Chapter 10 #2
“Felix.” The softer tone shakes me out of this heavy rush. I blink, then feel it. A light touch on my shoulder. “Felix, look at me.”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Felix. Look at me.” Slowly I look up and see Grey.
“Your knee.” He’s trying to bend to my level. “Grey, get up.”
“Not until you see me.” He looks at me. “You’re okay. Alright? You’re okay.”
I swallow thickly, realizing the mess I’m making on my shirt. His shirt. “My clothes.”
“I don’t give a shit about your clothes. I just care about you.” I see him tremor slightly, his leg.
“Grey, please get up.”
He sighs, grabbing the back of his chair to help him stand.
His arms tremor. Slowly I follow, still shaking.
Still crying. Why am I like this? What have I done?
I ruin everything. “Hey. Look at me.” I can’t stop shaking.
“Your hand is bleeding; I need to see it. I want to make sure you don’t need stitches.
” I watch him wince as he uses the back of the chair to move. I need him to lie down. “Come on.”
He guides me to the sink, my attention still on his prominent limp as I let him take my hand. His movements are soft and slow.
“This might sting, okay?” He rubs my hand under the cool water, but I don’t register the feeling. I only see him. My attention darts from his face to his knee. He’s not putting weight on it.
His blond brows are furrowed as he inspects my hand. My chest still feels like it’s vibrating. I’m so tired. “I ruin everything.” It bubbles up out of my throat, but it’s the truth. We were having a great night. I fucking ruined it.
Grey closes his eyes for a moment. Gathering patience?
Trying to tamp down the urge to call me a freak?
I don’t know, but I wouldn’t blame him for any of it.
“It doesn’t look like there’s any glass.
The cut seems manageable. He presses a paper towel to it.
I’m going to put some ointment on it and a bandage. ”
He opens a drawer, pulling out a first aid box. “Your shirt is ruined.”
“I don’t give a shit about the clothes, Felix. I can buy you more. I have a ton of those shirts,” he says softly. Anger radiates off him. Of course he’s angry. Because I broke shit. I’m clumsy and stupid.
“Are you mad?”
He looks up at that. My hand stills in his.
“No. I don’t give a shit about the towel, the clothes, the damn dish.
I don’t give a shit about any of it.” His hand reaches out, and my first instinct is to recoil.
Instead, his hand lands on my cheek, guiding my chin up to look at him.
Fury burns in his eyes, but for the first time in my life, that anger isn’t directed at me.
I think . . . I think it might be for me.
“I don’t give a shit about any of it. You hear me? I just give a shit about you.”
Unable to speak, I let him patch me up. My hand throbs, but it’s nothing compared to the thrum in my chest as he cleans me up. “I want you to ice your knee after this, okay?”
He swallows and gives me a stilted nod. “Yes sir.” A soft smile spreads on his face. It’s tiny, but it fills me with so much relief. “It’s a dish, Felix. It’s only a dish.” He finishes my hand. It stings a little, but with the pressure in my chest letting up it doesn’t feel so bad.
I shock myself when I reach for him, squeezing my arms around his waist. I know he needs to lie down. Still, I hold on to him. “Thank you.”
One large hand lands on the back of my head, the other going around my body and hugging me tight. “I got you,” he whispers. For the first time in a long time, I believe that. Or . . . I’d like to. “That’s it. Just breathe. I got you.”
My heartbeat slows. Warmth. So much warmth. I want to dive into it. “I’m sorry.”
“Remember what I said about apologizing?” Oh yeah. “Does it hurt a lot?”
I know he means my hand, but I can’t help thinking the meaning is deeper. It hurts everywhere—my heart, my mind, my body. I want to know when it’ll stop. Will it stop? “I’m fine.”
He pulls back, cupping my face and giving me a look like he’s trying to search for all my secrets.
With his body this close I’m ready to tell him everything.
My fingers itch to touch his beard. “I will never, ever lay a hand on you. I don’t care how mad I may get.
I don’t care what you break or burn in this house.
You are safe here.” His thumbs dust along my cheekbones. “Okay?”
This closeness is too much. I step back. “Okay.” I look to the floor. There’s cake smeared across the wood. I don’t want him cleaning it. “Can you wait in your room? Lie down. I’ll bring you an ice pack after I clean.” I need a moment to myself. My heart is still racing. “I’ll be right in.”
Grey thankfully doesn’t question me. “I’m going to shower first, okay? I’ll be in there when you’re ready. Take your time.”
He lets me go and I turn, taking my first full breath since sitting at that table. My mind is a mess. My heart is beating fast for two different reasons. Steven. Grey. Two men on opposite ends of the spectrum.
I focus on cleaning up the chocolate and set the dish in the garbage to take out in the morning. Once everything’s cleaned up, I stand for a few moments with my eyes shut just trying to calm down. I’m okay. Grey didn’t hurt me. I’m alright.
I grab the ice pack but go to my room first, changing out of my bloody clothes and into a pair of boxers and a shirt. I really like this Otters one. I go down to the laundry room, hoping I can get the stains out if I wash it quickly enough.
After I get the laundry going, I walk down the hall and go into his room, freezing when I see Grey standing there in only his towel, the fabric draped low over his hips. Damn. How does someone get a body like that? All lean muscles, cut lines, and strength. “S-sorry.”
A warm chuckle leaves his lips. “Just turn for a second.”
I turn, clutching the ice pack, and I hear the towel drop. “How bad is your knee?” I ask, looking to my side.
“I’m clothed.” I turn and nearly swallow my damn tongue. “Clothed” is questionable, because those thin boxers hug his muscular thighs like they were tailored just for him. Veins, muscles, and warm tan skin. Damn. Oh damn. “It hurts. I won’t bullshit you.”
I stop drooling and notice the more prominent limp he has. He struggles to the bed, slowly lying on it, and I help him with what I can, gently lifting his leg and placing a pillow under it. “Let me know if it hurts.” I place the ice pack across his knee and watch him wince as I do it. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.” He gives me a sad smile. “What about you? Are you okay?”
I sit down on the edge of the bed. “I’m embarrassed,” I admit.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“It wasn’t you. I just um . . . I want you to know that. I wasn’t afraid of you.”
Grey nods, thinking a moment before reaching for my hand and holding it in his. “It’d be okay if you were.”
“I don’t think I am. It’s just something happened, and I don’t know what.” I’ve let Steven drain me for years. But I’m out of there now. I won’t let him haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “Not right now.” I’m relieved when he doesn’t argue. My mind is still there, in that kitchen, but most of me is present in this room, sitting so close to this giant man. “Can I ask you a question?” I want to know if I’m the only one who feels this.
“Anything.” His sleepy eyes land on my mouth, then my eyes.
“Down . . .” A different flavor of embarrassment nearly chokes off my words.
I want this, though. I want this for me.
For once I want to make the first move. I want to ask for things.
I don’t want to let Steven win anymore. He doesn’t get to make decisions for me or shape the way I live.
“Down at the dock, were you going to kiss me?”
Grey stills, searching my eyes, and there goes that tongue, licking a path along his bottom lip. “Um. . .” He smirks slightly. It’s a small movement, but it eases my anxiety. “There may have been a moment . . .”
“And is that moment here in the room with us?”
Gery studies my face. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
No. I don’t. “That’s not what I asked.”
He’s quiet for a moment. His wide chest rises and falls. The air in here is so still I can hear his soft breaths. “Yes.”
So I lean in. For the first time in my life, I make a move. Steven has taken so much from me, and I refuse to let him take any more. For once I’m going to be the one to take. And Grey . . . Grey looks so ready to give.
I lean in, feeling so many different things at once.
Above all of them, is need. I need to kiss him.
He meets me a third of the way, and our lips press.
Delicate pressure weaves through my stomach.
I let him lead, apply more pressure. I pull back a little then meet him again with another gentle kiss.
It’s explosive and soft wrapped up in something so incredible I don’t know if I believe it’s real.
It’s a whisper of a kiss and I don’t think I’ve felt anything better in my life.
I pull back and blink up at him. Grey shocks me, leaning forward, cupping the back of my head to press his forehead to mine. “You never have to be afraid with me.” His soft gaze trails over my face. I have the urge to stay, but somehow I get up. My lips still tingle. I wonder if they’ll ever stop.
“Thank you for today. It was amazing.” Best birthday ever.
“Get some rest, okay?” I need space. My thoughts are wild.
I have no idea how to tame them. Need and want, hunger and fire burn inside me.
I have never, ever been more turned on than I am right now.
It was a simple kiss. The thing is, I don’t think anything I feel about Grey is simple. “Good night.”
“Felix.” I pause in his doorway and turn to look back at this man—nearly naked, dressed in only his boxers, with the obvious result of what that kiss just did to him as well. I peel my gaze up his toned stomach, chest, and throat. Beautiful.
And I kissed him. He kissed me.
“Happy birthday.”
My smile is so wide it hurts. “Thank you.”