Grinning, I walk over to him. When I take his hand, he tries to lace our fingers together.
“Stop that,” I chide.
I isolate his thumb from his fist and press it firmly against the keypad. The door buzzes open, and his green eyes brighten.
“Oh, I love you. Thank you.” He stumbles into his room, jolting when he realizes I’ve followed him inside. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you find your bed. How much glenshade did you drink?”
“I feel like it might have been a lot.”
He takes a step toward the bedroom and trips over his own feet.
“You’re a disaster,” I say, quickly wrapping my arm around his waist to support him. I urge him forward.
“You’rea disaster,” he shoots back.
“Well, sure, but at least I can stay upright.”
The smile he flashes me is a little lopsided. “Uprighted is overrated. Uprighted, I mean. Upright.Up-right.”
Drunk Grayson is fun.
I guide him into his room, my body lilting to the left as he sags against me. “You’re a lot heavier than you look,” I inform him.
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
“No, I’m saying you’re heavy. Pilots shouldn’t have this many muscles.”
“Pilots should haveallthe muscles.”
Laughing, I half carry him to his bed. He sways on his feet again, and I give him a gentle shove until he falls back onto the mattress.
He blinks up at me, eyes a little glassy. His gaze lingers, as if he’s trying to memorize something in my face.
“You’re fucking beautiful.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“Oh. Thanks,” I say lightly. “You should get some sleep.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and unlace his boots, then pull them off. I don’t dare reach for his pants. Instead, I make him lift his ass so I can drag the blanket out from under him. I drape it over him and lean forward, pushing hair away from his forehead.
“Get some sleep. You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning.”
I’m straightening up when his hand shoots out, curling around my cheek. His eyes lock with mine, in perfect focus even as he operates through a drunken haze.
“Beautiful,” he mutters. “But that’s not why.”
“Not why what?” Damn it, why am I even entertaining this? He’s too drunk, and he’s going to regret every word in the morning.
He leans in as if he’s about to impart some kernel of deep wisdom. “Not why I want you…” He’s slurring his words again. “…want you because you’re you…”
The drunken confession lingers in the air. I try to ignore the fluttering in my chest. It’s accompanied by a pang of discomfort and a racing heart, because I know I should put an end to this.
“You have a girlfriend, ace. And I can promise you, she won’t like what you’re saying right now. So…” I tuck the blanket around him. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear it.”
His hand drops from my face as he settles back against the pillows.
