Page 43 of From Coast to Coast

“Gray?”

“Yeah?”

“Just so you know—that’sthe kind of sex people in romance novels have.”

He laughs. I turn my head to look up at his face. Rolling onto an elbow, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and walks to the bathroom to clean off. Pillowing my head on my arm, I watch the doorway, wanting to get the full-frontal view when Grayson returns since I’ve just enjoyed the view from behind. He’s gone only a couple minutes, coming over and rolling back onto the bed beside me. I grunt when he settles beside me, compressing the mattress so much that I slide into him.

Grayson is so quiet beside me it feels abnormal. It feels like he’s unsure—a silence filled with worry. I gather what little strength is remaining in my body and roll onto my side, propping myself up on an elbow so I can look at him. He’s cleaned up his chest and disposed of the condom, but otherwise looks just as debauched as he did before. His wary gaze meets mine when I rest my palm on his sternum, brushing my fingers down through the lighter fuzz trailing over his belly.

“Having second thoughts?” I ask, aiming for light and airy but only sounding worried.

“No,” he answers immediately.

“Me either.”

We stare at each other, each weighing the truth in the other’s words. Grayson raises a hand and runs a knuckle down the side of my face. My skin pebbles in response and Ilean into it. When he drops his hand back to the bed, I’m disappointed.

“Fuck, Remy.” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, as though the room is crowded with people, but he wants to speak to me alone.

The desire to curl up here beside him and go to sleep threatens to choke me with its sudden urgency. I want to stay here—fall asleep on sheets that smell like us and wake up with Grayson’s big body beside me.Take a step back, Remy, don’t make this more than it is.

I slide my hand off his chest, but not before I lean down and kiss the center of his pec. Sitting up, I scrub my hands over my face and hair, trying to dispel my suddenly soured mood. How frustrating, to be so certain that another relationship is not in the cards for me anytime soon, while also being certain that Grayson is someone I could see myself being with long term.

He puts a hand on my mid-back, fingers splayed wide.

“You want to finish dinner?” he asks.

Yes. Anything to stay a little longer.“No, I’d better head out.”

He doesn’t argue, but lets his hand slide from my back as I stand and begin to dress. After a few seconds, he follows, tugging on his sweatpants and then sitting back down on the bed to wait for me. It’s awkward between us suddenly and I know it’s because of me, but I don’t know how to fix it without ruining our arrangement.

When I’m dressed and the Uber is on the way, Grayson stands. He takes a couple of steps toward his bedroom door, and I’m so close to letting him go, but I can’t. I move forward, wrapping a hand around his elbow and tugging him to a halt. When he’s facing me, I abandon the elbow infavor of his cheek. Sliding my fingers into the soft hair around his ears, I pull him down to my level to kiss him.

It’s a long time—long enough that both of us are semi-hard again—before we break away from each other. Grayson’s face is relaxed, eyes warm with a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. The impromptu make-out session had the desired effect; all awkwardness is gone and we’re back on track.

“Can I come back tomorrow?” I ask as he walks me to the door.

“Tomorrow as in the day we’ll be on an airplane to Texas?” he asks cheekily, grinning at me as he holds open the front door and lets me pass through. I turn on the front step to watch him. He’s still shirtless and it’s very obvious he’s not wearing underwear under his sweats. He clears his throat pointedly, when I’ve been staring too long.

“Right. Forgot about the road trip.” I chew on my lip, desperately trying to remember our damn game schedule and figure out the next time Grayson and I can bone. “Saturday, then?”

“Sure.” He smiles, hands shoved deep in his pockets and blue eyes unwavering on mine. The desire to stay is a constant, throbbing ache in my rib cage.

Turning my back, I walk down the driveway to my waiting Uber and go home to my empty apartment.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Grayson

Developingfeelings for Remy after two hookups is probably setting some kind of world record for idiocy. Although, if I were being one hundred percent truthful with myself, I’d probably have to admit that the feelings were always there, but they’re stronger now. Unfortunately, so are all the reasons why we should keep things casual.

I’d been so disappointed when Remy had left so quickly the other night, and it had been right on the tip of my tongue to ask him to stay the night. If he hadn’t hopped out of bed like the damn thing was on fire, I would have. Disappointing, but also probably for the best. I don’t want to pressure him into anything too soon after his divorce. Not to mention we’re still teammates at the end of everything.

I check the timer on the oven and note that the chicken breasts are almost finished. Pulling the salad ingredients out of the refrigerator, I dump everything into the bowl, grateful that I had the mental fortitude to chop everything up inadvance. Leaving the dressing off for now so it doesn’t get soggy, I cover up the salad bowl and put it back in the refrigerator. The timer on the oven goes off and a knock comes at my front door.

“Come in, Remy,” I call, not wanting to burn anything and knowing that I’ll probably get distracted kissing him if I don’t pull the food out before letting him in.

Laying the pan on the stove, I toss the oven mitt onto the counter and turn around to meet him. Remy walks into the kitchen right as I’m about to walk out, catching my hips between his hands as though trying to prevent us from crashing into one another. He smiles up at me—as crooked and tempting as usual. His fingers sneak below the hem of my shirt, searching for skin.

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