Too Wild to Tame Page 26

  “A moat?” Grace wondered in that moment if a human being could take flight, if they just wanted it bad enough. Or if two people could hold tightly to each other’s hands and accomplish the impossible feat together. She turned to find Aaron mere inches away, his raging storm gaze trained on her. “This…it’s all I ever needed. Just this quiet, perfect thing.”

  “Good replacing bad,” Aaron whispered.

  Grace’s laugh came out sounding watery. “You really were listening.” She sniffed and swiped at her cheeks. “Do you honestly think, Aaron, that a man capable of this doesn’t have a heart that could capsize the world?”

  “Only because it’s full of you.” Vehemently, he shook his head. “That’s it, Grace. That’s all I know anymore. You’re in there and you’re never coming out. And I don’t have a plan, baby. There’s no plan, except Grace.” He loomed closer, grasping the sides of her face, sliding his thumbs over her cheekbones. “So I’m begging here. I’m begging you to let me be a part of your plan. Could you do that? You want to go where help is needed and brighten the whole damn world like you’ve brightened mine? I’m coming, too.” His breath wheezed in and out. “If you’ll let me, I’ll stand beside you and watch you fucking shine. Will you. Will you let me?”

  “Yes. Yes. Oh my God, yes.” She leapt into Aaron’s arms, holding tighter when he grated her name, over and over, his mouth frantic in her hair.

  “I love you.” He sank to the ground, cradling Grace on his lap, rocking them back and forth. “I love you, Grace. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

  Battling the urge to shout her happiness was paining Grace’s throat so badly, she gave up the fight and let it rip, sending a falcon winging into the sky. “I love you, too.”

  Epilogue

  Aaron growled into Grace’s neck when the Suburban revved its engine outside the cabin door—for the fifth time. Responsibility urged him to do the right thing, climb off Grace’s giving, siren’s body and say good-bye to his siblings who, in fairness, had given him and Grace hours of privacy since they’d come off the mountain. Without so much as a nod in Belmont, Peggy, and Sage’s direction, Aaron had carried Grace through the door, slammed it, positioned her on the rickety twin bed, and fucked her rotten, a hand stamped over her mouth.

  The first time anyway. After the residual panic and elation had been bucked from his body into the love of his life, they’d slowed down. Or they’d tried to slow down, every single time, with little success. With Grace’s legs wrapped around his hips, as they were now, his ability to savor dwindled quickly.

  “There will be time,” she moaned now, twisting her slight body beneath him, asking for it. Always asking for it hard. “We have so much time. All of it.”

  Knowing she was right—thank God—but physically incapable of denying himself the tight stroke of her entrance, Aaron gripped the iron headboard bars and gloried in several rough pumps. “I’m afraid you’ve signed on with a selfish man, Grace. I’m so selfish for you,” he gritted out, reveling in the purposeful constriction of her walls. “Rubbing off on you already, am I?”

  He felt a shudder pass through her sweating body, watched it roll on a writhe he knew wasn’t voluntary. So goddamn incredible, this woman. His woman. “Yes…you are rubbing…”

  Something in Aaron—something in addition to the love, light and heavy at the same time—cut loose, allowing him to laugh. He laughed against Grace’s swollen lips, but it turned into a sound of remorse when the Suburban honked outside. “All right, we go outside and say good-bye.” He dragged his forehead down between her cleavage, nipping the sensitive skin. “And then we come back for more.”

  When Aaron rolled off Grace with a curse of regret, she turned over and snuggled into the sheets, green eyes smiling as she watched him dress. But the smile faded a few degrees. “Aaron, you’re going to miss them. Are you sure you don’t want us to go along?”

  Us. Knowing she would now and always speak of them as one entity, Aaron felt cool comfort ease through his middle. “We’ll see them in New York on New Year’s Day. But we’re going to see this place through first. It’s important.” He bent down and kissed the small of her back. “To us.”

  Over the last handful of hours, more than lovemaking had taken place, although it had filled the majority of time. Pendleton had called Aaron, obviously knowing Grace would be with him. To the surprise of both of them—and Aaron’s incredible relief—he’d apologized to his daughter for pushing her into a probable media circus to boost his campaign. He’d also acknowledged her ability to decide whom she dated and thanked Aaron for preventing him from making a mistake that morning. After that, Aaron had been asked to remain on staff. There’d been a moment of hesitation on Aaron’s end, mainly because he’d been heartened by the additional contentment in Grace’s eyes over the father-daughter reconciliation, but in the end, he’d given his resignation.

  While Aaron would have done his damndest to move heaven and earth to make Grace happy…he’d resigned for both of them. He genuinely didn’t want to shovel bullshit anymore. Didn’t matter how effectively he could do it, or if his methods achieved victory; those victories had been hollow for a long time. He’d been chasing one with substance. This love for Grace, this was substance. And now that he knew the definition of fulfillment, he wasn’t going to bother searching for it in the wrong places.

  Looking around the cabin and all its improvements, Aaron recognized what was possible. He and Grace could make a mark together. And he couldn’t fucking wait to get started. As soon as they got YouthAspire up and running, he would sit back and let Grace decide where she wanted to light up the globe, and he’d bust his ass to get them there. Them. Always, forever, them.

  Grace caught his eye, pausing in the act of buttoning her shirt. “Are you over there coming up with ideas for our next mission again?”

  God, she sounded drowsy and well satisfied. Best sound imaginable. “Not unless they involve how I’m going to work you into a lather later.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks flushed. “Carry on.”

  With a laughing groan, Aaron stooped down, wrapped an arm around the back of Grace’s legs, and hefted her over his shoulder. When he walked them into the courtyard, Aaron was thankful the day’s snow had kept the volunteers from coming to work because, based on Sage’s scandalized look and Peggy’s snort, there was no doubt as to what they’d been doing on the cabin’s twin bed. For Belmont’s part, he leaned up against the side of the Suburban, watching them approach with a mixture of approval and…curiosity. It brought Aaron back to the conversation they’d had in the cafeteria—his brother’s restlessness over the little wedding planner—and if Aaron had one regret about bailing on the road trip’s second half, it was missing what was to come between Belmont and Sage.

  Aaron set Grace down, but kept her up against his side. “You think you assholes can manage to find New York without me there to map the most efficient routes?”

  With an exaggerated sigh, Sage floated forward to kiss their cheeks. “We’ll manage,” she said, before dropping her voice for their ears alone. “It’s really unfair of you to leave when I’m still feeling guilty about slapping you.”

  “I deserved it,” Aaron said, tugging Sage close for a three-way hug. “Feel guilty you didn’t do it sooner.”

  Sage stepped back with wet eyes before climbing into the Suburban, laying a hand on Belmont’s neck as she went, visibly draining some of his tension.

  Grace ducked out from beneath Aaron’s arm, giving each of his siblings an unrestrained hug and a few whispered words, fervent promises to catch up in New York. Then she winked back at Aaron. “Go,” she mouthed, before dancing back toward the cabin. Watching her pause on the threshold, Aaron could barely catch a breath. Maybe he never would. He didn’t know. And that was more than okay.

  Not bothering to hide the absolute contentment in his eyes, Aaron swept Peggy off her feet in a bear hug, tickling her ribs for good measure. “I hear there’s a man you need to give hell.”
Grace had spilled the beans over the course of their hours together, mostly because she wished they could be there for Aaron’s sister in Cincinnati. “He’s not going to know what hit him.”

  “Yeah, well. Then I’ll be returning the favor.” Peggy lifted her shoulders and let them fall, before taking Aaron by the sides of his face. “You did good, bro. Real good. I’m so stupid happy for you, I could spit.”

  Shit. How much could he take in one day? Someone above kept pouring and pouring into his cup, overflowing it and drowning everything in the vicinity. “Thanks, Peggy.” He encompassed his sister and brother with a steady look. “Listen, I…you didn’t have to stick around. You could have dropped me off and kept going, met me in New York.” He swallowed. “I’m really fucking glad you didn’t, all right? I wouldn’t have figured this out without both of you.”

  Belmont laid a hand on his shoulder. “Yes. You would have.”

  Aaron couldn’t respond, didn’t have the ability, so he only nodded, gripping his brother’s forearm tight as he could.

  “I wish Rita were here to see all this. The camp. To meet Grace.” Peggy’s nose pinkened at the tip. “I wish Mom could be here, too.”

  They were all quiet a moment, before Aaron spoke up. “Rita will be in New York.” He smirked. “If Jasper can convince her to fly.”

  When their laughter cooled, Belmont turned, opening the groaning driver’s side door. But he stopped before climbing in, his stillness demanding both Peggy and Aaron’s attention. “I think Mom will be in New York, too.” He tapped the keys against his thigh. Just once. “I think maybe she’s been here the whole time.”

  Aaron was still staring after the Suburban a minute later when it rolled beneath the hanging wooden sign, out of camp. But the pull toward Grace was so vast, so huge, he could only smile as the vehicle got smaller, his siblings moving on to their next adventure—and God knew it would be. They were Clarksons, after all.

  Sage, too. She just didn’t know it yet.

  When Aaron turned, Grace was waiting. She opened her arms and he walked into them, the only place he would ever call home again.

  Look for the next book in Tessa Bailey’s Romancing the Clarksons series, Too Hard to Forget, available in April 2017.

  A preview follows.

  Elliott had just blown the whistle to end practice when he felt Peggy approach at his back. Or rather, his players started shoving one another, throwing their chins in his direction, when they thought he didn’t see. Had he not put the fear of God into these men yet? Tomorrow’s practice was going to be hell.

  The hell of right now concerned him more, however. In a matter of seconds, he’d be in her presence again. Her. And there was a good reason for his team and fellow coaches to be staring with their mouths open while Peggy probably swayed up like a runway model. Not only was she a bombshell that always seemed poised to go off any second, but no one ever approached him. If someone got up the nerve to wave or shout his name from the stands, it was a rarity. They just stared at him, as if he were the statue they’d erected in his honor outside the stadium.

  Peggy had no such problem, apparently. In fact, before Elliott even turned around, he could sense her reveling in not giving a fuck, and panic slid into his blood like a sea monster. She’d gotten even braver. Brave enough to divert his path again?

  No. Not after all the work he’d done to build it.

  During those months of madness her senior year, she’d come to him at night. Or vice versa. When no one else was around. They’d be on each other before the sound of the knock even faded. Christ, he’d taken Peggy in a way he’d never allowed himself before she’d made a home in his head. Without restraint. No boundaries. Zero patience.

  Too much of a danger to a man whose entire life was made up of rules. Rules that kept him from looking right or left. Straight ahead only.

  “Head to the showers,” Elliott boomed, pleased when everyone moved at once, without hesitating, like he’d conditioned them to do. “We’ll be back here tomorrow, bright and early. Scrimmage against the B squad.”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  “Yes, Coach,” came the amused feminine echo behind him. He thought the hour since Peggy arrived had given him time to prepare, but he was wrong. When he turned around, his gut screwed up like a fist. Fuck. Still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It was more than just her blond pinup looks, though, wasn’t it? Always had been. There was enough sharp wit in those dark gold eyes for a man to get lost. Like he’d almost done once.

  “Peggy,” Elliott said, transferring his clipboard to the crook of his arm, so they could shake hands. A reflexive move. That was how he operated. Handshakes. Giving hugs and kissing cheeks weren’t part of his day. But even the muscle memory couldn’t make it feel natural, though. Not with her.

  One of Peggy’s eyebrows arched at his outstretched hand, but she recovered, twining their fingers together slowly. At the zing of static, the corner of her mouth jumped, like they’d traded a secret, and God help him, his cock thickened in his jeans. “Elliott,” she murmured. “You look exactly the same.”

  He took his hand back out of necessity. “Three years isn’t all that long.”

  “No. I guess not.” For just a second, he thought her flirtatious smile turned forced, but it came back with such a glow, he figured it was his imagination. “It was long enough for them to put a giant statue of you at the entrance.” Her teeth sank into that full lower lip and held, long enough to drive him a little insane. “I bet you hate it, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Damn. It didn’t seem possible so much time had passed since they’d stood across from each other. Not when she could still call his bullshit a mile away, the way no one else ever had. “They could have waited until I was dead or retired.”

  “When it comes to you, I don’t think those things are mutually exclusive.” She hummed in her throat, her gaze tripping over his chest, lower. “Anyway, they already think you’re God, so your immortality is a reasonable assumption.” When she took a step closer, he almost dropped the clipboard. In favor of staving her off or yanking her closer? He had no idea. But she only lifted a finger, trailing the smooth pad across the seam of his lips. “The sculptor didn’t get your mouth right, though. It’s much more generous, isn’t it?” Elliott snagged her wrist and her eyes lit with challenge. “Or maybe the sculptor just hasn’t experienced it the way I have.”

  Lust and irritation joined forces in his blood, making it boil. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Peggy?”

  The seduction in her expression lost steam. “That’s the first thing you ever said to me.” She visibly shook herself, tugging her hand from his grip. “I’m here for alumni weekend. Obviously.”

  Still stuck on the former statement she’d made, it took him a moment to catch up. “You’ve never come before.”

  He counted three breaths from her mouth. “Noticed, did you?”

  Time-out. He would have called one if they were in the middle of a game and both sides were firing too hot, swinging on the unpredictable vines of momentum. In many ways, this confrontation so far had been a game. A testing of each other’s strengths. Well, they were standing on his field. And on his field, he didn’t deal well with surprises and unknowns. Time to put everything out in the open, even though he could feel acid rising in his throat. “Are you here with your husband?”

  She froze so long, he wondered if she would answer him at all. “Um. No, he—he’s back in California.” A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure…I—I didn’t know if you received the wedding invitation. You were moving houses when I left Cincinnati and—”

  “My mail was forwarded,” Elliot said, his voice low. “I got it.”

  Peggy backed away with an uneven nod. The currents running between them had changed so abruptly, but he couldn’t decide on a reason. He’d admit to mentioning her husband as a way to throw up a necessary wall between them, but—

  Elliott’s phone rang.

&n
bsp; He cursed, digging the device from his back pocket, frowning down at his daughter’s name where it flashed on the screen. “Alice,” he said to Peggy without thinking. “She should be in theater rehearsal.”

  “You should answer it,” Peggy said, still backing away from him. Way too quickly. “Maybe I’ll see you around—”

  “Hold on.” He should have let her go. God knew he should have. But Elliott didn’t walk away from an interaction without a final score on the board. And he swore the stadium lights had shorted out somewhere in the middle of the game. “Just stay right there.”

  She tilted her head. “I’m not one of your players.”

  “Please,” he growled.

  When Peggy shrugged—and stayed put—Elliott answered the phone, teen angst meeting his ear in full stereo. “Dad, I have to change schools. My fucking life is over. You don’t understand—”

  “Watch your language. And you haven’t given me a chance to understand.”

  A closemouthed shriek scraped down the line. One with which he was well acquainted. “Kim Steinberg broke her leg skiing this weekend and I’m the understudy for her character in The Music Man and I don’t have the lines memorized. I faked my way through it, because she’s never even missed a day of school. Like, ever. Why would she want to stay home when she looks like that? Oh God, oh God. The fucking performance is in five days and I—I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You don’t give a shit about my life.”

  Elliott watched Peggy’s expression melt into soft sympathy, whether for him or Alice, he didn’t know, but it was too reminiscent of those times he’d confided in her. A rarity for him, to say the least, and something he had no right to miss. “Three days seems more than sufficient to memorize the lines.” He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye socket. “I have a few more hours here watching game film, but when I get home—”