Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2)

by L. B. Simmons

  As I ingest his words, tears fill my eyes, brimming my lashes. I look away from him, embarrassed. Not because of my reaction, but because his words, so poignantly spoken, slice right through my heart. Each word a reminder of my own weakness and fear. Of my inability to cope with the horrors of my past and the disgust that so often overwhelms me. Of the fucking obvious fact that I have no right to be sitting here with someone as truly beautiful as Grady Bennett.

  I feel it, the pain his truth brings.

  You’re nothing but a slut, Cassandra.

  Why are you even here?

  You don’t deserve a man like Grady Bennett.

  The words may remain unspoken, but I feel every slash they make as they race through my mind.

  They hurt.

  I inhale deeply as a tidal wave of nausea rolls through my stomach, unleashing its agony, and all of a sudden, I’m not so hungry anymore. Reaching for the napkin by my plate, I wipe my mouth and excuse myself. “I’m sorry . . . I just . . . I need a minute.”

  The legs of the barstool screech as I stand, and Grady rises along with me, gripping my arm. “Cassie.”

  I shake my head and flash him my palms. “I need a minute, Grady.”

  Anger works its way through my system, coating my tone. His eyes tighten on mine, his hold still firm around my forearm. “A minute to do what? To get lost in that head of yours?”

  I gasp, then clamp my mouth shut, only to open it again. “I don’t need you evaluating me, Grady. Trying to piece me back together. I’m broken, you said it yourself. That’s what you see . . . a girl who’s broken.”

  Fury rages within me. My defenses catapult right back into position, and I know what I’m going to do before I even say it. The words scorch as they erupt from my mouth.

  “There’s nothing I can offer you except a good fuck. Is that what you want? Is that why you brought me here tonight? To fuck me? Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Let’s do this.” I laugh manically to keep from crying, my own craziness bleeding into my brain. I feel it coming, the darkness as it threatens to swallow me whole.

  And all I can think as I begin to disappear is, I need to get away from Grady. It works both ways, and I know my ugliness will eventually eclipse his beauty.

  Grady’s eyes remain locked on mine, warning clear in the register of his low tone. “You keep spewing that venom, sweetheart, but you’re striking no one but yourself.”

  I scoff under my breath. “You think I care? I can’t do anything to myself that hasn’t already been done.”

  Grady draws in a deep breath through his nose, jaw clenched, and I lose the fight with my tears as they begin to gush from my eyes.

  His voice softens. “I know what you’re doing, and this shit isn’t going to work on me. You can push me as hard as you like, but I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

  “Why?” I sob. “Why does it fucking matter what I do?”

  No one has ever cared before.

  Why the fuck does he care?

  You are worth nothing, Cassandra.

  Both hands move to grip my upper arms, holding me in place. Grady bends, aligning his face with mine, his eyes all I can see as he whispers, “Because you matter. Regardless of what you think, of what you do to convince yourself otherwise, you do matter. To me.”

  “You barely know me, Grady,” I declare.

  His answer is immediate. “I know what I see. What I’ve been trained to see, and what I see on my own. And what I see is when you let that guard down, when you expose that vulnerable part of yourself that you try so desperately to protect, it’s the most precious sight I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s so fucking beautiful, Cass, and if that’s not worth fighting for, then I don’t know what is.”

  Our stares are bound and I remain silent, suddenly ill-equipped to formulate a snarky response. With those words, he’s taken all the fight out of me.

  Grady senses it and the corner of his mouth shoots up, triumphant. Then he leans, positioning his lips inches from mine, and states, “And regarding fucking you, as you so eloquently phrased it, that will happen only when you can give me all of you. Not the tiny bits of yourself that you offer here and there, but every single piece. Because when I take you, I need you to be there with me. Not in your head, thinking yourself unworthy and sabotaging us before we even get started. I need you to be there. With. Me.”

  No air remains in my lungs as he backs away and concludes, “I can see we aren’t there yet, but I can tell you, once we are, it’s going to be fucking phenomenal . . . and definitely worth the fight.”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I close it, then open it again. Still nothing as his words repeat in my mind.

  When.

  When I take you . . .

  He grins, the damn sexy bastard, and gestures at the table. “Now, I’d like to work on getting us there, but I’d also like to eat. I can’t have you and your stomach pissed at me in the same night. That’s one battle I just might lose.”

  He winks then taps the seat of my barstool. “You I can handle. Your stomach, not so much.”

  I take the few necessary steps and slide into the seat, and as I do, my goddamn stomach decides to announce to the entire room just how pissed it actually is. Grady’s brows rise with the corners of his mouth, and I make a measly attempt to not smile, but eventually a weak one crosses my face as I state, “Well, now you’ve gone and done it.”

  Grady’s laughter sounds from beside me, and I turn to look at him. As I do, his smile falters a bit, and he brings both hands to the sides of my face, wiping the moisture from my cheeks with his thumbs. “We’ll get ya there, Cass.”

  I nod and sniff, then with his hands still cradling my face, I lean forward, silently requesting a kiss on the forehead—something I have never, ever done in my life.

  But I decide to take this chance, knowing it’s not there, but it’s something. A new piece of myself to offer.

  Which he happily accepts, as he obliges.

  “BLUE!”

  “Foot!”

  Our shouts are simultaneous as they fill the room from our positions on the mat. All furniture has been moved, slid carefully until flush with the wall to provide the room we need. With his eyes following my movement, Grady grins as he inches his own foot forward to place it on the blue circle.

  This is exactly where three glasses of wine with Grady Bennett gets me. It lands me right here, crouched in a pouncing position, playing an impromptu game of Twister. After satisfying the demands of my stomach, we ended up back in his guestroom. I sipped wine while he catalogued the various things he’d kept that belonged to his sister, Ashley.

  Her books, for example. Ashley had been an avid reader, and her collection of books rivals my own. I thumbed through them, memorizing various titles I’ve yet to read, while Grady explained that being four years older than him, she was the one who often tucked him in when they were kids. And she did so reading him a story. As they became older, he rarely saw her without a book in her hands, so he brought some to his apartment to ensure their safety when his family cleaned out her bedroom.

  He also snagged some of her favorite clothes just to have some things of her with him. The shirt handed over so easily to me was one she wore all the time, and I expressed to him the absolute honor of wearing it, which garnered me a gorgeous smile and a kiss on the forehead.

  Yet, although the moment was beautiful, voices found their way to the forefront of my mind, tarnishing it with their shouted reminders.

  No one will even remember you when you die, because you mean nothing.

  Their slithers and whispers lingered until another glass of wine was finally able to dull them.

  Later in the evening, we also stumbled upon a drawer full of games they played when they were young. Monopoly, Yatzee, and Uno were among the many others including, of course, Twister. Three glasses in, I took him up on the challenge, but as I eye the mat below me with my muscles straining, I’m second-guessing the childlike eager
ness with which I accepted. Each move we make reminds me that I’m definitely not a kid anymore.

  After the torture of Krav Maga and now this, I’m sure I’ll be hella sore tomorrow, but it’s totally worth it to be crowned champion and wipe that arrogant smile off Grady’s face.

  I grin back, strategically planning my next move. It’s my turn to call the color, his to call the body part, and we’ve made our way to the center of the mat. And as I plan, the weight of the decision I must make hits me full force. I can choose to go with green, which will most likely move us laterally, or I can call yellow, potentially moving us closer to each other.

  Slide laterally, basically going nowhere, or take a chance by moving forward.

  Suddenly this game of Twister has turned into a metaphorical game of life.

  Grady patiently awaits my choice. I have no doubt his challenge was premeditated, knowing I would eventually come to making this very decision. But as usual with Grady, he doesn’t force my hand. He puts me in the position to choose the next move.

  My grin falls, significance weighing my expression. I dip my head, signaling to Grady the decision has been made.

  “Yellow,” I whisper softly just as Grady reveals his choice. “Hand.”

  Slowly, I press my weight onto the ball of my foot, propelling me forward as Grady does the same. Our arms cross when our hands land in neighboring yellow circles, and the warmth of Grady’s body encompasses me as we come together. My cheek brushes against his, the slight stubble on his skin spawning an eruption of goosebumps along my arms. My throat tightens and I take in a deep breath of air, allowing the freshness of Grady’s scent to wash over me as I approach his neck. My forehead settles into the crook, so close, I feel when he turns his head toward my throat. My skin ignites where Grady’s warm lips part along the hollow, heat coursing my entire body upon their touch.

  They trail slowly up the column of my neck, forcing me to swallow when the tip of his tongue glides gently along my skin. I peel my head out of the safety of Grady’s neck to arch my own, allowing him more access. His teeth nip lightly as he approaches the line of my jaw, and I whimper at the sensation. A low growl sounds next to my ear, before his lips continue their path along my cheek until they find their destination, landing at the corner of my mouth. They seal together, pressing against my skin a tender kiss, then his warmth disappears as he pulls away.

  As soon as I open my eyes, darkened ones return my stare, heated as they fall to my mouth. I dart my tongue along my bottom lip, and Grady draws in a deep breath before lifting his gaze. My eyes dip to his soft lips, reddened and slightly swollen, and I inch my face closer to his, wanting nothing more than to feel the heat of them on my mouth. I force another swallow, then bring my stare to meet his.

  Our eyes remain locked, Grady’s boring into mine, silently requesting permission to close the distance. I revel in his warm breaths as they strike before his lips finally find mine. Every cell in my body ignites, pulsating as they spark to life within me. Our mouths align perfectly, fusing together, and an involuntary moan escapes me when his velvet soft tongue parts my lips. I open for him completely in this moment, accepting the offered caresses each deep sweep of his tongue provides.

  I surrender all guilt, all fear, all anger, and melt into his kiss, allowing an all-encompassing sense of peace to warm my insides. It rushes through me, soothing the fragmented pieces of my soul. The heat of his slick mouth against mine, the sound of my whimpers and moans as I succumb, the smell of his skin pressed against mine . . . everything about this moment etches itself into my brain, because for the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel alive.

  The ever-present cold and darkness no longer loom. They’re flooded, blanketed by warmth as it surges through my body, and with it launches the realization that this is the first time I’ve ever been kissed.

  Sure, I’ve kissed a lot of boys, or men . . . but my kisses have always been hard, angry, frenzied—impatient to find my release and always within my control. Nothing like this. Grady is kissing me, and I’m allowing him to do so, relinquishing control with each pass of his tongue along mine.

  Grady lifts his hands off the mat, sliding his knees securely underneath him for balance as he gently frames my face. The tenderness of his hold stokes the fire within me, sending another wave of heat through my heart. I choke back the emotion the sensation brings, and focus on the feel of his mouth against mine. Seconds pass, then Grady languidly softens the kiss, brushing his lips lightly over mine before relaxing back. His eyes watch me intensely, and as they do, I find solace and security. A small smile tugs at my lips at the innocence of this moment, of this kiss that has roused the dormant, youthful part of me that has been numb for so long.

  Did it ever really exist?

  His mouth curls upward, and I slowly slide my stare down to the mat before once again meeting his eyes. My grin widens as I softly proclaim, “I win.”

  Grady’s gaze falls to where all my extremities remain in the appropriate circles. He chuckles to himself while his teeth find the suppleness of his bottom lip. He shakes his head, bringing those watchful eyes back to mine. Wide grin beaming on his face, he leans in and whispers, “Sweetheart, this victory is all mine.”

  He brings my forehead to his lips, then releases me to stand. “Time for bed, sleepyhead.”

  It’s only then that I realize I’m yawning. Three glasses of wine, emotionally drained and physically tapped out, I have to admit I’m a very sleepy girl. I nod and take his hand, allowing him to pull me to my feet. Hands joined, silence surrounds us as we head down the hallway to the guest room.

  As soon as we enter and the light is on, my awakened inner child giggles and claps for joy, and in a very non-Cassie manner, I happily launch myself onto the bed. Laughing as I sink into the enveloping softness, true joy illuminates from within, and I smile widely at Grady as he approaches the side of the bed. He grins back knowingly, but says nothing as he pulls the bedding down for me to slide underneath.

  I tug the comforter under my chin and settle into the sheets. Grady takes a seat on the edge, lifting his hand to brush the hair away from my face. Once satisfied, he places his palm against my cheek and strokes my skin lightly with his thumb, forcing my sleepy eyes to drift shut. The movement is so soothing my body begins to float into sleep, but is awakened when I feel him lean over me. Tenderly, he kisses my temple then inhales deeply with his lips lingering on my skin. I grin from under him, and his warmth disappears as he rises.

  “Sleep with me?” I request, my voice rough with sleep.

  I feel his eyes on me, deliberating. I also feel my heart begin to hammer with my request. I’m taking a leap, allowing myself to plummet into the sense of security that Grady’s presence provides.

  Where the hell is the woman formerly known as Cassie Cooper?

  Because this invitation is so not me.

  I haven’t allowed anyone in my bed for as long as I choose to remember. With every single one of my sexual partners, I’ve never stayed the night, and they’ve never been invited to my apartment. The idea of someone lying next to me, of leaving myself unprotected and vulnerable while sleeping, usually suffocates me to the point that I leave approximately five seconds after we’ve both come.

  But as I relive the evening with Grady, the tenderness with which he handled me—the strength and resolve openly displayed tonight—I find I want to share my bed with him. I want him near me, knowing deep down I will feel nothing but protected when I sleep. Not afraid but safe. Not alone but together.

  His footsteps recede toward the door, stopping just short to turn off the light. Soon after, the bed dips with his weight and the sheets rustle as he settles in. I open my eyes and turn to face him, grinning because my inner child seems to have a mad case of the giggles. He angles his mouth into a crooked smile then extends his arm in my direction, opening his body to me. Slowly, I sneak over to his side, lay my head on his chest, and exhale deeply when his arm curls around my shoulders.
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br />   “Fucking phenomenal,” Grady’s voice rumbles against my ear, and my cheek presses into his shirt with my smile.

  I say nothing. I remain silent while listening to his steady heartbeat and his deep breaths as they begin to lull me to sleep.

  My mind replays Grady’s vow to never let me fall and I know, as I remain held safely in his arms, that promise is one he might not be able to keep . . .

  Because I could definitely be in danger of falling hard for Grady Bennett.

  SUNLIGHT HITS MY EYELIDS as I gradually wake, feeling fully rested for the first time in . . . well, forever. Exhaustion no longer claims me as I peel my eyes open, blinking them several times to get them to focus. I scan the room, memories from the previous night running their course and highlighting the obvious fact that I fell asleep as Grady held me, and it was bliss.

  I turn to find him, but he’s no longer beside me. Once I realize I’m safe from scrutiny, I roll over, centering my face into the pillow, and grin widely into its confines. My heart swells, threatening to explode with each joy-filled beat.

  I feel youthful, young and alive, brimming with excitement.

  I have indeed become a giddy schoolgirl.

  And I kind of like it.

  Rolling onto my back, I stretch to full capacity, wiggling my toes beneath the sheets as my fingers touch the wooden headboard. Once functional, I lift the covers and make a safe escape to the bathroom across the hall. Upon entering, another smile breaks across my face as I spy a brand new toothbrush and toothpaste. Lying on the counter right next to them is a hand-written note on a paper towel.

  Morning beautiful.

  Made a run to the store. Hope these work for you. Bought some food while there. Hoping to keep you just a while longer to continue getting better acquainted. Join me for breakfast?

  My heart flutters and I shake my head, the fact that someone like him exists completely boggling my mind.