14. Harley
Chapter Fourteen
HARLEY
My heartbeat started to slow, and I tried to catch my breath as Grant's gaze held mine. Sensations were still pinging through my body, residual aftershocks of the single most intense climax I'd ever experienced. Here on the stairs. With Grant.
Oh. My. God. This was just supposed to be sex. Except as I sat there with him still buried deep inside me, it felt like something more. As if my heart was almost leaning toward him. There was a subtle tug of a cord between us, an invisible cord I hadn't even known was there.
I scrambled inside, trying to catch my footing emotionally. The only reprieve I felt was that he looked as stunned as I did.
Somehow, we untangled ourselves. The awkward part wasn't that it felt awkward. It was that it didn't feel awkward. After I had my shirt buttoned and my jeans on, I glanced over to see him buttoning his jeans.
Our eyes met, and his lips twitched at the corners in a grin I knew well. I'd seen it so many times in the year or so that I’d been staying here.
He fastened the last button and then lifted a hand, lightly cupping my cheek. His thumb trailed along the edge of my jaw, and my pulse raced.
“What?” I asked breathlessly. I’d discovered Grant had the unique ability to steal my breath.
He stepped closer again, dipping his head and giving me a lingering kiss. When he straightened, he asked, “Popcorn and TV?”
That was how I found myself doing what we would usually do, except Cat wasn't there. The only thing missing was Grant and Cat arguing about the shows, which I secretly believed they did just because they thought it was fun. Both of them were too good-natured to really care.
It turned into a normal night. I kept checking myself, doing internal scans. My body felt great, totally relaxed and sated. A mind-blowing orgasm would do that.
The twinges of panic I experienced came solely from the fact that I felt too comfortable with him. It wasn't supposed to feel this comfortable. We should’ve felt a little awkward.
Almost as if I wanted to force the issue when one show ended and Grant lifted the remote, I said, “We should establish some ground rules.”
His hand was suspended in the air for a moment before he lowered it to rest the remote on his thigh.
He turned to face me. See, that was the thing with Grant.
When he directed his attention on you, it felt like you were the center of his universe.
My belly swooped, and I was tingling all over again, almost as if the aftershocks of that earth-shattering climax were still rippling.
“Ground rules?” he prompted.
“Yeah. Cat’s not here this weekend. But, news flash, your little sister lives with us.”
Grant chuckled, and my belly swooped again. “She does,” he agreed with a firm nod.
A familiar annoyance prickled through me, and I tried to think of what to say.
“So this wasn't a one-time thing?” he asked.
I abruptly felt vulnerable as if I'd stumbled and fallen. That feeling when you're walking along and don't realize there's a step down.
He reached over, sliding his hand just below the base of my neck between my shoulders. I could feel the calloused surface of his fingertips as he squeezed gently. “I don't want it to be a one-time thing.”
I barely caught my sigh of relief and met his gaze. “So if Cat’s around, nothing can happen on the stairs, or in the kitchen, or in the living room, or in any of the shared spaces.”
Grant nodded. “Okay.”
Of course, he would agree easily. Jesus, I couldn't even argue with this guy.
“So exactly how is this supposed to happen?” he asked. “We share a bedroom wall, and she doesn't.”
“Only after she goes to bed,” I said. “Plus, there's usually one or two nights a week that she's not here.”
Cat was enjoying her newfound freedom as an official eighteen-year-old. She was responsible but occasionally spent the night with friends and probably a boyfriend she didn't tell anyone about because she had two brothers who might freak out.
I continued, “When she's here, only after she goes to bed, and we have to be quiet.”
“You're not very quiet,” he pointed out, his lips curling in a sly grin.
“You're not either,” I retorted.
Then I giggled. I did not giggle. That wasn’t a thing I did. Except, apparently, I did with Grant.
He pulled me onto his lap, and then we were kissing.
We forgot about the TV. Grant slept with me in my bed that night.
I couldn’t even pretend I didn’t love it.
I loved that he was cuddly, which I didn't expect.
He held me close in his muscled arms, and I woke during the night to his lips pressing a kiss on the side of my neck.
“Grant?” I whispered in the darkness.
“Right here, sweetheart.”
Oh. My. God.
When he called me sweetheart, my heart practically swooned.
I didn't giggle, and I didn't swoon. I never had. In fact, Joe, my most recent boyfriend who screwed around on me with my roommate, had said it got a little old with me being all independent. He said I wasn't impressed enough with anything. I kind of thought he meant I wasn't prone to swooning.
I turned over in Grant’s arms and straddled him, rolling him onto his back. After that, it was a straight-up tie between that climax and the one earlier on the stairs.
Grant had this little magic trick where, on the one hand, he let me take over and sort of call the shots, but on the other, he was in control the entire time. He played me like an instrument made for him. Another thing I didn't believe in all that made-for anybody bullshit.
So I told myself it was just sex. He was just my roommate and my friend. I was one lucky girl because I got all that and awesome orgasms. I didn't need to worry about the rest.