That’s important!
But the whole time that we’re talking and having our wine, it feels like there are butterflies spreading their wings in the back of my chest, and I can’t help but think about the fact that if we could just close the distance a little bit—
“What are you doing?” Grant asks, sounding amused.
Oh God. I’d been leaning forward! I jerk backward, nearly spilling the wine. Quickly, I shove the glass onto the bedside table. “Nothing. I’ve had— think—” Stop stuttering, that’s not helpful, I scold myself. It doesn’t actually make me feel any better. “I’m tired.”
He catches me by the wrist. “Hey, seriously. What’s wrong?”
I stare at him, wide-eyed. How am I supposed to tell him that the problem happens to be that I’ve totally fallen head over heels for him? That I’ve never been attracted to a guy before, not the way that I’m attracted to him?
“Ashley?” Grant asks, shifting his grip so that his hand is tangled with my own. His palm is warm. I’m suddenly thinking about how much bigger his hand is than my own, and how it would take two of my fingers to equal one of his and—
I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. I’ve never had this problem before. A part of me, a very large part, wants to just turn and run back home, all the way to the States. To just not have to deal with this ever again.
But the rest of me, knows that can’t happen.
“I’m sorry,” I say. The words come out in a rush. “I’m sorry, Grant. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
He tugs me back over to him. I settle on the bed again, and he turns to look at me. “Hey, calm down, Ash. What’s going on? What are you even apologizing for?”
“I wasn’t trying to—trick you into anything. We were just friends before,” I tell him, wanting to make that clear. “But the more time I’ve spent around you, the more I like you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Oh yeah, In… a bad way?” Grant asks in jest, brows pinching down just a little bit.
I shake my head. And then shrug. “I just— I want you. A lot. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make this weird or—”
I’m expecting there to be this lapse of accusatory silence, but there’s not. Grant just laughs and says, “Well, that’s fine. As it turns out, I want you too.”
“You… do?”
Grant reaches out and brushes my damp hair over my shoulder, then tucks a few strands of it behind my ear. “Yeah, Ashley. I do. And this means I don’t have to bring it up first. It also means that I can do this.”
Grant leans in and kisses me. It’s not the first time that we’ve done this, but it feels different today. This isn’t us practicing for a scene, and it’s not us putting on a show for someone else. Grant is just kissing me. And I kiss him back, just as eager.
Our mouths slide over each other, and then his teeth are nipping at my lower lip. The sharp spark of pain goes straight between my legs. I’m embarrassingly aware of how wet my panties are, and of how bright my blushing cheeks must be.
Grant kisses me breathless, only pulling back when we’re both panting from it. My hand reaches up, catching against his shoulder. I don’t want him to lean too far away, enjoying the way that he takes up so much of the space around me.
“Tell me,” says Grant. “If you want me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” I say, without any hesitation. My heart is pounding in my chest so hard that it feels as though it’s about to split straight through. I’ve never done this before, but I can’t bring myself to care.
I like Grant. He’s the perfect man to share this moment with.
“Good,” says Grant. “Because I don’t know if I could stop.”
And then he’s kissing me again, pressing me backwards against the mattress, mouthing at the curve of my neck. My eyes flutter shut. I don’t know how this happened, exactly, but I do know that it might be the single best moment of my life.
Chapter thirteen
Grant
Goddamn.
It turns out that I didn’t need to be worried about my building attraction to Ashley after all. She’s all too happy to lean back and let me plaster her neck with open-mouthed kisses, my teeth scraping lightly over her skin. I kiss as much of her flesh as I can.
Her arms loop around my shoulders, one hand tangling in my slicked-back hair. “Grant—”