Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
This is what it feels like to come back together.
It’s like being home.
“I’m so happy,” I whisper.
He reaches his arm back, clasping my head. “Me too.”
But there’s that matter of how messy barebacking can be. I drag my hand to the top of his ass, then along his crack, down his thighs. Dragging it through the mess I made of him.
I smirk, feeling kind of proud. “Shower with me?”
“I bet it’s the first of countless post-sex showers.”
He slides out of bed, and I smack his ass. “You can count on that.”
30
Declan
Here in the light, I have a great view of the canvas of my favorite work of art.
The pad of my thumb roams over the black ink on his hip, tracing the fine lines of the sun, then the moon. “Finally. I get to see this ink you promised to show me,” I say, as I explore his new tattoos with my fingers.
“You were a little distracted before. I get it,” he says as hot water beats down on us in Grant’s Shower Palace.
His title for it, and does it ever deserve the name. It’s a shower fit for a king, with a gleaming, black-tiled floor and walls, and fifty or so showerheads, it seems. Hot water is spraying me from every direction, and I love it.
I especially love the beads of water sliding down my man’s body. Like right there, over his hip. Home to his new ink. “Tell me about these,” I say.
“Well, one’s the sun. It brings light. The other’s the moon. It causes tides.”
“Smartass.” I run my fingers along the design. “Why? When? A tattoo is never just a tattoo for you. It’s a mantra.”
His lips curve into a grin. “That’s true.”
I curl my palm around his arm, gliding up his strong muscles, past the art near his wrist. “Like your compass. You told me it’s to help you find your way,” I say, repeating what he told me in spring training one night five years ago. “That’s what this represents to you. You had to do that since your parents said things that were difficult to hear.”
As he nods sharply, his jaw tightens, but his lips remain ruler straight, so I kiss the corner of them. “If you want to tell me someday, Grant, I’ll listen. You know that, right? I’ll listen to anything you want to say.”
His hands slide around my waist, his thumbs playing with the divots of my hips. “I do know that.”
“I can be a good listener. Just because I’m the messed up one doesn’t mean I can’t listen.”
Grant scoffs, jerks back, stares sharply at me. “We’re all messed up in our own way. Your messed-up doesn’t scare me. It never has.”
My heart jumps around, like there’s a monkey banging cymbals in there. “Good. Now stop distracting me. Sun and moon. Tell me everything because I want to know more of you.”
“I will, but let’s stop wasting water.” He lifts a finger. “Though, for the record, I did have this shower installed in an eco-friendly fashion.”
“With your fifty showerheads.”
“There are only five. Also, I get sore after games, so a long, hot shower helps.”
I hum, as he turns off the faucets. “I’ll rub you down after games.”
He wiggles a brow. “Don’t act like I won’t take you up on that.”
“Oh, I do want you to take me up on that. I definitely do,” I say as the water peters off.
He steps out, grabs a towel, then tosses one to me.
As we dry off, Grant gestures to his new ink. “I got this before spring training my second year. I went back to the same shop in Petaluma. Where my grandpa goes. I wanted it because I knew I needed to be strong going back there.”
“Strong on the field or off the field?” I ask carefully.
“Off. First time in Arizona after you,” he says, with a sad laugh, as he rubs the towel over his hair.
My chest twinges. “Was that hard? Being at the same place where we were? Same hotel?” I ask, flashing back to that time for me too. I’d dreaded walking into the complex in Florida, even though Grant had never been there. That was what stung—entering the baseball season, my favorite time of year, without as much joy in my heart because Grant was in the past.
Back then, I’d believed he’d stay there forever.
“Just being there, walking those halls, going up the stairwell, was harder than I expected. Goofing off in the pool with our teammates reminded me of you,” he says heavily, then shakes his head like it can shake off the memories. “That’s why I’m glad I had this,” he says, sliding his finger across the ink. “I wanted a reminder that life is full of opposites. Light and dark, hardship and good times, duty and fun. The sun is strength and power, but it needs the moon, too, for balance. And I knew I needed the reminders to stay focused, to stay strong.”