I stuff my face into my hands and let out a loud groan, feeling extremely embarrassed. “I didn’t.”
“Here.” He pulls my arm and hands me two ibuprofen with what smells like ginger tea. “It’s lukewarm for your stomach. You threw up one more time before your shower. I also made you some toast with a little butter. I would’ve made you something better, but you shouldn’t eat more than that after everything last night.” Grayson passes me a plate with two pieces of toast, each cut diagonally.
I look up at him and see unfamiliar, gentle eyes staring back at me, with a smile to match. “Thank you for taking care of me and my crazy ass.” The skin around the corners of his eyes crinkles in amusement. “So, we got back, I showered?—”
“Youdemandeda shower,” he emphasizes, picking up a cup of coffee from the nightstand.
Taking a bite of my toast, I roll my eyes. “Drunk Emma is the worst.”
He shrugs. “She’s…a lot, but entertaining.” Narrowing my eyes, I ask him what happened next. “Well, I helped you into the shower and stayed in the bathroom in case anything happened. Don’t worry, I didn’t stare even though you tried pulling me into the shower with you.”
I almost spit my tea out. “God, Grayson. I’m so sorry.”
He waves a hand around. “It’s fine. It was slightly annoying but funny.” He’s being much nicer than usual. Grayson’s always been a good guy, but he’s showing much more kindness than hisusual self. “Then you ran around the apartment naked and wet. I chased after you, wrapped you in a towel, forced you to get dressed, and brushed your teeth. You finally calmed down when I laid down in bed with you, and we talked.”
I stop mid-chew.Oh no.Drunk me talks more than the already talkative sober me.
“What did I say?”
Grayson shifts his eyes to me and then down to his cup of coffee, takes a sip, and responds. “That you’ve always been unlucky in love and want to find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with…soon.” I close my eyes. What the hell was I thinking? Technically, I wasn’t thinking at all. “Then I asked you if you had anyone in mind.”
My head snaps up. “And what did I answer with?”
Grayson sighs and puts his mug down. “You said, ‘No one that’s currently available.’”
I swallow the toast and take a sip of my ginger tea, feeling nerves building in my stomach.
“Grayson, I was drunk…”
“Drunk words are sober thoughts.” He raises both eyebrows, testing me.
My appetite vanishes with just one triangle of toast remaining, and I set the plate aside.
Looks like it’s time to tell him my sober thoughts. “Truth time?”
Grayson crosses a leg under his knee and faces me. “Shoot.”
I fold my hands together on my lap and breathe in and out, preparing myself. “I grew up reading the greatest love stories of all time. The tragic, all-consuming, angst-filled, happily-ever-after, sexy romances, and since then, that’s what I’ve wanted for myself. For my life. A love that consumes me, sex that fulfills all my fantasies, and a man who would get on his knees to beg for my forgiveness if the time ever came.” I shrug. “What I feel for you is more than just sexual attraction. It’s exciting and overwhelming, but I don’t expect you to fulfill the ultimate romanticrole in my life. You asked me for time, and I’m granting it because I like you as a person and a friend. Our sexual chemistry is also unmatched.” I exhale a deep breath. “And yeah, I have a crush on you, just like you have one on me. If you didn’t, then you would’ve only asked for sex and not told me that you may see some sort of future with me. Am I wrong?”
Grayson’s body stiffens, and his eyes swim with a million emotions, none of which I can decipher. His jaw twitches, and I wait patiently for his response. I’m too tired to freak out over his silence. The exhaustion from last night is finally hitting me, yet I feel a hundred times lighter than I have in months after telling him the whole truth.
“No, you aren’t wrong,” he whispers.
My stomach dips at his confirmation. One I expected, but it’s one thing to suspect and another to hear.
We stare at each other, vulnerability and heat hanging in the air between us. His jaw twitches once more before he lunges at me, causing me to lie on my back.
I gasp as his finger traces my face, and he breathes out my name like a prayer.
“Emma.” His forehead gently presses against mine.
“Grayson,” I repeat his name in the same tone, and his lips cover mine hungrily, in a way they never have before.
It’s not soft, it’s passionate—urgent and exploratory, and it takes my breath away. It’s as if he’s trying to swallow every sound and memorize every movement I make. He keeps his hands on my waist and my face, and although I feel him harden against me, he doesn’t take off any of my clothes.
Why is he kissing me this way? Is it his way of admitting he has a crush on me?
The dictionary defines a crush as an intense and usually fleeting infatuation, but I know that’s not what most people think of when they know they have a crush on someone. This kiss feels different from a passing infatuation, it’s overwhelming everything in me. The combination of forceful dominance anddreamy intimacy within it. Instead of fireworks like our kisses usually give me, it hits something deep inside, and hummingbirds come to life. Their quick wings beat, and the feeling makes me come alive, hitting something in my chest. A feeling that scares me, after what I just told him and admitted aloud for the first time.
