Page 58 of Her Pretty Words

The shower is pleasantly hot, slightly burning and making my skin red. I let the water pelt at my back for what feels like forever, chasing away the chill in my bones. I unwrap the bar of soap and rub it over my skin.

Once I’ve used up all the hot water, I take my time drying off. After turning the towel into a dress and slipping on my underwear, I glance in the foggy mirror. I swipe my hand across it. Once I see the leftover mascara beneath my eyes, I rub it away until my face is bare.

Steam follows me into the cold room, and my gaze immediately locks onto Grayson, who is standing by the door holding a pizza box.

He doesn’t glance at my towel-wrapped body, but his eye contact is making me feel entirely bare. He sets the pizza on the bed. His next action changes the atmosphere when he reaches behind his neck and lifts his shirt over his head.

My eyes trace every exposed inch of him, from the hard lines of his abdominals to the delicate veins twisting through his arms. I promised myself I wouldn’t turn into a puddle at the sight of anyone, but I know Grayson. I know his heart and I’ll allow him to be the exception to my rule, because if I melt, I know he wouldn’t abuse my puddle on the floor.

His body is a work of art that I wouldn’t mind looking at for a while, but his smile is a spell, and I’ve been bewitched. Everything about him is masculine. Nothing boyish remains, except for the two shadows in his cheeks. His dimples are sprinkles of sugar, making him look oh so sweet.

“Here.” He extends his shirt to me.

The heat beneath my skin makes me want to look down, but I don’t. “Thank you.” The fabric is soft in my hand. I put it on in the bathroom and wrap the towel around my wet hair. When I step out, he freezes with a slice of pizza in his hand, mid-bite.

I glance down at myself. His shirt stops above my knees. “What?” I ask, a bit self-conscious.

“You. In my clothes.” He blows out a steady breath. “Second best to that outfit you wore the other night at The BARnacle.” The night I told him how much his touch contrasted Walter’s. I would think he was making fun of my appearance, but his gaze is gentle and seems to admire me as if I’m exquisite like something in a museum. “Come to bed,” he gestures to the pizza box resting on it.

I lean against the headboard and pull the covers over my bare legs. Once I finish three slices, I lick my fingers clean and sigh with relief.

I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and am pleasantly surprised to find two toothbrushes wrapped in plastic, and a travel sized bottle of toothpaste. Grayson taps his knuckles on the opened door. Our eyes lock in the mirror and he saunters in with his usual grin. Our eyes never seem to stray from the other’s reflection as we brush our teeth. He smiles when I get toothpaste foam all over my lips. Once we’re finished, he turns and peers down at me, but I still watch his reflection. His features relax, and his gaze softens, then, he turns and leaves.

I turn the facet and splash cool water on my face. I grip the countertop firmly and inhale a deep breath. I step into the room, which is only lit by a single lamp, casting shadows on the walls and ceiling. Grayson is on the carpeted floor, head resting on a single pillow and a thin sheet draped over his tall body.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He lifts his head, then rests it on his arm, as if he can’t get comfortable. “Going to sleep. What are you doing?” His voice drips with sarcasm.

I sigh and move directly above him and pull the sheet off his body. His muscles tense from the cool air. “Get up.”

He rolls over so he’s on his back, eyes lifting to mine. “Why?”

“You’re not sleeping on the hard floor.”

“Are you volunteering for my place then?”

“Neither of us are sleeping on the floor,” I say, stretching out my hand to pull him up. He’s eyeing it for only a moment before he nods and takes it. I pull with all my might, and he doesn’t budge. He chuckles and stands on his own.Rude.

I try not to overthink as I climb into bed, making myself comfortable at the very edge. I feel the mattress dip beneath his body weight. The comforter ruffles as he gets settled. He turns off the lamp closest to him. Darkness falls over us.

I drift to sleep before I wake up sometime later in the middle of the bed, curled against a warm chest with a solid arm draped over me. It feels as if my belly is full of wine, my blood running comfortably warm.I should move.

I nuzzle my face even more into his chest. He smells like strawberries and a hint of sea salt caught in the breeze on a summer day. He smells like home.

I startle from his voice, which vibrates through his chest. “Are you sniffing me?”

“No,” I say immediately, lifting myself up on my elbow to move back to my side, but his palm presses me back down.

“Macy,” he says in a broken whisper. “I don’t want to play.” His voice rasps over my skin and sinks into my pores, making my heartbeat too quickly. “Just for one night, can we stop pretending we’re indifferent toward one another.” His callouses delightfully caress down my arm.

My stomach cartwheels and I interlock our fingers, hidden away in the dark. I can hardly see him, but I angle my face until I feel the silk of his lips. I speak against them. “Only for tonight.”

He’s kissing me like he’s moments from drowning and I’m the breath of air he needs to survive. Suddenly, I’m beneath him, and his weight eases an ache I hadn’t realized was there. My legs wrap around him, and my vision adjusts enough to see him. His eyes darken as if the midnight sky has swallowed them whole.

The comforter cloaks us from the rest of the world. I lock my fingers behind his neck, and he turns his head to the side, his soft hair is tickling my face as he presses a kiss to my wrist. The big T-shirt bunches up to my waist, and his knuckles are a soft caress against my torso as he slowly removes it. Then his skin touches mine. His subtle chest hair is grazing the peeks of my breast with wonderful friction. His grin is a secret against my lips. I gasp against his mouth when he pinches the sensitive bud. He does it again to the other one, making my hips buck into his.

“Feel good?” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

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