Touching Down

  “I know, I know. I didn’t mention Charlie. Just, please, listen.” He rolled his neck, making it pop again. “After telling him about your Huntington’s and asking him if he had any suggestions, anything, for ways we could help you, he brought up something.”

  I wasn’t angry. Not really. I understood what it was like to be desperate for a miracle. I didn’t blame Grant for wanting that miracle. It was hard to watch someone else cling to any and every miracle though, when I’d realized a while ago that there was no such thing when it came to diseases like this one.

  “What did he bring up?” I asked quietly.

  Grant’s eyes met mine. “There are some new experimental drugs. A couple look really promising.”

  My head shook. “Those experimental drugs won’t be available to someone like me until it’s too late. It will take years, maybe decades, before any of those new drugs make it through the FDA.”

  His head shook as he moved to one of the windows. “These drugs don’t have to pass through the FDA.”

  “Every prescription drug in the US has had to pass through the FDA. Why would any of these be different?”

  He stared out the window, bracing his arms on the sill. “Because these ones aren’t in the US. They’re in Europe.”

  I’d been so ready to argue with him that his answer made the words stick in my throat. It took me a moment to realize what he was saying.

  “But how could we get the drug here? Wouldn’t it be illegal?” I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him. As painful as it was, I was thankful he’d held onto hope. As far-fetched as it was, I was touched he’d taken such time to even look into an alternative so out-of-the-box.

  “We’d have to travel there. That would be the only way.”

  “Travel to Europe?” My voice cracked. I’d never been outside of the US. After my diagnosis, I never thought I would either. “How are we going to do that? You’re in the middle of your season. I don’t think I can travel that kind of distance on my own anymore.”

  Grant turned around, holding up his hands. “This isn’t something we’re going to be able to do tomorrow. Ravi’s heard through the grapevine about these new drugs. It’ll take him time to narrow down which lab’s working on them, and time to make contacts that would be willing to let us make a ‘donation’ in exchange for the drug.”

  My eyebrows pulled together. All I could see was red flag after red flag in that conversation. “Donation? Is that the way they do things over in Europe? A person walks into a pharmacy and makes a donation in exchange for their pills?”

  The dark room couldn’t hide the sheepish expression on his face. “These drugs aren’t even on the market in Europe yet, Ryan. They’re getting close, but you would be one of the first humans on the planet to try them.”

  My heart was sliding up my throat. From nerves mainly, but also from hope. I’d abandoned it so long ago, and sacrificing it had been painful. I didn’t want to chance the same thing happening when and if this proved to be like the rest of the times I’d let myself hope.

  “Are you suggesting I become some guinea pig? For some drug that isn’t legal in the country which we’re standing in at this very moment? For some drug that isn’t even on the market in Europe yet? After making a ‘donation’? By the way, how much will that donation be? I doubt the lab working on this miracle drug is a charitable institution. Probably one of those money-making ones, right?”

  Grant lifted his hands again. “Slow down. I just talked with Ravi an hour ago. Even he doesn’t know all of the particulars and is going to have to look into it for us, but the reason I’m bringing this up is because there’s hope, Ryan. This could be it. The miracle you’ve been looking for.”

  And there was that word. Miracle.

  I knew better than to believe in miracles. I knew better than to go off in search of one. I wasn’t expecting or even hoping for a miracle—I would have been happy with time.

  “And if this drug is so great over there, why don’t we have it over here yet?” I asked, ready to start punching hole after hole through this whole miracle issue. I wished he’d just accept that I had Huntington’s and nothing was going to change that. Then we could both move on and enjoy however many months or years I had left of being me.

  “Listen, Ryan, I’m a football player. The dumbest of dumb jocks. I don’t understand how this works. Shit, I didn’t understand half of the words Ravi was using tonight.” He inhaled slowly, a painful look passing over him. “But I do know this is something good. I do know Ravi knows his shit and wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t think it was worth something, and I know he’ll do everything he can to get us the answers we need. And I know that I would pay any price to have more time with you.”

  Rising from my perch on the bed, I started toward him. My head was spinning with everything from experimental drugs to how powerless I’d felt crashing to the ground earlier today. I was tired of thinking about Huntington’s and all that revolved around it.

  “I don’t want to talk about dying anymore.” Dropping my hand in his, I laced my fingers through his and gave him a tug.

  He followed me, giving me a curious look. “What do you want to talk about then?”

  When I felt the edge of the mattress against the backs of my legs, I stopped. “Living.”

  His eyes flashed as the moment caught up with him. A smile started to form when I patted the bed, and he sat there. “Is that something you talk about or more something you do?” He managed to make do sound every bit as illicit as one word could get.

  “It’s something you do. Something I’m about to do.” Splaying my fingers on the caps of his knees, I leaned in until my mouth was brushing his ear. “All.” He quaked when I kissed the line of his jaw. “Night.” A rumble echoed in his chest when I sucked at his neck. “Long.”

  When I leaned back, I found his eyes were excited and his muscles so stiff they were pressing veins through his neck and forearms. “I’ve always been a fan of living. A big fan. Huge.”

  I smiled as I reached for the hem of my nightgown. “I remember,” I said, sliding it up my body.

  This was the first time I’d stripped for a man since I was seventeen. First time I’d be naked and exposed, and the first time I’d seen a naked man and felt his body.

  The first time Grant and I had had sex, I’d been nervous. At least a little. I’d been worried because I was young and inexperienced. I worried I wouldn’t know what I was doing or how to please him. I worried I wouldn’t be enough. But he’d put every one of those worries to rest that night, and even after all of this time, those worries were still in the ground.

  When I finished pulling the gown over my head, I let it fall on the carpet behind me. My chest was moving as fast as his.

  “Sweet Jesus, Ryan,” Grant rasped, his eyes wandering my body. He didn’t miss anything, giving the cap of my bare shoulder as much attention as he did the canyon running between my breasts.

  “I haven’t been with anyone in seven years.”

  When my fingers hooked under my panties, Grant reached for my arm and pulled me closer. His fingers replaced mine, slipping my panties down my body, his thumbs caressing the insides of my thighs as they lowered.

  “I’ll go slow—I’ll be gentle.” His head dropped to my stomach, his breath warming the area south of my navel. It made my body weak with want.

  “That’s not what I mean.” My eyes sealed shut as his hands made their return journey. This time, his thumbs caressed what was between my inner thighs.

  An uneven grunt rumbled from his mouth when he felt my body ready for him. “What do you mean then, Ryan? Whatever you want—it’s yours. Just say it.” His tongue tasted my skin, circling my navel before moving lower.

  “I don’t want slow. I don’t want gentle.” My back quivered when his knuckles brushed between my legs. “I want the opposite.”

  Grant’s grip tightened against me, before his head tipped back and his eyes found mine. “Then get on the bed and l
et me give you just that.”

  He rose like a tower above me with his body so close, his arms feeling as though they were swallowing my body whole. His hands formed around my backside, and he lifted me into the air. As I wrapped my legs around him, my mouth crushed against his, letting his tongue claim my mouth. I was desperate to have some part of him inside me.

  He spun us around, breaking the kiss once he’d lowered me to the bed. I didn’t want to let him go—my legs only tightened when he tried to pull back. One leg at a time, his hand formed under the bend of my knee, untying them from him and spreading them on the mattress.

  He was so damn strong. He didn’t have to take his time exerting his force. He didn’t have to be gentle about showing it. But he always did—he always had. In the process, his strength became transient, making me feel just as strong. Harnessing his power—controlling it when lesser men would have abused it—was one of the reasons Grant Turner had been the only one who’d ever owned my heart.

  “As bad as I want you right now . . .” His voice was a deep rumble in my ear as he ground himself between my legs. My moan rose from deep inside me as I arched my back closer. “I want to feel all of you against me. I want all of you.”

  He pitched into me once more before pulling back, a smirk moving into place when he looked down at me writhing and panting, desperate.

  “This. This right here.” His eyes took me in: my lips parted from my breathing, my nipples hard from my arousal, my knees still spread, my body trembling from need. “This is the image I’m going to focus on whenever my fist curls around my dick.”

  I lifted onto my elbows as he tugged off his shirt. “You’ve got me for that. No need to take your matter into your own hand.”

  “And after the past seven years of taking my matter into my own hand, you have no idea how fucking thrilled I am about that.” He stopped working the button of his jeans free to flash his right hand. “The callouses on my hand thank you. My sex-starved dick thanks you . . . and your . . .” A clearing of his throat filled in the rest. As his gaze dipped down my body, his hands moved with new speed to free him of his pants.

  I was so focused on Grant’s body as he undressed it that I felt dizzy from the way the muscles pulled his skin with every little move, fascinated by the way the moonlight highlighted certain areas, the darkness shadowing others.

  “Grant?”

  “I also answer to Sir, Sex Lord, or if you’re feeling really kinky, Daddy.” He arched a brow at me, smiling.

  “Can I clarify something?” I swallowed.

  “Absolutely, but you might want to hurry. I’m planning on making it difficult for you to speak soon.”

  When he pulled his jeans down past his hips, heat burst up my throat. The man really didn’t believe in underwear. When my eyes went wider, my tongue touching my lips, Grant’s hand dropped to himself. He was trying to distract me. Trying to prove to me what he meant by making it impossible to speak.

  “That seven years of giving your hand callouses . . .” I had to close my eyes and exhale when he started to lower his body onto mine. Focus, Ryan. For ten seconds. It was next to impossible to focus on anything besides the way Grant’s warm body felt spreading against mine. “Was that more of a bonus on the side or—”

  “All the action I got,” he answered, his arm cradling my body as he dragged us up the bed. Once he had placed my head on a pillow, his head dropped, nuzzling between my breasts.

  “So my mind’s a little fuzzy right now, but does that mean . . .?”

  “You’re the last woman I was with, Ryan,” he whispered against my skin, his warm breath making the skin prickle.

  “Come again?”

  His husky chuckle vibrated against my sternum. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever been with. My first. My last.” He kissed the canyon at the base of my neck. “My only.”

  My ears accepted his words, but my mind struggled with them. “No way. No. Way.” My throat bobbed as I considered that. I tried to wrap my mind around a man of his stature going through a seven-year dry spell. Willingly going through one.

  “You’re the only woman for me. I’ve known that my whole life. And I’m not the kind of guy who’s content to pretend with another. It was you or no one.” After kissing each of my breasts, he rose back up my body until I could feel him pushing at my opening. “You’re the only woman I’ve been with. I’m the only man you have. I want to take you just like this, with nothing between us”—his hips circled mine, pressing into me just enough to make me moan—“but if you want me to, if I need to, it’s okay—”

  My head shook against the pillow. “I am on every form of birth control known to woman.”

  Grant’s chest bounced against mine from his chuckle. “Had to check.”

  “Thank you for checking.” My back arched as his body pressed deeper into mine.

  “Now, baby, hold on.” His hands lifted my arms to his headboard, curling my fingers around the grooves of the metal design. “I’ve got seven years to make up for.”

  I gripped his headboard as hard as I could, feeling the same way. When I felt his hips flex, I lifted mine to meet them. Despite how desperate I knew we both were to unleash years of pent-up need, Grant held back just enough. He lowered inside me slowly, giving my body a chance to accommodate him before he moved deeper.

  My teeth sank into my bottom lip when he could go no farther, the breath hissing from his lips when I tightened around him.

  “So? How is it?” I breathed.

  “My god, Ryan,” he panted, his hand curling into my hip. “This was worth another seven years of jacking off to nothing but the image of you.”

  The level of awe and seriousness in his voice made me almost smile. “Glad you think so.” I pulled my hips back, making his hand braced beside my head fist into the pillow. “Now . . .” I tipped my head and blew a soft breath by his ear. “Daddy”—his back quivered as I continued to slide off of him—“make me feel good. Show me what living’s all about.”

  IT WAS A new day. It felt like a new life.

  The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but still, I felt renewed. Reborn. Re something. I guessed that had plenty to do with the way Grant and I had spent the night. All of the night. Sleep deprivation would be the theme of the day, but I knew neither of us would complain. Not after last night.

  I also knew the re-something feeling came from what he’d said before we’d fallen into bed. Experimental drugs and Europe kept filtering through my mind, reminders not to get hopeful at the same time they gave me hope.

  “What time is it, baby?” Grant asked as I finished drying off. After a few rounds of sex, we’d decided a shower was in order.

  “A little after four,” I answered, checking the time on my phone.

  He grumbled, turning off the showerheads. “Dammit.”

  “What?” I finished toweling off my hair and wrapped the towel around my body.

  “I’ve got to leave in an hour.”

  “So? That gives you plenty of time to get dressed and eat breakfast.” At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled. There’d been no lack of appetite-working-up last night.

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t give me time to take my time with you.” Grant stepped out of the shower, wet and hard, a familiar look on his face.

  My legs squeezed together, my heart already racing.

  “So I’ll just have to speed things up.” He moved toward me, almost stalking me.

  My head tipped back, admiring him as he approached. As many times as I’d had that man’s body last night, I wanted it that many times again and more right now. “Want a towel?”

  “Sure.” He reached out and gripped my towel. “I’ll take this one.” He tugged it free from my body and threw it across the room.

  “I thought the whole reason for jumping in the shower was to get clean.”

  Grant nodded, half a smile on his face as he stationed himself behind me. “And the point of getting clean is to go and get dirty all over again.”

&nb
sp; “Ah, of course it is.” I looked at him in the mirror as he formed his hands around my hips. “But I think this might be a bit of a logistical challenge. Unless you’ve got a step stool nearby or plan on dropping to your knees.” I stared up at Grant towering above me, my body already spiraling at the thought of him taking me again.

  “I will happily get on my knees for you anytime you want, Ryan Hale. I will drop to my knees and worship you every minute of every day.” His hand dropped to my chin, tipping it back so I was looking at him. “Is that what you want right now? Me on my knees in front of you?”

  I could feel my pulse in my temples, between my legs, in the arches of my feet. “No,” I whispered, looking him in the eyes. “I want you like this.”

  A predatory look flashed across his face as his hips pressed into mine until I was wedged between the counter ledge and him. “And all I want is you.”

  He slid my wet hair over my shoulder to kiss the back of my neck as I felt him move inside me. My cry echoed in the bathroom as he moved deeper, lifting me off of my feet. My hands curled into fists, clasping onto anything, thin air included, to hang on.

  Grant’s arm slid in front of me, his other staying braced around my hips. His hand dropped open between mine. “Hold on to me, Ryan,” he rasped. “Hold on and don’t let go. Ever.”

  When my trembling hands found his, he folded them in his strong grasp. His wet chest pressed into my back as he moved in slow, deep thrusts. His grunts tangled with my cries, until I knew neither of us would be able to last much longer.

  “Ryan?” His fingers tangled tighter around mine as he seated himself as far as he could. “With me?”

  My head bobbed as I felt the first wave of my orgasm come over me. “Always.”

  Grant’s head fell beside mine, his breath coming hard as he thrust inside of me one last time, coming with me. “And forever.”

  AFTER GRANT LEFT, I couldn’t have slept if I wanted to, so I reassembled the room we’d managed to make creative use of. Who would have thought a chaise could be used in so many ways? Who would have thought so many lamps could topple over and not break?