Page 21 of Gravity

“Thank you.”

Silence falls between us, and the only thing I can hear is the beating of my heart and the slow, shallow breathing of a woman I want nothing more than to hold. The split second I was in her arms the other day, everything had felt right; the world had stopped spinning. My mind had no longer been a clusterfuck, and I’d felt like I could breathe—even though I was holding my breath. Nora Nelson makes everything seem right, yet the barrier between us has never been higher.

And that’s all because of me and my twisted, grieving fucking mind.

Still wanting to hear her voice but not wanting this tension between us, I lean forward and rest my arm over the steering wheel, looking back up at the moon. “Do you always threaten to kill people with knives?”

Relief washes over me when a soft chuckle leaves her like a sweet song, and I find myself smiling.

“Only the ones who deserve it. We all know I can be a little batshit crazy if I’m woken up before my time.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that too many times over the years.”

“Well, nothing has changed.”

“I can tell,” I chuckle.

“You better sleep with one eye open from now on, big guy.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome. I’m here if you ever need any more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And on that note, I’d better let you go and get some more rest. Sorry to wake you. I’ll see—”

“Grayson?” Her soft whisper cuts me off.

“Yeah?”

She hesitates for a moment, and it only makes my skin prickle in anticipation of what’s to come. Despite our time apart, I’ve always been able to read this woman like a book. “I’ve missed us.”

Closing my eyes, I swallow hard. I’ve missed us, too, and these past few minutes have been a reminder of what life was once like. But instead of apologizing and giving her my reasons, I reply to her as if her words mean nothing.

“Good night, Shortcake.”

Ending the call, and hating the tightness in my chest, I throw my phone down on the passenger seat and rest my head back, releasing a long exhale.

“Get it the fuck together, Grayson!” I tell myself, turning on the radio to drown out the silence before I head home to an empty house with an even emptier heart.

Chapter Seven

Grayson

The morning sun is already blinding my eyes, and I haven’t even opened them yet. Truth is, I don’t want to. I want to soak in the remnants of the dream I had—the one where hot-toffee hair drapes over my pillow and a slim, naked body presses against mine, all our troubles forgotten. It’s a dream that has me intoxicated by a life I want as reality, where I gaze into her hypnotic blue eyes, her bright white smile taking my breath away.

Many nights my dreams turn into nightmares of my past, but with them come the nights where I can’t get enough of the good dreams. And those good ones leave me with the same, hard desire that is running through my body right now.

Squinting my eyes open, I groan at the daylight. It’s past noon when I look at my bedside clock, and I groan once more when I realize I’ve woken an hour before my alarm. The downside to running a bar is that your sleep pattern is all over the place. On nights where I close up and prepare for the next day, it’s heading to almost three a.m. by the time I get into bed. And even though I was home earlier than usual last night, I hadn’t been able to sleep until I’d popped a sleeping tablet.

My mind was a whirlwind of regret and disgust. Too many times I brought her number up to contact her to apologize, yet I couldn’t find the right words in order to do it. I’m sorry may be two simple words to some, but for me they’re more than that as I’ve a lot to be fucking sorry for.

Getting out of bed, I head to the bathroom to freshen up for the day, and when I look in the mirror, I groan for the third time. I look like shit.

The dark circles under my eyes tell a story of their own, and my once clean-shaven jaw has its fourth day of regrowth casting a shadow over my skin. Stepping into the shower, I lather up my body and let the warm spray cover my head, waking my sluggish body and relaxing my tense muscles. And like she always does, Nora’s face once again invades my thoughts, stirring a reaction in my lower pelvis. Running my hand down the rippled muscles of my stomach, I imagine her here with me: beads of water covering her skin, her hard nipples pressing against my body as I take her mouth in mine.

As I wrap my hand around my hard cock, I draw the desires in my body to the brink in response to her invasion of my mind. Her kiss. Her touch. All a figment of my own imagination and one that has my ass cheeks tight and my hand pumping. When my orgasm hits, I whisper her name through gritted teeth as my heart pounds with need.

Fuck. I want her so bad.