Making Their Vows

“That’s right.” I slide my right hand up her back, fisting the long fall of her hair, tugging back her head to expose her throat. Holding her there. Holding her by the hair in plain view of my block like a fucking caveman—and she loves it. Her fingers twist in my shirt, her hips restless, unconsciously rubbing against my stiff cock. “Mine.”

She wets her lips, eyelashes fluttering. “Yes.”

I can’t stop myself from licking my tongue up the smooth contour of her throat. “I want to spend the day playing house with you,” I confess in a voice thick with possessiveness, emotion. This cocktail of new feelings she’s mixed inside of me. “Want to pretend this is never going to end.”

Grace turns her head and catches my mouth in a hard kiss. “Who says it has to?”

With that, she pulls away and I follow her, hypnotized, toward my building, dangerous hope spreading in the center of my chest. Could this be forever, despite the odds against us?

Could I…keep her forever?

When I let flawless Grace into my apartment, it looks twice as old. Twice as worn.

The cabinets look crooked, the floorboards look extra rotted.

My television is dated. The curtains on the window are left over from the previous tenant, because what the hell do I know about hanging curtains? I’ve cleaned and scrubbed the place to the best of my ability, but in comparison to her glowing skin and expensive clothes, it’s an indoor junkyard.

Grace never loses her smile, though. She sets down her designer purse on my wobbly kitchen table and turns in a circle, surveying the space. “I love the colors you painted the walls.”

“Thanks,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “My sister…I was just trying to brighten the place up for her a little. We don’t get a lot of sunlight in here.”

“You did a great job,” she murmurs. “My entire house is tastefully gray and white. There isn’t a vase out of place. I’m afraid to walk through it sometimes, in case I knock something over.” She shifts in her leather sandals. “I like your place. A lot. It’s comfortable.”

“Some might say it’s a little too comfortable.” I laugh, trying to hide my embarrassment over her seeing my old-ass apartment. “It looks a lot better with you in it.”

Her nipples turn stiff against the front of her shirt and she blushes, dragging her palms down the front of her skirt—and yeah. Christ. We’re not going to make it very long without fucking, are we? I’m barely restraining myself from carrying her to the back bedroom and testing out the warranty on my mattress. We’re only separated by a few feet in my kitchen and all I can do is count the surfaces. The kitchen table, the counter, the wall. Places I can set Grace down and give us the orgasms we’re both obviously in dire need of. Maybe if I come inside of her once, I’ll be able to relax a little?

Yeah right. This is your life now. Walking around with a stiff dick for this girl.

Grace Foster. She called herself mine. What will I get her to say in the dark when she’s jammed full of me, naked, on the edge of coming?

Jesus, I’m an animal.

I’ve got this beautiful, classy girl in my apartment and all I can do is lust after her?

Pull your act together.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure. Anything.”

Nodding, I pour us a couple of sodas, handing one to Grace and watching her lips touch the edge of my glass, memorizing which one it is. We move to the living room and sit down on my couch, watching each other for a few seconds, before giving in. She kicks her shoes off and comes to sit on my lap. I position her sideways, her legs stretched out, head resting on my chest—and I’m positive heaven can’t be any better than this. Holding Grace in my lap. In the silence. The entire day in front of us.

“What happened to working on your sister’s science project?” she asks, her fingers toying with the top button on my polo shirt.

“She’ll be here in a while and we’ll have to get started. I gave her the money to go buy the supplies. But knowing Tulip, she’s probably looking for a poker game to try and double the cash.” My laugh shifts her hair. “My sister is a character.”

“With a name like Tulip, how could she not be?” says Grace, shifting her attention up. “And you’re raising her alone. How did that happen?”

I swallow the knot that forms in my throat. “Gracie, I want you to think the best of me, you know? But the more you find out. About my family, how I live…” I pull her closer, as if to keep her from running. “I’m just worried I’m making it less likely for you to stick around.”