“Jesus, Emmy. This seems serious.”
“Happens literally every four to six weeks, my dude.”
He rises, but I don’t let go of his hand. “Let me run to the store for you. I can be back in a half hour.”
“I appreciate the offer, really, but you don’t have to. The painkillers were the most pressing need. The rest can wait.” Somehow, the whole thought makes it through before another cramp causes me to tighten my death grip on his hand.
“Okay.” He leans over, pressing another kiss to my forehead. “I’ll leave you alone then. Let me know if you need anything else, though.”
“Wait,” I say before he even has the chance to turn away. “The painkillers will kick in in thirty minutes and then I’ll probably fall asleep. Will you stay? Until then?”
He doesn’t hesitate for a single second. “Of course.”
Grayson kicks off his shoes and circles around to the other side of the bed, climbing in next to me. I turn so I’m facing him, keeping the heating pad pressed to my skin and away from his. He lifts his arm with a question in his eyes. It’s the same motion he made that night after ice-skating, after he bared his soul and I freaked the fuck out. But this time, I scoot myself into his embrace, letting my head fall to his chest. One hand immediately works its way into my hair, the other rubbing slow circles on my back.
I’m gripped with a few more cramps, but it doesn’t take long for the medication to kick in. When the relief overtakes me, my worn-out body drifts into a peaceful sleep.
—
As seems to be the case lately, I wake up reaching my hand across the bed. Only this time, it connects with something hard and warm.
A crack of one eyelid lets me know it’s biceps, luckily (or sadly) not the other hard and warm part of Grayson West.
Both eyes slowly blink open, taking in the full picture next to me. Grayson is wearing gray sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt. He’s not tucked under the covers with me, but he’s close enough for the heat radiating off him to warm me from the outside in. Oh, and he’s reading one of the romance books I brought with me. And he’s wearing glasses. I might have just spontaneously orgasmed.
“You stayed.” My voice croaks, groggy with sleep and the remnants of the painkillers.
He sticks his thumb in the pages to mark his spot, looking down at me with a hint of a smile. “I stayed.”
I push myself up on the pillow. And may or may not move closer to him while doing so. “I didn’t expect you to stay after I fell asleep.”
He sticks a bookmark in the pages and closes the book. “I can go if you’d like.”
My hand jets out, gripping his forearm. “No. I didn’t mean that. I’m glad you stayed. I just didn’t expect you to after...”
“After you left me alone after I revealed all of my most vulnerable secrets?” His tone is light and teasing, but the shadows in his eyes give away the depth of hurt behind them.
I gulp down a dry swallow. “Yeah, that.” I reach overand take his hand in mine. “I’m really sorry, Grayson. That was a shitty thing for me to do that night.”
“It was.” He picks up our joined hands, brushing his lips across my knuckles. “I like you, Emmy.”
I sit up even straighter. “You do?”
He meets my gaze, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“I mean, yes?” I poke him in the ribs when he sends me a glare. “Given everything in the past. And given how much of an asshole I was the other day.”
“Everyone’s allowed to be an asshole sometimes.”
I tuck myself into his side, forcing his arm around me and burying my face in the soft cotton of his sweatshirt, mostly so I don’t have to look at him. “I got scared.”
I wait for him to press me further, but he doesn’t. And his silence makes me want to fill it.
“It was supposed to be just sex.” The words are barely a whisper, but I can tell by the way he freezes, his whole body stiffening, that he heard me just fine. “There weren’t supposed to be feelings, Grayson.”
He presses his cheek to the top of my head. “I know.”
I lace my fingers through his, our joined hands resting on his stomach. “And there might be some feelings.”
