“Angry. I was frustrated because she’d been avoiding me after the first hook up.”
“See.” Nathaniel points at me. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re all in, but she’s not giving you the same.”
“It’s not like that,” I argue.
“Then what is it like? It doesn’t sound like you’ve talked it out or that she’s given you any type of emotional commitment since you’ve been doing whatever it is you’re doing. Is she evenstaying in Nashville? Doesn’t she travel a lot for work? She has a home base here, right? So why didn’t she come to New York with you? Have you been talking since you left?”
He hurls the questions at me in quick succession and they each hit as intended. All creating an armor of doubt inside me. Taylor shut down when I mentioned my family and coming to New York. I’ve taken care of her when she was sick. I’ve cooked for her and made her a priority over everything else since she started working with us in July. I pushed off coming to Stella to spend more time with her. I think about her all the time and pine after her like a lovesick fool and meanwhile she avoids me after being physical.
At some point, I have to give what my brothers are saying some credence, because so far, I’ve gotten nothing but broken rules and promises from Taylor. This is why I didn’t want to have sex with her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to come back from it if I gave her that one last thing, but as it’s always been when it comes to her. Taylor Baker brings me to my knees and I’m helpless but to worship at her feet for whatever crumbs she’s willing to toss my way.
The key sounds in the lock, so I fluff my hair and adjust the top of the lingerie set to plump my boobs before leaning seductively against the dining table. It’s been a long week with Grant gone. The penthouse has felt lonely—Ihave been lonely—without him. I may not have been able to talk things out with Gabby, but it’s never been clearer that this is what I want.
Ever since he fucked my brains out in the dugout, all I can think about is doing it again. What better way to welcome him home than with mind-blowing reunion sex?
He steps through the door, dropping his keys in the bowl in the entryway. He’s so handsome. His hair has the sexy unkempt look to it like he’s been running his fingers through it. His sharp jaw line is peppered with a five o’clock shadow. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and the suit jacket is draped over his toned forearms, exposed from the rolled-up sleeves.
“Wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Grant says, finally making eye contact with me. Surprise and resignation war between his eyes and the tone of his voice has me confused.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked when he planned to be home purposely. I wanted to be here when he arrived, even if it is the middle of the afternoon. I couldn’t wait another minute to see him.
Adding a sway to my hips, I walk toward him slowly with a teasing smile as I take his jacket and bag fromhim. Once they’re out of the way, I lean up to kiss his stubbled jaw and run my fingers down his chest, unbuttoning a few more buttons. “Welcome home,” I whisper.
“What is this?” He stops my hand and grips my upper arms to push me back. His eyes scorch over my body, but instead of the loving or lustful look normally present when he sees me naked for him, he looks at me with disappointment and a hint of disgust.
“What does it look like?”
He moves around me and into the kitchen, positioning himself on the opposite side, as far away from me as he can get while still being in the same room as me.
“I’m not your booty call, Taylor. I’m your fucking husband.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because it seems the only time you actually want anything to do with me is when you’re horny and wanting to get off.”
What the what?
“What are you talking about? We had some fun before you left.”
“And that’s all I am to you, right? Fun?”
“Where is this coming from?” I cross to the couch and pick up my discarded robe. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tie the belt on the silk robe, tightening it as if it will hold me together physically for the conversation we’re about to have.
“We’ve been avoiding this conversation for weeks and I think it’s time we have it,” he grits out.
“Why now?”
“Because it’s not enough for me.”
“Grant . . .” I start but he cuts me off with a desperate look on his face.
“Just—” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he inhales a deep breath and lets it out again slowly. “Just let me get this out.”
“Okay,” I say softly, leaning back against the couch for support. The urge to comfort him swirls inside of me but I can’tget my feet to move in his direction. Not that he would let me ease his hurt right now. Clearly, I’m the problem in this conversation.
“We’ve been fooling ourselves into believing we can have this—” he motions between us with his hand, “—when we both know there’s no chance we could sleep together and not have feelings resurface.”
Unwilling to admit the very real feelings I have for this man now that I’m under attack, I counterargue, “We’ve been fucking, not making love. It’s hot and sinful, but I wouldn’t say there are a lot of feelings in what we’ve been doing.”
