Nothing like my family. Ford and I had once been two peas in a pod, almost identical in looks except for his dark hair to my blond. With so many different mothers, even Prentice’s dominant genetics couldn’t overcome the variation among the assorted Sawyer children. We didn’t look alike. We didn’t act alike. And for fifteen years, we’d had absolutely nothing in common. A part of me wanted to grab Hope and run from the whole fucking mess.
Grab Hope? Shouldn’t I be leaving her behind?
No. I wasn’t leaving Hope behind, and I was done lying to myself. Hope was the only good thing that had come of my father dying and saddling me with his will.
I was more than tipsy, not quite drunk, when I made my way downstairs to find Hope fast asleep in the only bed in Alice’s former apartment. A better man might have taken the couch. Without the whiskey, I might have been that man, but I doubted it.
If it had been any other woman sprawled between those soft white sheets I could have talked myself into the couch. In the dim light from the bathroom, her hair spilled across the pillow, her skin warm cream against the cool white sheets, tiny spots of freckles across the back of her shoulders barely visible.
For a heart-stopping moment, I saw all that skin and thought she was naked. Ever unruly in the presence of a grown-up Hope, my cock came to life, not dissuaded when I spotted the narrow straps holding up her nightgown.
A nightgown was almost as good as naked.
No touching. Even half-drunk, I wasn’t that much of an asshole.
I wasn’t sober and Hope was sleeping. I hit the bathroom, standing under a cold shower, the icy water doing little to shock me sober and freeze my cock into dormancy.
I thought about crawling between the sheets. I would. Soon.
Instead, I poured myself two fingers of whiskey and took a position by the window, looking out over the sleeping city that had once been my home. The glass was cold against my shoulder, unable to reach deep enough to soothe the ache from tendons and ligaments not yet repaired.
I should sleep. Instead, I stood vigil—watching my city, watching my wife—as they both slept.
Saying goodbye to one and wondering what I was going to do with the other.
Eventually, whiskey gone and my body exhausted, I slid between the sheets beside Hope. I didn’t touch. Not on purpose. I fell asleep beside her, the scent of cinnamon and apples lulling me until my eyes fell shut and I drifted off. The sense of dislocation that had been dogging me since we arrived in Atlanta dissolved in the heat of the body beside me.
Chapter Nineteen
Griffen
I woke in the thin light of dawn to a warm weight across my chest and legs. Soft skin shifted under my hands, a kitten moan touching my ears as warm breath brushed my chest.
Fuck. I’d fallen asleep beside her, but I’d kept my hands to myself. I had absolutely kept my hands to myself.
Hope was another story. In her sleep, she must have rolled into me, snuggling close until she was draped across me.
I thought about getting up, slipping from beneath her sleeping form and escaping into the bathroom. I could get dressed and head into the office before Hope had any idea she’d been wrapped around me, her cheek to my chest, one leg slung over my hips. She shifted, her thigh brushing my hard cock, and I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
My hands came up to cup her ass, barely covered by a white cotton nightgown. She was more lean than she was curves, but she still filled my hands nicely. Every part of me approved. Wanted more. Still mostly asleep, she stretched up, her mouth brushing my skin. Fingers sinking into her flesh, I shifted her over me, raising her just enough for my mouth to take hers.
She woke and went still as she realized where she was. The slightest hesitation—Would she leave? Was she going to run?—and then her mouth opened to mine, her tongue darting out to stroke mine, and all thoughts of letting her go evaporated.
I rolled, pinning Hope beneath me, settling between her spread legs, rocking my erection into the heat of her as her dazed eyes searched for mine. Her arms wound around my neck, holding on, her lips parting.
Don’t tell me to stop, I silently prayed.
I would if she asked. In that moment, I thought I’d do anything if she just asked.
Those pink lips fell apart, but she didn’t say a word. She arched her neck, lifting her mouth, her eyes hot and inviting. She was half asleep, turned on, and too innocent to have any idea what I was thinking. What I wanted.
I wasn’t going to take advantage, but we had to start somewhere. She was mine. I didn’t care about the will. Not here. Not in this bed with Hope’s warm, soft body under mine, her mouth moving with a greed I don’t think she understood. She wanted me.