The Road to Redemption: Finding Grace, Book 1

by DM Davis

  “Nothing.”

  Nothing—she says like it’s nothing. “Absolutely nothing?” My mind races with visions of her curled up next to me in bare-naked nothing.

  “Naked as a jaybird.” I can hear the smirk in her voice.

  “That’s quite a thought. You cuddle all up to your king pillow between your legs—naked?”

  “Yep. All of me, buck naked.”

  She’s far too cavalier about this.

  “Every time I think of you sleeping in your oversized bed, I’m going to picture you naked now, too.” I’m envious of her pillows and sheets—the damn air that gets to kiss her naked skin.

  “So, you’re saying you didn’t think of me naked before?” she teases.

  “You have a point. I did, yes. But now that I’ve seen you sleep, that vision is more vivid.”

  I grab the bar of soap, urging her to sit up, and start washing her back. I need to think of something else besides her nakedness in front of me.

  “Will you sleep naked with me tonight?” Yeah, I’m not winning the don’t-think-of-her-naked war going on in my head.

  She’s quiet. Her arms are wrapped around her bent legs. Her cheek rests on her knee as she glances at me over her shoulder. My hands slip down her back, below the water, gripping her hips, massaging her lower back with my thumbs.

  She moans her approval, and I have to remind myself again to not think of her naked.

  “That wouldn’t seem quite fair, now would it? No sex, but I’m going to sleep naked in your arms.” She shudders, and I chase the goosebumps popping up on her arms with my warm, soapy hands. I guess she’s having a hard time not thinking about being naked with me too.

  “Is this a trick question? No sex, and I can either sleep with you clothed or sleep with you naked?” I chuckle, rinsing her off with a washcloth.

  When she doesn’t respond, I answer for her. “Naked, of course.”

  I pull her down so she’s resting on my chest and begin soaping up her front. “What about when it’s cold? Or you’re not at home?”

  “Naked. No matter when, no matter where. Except…that time of month.”

  “Do you walk around naked?”

  “Of course.”

  “But not with me?”

  “Not with anyone.”

  “No one?”

  “Nope. Never.”

  It’s a shame. She sounds so certain that she never will. “You’re going to walk around naked with me.”

  Her laugh is cut short as my fingers caress her folds, washing all of her.

  “Don’t hold your breath.” Her response lacks the commitment mine holds.

  “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon you’ll be walking around naked and not even realize it.”

  “If you say so.”

  She’s easing into it already.

  “I’m going to love you into confidence, Dove.” My fingers continue their own form of loving her.

  “Mmm,” is her only response as her hips take up the rhythm I’ve started.

  “Will you let me love you the way you need to be loved?” My voice is shallow in her ear, having given up the battle of not thinking of her naked.

  For fuck’s sake, she is naked—in my mind, in my bed, and in my arms.

  Her smallest of nods is all the confirmation I need.

  She may not realize I’m talking about more than loving her body—right here, right now. I’m referring to loving her into healing, filling all those dark, empty spaces, mending the broken pieces with the salve of my love—as she’s doing for me.

  I BLINK AWAKE TO A SOFT caress on my cheek. Once I’m able to focus, it’s Theo’s handsome and entirely too-awake face I see.

  “Morning.” I stretch and yawn, covering my gaping mouth with the back of my hand.

  He smiles warmly, his hand lightly caressing my waist. “Good morning, Dove. Breakfast is ready.”

  “You made breakfast?” A man has never made me breakfast before. I stifle another yawn and sit up, clenching the sheet to my chest, nearly forgetting we went to bed naked.

  Naked—with him.

  “I did.” His perusing eyes and all-too-satisfied gleam tell me he didn’t forget.

  “Have you been up long?”

  “Not long.” His hand slides from my waist to my stomach, rubbing back and forth. “When I awoke, your stomach was growling for food.”

  “What—” My blushing indignation is superseded by a traitorous growl from my mid-section.

  He chuckles. “Yes, like that.” He stands, cups the back of my head, and presses his warm lips to my forehead. “Get dressed.” He turns to leave. “Don’t take too long. Food is getting cold,” he says from the doorway, not looking back but not closing the door either.

  I leap out of bed and rush to the bathroom before he can turn and witness my graceless streaking. As I close the door, I hear him chuckling again. Apparently he knows exactly what I’m doing.

  Teeth brushed, panties and a tank top donned, and robe fastened, I step up to the table just as Theo comes out of the kitchen with our plates. Perfect timing, though he probably heard the bathroom door open.

  “You’re smirking.” I take a seat, laying the napkin in my lap, and eye the plate of bacon and eggs he’s set before me.

  “I’m amused how quickly you disappeared into the bathroom the moment I turned my back.”

  “You didn’t see anything, did you?” I almost whisper, wishing I was bold enough not to care if he did. I salt and pepper my eggs, avoiding the pity I’ll see in his eyes.

  His hand on my cheek stills my movement. “Dove.” His love name for me is so soft and tender on his lips. I close my eyes, stilling the rising tide of emotions.

  He clasps my chin, tilting my face to his. “Open,” he commands, gentle but sure.

  When I open my eyes, it’s not pity I see in his chocolate almond-shaped eyes but acceptance.

  “Don’t shut me out.” His thumb caresses my cheek. “I won’t ever look to see what you’re not ready to show me.”

  A lone tear skates down my cheek. He swipes it away. “Eat. Your eggs are going to be cold.” His gaze darts to my stomach, an amused smile brightening his face. “Your stomach is growling mad you’re making it wait.”

  I groan with embarrassment. Shush, stupid stomach!

  “It looks wonderful. Thank you.” I cut up my eggs and dig in.

  “I hope you like it.”

  He made it. How could I not? “I’ll love it. How’d you sleep?” I ask, taking a bite of yummy fried egg.

  “Very well. And you?”

  “I always sleep well when you’re here.”

  He nods, his brow furrowing as he butters his toast and then swaps it for mine to begin buttering again. “You had a nightmare the last time I was here.”

  “But that’s not because you were here.”

  “Do you have them often?”

  I shrug, not really sure how to answer. “Often enough, but not every night.” I’m not even sure I remember all of them. “When you’re here, I sleep more soundly.”

  I feel safe, like I can truly let go and give in to sleep.

  “I don’t like the idea of you waking up alone after having a nightmare.” He’s seriously drilling deeper into my heart with each word he speaks.

  “Then I guess you can never leave.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, Dove.” His warning doesn’t scare me. Him leaving scares me.

  He eats a few bites of eggs and then continues to dress our toast, offering me grape jelly. But with my mouth full, I simply motion to the jar of apple butter in the mix of jelly jars he arranged on the table. His brows quirk. He reads the label and glances at the jar in contemplation as he smears it on my toast.

  “Try it,” I urge him to sample my toast.

  He tentatively takes a bite. Chews. And then takes another bite. “It’s good. Not as sweet and has fewer calories and sugar.” He approvingly sets my toast on his plate then proceeds to smear more on his toast and
give it to me.

  I guess he likes it.

  “Have you looked outside? I wonder how bad it is out there.” I’m glad we both checked our emails last night before bed. His campus is closed with a high likelihood of Thursday’s classes being cancelled too, and he doesn’t have classes on Fridays. Tyler’s email advised the office is closed and to work on critical items from home. I’ll probably check in with him later to be sure there aren’t any fires I need to be aware of. We’re just beginning to work on our next publication, so missing a few days shouldn’t be too difficult to make up, and my piece doesn’t really come until the end with editing and layout.

  “It’s all white and frozen. It was snowing when last I looked.”

  “Really?” I stand. “I have to see.” I open the blinds to the patio. “Wow, it’s beautiful, like a winter wonderland. Everything is white, shiny, and wet-looking, which means it’s mostly ice.” I squint from the reflection, making the light seem so much brighter. “Have you ever seen it like this? We rarely get weather like this here in Dallas. Now, Lubbock—the panhandle—they get weather like this all the time.”

  “No.” His voice in my ear makes me jump seconds before his arms wrap around me from behind.

  “Shit. You scared me.”

  He squeezes me tighter. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No.” I pat his arm. “I don’t mean like that.”

  He lets out a bunch of air. “No?”

  I lean into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his. “No. You make me feel safe, Theo. Not scared.” At least not physically scared. I’m still scared shitless he’s gonna wake up one day and see me for who I really am.

  “And who’s that?”

  Shit. I said that out loud.

  “I see you, Dove.” His lips brush my ear, sending my heart pounding all over again. “I’m glad I make you feel safe.” He gives me another squeeze. “Let’s finish breakfast.”

  “Have you talked to Simon? I assume tonight’s class is canceled.”

  “Yes. I called first thing, then emailed the class.”

  She pushes her plate way, finished with her half-eaten breakfast. I want to point out that she needs to finish it—it was only two eggs, two pieces of bacon, and two pieces of toast—but think better of it.

  “What do you want to do today? I mean, we’re basically housebound, unless you’re feeling particularly daring. Do you need to do some work? Watch TV? Go to the gym?”

  I perk up. “You have a gym?”

  “The complex has a gym. It’s nothing special, but it does the job.”

  “I need to check my email, but I don’t really have any work I need to do, maybe tomorrow if we’re still snowed—iced—in. I wouldn’t mind watching a movie. But I’d really like to go to the gym if you’ll come with me.” I take my last bite of toast, deciding I’m done as well.

  “Sure, I’ll go. I have my treadmill here, but the gym offers more options.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We agree to wait, letting our food settle before we go. As we clean up breakfast, I sense her reticence to go out in the weather, but she doesn’t give any hints as to why. Obviously, it’s cold, but I sense there is more to it than that.

  Lauren touches my arm as we set up our laptops in her spare bedroom. “Thank you for breakfast. It’s a nice treat to have someone cook for me.”

  I kiss the tip of her nose. “Then I shall do it more often.”

  She laughs, pushing the office chair towards me, taking a dining room chair for herself. “That wasn’t a hint.”

  “I didn’t take it as such.”

  With our laptops set up side by side on her desk, I catch her looking at me. “Something on your mind?”

  She focuses on her screen. “I like having you here—like this. It’s nice.”

  I lift her chin, attaining her attention. I don’t like it when she hides from me. “It is nice. I like waking up with you in my arms.”

  Her blush has her squirming in her seat.

  I lean in, laying a kiss on her apple butter-flavoured lips. “I like it a lot.”

  Outside of seeing my family, I never understood what coming home feels like. Now, I know that it’s Lauren.

  She’s my home.

  And I dearly love coming home to her.

  “I won’t let you fall,” I promise, now understanding her reticence from earlier. She’s nervous about her back, understandably afraid of falling on the slippery ice. I don’t blame her. If I’d sustained the type of injury she has, I’m not sure I would even tempt fate.

  But in this case, I believe fate has brought us together, and one of my jobs is to keep her safe—and unharmed. That includes keeping her on her feet or providing a safe place to land in the event of a fall.

  “I’ll walk on the grass. It’ll provide more cushion if I do fall.” Her eyes scan the winter wonderland we find ourselves in the middle of.

  I had no idea Texas gets weather like this. According to the news stations, the roads are treacherous, and the city has already run out of sand for the main roads and the de-icing mix used on the overpasses. Apparently, salt isn’t used here. Her apartment maintenance guys are out spreading cat litter on the walkways so people don’t fall and break their necks. But Lauren has me.

  “I will not let you fall,” I forcibly reiterate.

  Her eyes widen as she looks at me. “Okay.” Her cheeks and nose are already rosy from the cold. Her hair is secured under her coat’s fur-lined hood. There are snow boots on her feet, gloves on her hands, and a bag on her arm carrying her tennis shoes, water, and towels. She looks ready to embark on an Alaskan adventure rather than a quick jaunt to her apartment’s gym.

  “I won’t let you fall,” I soften my edict.

  Her wide eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. “I heard you the first two times, Professor. I just…” She steps out from under the covered pathway and into the falling snow. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  Bloody hell, this woman.

  “You are not a burden.” I catch up to her, pulling the bag from her shoulder and slinging it over mine. I link our arms, with mine below hers and gripping her hand. She’s not going down without me cushioning the blow.

  As she does with most things that make her uncomfortable, she ignores my comment but does let me guide the way, leaning into me the few times she slips.

  “They say once you fall, you’re more prone to fall again.” She stops, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Her shoulders lower an inch or two. “I did, you know. I fell again, at work, outside in the rain, right there in the parking lot. My heel slipped out from under me. I landed on my butt, in the same damn spot as before.” She looks up at me, blinking away the snow that lands on her lashes. “It hurts like a bitch.” She motions with her head to continue. “I think my fear of falling again makes me less surefooted.”

  “Was your second fall before your surgery?”

  “Yes.”

  Thank God for that.

  We stop at the gate surrounding the pool area. She points to the building on the far side of the two pools, a hot tub, and a gazebo. “The last door is the gym.” Her gaze meets mine. “If we fall would you rather land in the pool or the cobblestone deck?”

  “Woman, for the last time, I will not let you fall.” I capture her protest with my mouth. Her cold lips contrast with the warmth of her mouth as she succumbs to my demanding kiss. I wrap her in my arms. Her hood and my hat protect us from the falling snow as she clutches my jacket, keeping me close—as if I’m going anywhere.

  Breathless and overheated from the inside out, I break our kiss. “Step confidently, knowing I will keep you safe.”

  Her eyes scan mine, and I press my forehead to hers, waiting until we catch our breath. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  The minefield of peril avoided, she quickly keys in the door code, unlocking the gym door, and steps inside. I follow, closing it behind me. She’s already taking off her coat and hanging it on a hoo
k on the wall. I join her and do the same, putting our gloves in our coat pockets.

  She moves to a bench to swap her boots for her sneakers.

  “Thank you.” She smiles up at me, and I’m caught off guard by her radiant beauty of mussed hair, rosy cheeks and nose, and eyes alight with accomplishment.

  I capture her chin with my fingers and thumb to keep her eyes on me a moment longer. Such a normal, simple task of walking to her complex’s gym turned into a trial of trust and determination.

  “You’re welcome.” I brush my lips across hers, wanting more, but settling for a taste.

  Stepping away while she ties her shoes, I look around the smallish room packed with two stationary bikes, two treadmills, an elliptical machine, free weight station with a bench, and two different nautilus weight machines to work out multiple parts of the body. It’s not a bad set up, really.

  “I’m starting on the treadmill to warm up.” Lauren steps on the nearest treadmill.

  “I’ll join you.” I grab our waters and towels from her bag, handing one of each to her before mounting the treadmill next to her.

  “Thanks. How long do you normally work out? You’re probably really hardcore, huh?” Her sour-puss face at the idea of me being a workout fanatic is priceless.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m hardcore, but I do work out usually five days a week, sometimes more. It’s a good way to work off steam. On average, I’d say I go about an hour or two. It depends on the activity and how much time I have.” I set my water bottle in the cup holder and sling my towel over the top. “We can go as long or as short as you like.”

  She motions to the TVs mounted on the wall. “TV or music?”

  “I’m all yours. Show me your routine.”

  She connects her phone to the treadmill’s Bluetooth, accesses her playlist and hits play.

  I match her starting speed as we warm up. “How long do you usually walk on the treadmill?”

  “If it’s all I’m doing, I’ll go for an hour, alternating between walking fast and running. The songs start off slow, gradually get faster, then slow and fast again. I adjust as I go. The timing—the beat of the songs—keeps me motivated.” She increases her speed. I match it. “If I’m only warming up on the treadmill before moving on to weights or something else, then I only go for twenty to thirty minutes.”