Gray might be disappointed in Ciar’s behavior lately, but he was still a close friend, and seeing one of her friends stressed wasn’t something she could easily allow without trying to help.
Forcing herself to once again focus on something besides Ciar, she joined Mags in making a list of Colorado activities that everyone might be interested in.
After two hours chatting with her friends, she yawned and stretched, ready for a nap. She signed to Blair that she was going to use the restroom. Mags and Bébhinn just got back. Blair nodded and followed her to the back of the plane.
There was only one enclosed toilet, and Gray told Blair to go first, as she splashed water on her face and fluffed her waves. Blair came out and washed her hands. Gray signed in the mirror.
“I’m so ready to get there.”
“Me too. How are you and Ciar?”
Gray’s face was instantly on fire. She couldn’t believe her friend figured out the man she was exchanging nudes with was Ciar.
“We’re friends. Nothing more. I’m going to try and forget my lapse.”
Blair only raised her brows and made a humming noise, a sound completely unique to her, before giving her a wink and leaving the restroom.
Gray finished going to the bathroom and was washing her hands when the door opened. “What the hell, Ciar. You could have waited.”
He came closer until they stood inches apart. “I want you to tell me that you’ll give me a second chance.” He took her hands that were hanging limply by her sides and placed them on his chest, crowding her between his big body and the sink at her back.
“I care about you. You know that,” he demanded, leaning closer to her mouth. “You have to care about me even a little. You proved it out there by asking after me.”
She should be shoving him away, but when his hands smoothed up the sides of her ribs, and his thumbs lightly massaged under her breasts, she was helpless to do anything but whimper.
“Ciar, I do care. You’re my friend. Of course, I care, but that isn’t enough for me to take that chance. You haven’t even told me how you feel.”
He cut off anything else she wanted to say when he slowly licked into her mouth. They both moaned. She was thankful he kept it slow and soft. Her poor mind would click offline if he kissed her like he had that one night in his kitchen.
“Why do we have to talk about feelings? This feels good. What else matters?”
He might as well have dumped ice-cold water over her head.This feels good. What else matters?
With her hands on his chest, she pushed him away. He looked surprised but complied. “You just solidified my fears.” She walked past him to the door, and before she turned the handle, she added, “Leave me alone, Ciar. Keep having meaningless relationships if you want, but I won’t be one of them.”
eight
CIAR
Ciar cursedhimself through the rest of the flight, ignoring the quiet conversations and Daniel and Dagr’s snoring. Jonathan made sure to video the two men, asleep and sitting side by side.
He sent it to the family’s group chat, which he normally would have enjoyed getting one over on Daniel, but he had been too deep in misery for mirth of any kind.
Once they’d landed, he tried to enjoy the Colorado countryside through the windows of the SUV, but even that was spoiled when Gray chose to ride in the second vehicle. The one he wasn’t in.
They’d reached the cabin, which didn’t meet his expectations. To him, cabin spoke of rustic accommodation and outdoor adventures.
The Griffiths’ “cabin” was a sprawling wonder, secluded and surrounded by giant spruce, fir, and pine trees, and who knew what else. He wasn’t a dendrologist after all—a term he’d learned from Blair.
For all the home’s seclusion, there were well-tended roads leading into the town of Telluride. The girls said it was one of the poshest towns in Colorado. As long as they had steak and vodka, he didn’t care much about any other details.
The cabin itself had ten bedrooms sprawling over one open level that still had stairs to climb here and there. Dagr said the architect wanted some of the natural landscape to dictate the floor plan.
Ciar tracked Gray, who was studiously ignoring his presence, to discover which bedroom she chose so that he could secretly get one near her.
He didn’t know why he told her that feelings don’t matter. He had her back in his arms, her tongue sliding so perfectly against his own, and he went brain dead.
Did he like speaking about his feelings? Not particularly. Until he’d begun to verbally kick his ass over the idiotic statement, he hadn’t realized that he’d never spoken to a woman about feelings. He’d never had any to speak about, honestly.
