"Will do."
I hung up and collapsed back on my pillow, glancing at the clock quickly. I had slept in after working late the night before, and then tossing and turning most of the night once I finally fell into bed. I stared up at the ceiling. That fucking dream. I'd had it before but not for a couple months now. I wondered if it was because Grace was back in my life–sort of. Shit, I'd messed up with her. I was having a hard time feeling too sorry about it because seeing her come again was fucking fantastic, but I had scared her off. Kissing her in my truck the night before had just gotten me all crazy possessive, and fucking horny. Let's call a spade a spade. And so when she had burst into my office, talking about him again, I had taken charge of her in a way that I knew she'd probably respond to–and she had. And she'd asked me not to stop. But the fuck of it was, she probably regretted it. And that made me feel like shit.
I had found out that she had never slept with her fiancé. The fucking glee that had soared through my body with that knowledge was off the charts. But why hadn't she? That was the question. We needed to talk. And the sooner, the better.
Grace lived in her head a lot, and she was hard on herself. I had known that about her an hour after meeting her four and a half years ago. And so now she was walking around convincing herself that she was a bad person who had done something immoral to her fiancé, which, wasn't entirely untrue. But that wasn't going to help me out. She was going to feel guilty now, and guilt didn't bode well for her telling him to take a hike like I had asked her to. I needed to fix things. I wanted her. Plain and simple. I had told her that I was pushing a lot of shit aside to give the two of us a shot. That was true, but it wasn't… I couldn't push a lot of the shit I had going on aside, and some of it, I'd be asking her to push aside, or at least accept. Shit, this was complicated. If she'd just tell me she wanted what I wanted, we could try to work through it together. But before that, I couldn’t risk it. It just wasn't possible. Yeah, we needed to talk.
I swung my legs out of bed and headed toward the shower.
CHAPTER 26
Grace
I brought my legs up under me and pulled the blanket around my shoulders, leaning back on my couch. I had just gotten home from the office, after a twelve hour day, pulled on my p.j.'s, turned on the TV, and pulled a blanket around myself. It was eight o'clock and I hadn't eaten dinner yet, and I was starving. But a few minutes of couch time felt like the priority.
Of course, the first person that came to my mind was Carson. I had somewhat successfully kept the thoughts of him at bay yesterday after I had run out of his office, and then today as well. Part of it was self-preservation, but I knew part of it was the mind-blowing orgasm I had had on his leg up against the wall. I groaned in embarrassment and brought my hands up to my cheeks, feeling the heat in my system rise just at the memory alone. God, I had told him I couldn't see him again and then humped his leg like some horny, little yap dog. Mixed message much? It was beyond humiliating.
I was a professional. I showed up at work every day in conservative suits and sensible shoes. In court, I was efficient and confident. In my personal life, I paid my bills on time, called my dad at least once a week, and was a good friend and an honest person. But enter Carson Stinger and suddenly I was a crazed, basket case. A nutjob. A lying, deceiving nutjob who let him manhandle me against his office wall. And he hadn't even had to work very hard to get me there. I had practically begged him. I was embarrassed and ashamed of myself.
But the overwhelming emotion I was feeling was sadness. I had betrayed Alex. I was a terrible person. And worse, I had told Carson that I hadn't slept with Alex. I shouldn't have told him that. Not only was it none of his business, but it was going to give him the wrong idea. It wasn't that I wasn't attracted to Alex–it was just that everything had gone so quickly with us, we had started dating practically the day I moved to Vegas, gotten engaged after just a couple months and were talking about getting married as soon as this Spring. We had done other stuff, of course, I just wanted to wait until we were married to have sex. I hadn't even told Abby we were waiting, because I knew she'd give me flack. And okay, maybe it was a little old-fashioned, but why not? I thought it was romantic. And Alex, being the gentleman that he was, was okay with that. I thought the anticipation added some spice. I thought– I was startled out of my thoughts by a loud, pounding knock on my door. I furrowed my brow. Who the heck knocked like that?
I got up, leaving the blanket behind me on the couch, walking to the door in my cotton p.j. pants and white tank top.
I didn't have a peephole on my door so I called, "Who is it?"
"It's me, Grace," I heard a deep voice say. Crap! Carson.
I stood on the other side of the door biting my thumbnail for a minute, thinking about what I should do.
"Grace, open the door," he finally said from the other side. "Please," he added after a couple seconds.
I sighed and pulled the door open, the cool, December night air hitting me.
Carson stood there in all his masculine perfection, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket. He was so damn good-looking, I hated it. I really did. It would be a lot easier to dismiss him if he was a fugly troll. Life was cruel that way.
Carson's eyes moved down my body and stopped at my chest. I realized I wasn't wearing a bra and that I was sure the cold had made my nipples harden. I crossed my arms.
"What do you want, Carson?" I asked. I was tired.
"Can I come in? I just want to talk for a minute and then I'll leave." He looked at me beseechingly.