But there’s something about this whole conversation that feels a little off. Actually, no. This is a whole hell of a lot different from anything she’s ever said to me. And now that I’m looking closer and replaying the last few minutes back in my head, it’s impossible not to notice the slight flush in her cheeks, and the way her words are a little too free and loose.
She isn’t slurring her speech or weaving on her feet, but I know she’s been drinking. Even without smelling the faint hint of wine that’s still on her breath, I know it because I know her, and this is exactly the kind of conversation I’d expect only after her inhibitions have been lowered.
By a lot.
There’s a lot of liquid courage at play right now, and the way she’s laying herself bare to me makes me wonder how much shewould’ve held back if we’d had this conversation when she was completely sober.
She says she wants me, and maybe she does. God knows I want her, and it’s killing me to keep my hands to myself while she’s standing here looking so fucking sexy and vulnerable.
But I can’t take a chance on something she might regret in the morning.
“I touched myself again.” Heather’s confession comes out in a rush. “Thinking about the way you looked at me when I came. About how you told me not to stop.” Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t look away. “It’s like a switch flipped inside me, and now I can’t shut it off. I’ve tried—believe me, I’ve tried.”
She takes another step closer, and now she really is within arm’s reach. Dammit. “But I finally realized tonight that I don’t want to shut it off. I want you, Grant. I can’t stop thinking about your hands, your mouth, the way you’d feel inside me. I need you. Please.”
There’s so much pent-up desperation in the last word that it sends a jolt right to my gut. I need to touch her as badly as she says she needs me. Even if I don’t dare to say the words out loud, my muscles are tight, my heart is beating out of my chest, and my cock is so fucking hard that it’s starting to ache.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” I say, because I have to say something after the way she’s just poured her heart out to me. “I had no idea. Things have been so fucking weird and awkward between us lately.”
“Things don’t have to be weird anymore.” She places a hand on my chest and goes up on her tiptoes, leaning in until I can feel her lips against mine. Her lips are so damn soft that I lose myself in the moment, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer until my shaft is trapped between us.
But the way she’s still trembling and the taste of wine on her lips bring reality crashing back down around me. I can’t do it. Not like this.
I break away from the kiss and move one of my hands to her cheek, gently gripping her jaw and tilting her face up so she has to look at me.
“How much have you had to drink?”
A range of reactions—offended, defensive, annoyed—flashes across her face in the space of two seconds, but she doesn’t deny that she’s been drinking.
“I don’t know. I went out and had a few glasses of wine, so I took a cab home. But I don’t see what that has to do with anything. I stand by everything I just said.”
She still looks so alluring, even self-righteous and indignant, that it’s hard as hell to stick to my guns. I’m so tempted to throw caution to the wind and kiss her again, but I’ve never been that guy and I’m not going to start now.
Even though I know she isn’t going to thank me for this decision tonight, I have to trust that she’ll appreciate it more in the morning.
Without waiting another minute to second-guess myself, I scoop her up into my arms, with one hand under her knees and the other supporting her back.
She gasps and instinctively grabs my shoulders, bringing her face right back in line with mine.
“Grant, what the hell? What are you doing?”
There’s that flash of irritation again, but she isn’t trying to fight me.
“I’m taking you to bed.”
“Um, what? I mean, okay? It’s just, you made it seem like that wasn’t going to happen tonight.”
I offer what I hope is a sympathetic look. I can’t quite muster a smile, but I don’t want her to think I’m fucking with her head. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid, in fact.
“Puttingyouin bed,” I amend. “I’m going to get you some water and aspirin and let you sleep off the wine.” I pause a few moments while I navigate the stairs. She isn’t even close to being heavy, but I don’t have a lot of practice carrying someone like this, and the last thing I want is to accidentally hit her head or feet against the banister. “Anyway, we’re not going to do anything else until I know you’re completely sober.”
We get to the top of the stairs and I push open the door to her room, then set her down on the edge of her bed as gently as I can. I have to take a step back, because being this close to her is too fucking dangerous. Especially while I’m still hard as a fucking rock after just having her in my arms.
“Will you at least stay with me?” she asks. “Lie here next to me, even if we don’t do anything else?”
I can’t tell if she’s trying to test my resolve or if she really wants me to die from blue balls. But I’ve turned her down too many times tonight already, and I’m not sure I have it in me to keep denying her.
“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep,” I offer, forcing my mind and my body back onto the same page. “And in the morning, you’re going to tell me all of this again. If you still want it, I mean. You’re going to say it all in the light of day, when you’re sober and clearheaded and sure.”
