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“You’re going, and you’re going to be amazing, Grace. And when you’re ready, we’re going to be everything.” I wrap myarms around her soft body and hold her tight for a minute, wondering when I turned into this guy. The one who cares enough to urge someone to follow their dreams instead of selfishly pushing for what I want. Because right now, I want this woman in my arms more than I’ve wanted anything in a long fucking time. But my gut is screaming she’s worth the wait.
Something tells me Grace Sinclair is special in a way no other woman will ever be.
But the timing isn’t right.Not yet.
“How can you be so sure?” she asks sweetly.
“I just am.” I run my hand over her soft hair. “You’re going to have to trust me.”
Grace rests her head against my chest and sniffles. “I kinda thought you were a manwhore, god of war.”
“It’s easier to let everyone think that than to correct them all the time, good twin.” I smile as she tugs away from me.
“I know that feeling.” She lifts up on her toes and kisses my cheek. “Thank you for being a gentleman last night. Any chance you’ve got something I could wear to make the walk of shame to my room slightly less obvious? I mean I can put my dress back on?—”
“I got you.” I step back and reach into my bag and pull out sweats and a hoodie. “You’re going to swim in these, and they’re not some fancy name brand, but they’ll be more comfortable than that dress.” I hand them to her, and her smile lights up the room like only Grace Sinclair’s can. “In case I didn’t say it, you looked really pretty in that dress, Grace.”
Her cheeks flush pink, and she holds the clothes against her chest as she walks into the bathroom. “I would have looked even better out of it, Ares.”
I throw my head up to the ceiling and close my eyes, wondering what the hell I just did.
GRACE
Iwait about fifteen minutes after Ares leaves to creep out of his hotel room in hopes that everyone else is already downstairs at the breakfast my parents are hosting. My pulse races, and my palms sweat like I’m about to set foot on a grand stage in front of the largest audience of my career, when in reality, I’m hoping not one single soul sees me before I get to my room.
As the elevator doors begin to close, I let out a sigh of relief, until a dainty hand with a bracelet I’d know anywhere pushes the doors open.
Shit.
“Oh, thank God. Your sister has been blowing up my phone for ten minutes already.” Brynlee rushes in with a huff, relieved she made it at first, then tilts her head to the side, squints her eyes, and purses her perfectly glossed lips. “Gracie... Ummm...” The words are slow and kinda quiet as her eyes scan over me from head to toe. And before I know what’s happening, her eyes grow as big as dinner plates, and a noise I’m not quite sure anyone other than dogs could actually hear squeals past her lips. “Ohmyfuckinggod, Grace Sinclair. That’s Ares Wilder’shoodie. It’s got his number on the fucking sleeve. And. You’re. Wearing. It.”
I press my hand against her mouth and glare at my best friend. “Shut up, Brynnie. Seriously.” The elevator chimes, and the doors slide open on my floor. Carefully, as if I’m about to steal a Monet off the wall of the Louvre, I peek out to make sure there aren’t any other witnesses.
Okay . . . The coast is clear.
With a tight grip, I pull Brynlee behind me out of the elevator and down the hall to my room. Then I shove both of us safely inside so no one else can see what I’m wearing.
Maybe I should have just stuck with the dress.
Fuck a duck.
I breathe out a sigh of relief once the door clicks shut behind us and drop my shoes and dress down on the chair. I could use a nap, a shower, and some ibuprofen. Maybe not in that order.
“Grace,” Brynn screeches. “Everly is waiting for me downstairs. What the hell are we doing?”
I close my eyes and massage my temples.
Stupid champagne.
When I open my eyes, she’s staring at me, waiting. “I’m shutting you up and throwing on my own damn clothes, Brynn. What’s it look like I’m doing?”
She drops down onto my very un-slept-in bed and crosses her legs primly. “It looks like you’re doing the walk of shame from Ares Wilder’s room, if you really want to know. Now get your perfect ass changed, good twin, and tell me he fucks like the god he is—because that man has a body chiseled out of stone, and I’d know. I’ve had my hands all over him on my table. He’s a work of art. And he’s even cockier than Cross. I mean, come on... it’s got to be at least nine inches, right?”
I stand there for a moment, shocked stupid. “Brynlee... What the... I mean...” Words absolutely fail me. “You’re theirphysical therapist,” I sputter, and the bitch laughs. Well... more like cackles.
“I am.” She pulls a Chapstick from her purse, coats her lips, then pops them together and smiles. “But I’m a woman, and these men are elite athletes with bodies honed from years spent on skates. I may be a professional, but I’m not blind, Gracie. A girl can appreciate eye candy, can’t she?”
I grab my clothes from my overnight bag and walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth and change but leave the door open to finish our conversation. “Well, sorry to disappoint,” I tell her as I search through my toiletries case for...Where the hell is the toothpaste? “We didn’t have sex.”
