Me: I like being your woman.
Kyle: I’m hard as a rock. I wish you were here.
I remove images of Kyle’s cock from my mind.
Me: I refuse to be drawn into dirty thoughts.
Kyle: You’re no fun.
Me: I know. Not when Isla is on the bed next to mine. Anyway, I made a decision about Greg seeing my paintings.
Kyle: Don’t keep me in suspense.
Me: Okay.
Kyle: Okay? Oh, sweetheart, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. Hang on while I do a little dance.
I laugh. His enthusiasm is catching, and I find myself grinning in the darkness. I won’t think too much about this. I’ll just flow with it. If Greg likes my paintings, awesome. If he doesn’t, life continues. I’m sure Kyle will be more than happy to console me. In bed.
Kyle: Can I bring him over later in the afternoon?
Butterflies fill my stomach. What if’s crowd my mind. I shove them away. He’s just looking at my paintings. Not a big deal.
Kyle: There’s nothing to be nervous about. Greg doesn’t bullshit. If he likes the rest of them, he’ll let you know. I’ll be right there with you.
Tears sprout in my eyes. Kyle understands. That alone is comforting.
Me: You’re awesome, do you know that? Late afternoon is great.
Chapter 18
Kyle
It’s four o’clock, and Ethan is driving Greg and me to Grace’s place. I’m excited to hear what he’ll think about the rest of Grace’s paintings.
“Does this mean that things are going well for the two of you?” Greg asks.
“Better than I hoped,” I tell him. “But I have a feeling she’s only half in. If I’m not wrong, she’ll bolt the moment word gets out about us.”
“I really do want to meet this rare species. Most women want to do the exact opposite when they hook up with a famous person. Are you sure that Grace is real?”
I laugh. “She’s real all right. You’re about to meet her.”
Ethan drives the car to the back of Grace’s building. We’re parking at the back of the building, away from prying eyes. I know a couple who dated for years, and the media only found out on their wedding day. I’m hoping that Grace and I will have a similar story.
We get out of the car, and as usual, I’m wearing a cap and sunglasses. I lead the way to the entrance and hit the bell. A buzzer sound goes off, and I push the door open.
Then the elevator stops on Grace’s floor, and we get off. The door opens before I can knock.
“Hey,” I tell her and step forward to plant a light kiss on her mouth. God, she smells good.
I step back and introduce Greg. I can see that he’s impressed by her looks. He probably thought she was an eyesore because of her dislike for the limelight. I chuckle softly until Grace stops me with a look.
“Come on in,” she says. I can tell she’s nervous, and when she shuts the door, I take her hand and squeeze it.
She shoots me a grateful look.
Greg is looking around the living room, probably hoping to spot some of her paintings. That’s the other thing about Grace. She doesn’t hang any of her paintings in her living room. Probably because she doesn’t want anyone to ask her about them.
Grace looks at me questioningly.
I give her a subtle nod. “Maybe you can show Greg your work?” I say loudly.
“I’d love that,” Greg says, too polite to point out that it’s the reason he’s here.
“Sure, this way,” Grace says, and we both follow her down the hallway.
My body reacts when we pass the door to her bedroom. I can’t wait to get her alone. Meanwhile, I’m just on edge as Grace probably is to see Greg’s reaction.
She opens the door, and we follow her in. “I use this second bedroom as my studio. The light is great here.”
I want to take her in my arms and tell her that everything will be okay. But no matter how much you care about someone, there are some things they have to do by themselves. You can be by their side, cheering them on, but ultimately, they have to do the hard bits themselves.
She takes Greg around the room, explaining her work. Watercolor landscapes are her first love, but her portraits are great as well. Greg only asks a question or two. The rest of the time, he just looks at the paintings with his hands buried deep into his pockets.
When they’ve done a round of the room and looked at all the paintings propped against the wall, Greg turns to Grace. His eyes are shining, and I can tell that he loves her work as much as I did.
“Grace, your work is beautiful and unique, and I feel honored that you let me see it,” Greg says.
“Thank you.”
The joy on Grace’s face is priceless. She’s been hiding her work away for years, and now she gets to show it to an industry professional.
“Do you have any more paintings?” he asks her.
“I do. I store them in my parents’ house,” Grace says and then looks at me sheepishly. “I’ve painted a lot over the years.”
“The reason I ask is that I’d love to put on a solo show for your work,” Greg says. “A few weeks from now.”
I’m thrilled. This is more than I was hoping for. I’d hoped he would take a painting or two and put them up in his gallery. See whether his customers will like them. A solo show!
“Oh, my goodness.” Grace covers her mouth with both hands. She looks so cute and innocent that Greg and I start laughing.
“I see that you gravitate to an ocean and beach theme. I love it,” Greg says. “Can you do a few more in the weeks before the show?”
“Yes,” Grace says enthusiastically. “I’ll work day and night if I have to.”
Greg laughs. “I love your attitude, but it won’t be necessary to work day and night. Just four more would be awesome.” He mentions a date, and Grace nods.
“That’s more than enough time to get the other paintings done,” Grace says.
I walk around admiring the paintings while they talk about the details of the show. I haven’t heard that kind of excitement in Greg’s voice in a long time. I’m happy for both of them. It’s a business relationship that will have a big impact on both their lives.
“I can’t tell you how excited I am by this partnership, Miss Hughes,” Greg says when we’re at the front door.
“Me too,” Grace says. “Please call me Grace.”
“I will,” he says.
We say goodbye, and he winks at me happily before he leaves. When the door shuts, Grace waits for a few minutes and then shrieks and jumps on me. I catch her, and she wraps her legs around my waist.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “Else I wouldn’t believe that what happened just did. I’ve read about such things, but I never thought it would happen to me.”
“No one deserves it more than you do, Grace.” I kiss her lightly on her lips. I’m so happy to see her excited about her first solo show. I was worried that she would get cold feet. A solo show is a big deal, and I’m glad she’s taking it like a seasoned pro.
I walk as we talk. Grace only notices that we’re moving when we enter her bedroom.
“Where are we going?” she says.
“To celebrate,” I tell her and gently lower her on the bed.
“People celebrate by going for fancy meals,” she says with a giggle.
“Hey, we can go out for dinner and celebrate. I can get a reservation in any of the nice restaurants in town.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Show off, and no, I don’t want to go out for dinner. Everyone knows your face now. I was joking. I prefer this mode of celebration.”
I drape my body over hers and capture her lips with my mouth. I’m in no rush and want to make love to her slowly.
“I hope he doesn’t change his mind,” Grace says.
I look into her eyes. “I’ve known Greg for very many years, and he’s one of the most serious people I know. He doesn’t change his mind when he decides on something. He s
aw something special in your work just as I did.”
She smiles. “Thank you; that makes me feel better.”
I peel off her clothes slowly, kissing her exposed skin as I go along. By the time the last piece is off, all thoughts of the solo show are out of her mind. She moans and begs me to take her, but this time, I’m determined to take my time.
When we finally come together as one, it is erotic and sweet and more meaningful than any other time we’ve ever had sex.
As we’re relaxing in the afterglow, Grace softly strokes my chest.
“Can I ask you something?” she says.
“Sure.”
“How come you never talk about your family?”
I feel like someone has punched me in the belly. I hate talking about my family. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she says. “Do you have siblings?”
“No. I’m an only child like you.” I sigh. “Unlike you, however, I’m not close with my parents. Actually, you could say that we are estranged.”
She gasps softly. “Why?”
“They sold me to the highest bidder,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “They continuously spread stories about me to the tabloids. Every visit home would result in pictures the following week. I could never tell them anything because whatever I said ended up in the tabloids.”
“That is horrible,” Grace exclaims, her hold on me tightening. “What was the money for?”
“Alcohol, vacations, having a good time with friends and generally living the good life. What hurt the most is that it wasn’t necessary. I’d bought them a house, and I deposited money in their bank accounts every month. A lot of money.”
“Money does strange things to people,” Grace says, her tone strange.
“Anyway, I gave them chance after chance. They promised to change every time, and then something else would happen. Another piece in the tabloid that could only have come from them. This cycle went on for three years, and then I had enough.”
“That must have been a tough decision to make,” Grace says.
“Not as tough as you’d imagine. By that time, I’d had enough, and I knew they weren’t going to suffer financially. I wasn’t going to cut them off financially. The deposits are automatic, but I haven’t seen or heard from them in four years.”
“Have they tried to get in touch?” she says.
“The answer to that is that I don’t know. Chris knows better than to tell me. I came to terms with who my parents are. It’s not that they don’t love me; they just love money more.”
“That is sad,” she says. “We’ve both been affected by fame in different ways.”
“Yeah, but I don’t regret the choices I’ve made. I’m proud of myself for making it in this industry. I worked my ass off to get where I am. Sure the paparazzi and the fake stories are horrible, but that’s just one side of it. I get to do what I love, and that makes it worth it.”
“I guess so,” she says.
“Come on; let’s get up. You have work to do, and so do I.” I hug and kiss her and gently roll her over from my chest.
“You’re right. I better start working on some ideas for the other paintings,” Grace says.
“I brought my script. That will keep me busy while you work your magic. “Shower first?” I ask her, already headed to the bathroom.
“I’m right behind you.”
I wasn’t entirely honest with Grace when I told her that I’d come to terms with it. I haven’t. Sometimes, I miss them with an ache that cuts deep. I miss my parents, not the fans they ended up being. They stopped seeing me as their son. I became an ATM. It hurt like fuck. I can see them in my mind’s eye when I was confronting them about selling a story to the press. The way my mother would shoot a guilty look at my father. He was tougher than her and would look at me defiantly as if asking me what was I going to do about it. Nothing, it turned out. Except not speaking to them. And that doesn’t seem to matter.
I know they’re well, though, and I keep tabs on them. They use their money for vacations and stuff like that. It makes me happy to know they are enjoying their lives and sunset years.
I step into the shower and turn the knob. The bathroom door creaks open, and Grace enters. She steps into the shower, and all my disturbing thoughts disappear when I set my eyes on her. It’s as if a ray of sunshine has stepped into the shower with me.
Chapter 19
Grace
I wake up to Kyle’s hands cupping my breasts and softly massaging them. I let out a quiet moan and arch my chest into his hands. My whole body is aroused, and wetness seeps from my center to my thighs.
His hard cock slides between my thighs, and I lift one leg slightly. He hisses when his cock comes up to my soaking wet entrance. Kyle presses his cock in slowly, pushing my walls back and filling me up. He pulls out completely, and I push my ass back and make noises of protest. He chuckles softly and rubs the tip of his cock up and down my slit, teasing my clit mercilessly.
“Kyle, please.”
“Are you begging for my cock?” he says, his voice teasing and lazy.
My body shudders from unfulfilled need. “Yes,” I tell him between gritted teeth. I make a silent vow for revenge by teasing him the same way he’s teasing me.
He plunges his cock deep inside me, and I cry out as sharp pleasure courses through my body.
“You are so perfect,” Kyle murmurs into my ear with his deep gravelly voice that makes me tremble involuntarily.
He grips the leg I’ve lifted in the air, keeping it in place. I hang on to the side of the bed as he pumps in and out. Pleasure builds up in me rapidly as he carries me higher and higher until it reaches unbearable proportions.
“Kyle.” I whimper his name, unable to form any other word.
“My Grace,” he growls.
I reach the edge and cry out as my body explodes. I pant as if I’m out of breath and shake from the aftermath of the orgasm. Kyle keeps pumping, and then his breathing changes, and I know that he’s about to come. I drop my leg from his hold and squeeze my thighs together. Kyle comes with a loud roar. I’m sure everyone in the building heard him. I try to stifle a giggle.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Kyle says and kisses my bare shoulder.
“Morning, lover. That’s one hell of an alarm clock,” I tease him.
“I figured you’d like it.” His stomach growls loudly. “I’ll get us some breakfast from this awesome place I know.”
I sit up. “Or better yet, I can make us some breakfast.”
“A better idea, but I don’t want to be a bother,” he says.
“It’s no bother. I’ll just get cleaned up.” I kiss him and then pad into the bathroom for a quick shower.
Kyle gets in after me, and while he showers, I dress and tidy up the bed. I sing out of tune as I head to the kitchen. By the time Kyle joins me, I have our breakfast ready on the table. Eggs on toast.
“Looks delicious, thank you.”
He looks so hot with his hair matted to his scalp. He sits down and immediately descends on his food. I’m glad that he’s enjoying home-cooked food. I’ve noticed that he likes to get take out a lot, which I suppose is convenient for him. I, on the other hand, prefer home-cooked food. I love cooking.
“I have an idea,” Kyle says when we finish our breakfast and are sipping coffee. “Do you remember the sunroom on the second story of my house?”
I smile at the memory. “That’s my favorite room after your bedroom.” The sunroom has glass walls and a glass roof and was drenched in sunlight. I’d tried to imagine how it looked at sunrise and sunset and failed. It was beyond my imagination.
He laughs. “That’s good because I want you to use it as your art studio. It’s big enough to store all your work, and the lighting is perfect.”
I’m touched by his offer, but it’s not practical. “I’d have to drive to your place any time I want to paint.”
He stares at me. “I have a solution for that to
o. Move in with me, Grace.”
All air leaves my lungs. I slowly put down my cup and stare at him to see if he’s joking. I let out a nervous laugh. “Kyle, we’ve known each other for a month.”
“People have gotten married a month after meeting and gone on to have long happy marriages.”
I laugh again. I know I sound like an idiot, but I’m panicking. I feel like I’m careening uncontrollably down a muddy hillside.
“I had a talk with my security guys, and as nice and cozy as your apartment is, it’s making them uncomfortable. Should word get out about us, this place will be mobbed. It will become a circus.”
I shudder at the image he paints.
“My place is well secured, and I’ll feel good to know that you’re safe. I’m not asking you to give up your apartment. Just to move in with me.”
Everything he says makes sense, but it makes me nervous. Moving in with someone is such a big step even though it’s not proper moving since I’ll still have my apartment. But everything in me rebels against the idea.
Kyle’s eyes are pleading, and I can’t bear to give him an outright no.
“Let me think about it, okay?” I’m buying time because I know the answer already. It has to be a resounding no.
I know that in Kyle’s world, relationships move fast, but in mine, things progress at a more leisurely pace. My relationship with him feels like a ticking bomb to me. This bliss cannot last forever, and when it explodes, I want to have the option of having my own safe place.
“Take all the time you need,” Kyle says. He stands and carries our dishes to the sink, and after rinsing them, he comes and stands in front of me. “Just so you know, I’ve never asked any other woman to move in with me.”
I swallow an avalanche of emotion. It was easier when I was lying to myself that it was probably something he did often.
“I’ll leave you to work while I go and catch up on some things at home,” he says.
One Hot Secret: A Second Chance Romance (Love on Fire) Page 11
