Page 74 of Holding Grace

“What do...” Holy shit, this was torture. Trying to think, talk, with Grace less than a foot away, in bed, half naked.

If I’d done something in a previous life to deserve this punishment, whatever it was must have sucked.

I blew out a breath and focused on the ceiling, trying to force my bloodless brain to work.

“To bed, I mean. What do you sleep in?”

“I...uh.” I scrubbed my hand over my head. “A t-shirt and gym shorts. You’ve seen me lots of times.”

“I know that’s what you wear around, like when you’re in the kitchen or living room or whatever, but I thought maybe you wear something else when you sleep.”

The answer was nothing.

Was that what she wanted to hear? That typically, when no one was staying with me, I slept naked?

Was that what she was hinting at?

My dick twitched at the thought of Grace picturing me that way. If I was wearing the gym shorts I normally did around the apartment right then, she’d have no doubt of my reaction to this conversation.

“Uh...no, that’s it.” For now. If a miracle happened and I got Grace in my bed, that would change.

“Oh. Okay.” Did she sound disappointed? “I think maybe I should go to sleep.”

Yes. Sleep. Good.

I took a step back. “If you need anything during the night, wake me up. Sweet dreams.”

I heard her slide deeper into the covers as I crossed to the door. I flipped the light off and was closing the door behind me when her soft words stopped me.

“Thanks for being my husband.”

I rested my forehead against the doorframe, wondering for the first time what the hell we’d gotten ourselves into.

“It’s an honor, Gracie. Thanks for being my wife.” I lifted my head and stepped into the hallway. “Good night.”

Then I closed the door, her sweet “good night” in my ears, and crossed the apartment to go to my own bed alone.

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