The Road to Redemption: Finding Grace, Book 1

by DM Davis

  When we finish, I look up. Theo, Nancy, and the guys are standing around the kitchen door smiling and start to clap and cheer. I hide my face in Marcus’ shoulder, knowing I’m blushing from head to toe.

  Marcus wraps his arm around me. “I knew you could do it. You’re amazing. We’ll have to do that one again, next time with the guys.”

  He looks up at Theo. “Are you ready?”

  “I’LL BE READY AS SOON AS you release my girl.” Theo offers me his hand.

  I take it without hesitation, slipping out of Marcus’ comforting hug and into Theo’s side-embrace.

  “Give us a moment.” Theo nods to the guys and pulls me down the hall.

  His stride is long and determined. I increase my pace to keep up. I can’t get a read on him. I don’t know why he’d be upset. “Are you mad?”

  He grunts, continuing down the hall, opening a door to the bedroom we were in earlier and tugging me inside. He spins me around, pressing me against the closed door.

  “Dove,” he breathes, his forehead against mine. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” He dots kisses across my face.

  “So, not mad then?” My arms rest on his shoulders, one hand cupping his face, the other, the back of his neck.

  His hands grip my sides. “No. I’m not crazy about you seeking comfort in Marcus’ arms, but I understand he was your security blanket at that moment. I don’t begrudge you that. I do, however, have to stake my claim, even with Marcus, whom I know enjoys provoking me entirely too much.”

  I bite my lip to stop my grin. “He does love giving you shit.”

  “Yes, he does.” He traces his fingers along my throat reverently. “I could listen to you sing all day.”

  The edge in his voice has my insides clenching, my clit throbbing.

  “I’m torn up inside. I want to praise you, fawn all over you and your voice. But at the same time, I want to ravish every inch of your body. Your voice does things to me—things not meant for public consumption.” His lips press to mine as I moan over his words, his touch, his adamancy. “I want to be the one you sing with.”

  “I want that.” My voice is more breath than sound, my body trembling with need.

  His hands press my hips and secure me to him. “I’ve got this thing I set up with Marcus, but after that…” He tilts my face to his. “I’m taking you home and making love to you.” He stifles my reply with his lips. “In our way, Dove. In our way.”

  “Ms. Frasier, please take a seat.” Theo motions to the stool that now sits beside his. He doesn’t release my hand until I’m settled. I look over my shoulder to Marcus, wondering what’s going on. He only smiles and winks, being no help at all, obviously enjoying the spectacle.

  Theo picks up his guitar and takes the seat facing me. He adjusts the Mic and wipes his palms on his pants as a nervous smile pricks his lips. “This is for you, Dove.”

  He starts playing the guitar—solo.

  Within a few bars, I recognize his selection: “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran.

  “You’re gonna make me cry.”

  He smiles and shakes his head no as if willing me not to. But truly, how could I not? This song, or any other—he planned this, wanting to sing to me with all of his friends around, witnessing this moment. No doubt it’ll be my undoing.

  I take a deep breath as he does the same, readying for the first verse. His beautiful mouth starts to sing, his voice filling the air that sizzles around us.

  I’m mesmerized by the rich edge of his voice, the deep resonance of his vibrato that echoes in my pulse. The tender glow in his brown eyes keeps me captive, only seeing him and the gift that he is—that he’s offering.

  When he reaches the chorus, telling me we’ve found love right where we are, I’m done. Waterworks ensue. As the guys join in, I blink away the tears so I can see my beautiful man’s face and the pure adoration of his gaze—for me.

  When the song ends, he sets down his guitar, stands, lifts me off my stool and into his arms. Tears stream down my face as he whispers into my hair, “I love you, Lauren. Truly, madly, deeply.”

  A sob is my only response. His arms tighten. He kisses my face, wiping away my tears. “Don’t cry, Dove.”

  Seriously? How can I not? “I…I love you too, Professor,” I choke out.

  His lips find mine. His kiss is soft, deep, and passionate.

  I hear bustling around us, whistles and cat-calls, but I don’t care who sees us kissing. After a few minutes, we come up for air, thoroughly out of breath.

  Wiping my eyes, I look around and laugh. “We sure know how to clear a room.”

  He chuckles and wipes the last of my tears away, kissing me once more. “I love you.”

  “I love you.” I lay my head on his chest and give him a squeeze. “Thank you. It couldn’t have been more perfect.”

  “You’re welcome.” His lips find mine again. “I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but we should head out soon. It’s sleeting.”

  He packs up his guitar, and we say our goodbyes as others begin to do the same. I thank them all for making me feel so welcome.

  I give Marcus a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.” It’s a thank you full of gratitude for taking me by his side, making me feel a part of their group, not pressuring me to sing, but easing me into it with only the two of us.

  “My pleasure.” He squeezes my hand. “Promise you’ll come next time.” He glances at Theo. “Besides, I don’t think the big Brit would come without you.”

  I promise, and I mean it. It’s a wonderful group of people who obviously care deeply for Theo. I want to be a part of it, not keep him from it.

  We bundle up, collect our belongings and make a run for the car as we’re pelted by frozen rain.

  We throw ourselves in my car, shivering. We’re laughing as Lauren sweeps the sleet out of my hair and hers. I turn the car on and crank up the heat, waiting long enough for the car to warm up and melt the thin layer of ice that’s formed on the windshield.

  It’s only 9:00 p.m., but the streets are deserted. Driving is slow due to the reduced visibility and slippery slush on the roads. Thankfully, Lauren lives fairly close, and it only takes thirty minutes or so to make it to her place.

  She makes her way into her apartment, walking cautiously on the slippery sidewalks. I grab my guitar, laptop, and gym bag with extra clothes.

  Closing the apartment door behind me, I wipe off my shoes on the doormat, lock the door and arm it, and leave my wet bags in the entryway. I remove my coat and gloves, finding Lauren still in hers, kneeling at the hearth of the fireplace.

  She looks up and smiles. “Did you get everything? Do you need help?”

  Shouldn’t I be asking her that? I motion to the fireplace. “Do you need help?”

  “No, I’ve got it.”

  Of course she does. “Do you mind if I grab a towel to dry my bags?”

  “Sure. Grab a few beach towels from the guest bath closet. They’re bigger.” With the fire lit, she adjusts the gas so the flames flicker above the fake logs.

  I’ve never been a fan of fake fireplaces, but I can see the benefit of not having to keep real wood, particularly in an apartment, where personal outdoor space is limited. Plus, the idea of Lauren having to acquire and lug around enough wood for the winter doesn’t sit well.

  Using two large towels, I dry off my guitar case, moving it off the wet tile and onto the carpet, then wipe off my laptop case and gym bag. Lauren starts to pick them up, but I stop her with a firm but gentle, “I’ve got it, Dove.”

  I place my bags in the guest room, coming back to find her on her hands and knees, wiping up the wet tiles. “You shouldn’t be doing that with your back. Let me.”

  She sits back, her big eyes flashing to mine. “It’s done, but I’ll leave a towel here for our shoes.”

  She’s an independent woman, used to doing it all. I understand it, but I still want her to let me help, especially when I’m right here, able and willing.

  I offe
r my hand, helping her up, and take her coat before she can protest, placing it on the back of the dining room chair—right next to mine, where it should be, always—to dry.

  “I’m taking off your boots,” I warn so she doesn’t try to do it while I slip off my shoes and place them on the towel in the entry.

  I kneel at her feet, on my haunches.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to.” I run my hand up her inner thigh, above her knee hidden under her dress. My caress is feather-soft, only a hint of what’s to come. Her shiver and gasps have me gazing into wanton eyes reflecting my own desires.

  Slowly, I unzip her boot as my other hand draws lazy circles on the back of her thigh. I lift her foot and pull the boot at the heel, while trailing my fingers down the length of her leg as the boot slips off, followed by her sock.

  Goosebumps ripple across her silky skin, and her hand rakes my hair. I lean into her touch, fighting for control, loving how she responds to the smallest of touches. Lightly, I kiss her inner thigh. Warmth radiates from under her dress.

  It. Is. Intoxicating. I close my eyes, breathing in, letting her scent wash over me.

  I set her now naked foot on the floor, placing her boot on the towel next to my shoes. Then, as if in slow motion, I move to her other leg. The dance is the same, but her responsiveness is heightened with anticipation—hers and mine.

  Once she’s free of the other boot and sock, I rise to my knees and pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her legs, under her dress, resting my head against her abdomen. I move my hands up the back of her bare legs, my fingers curved to the inside of her thighs, moving slowly, stopping short of touching her intimately as my thumbs graze the edge of her panties cupping her bum. I squeeze gently, nuzzling her stomach and the underside of her luscious breasts with my face.

  Her hands sink into my hair as a moan breaks free, and I pull back to see her eyes closed, her head tilted back, her lips parted, and her breasts rising and falling with each breath.

  “Christ, Dove, you’re beautiful.”

  She looks down with a tender smile, her lids heavy with want, and touches my face. “This coming from Adonis himself.”

  “No. This coming from the man who’s fallen hopelessly in love with you.”

  She tumbles into my grasp as if I’ve knocked her off her feet. Arms wrap tightly around my shoulders, and she buries her face in my neck.

  “The things you say.” Her muffled voice is thick with emotion, and her heart thumps solidly against my chest.

  “Aren’t nearly enough to convey what you’ve done to me.” I can’t get her snug enough. Resting on my heels, I urge her legs to wrap around me. I massage her back, pressing her into me, absorbing her warmth as she squeezes me with her entire body. “There, I think we’ve melded together.”

  Her whole body shakes with a laugh. “You feel it too? I can’t get you close enough. It’s like I need you inside me, or I’ll cease to exist.”

  My fingers sink into the hair at her nape, tugging slightly so I can relish her bluest blues. My arms, still tightly banded around her back, ensure there’s not a breath between our bodies. “I feel it. I don’t believe this magical pull will be sated until I’m fully seated inside you, Dove. But we’re going at your pace—your timing. I’m not pressuring you. I’m just trying to explain why I believe we both feel so desperate to get closer, as if we need to be one in order to catch our next breath.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly it.” She trembles, causing her heat to rub against my cock that’s snuggly buried between us and hard as steel, only separated by her panties and my clothes. Her wrap dress is of no consequence, having ridden up her thighs in our intimate embrace.

  “Do that again, and you’ll blow my plans.” I cup her bum over her panties, squeezing as I flex my hips into her.

  She gasps and grinds against me—on purpose, this time. “I kinda like our plans, right here.”

  My vixen has awakened. “Then kiss me, Dove, and show me what you need.”

  WHEN DID I BECOME SO BRAZEN? Oh, that’s right. When a man hotter than the sun looks at me like I could melt the clothes clean off his perfectly sculpted body, brazenness is duly warranted.

  My hands sink into his hair, tugging slightly, changing the angle of his face to match the alignment of my lips. A tsunami crashing against the shore barely touches the force with which I want to devour this man’s mouth, lips, and tongue. If he’s bothered by my clawing to get him closer or the vacuum I have on his tongue—he’s good at hiding it.

  My hips move forward and back as if we’re on a tandem swing, though I’m not a hundred percent positive that he’s not the swing in this scenario. His hardness, blazing a heated trail against my core, only feeds the fire.

  Clothes. We have too many on.

  I pull back, releasing his mouth with a pop. “Shirt.” I tug at his buttons with an urgency that should mortify me, but the need buzzing in my body, boiling in my blood, and throbbing in my clit supersedes such a wasteful emotion.

  “Here.” His capable hands take over, and in seconds he’s pulling his shirt over his head, leaving him naked from the waist up.

  I fumble with the tie of my dress, groaning in frustration.

  My calm professor chuckles, deftly loosening the knot, ridding me of my dress in one fell swoop. His hands bely his demeanor as he eagerly traverses my newly exposed skin, kissing, licking and sucking my breasts through my bra.

  “Off,” he barks, and I stifle a giggle, elated his control is unraveling. I don’t want to be the only one undone by this thing between us.

  His roar of appreciation when he peels my bra off my shoulders, revealing my proffered breasts and eager nipples, has my panties soaked with arousal.

  I reach behind me to remove it completely and unpin my arms from the bra’s confining grip. I’d burn every one if I wasn’t against my breasts seeking lower ground.

  Theo slings it away as if he’s all in on the bra-burning bandwagon.

  “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” His hands encapsulate each breast, squeezing and kneading, watching as his thumbs tease my nipples to hard peaks.

  When his mouth returns to my now naked breasts, my hips shoot forward, my eyes slam shut, and my arms band his head, ensuring contact is not lost as I ride him like a bull.

  “Bloody hell,” he groans. His hand squeezes my rear, increasing the power of each thrust. “Just like that.” He kisses his way to my other needy nipple.

  His arousal, his encouragement, causes my insides to flutter and clench around nothing. He moans as if he felt it, slipping his hand underneath my panties, over my arse and into my wet folds. Thank God, for long arms, big hands, and deliciously probing fingers.

  Nearly rocking myself off his lap when one slips inside, I grab his shoulders to right myself as he pops off my breast. “Hold on, Dove.”

  I steal his mouth, cheating my breasts, for the need to suck his tongue while he makes love to me with his fingers and mouth. His hunger not to be outshined by mine, his hips rock into me, meeting my thrusts, driving our rhythm—the rhythm he’s set with his penetrating fingers—claiming me in our way. Over and over again.

  “You’re close.” His breath cascades over my mouth. “Take me with you when you fly.”

  His kiss is brutally sensual. Each skillful maneuver with his mouth matches that of his fingers. Taking me. Taking me. Taking me. Tipping me over the edge until I can see the horizon of tomorrow dawning through the shattering of yesterday and the pulsing of forever.

  “Dove,” he groans as I come around his fingers, grinding my clit against his hard-throbbing cock still stifled in his pants. His smooth thrusts hitch into a jerking motion as he falls apart for me—as I did for him.

  Our movements gentle, our mouths panting more than kissing, but his fierce embrace ensures I remain right where I am—straddling his lap, at his mercy and beyond sated.

  “Take a bath with me.” His voice is lower, courser, replete with satisfaction.
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br />   I snuggle into his neck, thinking of how to gracefully turn down his offer and come up empty. “I can’t be naked with you like that.”

  He chuckles. “I hate to break it to you, but we’re on the floor between your entryway and your kitchen, lights on, my hand between your arse cheeks—lovely arse, I might add—my fingers buried inside you, your beautiful breasts in my face, and you’re naked except for the scrap of panties between your cum and mine.” He urges my head back and kisses my nose. “I’ve seen enough to know I can’t wait to see it all.” He presses his lips to mine. “Now, come bathe with me.”

  When I want something, I usually get it. And getting Lauren naked is top on my list of wants. Though, getting and taking are two completely different things, and I will never take anything from her. I want her to give me all her gifts freely, without reservations, without fear.

  We’re not there, obviously, based on her reaction to my request to bathe with me. When my vixen is out to play, she’s all in. The moment the passion dies, her self-doubt comes crashing in, drowning any confidence she has—otherworldly connection or not.

  I guide her into the tub under the cloak of darkness, the only sliver of light coming from the cracked door between the bathroom and her bedroom where the far nightstand lamp is on. The rest of the apartment is dark.

  She doesn’t seem to mind my hands feeling her nakedness, as if I’m not fully capable of piecing together a glorious image from each caress of her silky curves.

  With her intimately settled between my bent legs—her back to my chest, my cock to her arse, my hands on her belly and breast, and her hands resting on my thighs—it’s time to address the naked demon in the room.

  “What do you sleep in when I’m not here?” Maybe I can play this off as a twenty-questions game.

  She twists her head, glancing at me. “The same as I do when you’re here. A bed.”

  “Har har.” I squeeze her breast, feeling her nipple pushing against my palm. I ignore it. Nearly. I squeeze again and then ignore it. “Very funny. What do you wear when you sleep in that lovely pillow-laden bed of yours?”