if I wanted to tussle.”

  I laughed so loud that he had to put a hand over my mouth.

  My neighbor, Mr. Gibbons, was about two hundred years old, ninety pounds soaking wet, and was probably only a little more than half Grant’s height.

  “Why do you make that little old man walk your big ass dog?”

  “I don’t make him,” I said, still giggling. “He offers since he has his own dog to walk.”

  “You mean that yappy little Chihuahua? Dusky can eat them both in one bite and still have room for dessert after.”

  I grinned. “I’m still waiting for him to eat you. So, how did you handle Mr. Gibbons?”

  “I told him I was your boyfriend.” He raised an eyebrow as if he dared me to argue. “I had to show him the video Alex shot of us earlier.”

  When we had played Chutes and Ladders, Grant and I got into an argument. The kids had found it hilarious and Alex recorded twenty seconds of me throwing game pieces at Grant and calling him a cheater.

  “He believes I’m your boyfriend, but now he also believes that I cheat on you,” he said, sighing. “He threatened to castrate me and to shove my balls down my throat if I hurt you.”

  I laughed softly. “He’s the sweetest old man.”

  “Hmm.” He sounded doubtful as he took my hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

  I’d been inside Grant’s bedroom on Saturday when I had to change out of my wet clothes. His bed had been neatly made that day, but now it looked slept in. I stared at it and pictured how his body had lain in the bedding. I knew the sheets and pillows probably smelled heavily of him. The urge to crawl into the bed and wrap myself in the sheets was overwhelming.

  Grant passed me my duffel bag, forcing me to look away from the bed. I was surprised when he looked at me with uncertainty. He almost seemed shy as his eyes kept darting away from mine.

  “I wasn’t sure what to grab for you to wear to bed, so I didn’t get anything.”

  My eyebrows went skyward. “Were you expecting me to sleep in just my bra and panties?”

  “As appealing as that sounds, I thought that I’d lend you another T-shirt and lounge pants if you want them.”

  I felt my cheeks warm as blood rushed to my face. We stood a couple feet apart, both looking rather awkward and unsure like a pair of teenagers—well, normal teenagers. Not the kind of teenager I had been.

  I swallowed hard and softly responded. “I’ll just have the T-shirt. You know I hate having anything on my legs when I’m in bed.”

  His voice was just as soft as he gazed at me. “I remember.”

  I stared back at him, afraid to move. As comfortable as I was with my body, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to change in front of him. For that matter, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to change in front of me, either.

  Dusky broke the tension when he sat down in front of me and whined.

  “I left his bowls and food in the car,” Grant murmured, snapping back to reality. “Your neighbor fed him, but he might get thirsty and I’m not too thrilled about him drinking toilet water.”

  “Did you walk him?”

  “Yeah, just before we came home. I’ll go get his things and your dresses.”

  He left and I sighed with relief. While he was gone, I hurriedly rooted through his dressers—guilt free since he did root through mine—and found a T-shirt. I went into the master bath and opened up my duffel bag. I was relieved to find the big makeup bag I kept on my bathroom sink in there. It contained a little bit of everything, including a toothbrush, deodorant, and feminine hygiene products—which I was happy I didn’t need. By the time I finished my business, brushed my teeth, and let my hair down, I could hear Grant moving around in the bedroom.

  I inhaled deeply before opening the door. I stepped into the bedroom, nervously tugging on the T-shirt as I tried to cover my thighs. As Grant stood beside the bed watching me, shirtless and in low-hanging lounge pants, I began to regret my no-pant stance.

  My eyes moved to his bare skin. He had really toned up since the last time I saw him shirtless. His chest was hairless, probably shaved off or waxed away, but there was a fine line of hair that started at his navel and disappeared under his pants. I made a concentrated effort to look away from that region of his body. When I looked at his face again, I discovered that his eyes were on my bare legs.

  “Your dresses are hanging in my closet,” he said abstractedly.

  I nodded in acknowledgment—even though he probably couldn’t see my head moving. I couldn’t make my feet move to the bed. I stood awkwardly by the bathroom
door and watched him gaze at my legs. I began to feel very self-conscious when he finally dragged his eyes away from my body. He shook his head as if to clear it, cleared his throat, and attempted to straighten the messy bedding.

  I finally got my feet to move and went to the other side of the bed. “Don’t worry about it. We’re going to get in it and mess it up again anyway.”

  His eyes widened at that.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly.

  “Sure it isn’t.” He winked at me and went into the bathroom.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and got into the bed. As I lay on my side, I turned my nose to the pillow and inhaled. I was gratified to find that I was right. The bed did smell like him.

  Grant came out of the bathroom a minute later. He got into the bed just as Dusky nosed the door open. Accustomed to sleeping with me, he jumped on the bed and sniffed around, making loud snuffling noises.

  “Are you done yet?” Grant asked him impatiently after several moments.

  “He’s trying to get comfortable in a new place. Your kids don’t sniff new surroundings?”

  He sighed and gave me a dry look as he tried hard not to look as amused as he really was.

  “Dusky, lay down,” I commanded.

  He whined once, pawed at the bed three times, and then lay down at our feet.

  “I’m going to buy him a dog bed,” Grant muttered as turned off the light.

  The room was cast into darkness. The bed shifted slightly as he moved closer to me. A few heartbeats later, his hand found my hip and he tugged gently.

  “Come here,” he murmured.

  I did. I closed the distance between us and tangled my body with his and rested my head on his chest above his racing heart. One of his hands wove its way into my curls and his other hand slowly caressed my bare thigh. After a couple silent minutes, he sighed deeply and his whole body relaxed. My body relaxed, too. I melted into him and felt both the familiarity and the newness of his body.

  I couldn’t describe how it felt to be held by him again. It was like coming home, or touching down after being in the sky for too long. You know the ground is there and you can feel it with your toes, but you still feel buoyant and a little short of breath.

  Feeling content and safe for the first time in days, I began to drift away.

  “I’m glad they missed,” I murmured on the verge of sleep.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m happy that you didn’t get shot. I’m sorry I implied that I wished you had. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad you’re free of bullet holes.”

  His arms tightened around me and he kissed the top of my head.

  “Me too.”

  I thought it would be awkward to wake up with Grant in the morning. I thought I’d wake up with his morning wood pressed against my butt, or even worse, I thought I’d wake up to discover I had been breathing in his face with rancid morning breath. Fortunately, I didn’t experience that kind of awkwardness.

  I didn’t feel Grant’s body warmth when I began to stir. I did feel movement beside me, though, and someone tugging on my hair. When my eyes fluttered opened, I found myself looking into a pair of dark amber eyes, little eyes with long dark eyelashes. There was a little nose below those little eyes, and a little smiling mouth full of little white teeth below that.

  “I counted your fweckles,” Natalie said, still tugging on my curls and watching them spring back into place. “You have one-hundred gazillion of them.”

  “I think you may have over-counted by a few,” I said, my voice raspy from sleep.

  “Why are you sleeping in Daddy’s bed?”

  Her question made me feel like I just did something dirty, even though the circumstances were entirely innocent.

  “Because your bed was full.”

  “Full of what?” Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

  “Full of you.” I poked her belly. She giggled and wiggled, and I smiled dammit.

  “Natalie, I told you to leave Mayson alone,” Grant said, walking into the bedroom.

  He was already mostly dressed in a gray suit. His tie hung around his neck and his shirt was still open a few buttons at the top.

  The little girl stood up on the bed in her princess nightgown and held her arms out to her father.

  “Catch me, Daddy!”

  Automatically, he held out his arms. Natalie leaped into them, giggling again as she held onto her father. He kissed her cheek before putting her down and playfully swatting at her butt. He closed the door behind her as she ran out of the room, calling for Dusky.

  Grant sauntered over to the bed and sat down beside me. He leaned down, pushed my hair out of my face, and kissed me. My toes curled and wriggled under the blanket as his mouth moved tenderly on mine.

  “Good morning,” he said, once he pulled away a few inches.

  I made myself breathe again. “Good morning.”

  He gave me a quick peck on the lips and got up. “It’s time to rise and soar, butterfly. It’s seven a.m.”

  Pulling myself into a sitting position, I said, “Seven? Why is that little hellion up so early?”

  He laughed. “I don’t know. Kids are strange like that.”

  He glanced at me a few times in the mirror as he tied his tie. “How did you sleep?”

  I had actually slept better than I could remember sleeping in months, if not longer, but I didn’t say that.

  “I slept fine. How long have you been up?”

  “About forty minutes. I have to be in early today. Trust me, I did not want to get out of bed, not with you there.”

  I started to talk but hesitated. I started again and stopped again. Grant watched me in the mirror. He turned around cautiously and watched me for a moment longer.

  “What is it?” he asked warily.

  I wanted to tell him that I felt overwhelmed, that maybe we were doing too much too fast. It had only been a matter of days since he came back into my life and we were already all kissy face and having sleepovers and family time with his kids and my dog. I woke up with a toddler in my face for goodness sake. A toddler!

  I wanted to say that I needed some time and space because I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to be sitting in his bed in just a T-shirt and panties while he got ready for work, or to have my dresses hanging in his closet or my tampons and panty liners on the vanity in his bathroom next to one of the double sinks.

  I wanted to say all that. I wanted to address it. I wanted to lash out and scream at him and take my dog and go, but I sat there, staring mutely at him. He stared back at me, waiting for me to say what I needed to.

  When after a minute I still didn’t speak, Grant slowly approached the bed with his thoughtful gaze on the floor. When he reached me, he sat down beside me again and crossed his legs comfortably at the ankles. He was silent for another few moments before talking.

  “You used to be so damn fearless and impulsive.” He glanced at me with a half a smile. “You did what you wanted to do, said what you wanted to say. You always jumped into situations without looking first, and without any forethought about the possible consequences. You were always getting into trouble as a result. I used to get so mad.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped to a low, secretive decibel. “Maybe what you didn’t know is that I secretly loved that about you, at least at first; until heroin became your primary focus.”

  He took my hand into his and squeezed gently as he looked down at me.

  “You have made remarkable, good changes in your life. I know it’s hard, and I know you are still struggling with some things, but every day that goes by that you don’t give in is a win. You have a hell of a lot of wins, Mayson. I am so proud of you. You have come so far, but…” He squeezed my hand again, and his smile turned sad. “You’re scared—all the time. I don’t know what happened to you, but I don’t want you to be afraid of me, or afraid of yourself and what you might do to me.”

  I swallowed a few times. My voice was thick with restrained emotion whe
n I spoke. “So, what are you trying to tell me? I’m not getting any younger here.”

  His eyes sparkled with amusement, but he didn’t smile.

  “Stop worrying. Stop thinking so hard. Stop analyzing. Follow your heart and be a little impulsive.”

  “You sound like a Wilson Phillips song,” I managed to say, praying that I wouldn’t cry.

  He did smile then.

  “At the risk of sounding like another Wilson Phillips song, break free from your emotional chains.”

  I groaned and dropped my head into my free hand as I shook my head. “Please stop. I can’t have a corny boyfriend. I refuse.”

  His mouth touched my neck and I gasped in surprise.

  “What about a horny boyfriend?” he whispered near my ear.

  “That was still corny,” I murmured as he gently tugged on my earlobe with his teeth.

  Patting my thigh, he sat back against the headboard. “Come here.”

  “I am here,” I said sarcastically.

  “Here.” He pointed at his lap.

  I hesitated a moment, but then I moved and straddled his lap, facing him. My limbs shook and my belly fluttered nervously as one of his hands pressed gently on the back of my head and the other eased up and down my back. Our mouths met, slowly at first, with curious exploration, but as his hand moved under my shirt to my bare skin, the kiss deepened.

  I began to lose myself in him, and began to forget about my anxieties and what I was and was not ready for. My guilt and self-pity faded into black. My morning routines that I had been so adamant about came to nothing as I wrapped my arms around Grant’s neck and kissed him.

  We created our own little bubble and blocked out the rest of the world. There were no jobs to get to. The sounds of the kids playing with the dog in the other room became muffled as if we were listening from under water. There was nothing, but his mouth and my mouth, and his hands roaming up and down my bare back, and his rock hard arousal beneath me.

  His hands gripped my ass and he pulled me hard against him. I moaned softly and he moaned with me. Then he was kissing my face, and chin, and then my neck. His hands moved up my sides, over my breasts and back down again, restless and eager to touch me everywhere.