“Thought I’d let you girls catch up. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“You’re leaving?” I didn’t know whether to be hurt or angry. Maybe a combination of both.
“Darlin’, my leg’s killin’ me. You have fun.” He smiled at Taylor. “Glad you made it in ok. See you tomorrow.”
“Night, Grey.” She smiled weakly. I knew she was just as confused as I was.
I wanted to dart after him and demand a better explanation. Not everything could be about his leg, but instead, I clutched my margarita and listened to him hobble out of Pete’s.
Taylor’s excited expression turned serious. “Is everything ok between you two?”
I stared at the horizon; the sun was almost gone. “I don’t know anymore, Taylor. I just don’t know.”
I dropped the keys four times trying to open the kitchen door. Funny, it was the same number of margaritas I had had. Taylor and I ordered dinner, but probably way too late. I stumbled into the kitchen in search of a glass of water. I threw my purse on the counter.
There was a light on over the stove and the bathroom door was cracked, illuminating the hallway. I poured myself a glass of water and chugged it. I needed a counterbalance to all the salt I had licked off the rim of my glasses.
My head felt fuzzy, but the rest of me felt energized. Tequila had that effect on me. I brushed my teeth in the bathroom, turned off the light, then staggered to the bedroom. Silver light filtered in from the windows. I could see Grey. He was breathing slowly under the covers. His bad leg was propped on a stack of pillows on the outside edge of the bed. We had to switch sides after the accident so I didn’t keep bumping into it while I was sleeping. I wondered how long he had been asleep, and if he had tried to wait up for me.
I tugged on the heels of my boots and dropped them on the floor. I looked to see if the noise awakened Grey. He didn’t move.
I stood to peel the jeans off my hips. I kicked them off. I tossed my tank top on the floor somewhere with the rest of the clothes. I watched as he slept. He had no idea I was here, almost naked, and dying to touch him.
I crawled across the bed and hovered over him. I planted a kiss on his neck before moving to his ear, where my teeth started to bite and pull. I nudged my cheek against his and ran my hands over his chest, enjoying the rigid planes of his abs. As my hand descended below his waist, I heard him groan. Finally. He was awake.
“Baby, what are you doing?” He sounded groggy.
I covered his question with a kiss, probably sloppier than I intended, but I had tequila running through my body. I was acting on impulse. My hand moved up and down, urging a response from him. I rubbed my breasts along the side of his chest.
“Darlin’, are you drunk?” He tried to sit up, but I peppered him with urgent kisses.
I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. The straps slid over my arms and I pushed it to the side.
“I miss you, Grey.” I whimpered more than I wanted. My body was aching for him. It had been weeks since we had been together like this.
“Eden, stop.” He struggled to sit up.
I felt cold, nausea, and instant humiliation. “You don’t w-want this?” There were tears brimming over my eyelashes.
He shifted toward me, and immediately reached for his bad knee. “Son of a bitch,” he groaned.
I scrambled off the bed and ran to the bathroom.
“Eden, come back.” I heard him call through the door, but I was too busy splashing cold water on my face, fighting ugly sobs, and throwing my head over the toilet. I wrapped myself in one of the robes I had draped on the back of the door hook. As my eyes closed, with my face pressed against the cool tile, I knew I didn’t want to see the sun or Grey in the morning. Sometime during the night, I fell asleep on the bathroom floor.
I heard knocking on the door. I lifted my head and remembered where I had fallen asleep.
“Eden, you ok?”
Oh my God. I clutched at the side of my head as if that would stop the wave of nausea rolling through my body. My knees wobbled as I stood upright and opened the door.
Grey stood holding a cup of coffee. “Here. I made this for you.”
It actually smelled good. I took the mug in my palms and inhaled the scent of vanilla bean. “Thanks.”
“Can we talk a minute before I go to work?” He eyed me warily.
I nodded and followed him to our bedroom. He was only using one crutch this morning. We sat on the bed and deposited my coffee on the bedside table.
“How are you feeling?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He looked worried.
“Like I drank too many margaritas.” I tried to make a joke out of an embarrassing situation. Part of me hoped like hell that he was too asleep last night to remember my attempt to drunkenly seduce him.
“Did you and Taylor have a good time?” His hand moved along my neck. I would have enjoyed the contact more if I didn’t feel so awful.