Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
There’s a prolonged charged moment of staring. It’s so intimate I could cry. He surveys me with a reverent longing, dragging his gaze from the top of my head where all my hair spills out across my pillow, down to my toes wiggling underneath the comforter.
When his eyes meet mine again, a fissure of awareness passes through me like a cascade of goose bumps.
Oh Grant, you’ve done it. You’ve made me fall in love. Good going, you fool.
The thought is so terrifying I have to make light of it. “We have a celebrity name, you know.”
He nods and stays put in the doorway. “I was wondering if you’d caught wind of that.”
“Oh yes. We’re famous. I think that’s why Luke suspects something. Pity when you think about the fact that there’s nothing to be discovered. We aren’t dating. We’re not even hooking up…”
“I’m tucking you in bed,” he points out like this is absolutely damning.
“Yes, like a dutiful babysitter. Don’t worry, I’ll tell my mom to tip you.”
He very nearly smiles.
“I want you to come lock the front door after I leave.”
He’s leaving.
NO.
No.
Panic spikes through me as painful as a bolt of lightning.
“Don’t leave. Come lie down with me,” I plead.
The invitation exhausts him. He rubs the back of his neck as his expression turns weary. Then he shakes his head. Is he staying away because he doesn’t want me or because he’s trying not to take advantage of me in my current state? Either way, rejection is a searing knife straight through my rib cage. I can feel it like it’s really there, wedged in the center of my chest.
“Please.”
Reluctantly, he pushes off the doorframe to walk into the room. Like it’s the most important thing he’s ever done, he slowly takes a seat beside me on top of my comforter.
It feels so good to have him here with me. I reach for his hand and bring it up to my lips so I can kiss his knuckles, then I turn it over and kiss his open palm, his wrist. I clamp down like if he suddenly gets the idea to stand up and flee, I won’t let him.
I watch the change come over him. It’s so quick I would have missed it if I’d blinked. His light brown eyes turn lethal, a growl of indignation slips past his lips, and then he takes my wrists in his and crushes them against my pillow on either side of my head. He hovers over me with a look bordering on insanity. “You undo me, Tate…”
“How do you think I feel?”
He looks almost sorry when he adds, “I can’t make myself stay away from you. I can’t…”
There’s no more fight or flight. I’ve chosen fight. I’ve chosen Grant. I’m breathing hard now as I desperately reply, “Then don’t. Please, god, don’t stay away. Not anymore. Whatever it is, we’ll work through it. I can’t keep…I can’t—”
His lips crush mine as he kisses me hard enough to steal my breath, my thoughts, my soul. Every ounce of despair we’ve felt in recent days gets poured into our kiss. His fingers bite into my wrists as he holds me still, and I arch up off the bed, almost angrier now than ever. How dare you deprive me of this? How dare you give me time to come to terms with us? You could have just taken me.
So take me.
Now.
His mouth breaks away and I’m speaking, trying to give him the truth as fast as I can. “I was wrong—about baseball players, about you. I’m… I was prejudiced and stubborn and I thought I needed something, someone different. I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.”
“It’s okay, Tate. We’re okay.” He kisses me again, silencing my apology. Maybe he already knows. Maybe we both have regrets, things we’d take back in a heartbeat.
My hands fist his hair as I grow hotter. I could cry big fat tears as he strings a line of kisses down my neck, showing me how much he adores me with his touch and his groans. His soft lips travel down my chest, skimming the edge of my collarbone, and I shiver with excitement, with need, with complete bliss.
I start to reach for the hem of his shirt, and he sucks in a breath and grabs my hand to stop me.
“No. Please don’t, Grant. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t have you one second and then have you ripped away the next.”
He hushes me with his lips, reassures me with kisses until I’m putty again.
“I want this so bad,” he murmurs, his voice so filled with conviction it sends a shiver through me. “I’m not going anywhere. Just let me kiss you, okay?”
And I do.
I let him kiss me until my lips feel swollen and my limbs feel weak. I could do it forever, could fall into him and never resurface. Eventually, he has the good sense to stand and turn out the lights, to crawl into bed beside me and hold me while I close my eyes. I’m so tired and all that wine has taken effect. I can’t keep my eyes open even as I beg him not to leave.