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She shudders out a breath, rising to her feet to drag her shorts up her still-wet legs. “I need to go home,” she announces as I stand up to put on my clothes.
“You must be hungry.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll eat at home.”
“I’ll walk you there.”
“No, you will not!” she snaps as I button up my pants and pull my belt into the latches. “I'm not going straight there anyway. And before your stalking ass asks, I’m going to get a massage at that place near our—”
“I know the one.”
“She said I could drop in tonight.”
“Fine. I’ll walk you there.”
“You’re impossible,” she chides as I pull on my T-shirt as she does hers.
I gesture over to the waiter. “Two portions of chickpea fries. To go.”
“Coming right up.”
24
Indigo
“I’m just not in the mood,” I explain to Fran and Rami for the fifth time. “My whole body feel’s like it’s been pummeled. My neck feels like it’s gone ten rounds with the chiropractor. I’m just… tense.” I refrain from adding “Thanks to you” to Grey who’s sliding his phone back into his pocket, his movements stupidly elegant. The man always looks as in control as I do out of it. “I need a massage.”
“I’ll give you one,” exclaims the wide-eyed Fran.
“Thanks, babe,” I smile. “But I need one that makes me forget my existence for an hour or so.”
“Are you sure she’s open?” asks Rami about the woman who popped out when we saw theMassages availablenotice at her front gate yesterday.
“I don’t know, but I saw her this morning. She said I could drop by and see. If she’s open, she’ll take me. Are you guys gonna be okay to get home?” I ask, not unaware of the building tension between the grinning Fran and the handsome Gideon, a man smoking hot but without the bottomless brooding energy that clings to Grey everywhere he goes.
“We’ll walk them back,” replies Gideon.
“Or get a cab,” clarifies Rami. “We’ll be fine as long as Kennedy doesn’t mind me beating him up if he keeps getting on my fucking nerves,” she groans to his good-natured guffaw of amusement.
I feel myself smile for once, asking Fran if I can take a sip of her beer just to wash the taste of chlorine out of my mouth. She obliges and I drink down a few gulps, partly to remove the taste, and partly because of the wave of anxiety that just surged through my belly as I allowed my thoughts to drift to my stupid ex again.
I need that massage and pronto.
To wash away thoughts of my ex, but mainly because Greyson is basically a walking erection in very good clothes. Every irritating second spent in his company makes me wish I’d brought my silent mini vibrator with me so I could rush off to the washroom and relieve myself.
And that’s not something I’ve ever experienced with any man.
I restrain myself from eyeballing the sky as I contemplate asking God why the only man who’s ever set my groin alight so strongly that it could probably power the national grid in an emergency just had to be such an arrogant and overbearing prick…
Not to mention a protective one.
That’s the part that’s gonna get you, Indie, I warn myself, pretending to ignore the fact that his ravenous eyes are searing into my profile.
“How are you gonna get there?” asks Rami.
“I’ll walk her there,” replies Grey, his tone utterly resolute.
“I don’t know if that reassures me much,” retorts an eye-rolling Rami flatly, making me break into a grin.
