Page 71 of Shattered Hearts

The door swings open.

My eyes flash open to Grayson hovering in the doorway holding two bottles and looking like he’s just walked in on a ghost.

Right now, I’m grateful that he put bubbles in.

“Umm… I-I got…” he stutters, gaze fixed on mine.

Heart pounding, I smile slowly. “Thank you.” I hold my hands out of the water to grab them from him. Grayson inches closer to the edge of the tub, and when I think he’s going to hand them over, he sits on the edge. I still as he takes the nozzle and wets my hair before squirting some shampoo in his hands. The moment his fingers meet my head, I moan, my shoulders dropping and contentment searing through me.

“You don’t need to do this,” I utter, even though my body is screaming for me to keep my mouth closed. I’ve never felt this much bliss in one moment.

“Just shut up and let me help, Biscuit,” he lets out smoothly, like toffee.

I snicker and shut my eyes, relishing in the feel of his hands in my hair. He repeats the action with conditioner, slow and thoughtful as I wash myself beneath the bubbled water. With the candles and scent of vanilla, I feel like I’m in heaven.

“How’s that?” Grayson questions, and I can hear the hoarseness in his tone.

I hum in response, my eyes still shut, soaking up the feeling as he washes out the product. I expect Grayson to leave me in here, but he doesn’t move. Peeling my eyes apart, I peer across at him, staring down at me.

I swallow as his fingers stroke the ends of my drenched hair. My pulse thunders in my ears, body heating despite the water cooling around me. My gaze drops to his lips. The bottom is fuller and rounder, and I’ve wondered for years how they’d feel and taste. Maybe like dust or cinnamon? There’s a small freckle in the left corner, and two smile lines bordering each side that I adore. He really is handsome and a gentleman, albeit slightly impatient and full of himself, but I know deep down he’s protective and pliable.

It’s exactly what I’d want in a man, which is why I was waiting for him all this time, but I guess that bridge drowned the moment I gave in to Scott’s request.

Did I miss my chance of having this man to myself? Did I ruin everything good between us by giving in to a stranger?

It’s not like I can take it back now. I can only move forward, and I don’t know if Grayson will be in my future. He’ll still be my best friend, but will he want to step into being a dad? Will he want this extra responsibility with me?

Does he even love me the way I love him?

My heart flutters abruptly with collywobbles, the room charged with so much energy that it’s biting at my exposed skin. I want to ask him, to tell him everything I’m feeling, when Hazel’s voice yelling out that dinner is ready stops the words on my tongue.

Grayson steps backwards at the same time I clear my throat and cover my chest that’s covered in thick bubbles.

“That went quickly,” I rasp.

His voice is just as rough, as if his heart is pounding as heavily as mine. “Yeah, it did.” He grabs a towel for me. “Was it everything you were wanting?”

My cheeks heat as I admit softly, “It was better.”

“I’m glad, Biscuit.” Before I can do anything, Grayson leans over and brushes a kiss on my temple. It’s tender and purposeful, igniting my insides as I press my lashes shut. Standing, he pops the towel on the edge of the tub and walks towards the door. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re… dressed.”

“Umm, y-yeah. T-thank you,” I stutter, a little lost for words.

He kissed me! It was a head kiss, but no less, it was a kiss!

I groan, my mind reels once again as I dry myself off and slip on Macie’s underwear and socks. They’re a bit tight, but they’ll suffice. They’re also brand new, because I have to yank the tag off the knickers. I pull on some trackpants, a tee, and jumper—I know these are Grayson’s from the smell alone. They’re fresh and manly, like linen and woodsmoke. I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath before grabbing my laundry and taking it downstairs where everyone is waiting for dinner to be served.

“Let me take those. I can wash them for you,” Hazel says, snatching the dirty pile from my hands and tossing them into the washing machine.

“Oh, thanks, Hazel.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Her hand squeezes my cheek. “It’s nothing really. Are you ready for some food?”

I nod, and she grins. Macie comes to my side, excited about me being here not on a Sunday night. I don’t tell her about Grayson washing my hair and sitting beside me on the tub. Somehow it feels too intimate, and I want to keep it between us, at least for now.

As she talks about some new books she got delivered to the house, my eyes float up to collide with Grayson’s blue ones. There’s a faint smile etched into his mouth, and mine grows, my cheeks flushing with heat as I blink away.

“All right, come and get it.”