“You mean different?” he asked, confused.
“No . . . special. Extraordinary. Incredible.”
“You think I am? I’m odd,” Grady said nonchalantly.
“You are not odd. You donated a ridiculous amount of money to the Center when a much smaller amount would have saved it. I know you won’t admit it, but you care about the programs there. You’re the kind of man who sends Lord knows how many men out just to find one man who stole from a charity. You made the effort to get me a Christmas tree even though you don’t like Christmas. You’re incredible,” Emily answered emphatically. “And don’t you ever say you aren’t. You’re the most unique man I’ve ever known.”
“Is that good or bad?” he questioned, sounding slightly amused. “ ‘Unique’ sort of sounds the same as ‘different.’ ”
“It’s not. And I think you’re wonderful,” she answered decisively. “You are special, Grady. You just don’t see it. You’re brilliant, kind, giving—”
“Ornery, antisocial, irritating, and the Amesport Beast?” he added.
“None of us is perfect, and the only reason people said that is because they didn’t know you,” Emily answered with a delighted laugh. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to live with your good deeds now because you’re the local hero.”
“I only care about you. I want to be your hero,” he answered hopefully.
She turned carefully, trying not to put any pressure on his wound. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stroked his hair, her heart flip-flopping as she rested her cheek against his rough jaw. Grady was so much more than her hero. He was becoming her everything, but she simply answered, “You are. Believe me . . . you definitely are. You probably saved my life.” She kissed him lightly on the forehead, wishing she could take away the pain of his childhood. She couldn’t, but she could try to teach him that his past didn’t have to define his future.
“You know the old Chinese proverb . . . If you save someone’s life, you’re responsible for it forever,” he answered contentedly.
“Don’t worry. I won’t hold you to that,” she commented lightly.
“I want you to hold me to it. Forever,” he said sleepily, wrapping his arm around her waist just a little bit tighter.
Emily wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t want to read too much into what he said. He was hurt, exhausted, and under the influence of the pain pill he had taken before they’d crawled into bed.
It’s better if I don’t say anything. Then I won’t get hurt. Again.
It was cowardly, and she knew it, but everything was so real and so incredibly intense with Grady. She wanted to be prepared, because the pain of losing the fragile relationship they were forming would probably kill her.
Exhausted, they fell into silence, and finally slept.
Grady discovered quite a few new things about Emily Ashworth over the next several days. He learned that she loved Christmas carols, and she sang along with them completely out of tune. But her enthusiasm made up for her being a little off-key, so he found it pretty adorable. Her Christmas cookies were out of this world, and she couldn’t make them fast enough to keep any around for long. She’d tried to hide some, but Grady had managed to ferret them out almost immediately, sneaking into the kitchen when she wasn’t looking and wolfing them down like he’d never had Christmas cookies before. He had . . . years ago . . . but they hadn’t been anywhere near as good as Emily’s. He’d also learned she cried over Christmas movies that were her old favorites. She professed to love them, but they made her cry. What she called “happy tears” weren’t really something he was familiar with. Why would someone cry when they were happy?
The laceration on his side was healing, but not quickly enough. Grady relived that first night in the shower with Emily over and over in his mind, his need to bury himself inside her and claim her nearly an obsession. He walked around with a constant erection, but Emily refused to let him do anything she considered physical, so he was in a continual state of frustrated lust.
Still, they were the happiest days he could remember. Doing the simplest of things with Emily was special. And the more time she spent in his house and in his life, the more he knew he was never letting her go. He couldn’t even think about not having her with him anymore. He thought of her as his own Christmas angel. And she had landed on his doorstep.
Mine!
She was his . . . she just hadn’t realized it yet. Hell, she even had him loving Christmas. It was now his favorite holiday, the memories of the past being obliterated by Emily and all the things she did just for the joy of doing them, never expecting anything in return.
Grady lifted his eyes from his computer for a moment to watch Emily, sitting on the floor of his office, sorting out boxes of paperwork. In a pair of worn jeans and a bright red sweater, she was absolutely mesmerizing. With Emily, it wasn’t one single feature or personality trait that drew him . . . It was the entire package. There wasn’t one single thing about her that didn’t have him completely fascinated. Okay . . . her stubbornness drove him crazy occasionally, but even the annoyed looks she gave him were pretty damn cute. He watched her face as various emotions changed her expressions: irritation, confusion, concentration, and finally elation when she figured something out.
He had to clench his fists on the desk to keep himself from getting out of his chair behind his desk and taking her right there on the floor. He’d had a small taste of her sweetness, but it wasn’t enough. And she’d refused to let him get any more than a kiss since that afternoon, her fear of him hurting himself making her back away every time. There was no sweeter sound than the arousing little noises and moans that escaped from her lips when she was climaxing. Watching her had been the most satisfying experience of his life, and he wanted to see her face when he was deep inside her heat, losing himself in her softness while he pounded her into orgasm.
Grady wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait. Watching her like this was torture, and work was impossible, although he was trying to get some stuff done on his current project. If she was close, he wanted to watch her. If she wasn’t, he wanted to seek her out. He was pretty much screwed either way.
“How can a billionaire possibly be so disorganized?” she said distractedly, sifting through another box of papers, her brows drawn together in disapproval. “And why do you create these awesome businesses just to sell them off?”