Page 63 of Mr. Edwards
I hear his footsteps pad down the hallway as I close the bedroom door, leaning my back against it. My heart is thumping against my rib cage as my eyes dart around the unfamiliar room. I can already feel a panic attack clawing its way to the surface. It happened the first few nights I stayed at Reece’s and again when I moved to Gardena, so I don’t doubt another one is in store for me tonight.
Briskly taking air into my lungs, I step away from the door, turning to click the lock. My heart drops when I notice there isn’t one there.Shit.I scan the furniture in the room, looking for something I can move in front of the door… a barricade.
The small matching tables on each side of the bedwon’t do and the dresser is too big and bulky, I’ll never be able to move it.
My mind tells me I’m safe, but it does nothing to drown out the terror bubbling up inside me. Crossing the room, I open the door that leads to the closet, flip on the light, and find it completely void. I move to the en suite bathroom next, stepping inside. I stop in front of the large mirror that spans the length of the wall above the double-sink vanity.
My shaky fingers glide over the white marble countertop. This bathroom is smaller than the one in Grayson’s bedroom, but no less beautiful. Oh, how the other half live.
Leaning in toward the mirror, I take in my pasty, clammy skin. “You’ve got this,” I tell myself, sucking in another gulp of air. “You’re safe, he can’t get you here.”
Turning on the faucet, I splash cold water on my face. My body quivers as a chill runs down my spine. My fingers and toes tingle as the palpitations in my chest intensify. I grip the edge of the countertop as the dizziness takes over. My throat clogs up and my nostrils flair as I struggle to get air into my lungs.
Dropping to my knees, I crawl toward the corner, curling myself into a ball. I feel like I’m dying, but I’ve had these enough to know that I’m not. I just need to ride it out and hope that I emerge on the other side in one piece.
There comes a point in your life where you just have to accept your fate; you’ll never be able to move forward if you don’t.
If Grayson saw me now, he’d probably bundle me into my car and send me on my way, grateful he dodged the bullet…namely me.
Chapter 14
Grayson
I flip onto my back and scrub my hands over my face. Turning my head, I look at the time on the clock beside my bed. 2:35 am. I’ve been tossing and turning for the past two hours.
I’m happy Carlee agreed to spend the night, but I’m struggling to understand her reasons for not sharing a bed. Hopefully, in time, she’ll at least give it a go. I don’t care if she’s a bed hog, I’ll hug the corner of the damn mattress if it means I get to have her by my side.
She’s so close, yet so far…
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful she’s here, and I’ll get to see her before I head to work. But there lies my conundrum ladies and gentlemen… that’s fucking hours away.
I want her here beside me, and in my arms right now.
Christ, when did I become such a needy bitch?
I roll over onto my side, punching my pillow a few times in frustration. This is the worst kind of torture.
Sitting up, I throw back the sheets and climb out of bed. I grab a pair of sweats from my drawer and slip them on. I need a drink of water, or maybe a straight scotch,more importantly, I’m hoping I’ll run into her on my travels.
Switching on the light by the staircase, I head down to the second floor. As I round the corner to take the stairs to the bottom level, I notice the light coming from under the door where Carlee is. Is she having trouble sleeping too?
Abandoning my quest for a drink, I creep toward her room. She chose the one down the very end of the hallway, although the previous ones she looked at were almost identical. Was it because it’s the one furthest from me?
I lightly rap my knuckle on the door. “Carlee, are you awake?”
When I don’t get an answer, I cautiously turn the handle, peeping my head inside. My heart clenches in my chest as soon as I see her. She reminds me of a doll, so small and fragile… so easily broken. The polar opposite of the tough exterior she wears when she’s awake.
She’s curled up in a tight ball toward the edge of the bed. She’snota bedhog. Then why won’t she sleep next to me?
It’s messing with my head.
I understand when someone doesn’t want to stay over after a one-night stand. Nobody enjoys the awkwardness that’s associated with those early morning wake-ups beside a stranger. But that’s not us. The first night we spent together, maybe, but we’ve moved past the fuck-buddy stage. I’d like to think what we have is a little more long-lasting, and far more profound.
Without even realizing it, I move further into the room, coming to a stop beside the bed.
I’m drawn to her.
As I take her in, all the air gushes from my lungs, forcing me to inhale sharply. She’s a damn thief, always stealing my breath.
