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“You know why I’m here, Dimples, and don’t even try to think you can ask me to leave. It ain’t happening,” Grimm states, stroking my cheek where he’d slide the hair away from.
“Why now? What’s changed?” I blurt without meaning to.
“I guess you can say I got my head outta my ass.” He shrugs. “We’ll talk about it more later. For the time being, you’re gonna kiss me, then we’re havin’ dinner and watching a movie. Not no chick flick.”
Oh my. Um, this can’t be happening. In all my dreams, all I’ve ever wanted is this and now it’s happening, and I don’t know what to do with it.
Grimm doesn’t give me the chance to respond in any way, instead his lips meet mine and everything goes up in flames. A spark, unlike any other, shoots straight through me, down my spine and to my sweet haven. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before. But I’ve seen movies and read books. Some of my favorite books are erotica. I don’t know why, it’s just something so sensual in the touch.
I find myself giving into Grimm. His mouth opens and I part mine. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in to twirl around my own. A moan slips out and he deepens the kiss. The entire experience lights a fire within me like no other. It’s as if the world around us will go up in flames and the two of us are the only ones who’ll survive it. Just barely.
The sound of knocking on the front door is all that keeps us from continuing. Grimm breaks his lips from mine, panting.
“Fuck, Dimples, you kiss like that, I look forward to what else you can do,” he says, his voice raspy, and he bolts upright, leaving me lying there on the couch.
I watch as he adjusts himself and moves to the door. I smile inwardly at the look he gives me because no matter how much he arranges himself in his sweats there’s no hiding what he’s packing. And truthfully what he’s got kind of scares me because I don’t think it’ll fit. It’s a monster of the a . . .
“Do me a favor, Dimples, and get the plates or whatever while I get the food,” Grimm orders, pulling me from my thoughts.
I blink in his direction, taking all of him in for a moment longer. It takes me a second to gather the willpower not to scream in frustration at how he could make out with me. I mean, make out with me the way he did, hot and leaving me longing for more, only to act like it didn’t just happen. Well, other than the obvious hard-on he’s packing.
Getting off the couch, I make a noise of protest. Mostly because I realize, yet again, he’s surprising me by his mention of me grabbing plates. I think its sweet and I’m thankful to the fact he’s not going to just set the food on my coffee table. I would so not be down with that. I like my furniture to be stain free. I use coasters for drinks, they’re really cool ones a friend of mine made for me before she went back home after graduation. I also don’t eat on the couch unless it’s over a plate.
I guess you can say I’m weird, but oh well, I don’t care.
In the kitchen, I reach up in the cabinet and pull out two of my black plates that have a white rose painted in the middle. When I first saw them, I thought they were the coolest thing ever. They have matching deep bowls, little tea-sized plates, and glasses that are a transparent grayish black with the same rose design on them. I didn’t get the coffee mugs to match because I like my mugs and rotate them by the season and holidays. I also get a new one each year. I have one cabinet that’s solely dedicated to my coffee mugs.
I head back to the living room and get a whiff of the mouth-watering aroma of dinner.
Oh my.
I stare at the setup and swallow back my nerves. Grimm didn’t just order food. He did it by getting it from my favorite pizza place in town. At this, I don’t know what to think. More than that, I can’t believe he’d do what he’s done. He didn’t get just pizza, but it looks like all of what I love.
This is too much.
“Ready to eat, Dimples?” he asks, straightening.
Inhaling a sharp breath, I nod. “Yes.” I close the rest of the distance between the two of us and hand him one of the two plates. He takes it and reaches for the other.
“Sit down, baby, and pull up a movie.” He grins and goes about loading both plates up with food.
It takes me all of a minute to think of a movie to put on. I’ve been wanting to seeUncharted,and with it on Netflix, I go straight to it. I figure this one Grimm won’t have a problem watching, and I enjoy seeing both Tom Holland and Mark Wahlberg in action. Growing up, I loved watching his movies. One of my faves is him inDaddy’s Homeand an older one of him inFear, though he was the bad guy. I mean, it was him and Reese Witherspoon, both of whom are freaking awesome. I don’t know how many times I’ve watched her inSweet Home Alabama. Shoot, if I could pull it off, I might’ve thought of cutting my hair like hers.
Grimm settles in next to me and hands me the plate. I sit with my legs crossed in front of me. Neither of us speaks up when we start eating. I want to think this is because he’s just getting into the movie, but I swear I feel his eyes on me. Though I dare not look.
Halfway through the movie, I’m finished eating and set my plate on the coffee table and lean back into the cushions. I try focusing on the movie as Grimm moves, he sets his own plate down. However, instead of leaning into the couch, he snags me around the waist and adjusts us until we’re both lying on our sides facing the TV, him behind me, arm around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to keep quiet.
“Watching the movie,” he answers, as if this were an everyday thing for the two of us.
This is not the case, and I know I’m in trouble. Loads of it where he’s concerned, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Regardless, I have to admit I do like the feel of being in Grimm’s arms.
CHAPTEREIGHT
APRICOT
I come awake in the dead of night, realizing I’d fallen asleep on the couch, and I wasn’t alone.
