In defeat, she pulled her notebook back over.
The urge to speak through art had passed for now. She closed the book and helped him prepare the soup. She echoed words when he talked, enough to make sense as conversation. Then, while the soup simmered, they plopped onto the sofa side by side, and opened the photos on their phones to show each other pieces of their lives. Grady displayed shots of his siblings, his parents, a couple of friends, and his home and hangouts in Moses Lake. Skye showed him last year’s photos, herself and Livy and their mom and some of the cafe employees on Halloween and Thanksgiving.
Grady took the phone from her to look at a shot of Livy and Skye lifting their wine glasses on Thanksgiving, grinning. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. You’re…really beautiful.” He looked at her. “I wish I could make you smile.”
“I wish.” God, she did wish it.
The corner of his mouth curled up. His eyebrow rose too. “Are you ticklish?”
She mirrored the eyebrow lift, a clear invitation.
Within two seconds, he had planted a knee on either side of her, the phones were bouncing onto the sofa cushions, and his deft fingers were dancing up and down her ribs, armpits, and hips.
Stupid fucking curse. Normally she was the most ticklish person alive. Today, though she squirmed and twitched like someone electrocuted, she still didn’t laugh nor even smile.
“Wow.” Grady stopped, letting his weight settle halfway onto her. “Not even with tickling, huh?”
She shook her head. This was comfortable, this position. The heat where he touched her felt like a luxury. He smelled intoxicating, like male skin with fresh whiffs of the celery and parsley he’d been chopping.
Maybe she couldn’t smile. But she could make him happy another way.
She slid her leg outward so that he dropped further between her thighs. He caught his breath and tucked his lower lip under his teeth, his gaze drifting to her mouth. His hands rested on the sofa on either side of her ribs, caging her in. Skye lifted her shirt, exposing her navel and a few inches of skin above it.
He blinked, a flutter of dark lashes, then watched his own hands as they settled onto her bare waist, as if it were the most important event happening in the world. She pulled the shirt one rib higher.
He sank onto her with a long exhalation, and kissed her throat as his hands slid upward. She craved him, felt heat flooding her for him. When he discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra, he groaned against her neck, and pressed hard against her thigh. She caught his leg between hers and squeezed it tight.
“Jesus,” he breathed.
Skye wasn’t lushly curvy like Livy. She’d always been skinnier, and was approaching gaunt these days, what with the stress and vanished appetite during the last month. She could go without a bra because you could do that with A-cups, and she occasionally felt like apologizing when it came time for a lover to place his hands on her unimpressive little breasts. To the boys’ credit, they usually seemed to enjoy it regardless, and Grady’s appreciation of her was blatantly evident.
He caressed her as he rocked slowly against her, his kisses dampened her neck, ears, mouth. Though his breath rose and fell faster than ever, he kept his movements unhurried, as if demonstrating he wasn’t going to push her. The restraint was so luscious that she was provoked into unbuttoning her shirt until it fell open.
That capsized some of his restraint. He leaned his face against her chest, and groaned again. “God, you’re sexy.” Then he lifted his face to squint at her, looking tortured. “Why are we doing this? I’m not supposed to be doing this. This isn’t what your sister’s paying me for.”
“Why?” Skye echoed, using all the skepticism she could muster.
“All right, I mean, I know why. Because we want to, apparently.” At the word want, he glided one of his hands up to cover her breast. “But I feel like I…I shouldn’t.” With great reluctance, he withdrew his hand and pulled the sides of her shirt back over her chest.
Skye understood, sullenly. She was mentally unstable. He’d be taking advantage of a disturbed woman.
He shifted his weight off her, and she tugged herself up and hauled her knees to her chest, scowling.
“I’m not…” she managed to force out, then her tongue refused to work any further. Not mentally ill? Not having psychological problems right now? Not under the spell of aphrodisiac magic? Well, those would all be lies.
Grady, bless him, once again understood her, or at least more than most people did lately. “I know. Believe me, I want you. Jeez, obviously. But I…” He shifted to sit beside her, and ran his hand through his dis-arrayed hair. “There’s been a time or two where I hooked up with a girl too early on in the friendship, and even though it was hot at the time, it was weird afterward, and it kind of ruined things. But I don’t want to ruin anything. I want to be something good for you, not something that makes your life worse.”
Well. She couldn’t have chosen a nobler man to haul into an eternal curse with her. Skye buttoned her shirt, then leaned over and kissed him on the shoulder, more or less chastely. When he cast her a glance, she nodded in acceptance.
His kiss-reddened lips curved again in a smile. “Argh, you’re so pretty. We’ll see how long we can keep our hands off each other, anyway.” He leaned down and treated her to a light nibble of a kiss.
Yeah, better him than a goblin. Or rather, better to become a goblin with him than with just about anyone else she could think of. That counted for something, in a sad way.
Grady drew back. “Let’s go check on that soup.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KIT LEFT JUSTIN IN CHARGE OF THE AUTO SHOP, SAYING HE HAD SOME THINGS TO DO FOR A COUPLE OF HOURS AND would be back after lunch. Though Grady was scheduled to be with Skye till two o’clock, Kit texted him anyway.
Just in case you were thinking of going back to the house between now and 1, don’t.
Uh why? Grady answered. Everything ok?
Yeah, lunch date
lol, ok, sorry I asked. Say hi to Livy for me ;)
Kit changed out of his work clothes, and scrubbed every smudge of motor oil from his fingernails. He met Livy at 11:30 as arranged, at the beachside state park just north of town. She had parked her car there, and stood waiting, balanced on a driftwood log, her long black coat wrapped around her, hood up against the misty rain. When he pulled up and turned off the engine, she strode to the passenger side of the truck and climbed in, not waiting for him to get out and open her door, though he had intended to.
“Hi.” He watched her fit a cloth shopping bag onto the floor by her feet.
“Hi.” She flipped back her hood. “I brought fruit and cookies, though I’m sure whatever Grady made is better.”