Free Just That Easy by Elizabeth Moore

the nonstop muscle spasms of her
strained emotions.
    Then he pulled into the driveway, waving to where she stood
in the doorway, making herself a landmark so he’d know he was in the right
place. The instant his feet hit the porch and his lips touched hers again,
everything washed out of her like a spring rain.
    * * * * *
    Grant walked into the neat, comfortable little house, not
sure what to expect but pleasantly surprised by the eclectic collection of
things that surrounded him. Odds and ends of things from her books, trips she’d
obviously taken, mix-and-match pieces of comfortable furniture that made the
place homey, not sterile and designed to stick to any specific decor. Huge
shelves built into the walls were filled to bursting with books, pictures,
collections of all kinds of little things. But it all fit together. Just like
the crazy jumble of confused emotions she sent his way when he was with her.
    It felt warm. It felt comfortable. It felt real.
    The day at the library had been typically quiet, typically
uneventful. Untypically difficult to endure. He was used to shutting down,
pushing out whatever situation he needed to get his head away from. It was an
excellent advantage to him in the adventure racing. It didn’t seem to help one
damn bit when it came to her and waiting to just touch her again. The all-consuming
desire to just be next to her felt unsettling and it baited his resolve to try to
gain some control over this fire she’d started in the pit of his belly.
    That same control he’d tossed out the window as soon as he
saw her, leaning there in the doorway, waiting. His lips had found hers before
he’d been able to remind himself this was not how he planned for the night to
go, come hell or high water. The problem was, he wasn’t sure why he wanted to
control it when he’d spent so long thinking about getting exactly where he was
now.
    Once inside, he resisted the urge to follow her to the
kitchen where she went to get the iced tea she offered him. Instead he settled
himself onto the comfortable couch, pulling one of the throw pillows into his
lap as if it would act as some kind of shield against her power over him when
she came back.
    Amazingly it did. Or at least, he could say it was the
pillow. Likely it was more his determination to keep his eyes unfocused on her
and focused on everything else instead.
    “I like your place,” he said, examining the long table just
behind the sofa that held a collection of photos from her various trips.
    “Thanks. Not a lot of rhyme or reason to it.” She climbed onto
the sofa next to him, tucking her legs up underneath her and leaning close. Not
even remotely mindful she should be at least a little nervous about him being
in her house for the first time. “Interior decorator, I am not.”
    “It’s you. All of it. It’s exactly as it should be.”
    His comment brought a genuine smile that lit up the room. “Yeah,
it kind of is. No sense at all, just like me.”
    “Stop saying it like that’s something bad.”
    His voice was rougher than he’d expected, the words too
sharp. She visibly flinched, smile gone.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
    Her eyes still clouded she crinkled her brow at him.
“Forgiven. Is… I mean, are you okay?”
    “Long day, sorry.” Very long. Achingly long. Stop
thinking about your dick.
    “No big deal. Hungry?”
    “Starved, actually.” Relief flooded him at the mention of
food and a change of direction.
    “Good, I always make too much food. C’mon, you look like you
need to be fed soon or you’re going to bite me.”
    She had no idea.
    Following her to the kitchen, he took a seat across from her
at a small, old wooden farm table she said she’d picked up at a flea market.
Like most of the things in her house, it was unique, aged and wore its history
on its surface. Comfortable. Inviting. Miles away from the world he had left
behind. The kind of place he could get used to.
    Once they started