Читать книгу Wound Up - Kelli Ireland - Страница 12

4

HIS ASS AND ONE FOOT were cold. That was the first thought that went through Justin’s sleep-addled mind before the click of the room’s air conditioner further invaded his consciousness. Air-conditioning is clicking instead of whining? That meant he wasn’t at home. One eye squinted open, fighting to focus on the alarm clock’s huge red numbers—a few minutes after eight in the morning.

The mattress moved as his bed partner rolled over and stole more covers. He grunted softly as he pushed up to his elbows and turned to look at the tangle of curls spread across the pillow. In the dim light, her hair appeared dark. He knew that wasn’t true. Grace’s hair was actually almost brown until she stepped into the sun. Then it blazed like flame. A truer, deeper red than he’d ever seen anywhere else.

She was stretched out on her side of the king bed, her face sporting wrinkles from the pillowcase. Eyes acclimated to the dim light, he tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear and simply watched her. She was beautiful. Those cat-green eyes had expressed passion, reverence, humor and longing as they’d taken each other every way they could. Then, somewhere near six this morning, they’d fallen asleep tangled together.

He’d never had a night even similar to last night. Considering the remarkable quality of the woman at his side, he wondered if he’d ever have another. He had a real connection with Grace, something that transcended the physical. He didn’t want to lose that, but he wasn’t sure how to keep it, either.

No doubt they’d be going in different directions now that they’d both graduated. His focus was public service and hers was...what? She hadn’t said. The money was in private practice. But even if that’s what she pursued, it didn’t necessarily mean she had to leave Seattle. She could find something here or at least nearby, and they could really see where this thing went.

Yes, he’d agreed last night was a one-time thing. And she’d made it abundantly clear she didn’t expect anything more. But making more of this thing between them was the only way he could guarantee she didn’t disappear. He’d spent years watching her, had finally found his way to her through dumb luck, and damn if he was willing to let her walk away because of the universe’s poor timing.

He dragged a hand down his face and took a deep breath. They had cheered adulthood last night. Today it seemed more burden than boon.

“What’s with the somber look?” Her voice, husky from sleep, made his breath catch.

“Just thinking.”

“No thinking before coffee.” She rolled closer to him and snuggled into his chest, slipping an arm around his waist. “It’s a cosmic rule.”

He stroked a hand down her hair. “Cover hogs don’t get to make rules.”

“I’m not a cover hog. I only took what I needed.”

“That apparently equals everything.”

She sniffed. “A girl has to have her standards.” Her lips curled against his bare skin.

“Good to know.” Rolling over, he pulled her with him so she draped across his upper body. He was aware that he was holding her a little too tight, but he couldn’t seem to let go.

“Justin?”

“No, no. It’s fine. My most important body parts were only at risk of frostbite for a short while. They’ll be fine.”

She chuckled and propped herself up to meet his gaze. “If I wasn’t sure it would lead to the crossroads of Wicked Lane and Wanton Drive, I’d offer to warm your most important body parts up.”

His cock swelled. “Yeah?” He shifted against her hip. “I could get behind that.”

She snorted. “You did.”

The ribald reference to their lovemaking made him laugh. “You’re a vixen, woman. A true vixen.”

“Yeah. Sports Illustrated keeps calling for a cover shoot, but I’m just too busy being a bookworm. It’s so much sexier.”

“On you? Hell, yes, it is.” Leaning in, he took her mouth in a swift kiss. “Your mind is definitely sexy. I loved watching you latch on to a concept or theory in class. Your brows would draw down and you’d get this look, as if you were so deep in your own thoughts you had no idea what was going on around you. I never knew what you’d say, whether you’d agree with me or disagree and defend your position so well I’d have to agree with you. I knew I’d never have to worry you’d play me false.” He traced a finger down her neck and between her breasts, circling the lower side of one and watching the nipple pucker. “And for the record? Your body isn’t half-bad, either.” He dragged his gaze first to her mouth and then to her eyes. “Last night was awesome, Grace.”

She shivered. “I was sitting here trying to come up with the smoothest way to say the same thing. But I can work with awesome.”

Justin reached for a condom before he rolled over, blood flooding to his groin. “I’m headed down Wicked Lane. You take Wanton Drive. We’ll meet at the crossroads.”

Her lazy smile made his testicles draw up tight. “Wanton works for me.”

He slid into her slowly, pausing when she winced. “Okay?”

“Just a little sore. That was a lot of mattress gymnastics for a girl who’s gone more than two years between meets.”

Cupping her face, he kissed her slowly before asking, “How long has it been?”

She closed her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Grace?”

“My master’s program.”

“You haven’t been to bed with anyone in—”

“Twenty-seven months, Justin.” She finally looked at him, her eyes hauntingly beautiful. “So, yeah. I’m a little sore.” She slowly lifted her hips, drawing him in. “Doesn’t mean I want you to stop.”

So he didn’t.

* * *

STEPPING OUT OF the shower an hour later, he heard his cell phone ringing. “Ignore it,” he called out.

“I did.”

He grinned and shook his head. Being with her was so easy, so comfortable. Part of him wanted to revel at how easy it was to like her as much as he did. Another part wanted to simply gather up his belongings and leave, ensure nothing could come of the spark harbored in his heart. The longer they were together, the more that spark was coaxed to burn. It scared him more than a little.

This time in his life was supposed to be about finding his professional footing, making a contribution to the Second Chances program and beginning to carve out respect from his peers. None of that included a woman, particularly a woman whose immediate future didn’t align with his own.

He’d worked so hard to become the man he was now, not the kid in the too-small clothes, the one always looking to make money any way he had to in order to put food on the table. When his focus had shifted, when he’d begun to think in broader terms than street smarts and day-to-day survival, he’d found his purpose. God knew he hadn’t been abstinent in the years that followed. He was no choirboy. But at the same time, a woman hadn’t figured into his long-term plans.

And yet, he was fiercely attracted to Grace. She hadn’t quite closed the door on a repeat of last night. Maybe he could see her again before they ultimately went their separate ways. And if their next time had to be their last time, he’d do his best to snuff out this burning desire he harbored for her, had harbored for her for the past three years.

Hands on the counter, he locked his elbows and leaned forward, head hanging loosely. He wanted Grace. Badly. Craved her, even. But the reality of their situation didn’t change for his wanting her. She had a life to start and so did he. Their paths probably wouldn’t cross again. His only chance was to press her for just a bit more of her now, while it was an option.

He finished brushing his teeth and stepped into the room, hand on the towel, and froze. Grace had opened the curtains just enough to peer out. Sunlight bathed her in a nimbus of brilliant gold, outlining every curve on her luscious, bare body.

Shifting, she offered him a partial profile and a wide smile. “Sun’s out today.”

“Good.” The word was little more than a croak.

Her brows drew together. “Hey. Are you okay?” She started toward him and stopped when he backed up.

Justin couldn’t think of anything beyond the woman. Heart racing and palms sweating, he shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You seem a little shaky.”

“I am a little shaky.”

“Low blood sugar?”

“Yeah.” Easy answer. A lie, which didn’t sit well with him, but he didn’t correct himself, didn’t offer the truth.

How could he even be thinking of getting emotionally involved? She’d said she wasn’t staying in Seattle long, but even if she was only here for another couple of weeks, they could see each other again He wanted to find out what might be between them, given time and a little nurturing, a little emotional excavation. “So...what’s your next step, Grace?”

“What do you mean?”

“In life. You’ve graduated. What now?”

“You’re standing there in a towel, I’m naked, and you want to talk career planning?” Her laughter rang out in the bedroom. “You’re in a strange mood, Dr. Maxwell.”

A twinge in his chest had him rubbing his left pec. “Admittedly strange.”

“Okay, then. I have an eighty-hour job-shadowing practicum I have to complete. The college let me walk with my class at graduation, but I still have to get a passing grade on the practicum before I can implement my nefarious psychological practices on unsuspecting victims.” She raised her arms, let her head fall back and loosed an evil cackle before bursting into laughter again. Dropping her arms, she shrugged. “So eighty hours of blah, blah, blah before I officially become a psychologist.”

His chest tightened around the twinge. “Yeah? Are you staying local?”

She nodded. “Personal issues regarding my housing situation meant I had to stay close by.”

“Want to have lunch, then, say, Wednesday? We can meet somewhere midpoint for both of us.” Postcoital meal arrangements might be backward, but it would assuage the guilt needling him for the screw-and-run he’d momentarily considered. This? This he could live with. Barely.

He’d take it.

A faint blush stole across her cheeks. “Lunch? That’d be great.” The words were right, but the hesitation in them wasn’t.

“Are you allergic to lunch?” he asked as casually as he could.

“No.” She rubbed her throat, her free arm wrapping around her torso. “It’s just...you remember I’m leaving right?”

“It’s not a marriage proposal, Grace. It’s just lunch.”

She smiled up at him. “Okay, then. Downtown area would be easiest for me.”

He exhaled slowly. “Excellent.” They weren’t through with each other.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

GRACE WATCHED JUSTIN’S shoulders sag and couldn’t be sure if it was relief or disappointment. The former buoyed her while the latter stung like hell.

It shouldn’t matter. She just had to get through the next two weeks and then she was following Meg to Baltimore where she’d try to find a job. It was as far as Grace could conceivably get from Seattle, her past and her mother.

Still, watching Justin’s reaction was very much like holding on to a life vest in twenty-foot seas. A second to catch your breath before getting driven under again.

He squared his shoulders and crossed the room. “How about Tuesday? I don’t want to wait until Wednesday.” Cupping her face, he leaned in. “Say yes.” The smell of minty toothpaste on his breath combined with the scent of the hotel’s soap and shampoo on his skin to form a clean smell she knew she’d never forget.

“Yes.”

“And dinner with me Wednesday.”

“Yes.” The answer was out of her mouth before she truly considered the implications.

“Good.” He closed the distance and kissed her, lips soft yet firm as he laid claim to her mouth, owning the moment, owning her, in a way that disconcerted her. No one had ever made the effort to get to know her, to see her, to invest in her. Then Justin happened.

It was only supposed to have been one night. Not a date. No expectations. Nothing more. But he’d been so sincere in his interest, so transparent in his desire for her. What woman wouldn’t want to enjoy that for just a bit longer?

He’d caused her to reconsider everything she’d thought would be true today. And she wasn’t sure how to revise her expectations because he’d left them open-ended. Living with a “maybe” where Justin was concerned was dangerous. She needed concretes, absolutes, not maybes and what-ifs. She could manage this...this...fling if she kept it in perspective. Because while his invitations certainly changed the rules they’d established, the outcome was pre-determined and non-negotiable.

She wouldn’t allow him to derail her goals, professional or personal, no matter how long she’d wanted just what he offered right now. She’d worked too hard, made too many sacrifices to let it fall apart now because of a man...no matter how much she might want said man. With autonomy would come more opportunity, but as long as she was in Seattle? She’d always be Cindy Cooper’s daughter, the runt who couldn’t get out of the woman’s way fast enough. Grace refused to live in that emotionally putrid place anymore.

She wouldn’t allow one night with Justin to potentially change everything she thought about her career, her future, herself.

Feeling her stiffen in his embrace, he broke the kiss and, still cradling her jaw in those large, capable hands, rested his forehead against hers. “Stop overthinking things.”

“Stop reading my face.”

“Stop projecting every thought you’re having.”

She rolled her forehead back and forth against his.

“Seriously, Grace. Stop borrowing tomorrow’s trouble. Today has plenty of its own.”

“Stop sounding like a fortune cookie.” She paused and rolled her eyes up to meet his stare. “Unless you’ve got the winning lottery numbers printed on your body. Then, by all means, proceed.”

He grinned, the tiny crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes apparent this close. “You can check it out if you want.”

“Cute. We’ve got to get out of here in the next half hour.”

“Let’s hurry and get breakfast.”

“Sure.” She waited. He didn’t move. “You have to let go of my face first.”

Quick and hard, he took her mouth, backing her up against the wall as he kissed her.

When he shifted and let his lips trail down her neck to nip her collarbone, she shivered. “You have a real thing for walls.”

“Not until you, I didn’t.”

The hummingbirds in her belly took up acrobatic maneuvers, successfully avoiding her pride’s attempts to squash them. She couldn’t help it if he kept saying all the right things. Every woman wanted to know she was wanted.

Wanted.

The idea she could be part of something bigger than just herself, that she could spend the next two weeks with someone, with him, was the greatest temptation she’d faced in, well, ever. She’d spent a lifetime alone, craving the things her friends took for granted—parents, extended family, the dreaded Christmas sweater, conflict between Aunt Jane and Uncle John. College had alleviated some of that when she’d met her three closest friends, but there was still a longing for family she didn’t dare look at too closely. It would simply remind her that her past hadn’t taught her anything about what it was to love or be loved. That was a reminder she neither wanted nor needed.