Page 14 of Crave

We gaze at each other for a moment, eyes locked across the counter, and I have a feeling we’re both thinking the same thing: this isn’t just a one-night stand anymore. One-night stands don’t go to school reunions together. They don’t lie about being in a relationship or come see each other at work. Whatever is happening between us can no longer be relegated to just a quick fling, and the thought makes my heart beat faster. I’m one step closer to calling this angel mine once and for all. I just need a little patience.

8

Esme

It’s been almost a week since I met Grant at the concert, and we’ve fallen into our own little routine. Every day after he finishes work, he drives to Chester and sits at the bistro’s bar, occasionally ordering a beer or a coke so my boss won’t complain. He watches me work, and we talk every time I have a moment to spare. Then we say goodnight. I go back to my apartment and he goes to his house. He doesn’t pressure me to let him come back to my place, and I don’t ask him to, even though I desperately wish he could. The problem is, if I start asking him to come back with me, then this will officially be a relationship. No ‘one-night’ about it, and not even just ‘friends with benefits’ since we spend every evening together at the bistro.

While a relationship with Grant sounds like a dream come true in so many ways, it also scares the hell out of me. I want to trust him, but I’m scared that if we start dating officially, he won’t be as attentive anymore. Maybe once he knows I’m his girl, he won’t feel a need to put in all this effort or treat me so well. I don’t want this to change…whatever ‘this’ is, whatever we have…I don’t want to lose it. So, every day I swallow down my desire and try to ignore the constant aching between my legs.

“Explain it to me again,” Grant says, wrenching me from my thoughts as the final fifteen minutes of my Friday shift tick away. “I still don’t get it. Why can’t she just run away with Frederick Whitlock?”

“Her father doesn’t approve of the match,” I explain as I wipe a glass clean. “She doesn’t want to disappoint him.”

Grant looks adorably pensive. Ever since I told him I’ve been working on a regency romance novel in my spare time, he’s been asking endless questions about it. It fills me with warmth to know that he’s so interested in me and my passions.

Would he still be as interested if we were dating? If the chase was up and he knew he had me?

“But what’s so good about the Duke of Ambrose anyway?” Grant asks, frowning. “Why is Cordelia’s dad so desperate for her to marry him?”

“Ambrose is rich and a good friend to the king. Her father sees him as a way better match than Frederick.”

Grant nods. “And you’re really not going to tell me how it ends?”

I roll my eyes, grinning at him. “You’ll just have to read the book when it’s done.”

“Believe me, I will. I want to be the first to read it before it becomes a huge best-seller.”

I smile at him. He’s not teasing me; his voice is earnest like he really believes in me. It’s a good feeling.

“I don’t know about best-seller,” I mutter, glancing at the clock. “Anyway, that’s the end of my shift.” I quickly call into the kitchen to tell my boss I’m leaving, then Grant gets up from the bar and takes my hand as we head into the parking lot.

“Don’t forget the reunion is tomorrow,” Grant says as he walks me to my car. “I’ll come and pick you up at six forty-five.”

There’s no chance of me forgetting the reunion, I think. The mere thought of it makes my stomach tie itself in anxious knots.

“Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”

I’m about to get in my car when I look back up at Grant, my eyes lingering on him. I told myself I wouldn’t ask. But it’s Friday night, and I don’t want him to go. Saying goodnight to him is always the worst part of my day, and it’s totally self-inflicted. Maybe I could ask him back just for tonight. Just one more night.

Grant is watching me intently, his blue eyes roaming my face. “What are you thinking about, Esme?”

I open my mouth to explain. To tell him I’m thinking about how I’m crazy about him…how being without him sucks…how seeing him walk into the bistro every evening is the best part of my day. How the only reason I never ask him to come back to my place is because I’m scared of relationships, scared that he’ll lose interest, that he’ll hurt me just like Josh did. But I can’t bring myself to say any of it. Instead, I just ask, “Will you come back with me tonight?”

Grant doesn’t hesitate. He closes the distance between us and crushes his mouth to mine, pushing my back against the car as his tongue slides beneath my lips in a frenzied kiss that takes my breath away. God, I missed this. This huge, hulking man pressed against me, his cock rock hard through his jeans, pressing against my stomach.

He pulls away, his eyes dark with need, and guides me toward his car. “I’ll drive, baby. Let’s go.”

* * *

We stumble into my apartment, our lips locked as Grant closes the door behind us. I steer him toward the bedroom, and we collapse onto the bed, his weight pressing me down into the mattress. He’s already undressing me, his hands pulling at my clothes, tossing them aside until I’m naked beneath him.

“You have no idea how crazy you’ve been making me, Esme,” he growls, pulling off his own clothes in a frenzy of movement. “I thought I was going to lose my damn mind this past week.”

“Me too,” I say, watching greedily as he yanks down his boxers. “I’m sorry, Grant, I was just scared.”

He pauses. “Scared of what, baby?”

I shake my head, suddenly impatient. “Let’s talk about it later.” The aching between my legs is intensifying as I stare at Grant’s thick cock. All rational thought is gone; all I know is I want him inside me right now. “Do you have a condom?”

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