Chapter Thirty-Nine
EMERSON
I ran to my house to grab more clothes and check on my dad. I also needed to grab my laptop so I could catch up on some schoolwork. Dad said he was doing well, but I felt guilty the minute his eyes lit up when he saw me.
I’d been spending almost all of my time either at practice, working, or with Sanchez. I’d been checking in on my dad every day, but I knew it wasn’t as much as I normally did. The texts from Connie helped and Dad always texted me with updates on what he was doing, even if the texts were jumbled and didn’t make sense.
I’d opened my mouth to apologize, but Dad spoke first. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh?” I was almost out the door. “About what?”
“Maybe it’s time you found your own place.” He smiled, it was one of his old smiles, the ones that he used to give me before his illness.
And I wanted to cry.
He was having one of his good days. Which meant he knew how old I was, and that I lived with him because I couldn’t bear for him to be on his own.
“I’ll think about it,” I lied. I was afraid it would upset him, set him back if I moved in with Sanchez. And as it was, he barely noticed I was gone during his episodes.
“Emerson.” He full-named me. Shoot.
I turned on my heel and faced him. “Yes, Dad?”
“I’m proud of you. You realize that, right?”
“Dad.” My throat closed. I could only nod and whisper. “Thank you.”
“He treat you well?” he asked. “The guy that let me beat him at checkers?”
“He does.” I smiled sheepishly. “He really does.” My thoughts went into dangerous territory—love territory—a territory that Grant dominated in every way, amongst several others.
“I can see that.” Dad kissed my forehead. “I want you to be happy, baby girl. And I think he makes you happy, I haven’t seen you smile since . . .” His own smile fell. “Since, Miller Quinton.”
For the first time in years, when my dad said his name—there was no ache. No longing. No anger. No pain at the loss of my best friend and my unborn baby. The memory of those feelings was there, but both Miller and Sanchez had helped me put back together all of the pieces that had once been burned, and breathed new life into them. Sanchez with his love and Miller with his friendship, something that I knew I would treasure the rest of my life.
“Miller and I are actually friends again.” I don’t know why it felt necessary to tell my dad things that I knew within minutes or hours he’d most likely forget, but he was such an important part of what happened with Miller that I felt it was unfair not to give him closure. “He’s playing for the Bucks.”
“The hell he is!” Dad grinned. “And things are good? Tell me everything!” And just like that, Dad’s entire demeanor changed. “Does he start for the team? What are his stats?”
Ten minutes.
I was given ten minutes with the dad I knew.
The old dad.
The one who memorized football facts and beat me at fantasy football every year.
The dad who loved football almost as much as I did.
The dad who’d held me when I’d lost my baby.
The dad who told me that eventually things would be okay, that life would go on.
“I’m so damn proud,” Dad finally said, “that you’ve fixed things between you . . .” A funny look flashed across his features. “You know, I like that Grant Sanchez though . . .”
I burst out laughing. “Yeah, me too, Dad, me too.”
He chuckled and kissed my forehead then walked back to his recliner, grabbed a seat, and pressed power on the remote.
“Oh, and honey?” Dad called. “Don’t stay out too late, remember you still have a curfew!”
And just like that the moment was gone.
But I didn’t care.
Because I’d been given a gift.
Not only closure with Miller.
But closure for my dad, even if he never realized it, I had to believe that he needed it, that it made a difference, even if just for ten minutes of his life.
By the time I made it to the apartment, Sanchez’s car was parked in its usual spot. I smiled to myself and made my way up the elevator. I’d just reached for the door when it jerked open, and I was lifted into the air by his massive hands and slammed against the nearest wall, his mouth silencing any protest I may have had.
Would it always be like this? So explosive? So perfect?
He grinded against me, already aroused, already ready.
I broke away from the kiss on a moan as he trailed more hot, wet kisses down the side of my neck, only to release my body just enough so I could slide down the wall.
“So perfect.” He kissed my nose, then my forehead, before grabbing my T-shirt and pulling it over my head. The minute I tried to suck in a breath, his mouth was there again, teasing, plundering, making sure that every inch his tongue hit was fully explored, almost as if he was afraid he was going to miss out on some golden opportunity each time his mouth slanted over mine.
I hated how good he always tasted.
Because it was impossible not to respond to him.
And something told me that his meeting hadn’t gone well, maybe it was in the rushed kissing, or the way his hands kept peeling off my clothes until I was standing in front of him almost completely naked.
He picked me up, tossed me over his shoulder, and walked into the living room. When he set me down, he was already making quick work of his own clothes before picking me up again and setting me on the piano.
My eyebrows shot up. “You play?”
“Hell yes, I play.” He ducked his head.
I groaned. “So not what I meant.”
“I’m gifted in all areas,” he said gruffly. “Don’t you think?”
I spread my legs for more of him.
With a hoarse curse he found my mouth again, and then he was tugging me to the very edge, until I was ready to fall off the expensive piece.
Instead, I fell onto him.
Or he fell into me.
Maybe, we just fell into each other.
With quick thrusts, he was already driving me crazy.
“Needed you, baby.” His dizzying kisses made it impossible to keep up as his mouth met mine again and again. I couldn’t think straight. Every inch of my body was on fire for him, holding him close, begging him to never stop.
Or maybe that was just my yelling. “Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!”
“Not planning on it.” He swallowed my cry and filled me to the hilt, staying there for a brief moment before moving again, and then cold air hit my butt as he walked us from the piano to the couch. He sat back, his eyes at half-mast as he shook his head and muttered, “Damn.”
“What?”
I could feel him pulsing inside of me, and yet he didn’t move. He was straining to, every muscle taut.
“What’s that look?”
“Smug satisfaction.” He stole another kiss before cupping my hips and forcing me to move on top of him. I’d never been secure being this naked—not even by myself, not really.
The lights were on.
And I was basically having the ride of my life.
On Grant Sanchez.
I wasn’t sure if I should be horrified with my own behavior.
Or thankful that I felt his love so strongly that I didn’t once think about the fat at my sides or the cellulite on my legs. Because he looked at me the way every girl deserves to be looked at.
Like he was the lucky one.
I fell in love a little bit more, not even realizing it was possible as I moved on top of him, giving him everything I had as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
He clenched his jaw. “Killing me, baby.”
I leaned over until the tip of my breasts grazed his chest. “Good.”
“You’ll pay for that, tease.” He gripped my ass and drove into me so hard I saw stars—and felt my body explode on impact.
Chest heaving, he grinned. “Told ya.”
“Cocky piece of work,” I said lamely after laying my head against his warm bare chest.
“That’s why you love me,” he said confidently. “You’ll always know where I stand because I don’t have the censor to keep from talking good or bad. You’ll always know, Curves.”
I gulped. “So, does that mean the meeting went bad?”
He froze and then rubbed his hands down my arms. “Not exactly sure. All I know is this.” He gripped my chin between his thumb and finger. “You’re it for me. I know it’s been two months. But I know. I just know. And I don’t give a shit if the whole world knows too. I just . . . I guess I need to know if you’re on the same page.”
I slammed my mouth against his and then punched him in the arm.
“What?” He groaned. “Why? You know I got beat up today!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were the boys on the playground rude to you?” I teased.
“Sarcastic little—”
I covered his mouth with mine again then pulled back. “I’m here. With you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Grant Sanchez, I’ve got you.” I sighed and placed a hand on his head. “Not just here, you dumb football player . . .”
He grinned.
“But here.” I grabbed his hand and placed it on my heart. “Now any more stupid questions, or can I bake you cookies?”
He groaned. “Cookies then more sex?”
“You can’t just have sex during all of your free time.”
He pouted. “Who the hell says?”
“People who need sleep!” I crawled off him only to have him swat me in the ass.
“I love that ass,” he whispered reverently. “Bend over for me?”
My cheeks burned bright red.
He laughed. “Ah, there it is. I needed that today, Curves. That blush that I know is only for me. Thanks for that.”
“Sometimes I hate you.” I crossed my arms over my body.
“Aw, Em, don’t cover them up. What did I tell you? It causes cancer!”
“It does not!” The guy was unbelievable.
“I read it online.” He nodded his head. “Bras bad. No bras, good.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love me.” He stood. His body was so ripped I sucked in a breath and felt my cheeks heating again. “I know that look.”
Without saying anything else, he turned me around and pushed me onto the ottoman. “And that, folks, is a view I’d kill for.”
I opened my mouth to say something snappy but shut up the minute I felt the tip of him again. Ready for me, yearning.
I arched my back and glanced over my shoulder. “You were saying?”
His chest rose and fell so fast that I wondered if he was going to hyperventilate. “You’re perfect for me. Made for me.” He ran his hands down my back, then the back of his knuckles skimmed across the skin of my thighs before he locked eyes with me and said, “This okay?”
“More than okay.”
“Thank God, because I don’t know what I’d do if you denied me right now.”
“Nothing to cry about, Sanchez.” I winked.
And then couldn’t help but shyly watch as he pressed into me and did what he did best. Love.