Holy shit. She had a fucking nickname. Ultra-serious, calls-me-Samantha Grayson called her by a nickname. Click. Click. Click. That tiny little heart army mortared the last brick into place.
Anger conquered hurt in the wrestling match to control my emotions.
Grayson came into view as he cleared the half wall between the living room and kitchen. Why did he have to be so beautiful? His eyes met mine, and my stomach sank. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”
He said it to her, but it felt like it was meant for me.
“You headed home again?” Jagger asked.
“No. At least not for a couple weeks, if that.”
He said that one straight to me.
“Sounds like you’re needed,” I choked out.
“It’s a stupid news story that Parker leaked. I’m not joining that circus or acting the part she’s assigned.” He walked around the counter and caught the bottle Jagger threw at him. “I’m not even sure why the news is interested.”
“Beautiful miracle girl awakens from five-year coma to the gorgeous, dutiful boyfriend who never left her side. Pretty sure that has Lifetime movie written all over it.” I faked a smile, and his eyes narrowed.
“Sam.” He did the little headshake thing that meant he wanted to say something more but wouldn’t.
But I sure as hell would. I wasn’t getting left this time. Hell no. I was getting ahead of this bull before it ran me the hell over. “It’s okay, really. You have everything you’ve dreamed of, and even got in a farewell fuck last night.”
His head snapped back like I’d hit him.
“And that, people, is our cue to leave,” Josh said. The room cleared while Grayson stared me down. I didn’t flinch, despite the energy crackling between us.
“Samantha.” He stepped toward me, and I thrust my hands out as I stood.
“Don’t bother.”
“You can come upstairs with me while we have a civil conversation, or I can carry you there, but either way, you don’t get the last word. We’re going to talk.”
Tense moments passed until I sighed. “Fine.” My feet carried me to his room without being told to, and Grayson shut the door behind him. He pressed me up against the back of his door before I could mutter a protest. One of his hands held both of mine captive above my head, and he pressed his weight against me, connecting us from breast to thigh.
My traitorous body melted. That bitch. Why was there such a fine line between angry and turned on? He glanced from my eyes to my lips and they parted.
Grayson kissed me, claiming every recess, every line of my mouth. His free hand cupped my neck, angling me for a deeper kiss, and I responded, pressing against him, giving back everything he was putting into it. If this was our last kiss, I wanted to brand his soul so that he’d never kiss again without thinking of this—of me. He wedged one of his massive thighs between mine, and applied subtle pressure. My body positively hummed, and it took all of my control not to rub back against his thigh.
I whimpered, and he retreated. He’d wanted my surrender, and damn it, I gave it.
When I opened my eyes, he was almost nose-to-nose with me, his eyes boring into mine. “First of all, I didn’t fuck you last night, Samantha. I made love to you, and there’s a huge difference. Second, even when we’re fucking—hot, sweaty, skin slipping against each other, and my only thought is craving that little keening sound you make when you come—I am still making love to you. I never touch you with anything less than my soul. Don’t ever cheapen what we do. Third, why the hell haven’t you moved into this room? I want you in my bed. Sleeping, not sleeping, that’s your choice. And fourth, last night was not a good-bye. I’m not saying good-bye.”
Move in? “Are you on drugs? There’s no chance I’m moving in with you after what just happened. You have a girlfriend, Grayson.”
“Yes, and I’m looking at her right now.”