Page 98 of Lesson In Forgiveness

Still, she liked this one.

“Are we allowed to go inside?” she called back to Grit, then jumped as he reached past her to unlock the door. “Jesus, I thought I was supposed to be the ninja.”

“You’ve been spaced out for a good five minutes,” he told her, shoving open the door and gesturing her inside. “Sneaking up on you wasn’t difficult.”

Well, hell. Wearing a black scowl, Tabitha stepped over the threshold carefully, unsure what she’d find. It wasn’t a surprise to see the bare bones of the place exposed, but all it was waiting for was someone to come along and make decisions. Paint color, carpet, furniture. “You live dangerously, big boy.”

An arm looped around her waist, hauling her back against his chest so his laugh rumbled through her. The happy vibration shot straight between her legs, as though pleasing him was a reward. “Gonna live with you, aren’t I? Doesn’t that tell you I like to walk on the wild side?”

She almost asked him to fuck her again. The question perched on the tip of her tongue; she was sure she could go through with it. But if he agreed, what if she failed again?

Grit nipped lightly at the side of her neck, then gave her ass a swift, stinging smack that only intensified the ache beneath her belly button. “Go take a look around, Tabitha. Imagine living here, with me, and see how it makes you feel.”

It was an empty cabin, she mused, with counters and windows, doors and cupboards. How was it supposed to make her feel anything? Her knowledge of pretty fabrics and what color reflected the current fashion was severely limited.

She liked black because it concealed blood. Certain shades of blue and green were appealing, and she found buttercups appealing because of how yellow they were. Purple was pretty, although she’d never owned anything that rich in color because it drew attention when she didn’t need it.

Her bootsteps echoed in the empty rooms as she wandered down the hallway. The kitchen and bathroom, both spacious, were on the right. The living room was on the left; the focal point wasn’t the wide window looking out over the resort, but the big-ass fireplace and stone surround. A large storage area was tucked into an alcove between the living and dining areas.

The end of the hallway split in two directions. The door to her left opened up into what she assumed was either an office or a room reserved for other things; a rec room, games room, maybe even some kind of playroom, although why anyone would want a sex room in their cabin when they were in a literal kinky playground baffled her.

The master bedroom was massive, like the entire square footage of her old apartment. There were built-in drawers and wardrobes hidden behind sliding doors, and the view out the window was nothing but forest and hills.

She spent several minutes doing as Grit asked, envisioning herself being normal. Rolling out of a big, superking-sized bed in the morning, using the interlinking door to go into the bathroom for a shower. Drinking coffee in the kitchen while Grit slept after a long nightshift.

How did that make her feel?

Domesticated. Tamed. Safe.

It was going to be an adjustment. Not just relocating, but moving out to an incredibly rural area where the only traffic was whatever wildlife chose to cross the road. The commute wasn’t too terrible, and at least Denver had an airport.

A flash of movement in the window caught her eye; she saw Grit walking up behind her in the reflection, so she didn’t jump when his hands landed on her shoulders.

“Thoughts, opinions, comments?”

“It could be home,” she admitted.

“Yeah? We can view some of the others if you’re not sure.”

Tabitha tilted her head back to meet his eyes. He seemed pleased by her choice, which meant she hadn’t said anything wrong. “We should go see the one you picked out, right? Compare them? This is pretty small.”

“That’s considerate of you, little tiger, but unnecessary. This was my first choice. Must be fate.” He rested his chin on top of her head and exhaled contentedly. “I think we’ll be happy here, Tabby. Fresh air, privacy, good friends. Think you can handle the country life?”

Who knew for certain? But one thing she was sure of was that she was willing to try.

*

Grit

All things considered, she was taking everything in her stride.

He’d fully expected a vehement fuck off at his suggestion they move in together, and she was holding steady through the whole house selection process they were doing right now.

Yes, she was pale. Yes, she was trembling slightly.

But so far, aside from the odd blip, she was keeping her anxiety under control, which in turn stopped her brain from taking a detour into next level craziness.

The question hung in the air, much like a guillotine blade dangling over his neck. He’d watched her studying each cabin before her instincts landed on this one, which had to be a sign. Once inside, she’d drifted through the rooms, muttering to herself—although he didn’t think she was aware of the habit.

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