"My finger is stuck!" I whisper-hissed. Fear pulsed through my veins. What would happen if we got caught? Would they throw us out? Call the cops? Would we go to jail? Or worse? What if they knew exactly why we werethere?
"Hold on," Grayson whispered back, grabbing my jammed hand andwiggling.
I hissed at the sting of the friction. Whoever had put the case here among the books had certainly not made it easy to get out again. Grayson looked at me apologetically—his lips twisted into a frown and his brows pinched—right before he yanked at my finger hard. A startled yelp left me just as his other hand closed over my mouth. Our eyes found the open doorway again as the hallway light turnedon.
Grayson grabbed me and half lifted, half carried me to a closet door across the room. Opening the door, he shoved me in first before squeezing in next to me and shutting it firmly as footsteps echoed in the meeting room nextdoor.
"Hello?" a quiet, shaky, female voice called out. "Anyonehere?"
I held my breath and closed my eyes.Don't open the door. Don't open the door. Don't open the door.I chanted the mantra in my head, hoping against hope that whoever was on the other side of the closet door would just see the books and paper on the floor and assume it had been placed precariously on the desk and fallen over on itsown.
I was so focused on not getting caught, that I didn't realize Grayson had reached for my hand in the dark until his fingers twined with my own. I lifted my chin, trying to make him out in the pitch-black space. I was mere inches away from his face and I couldn't see a damn thing. All I could do was feel. We were so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheeks. A shiver shot down my spine as his other hand wrapped around my hip, his fingers digging into the skin that had been revealed as my shirt slidup.
I opened my mouth...to do what, I didn't know. I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell him to let go or what, but there was a noise just outside the door and instead of pulling away, I snuggled closer, pressing my lips against the fabric over his chest to stifle any sound. There was the low tone of someone cursing and papers being collected. An audible thunk of several books being placed back on the desk made me jump in Grayson's arms. I looked up, my lips brushing his chin. We bothstilled.
I held my breath until the sound of the office door closing and footsteps leading away from the room disappeared entirely. Only then did I manage to take my first full breath in what felt like hours. Gasping against Grayson's chest, I reached up and clutched the fabric of his shirt in myfists.
"That was close," I said. When he didn't respond, I tilted my head back. "Grayson?"
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?" I asked. He sounded tense. I could understand being tense in the moment, but he sounded like he was inpain.
"I'm fine." Grayson's palms slid up my sides and found myshoulders.
"Are you sure?" Ipressed.
He nodded, his cheek scraping against my temple. "Yeah," he repeated. "But we should probably stay put for a few more minutes—make sure they don't comeback."
"Okay..." I trailed off. And there we were, stuck in a closet in a rehab center that we had broken into. I was pressed as close to him as I could possibly have been and—oh! My eyes widened when I realized why he sounded like he was inpain.
I glanced up at him sharply, my cheeks burning red. "Uhhhh."
"It'll go away," he saidtightly.
"Um...why is it even...I meanwhat..."
"It's you," he snapped, "you're just really close and you just—shit—" He cut himself off and if I didn't know any better—and if maybe I could have seen better—I could have sworn that, Grayson Caruso, was blushing. "You smell and feel really good," he ended with amumble.
Isnorted.
"Oh, yeah, go ahead, laugh it up," hesaid.
I snorted again. "I'm sorry," I said. "But this is too funny." I tried to angle my hips away and hegroaned.
"Don't. Move," he urged. "You'll just make itworse."
"Well, since I have you trapped in here with me," Istarted.
He shook his head, his chin sliding across the top of my head. "No. Notalking."
"Oh, I promise this will get rid of your little problem," Isaid.
"And I promise you," he snapped. "It is in no way, shape, or form...little."
I snorted for a third time. "I want to talk about you andMarv."
He groaned again. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right, that would make the problem a lot smaller. So, talk away, but I'm not answeringyou."