Chapter 15 #3
Heat spread throughout her body, and every place he touched seemed to come alive.
Their lips parted, and she wasn’t sure if it was her tongue or his that moved in first, stroking, tasting, sharing the wine once more…in a different, much more intimate way.
The kiss lingered. When they parted, it was only for a second to catch their breath before they came back for another. And then another.
Each kiss was better and hotter than the last.
A quiet sound escaped her throat when Grayson’s hand slid up and down her back. His mouth moved against hers hungrily. The room disappeared, the sounds from the street below faded, everything vanished from existence except for him. His lips. His arms. His sweet breath.
So when he gently guided her backward against the couch cushions and something ugly inside woke up and broke free, it caught her off guard.
Then his weight came down over her.
Panic surged as her pulse thundered.
She broke the kiss, twisting her head as a half cry/half whimper escaped. Her hands, which had been fisted in his shirt, flattened against his chest, pushing hard.
Grayson moved away quickly, sitting up without further urging from her. “Wren?” he asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”
She rapidly sat up, sliding to the other side of the couch, unable to look at him.
“I’m just tired. It’s later than I thought.
” The lie sounded weak even to her own ears, especially since the words were spoken in a pant that no longer had anything to do with arousal, and everything to do with blind terror.
Grayson shook his head slowly. “No.”
She stilled, wishing she wasn’t breathing like a woman who’d just run three consecutive marathons. It took her a moment to compose herself, then she spent another three trying to understand his response. When she couldn’t, she frowned. “No?”
“You already got your one bye on lying to me. You’re not going to do that anymore.” His words were strangely calm, even soothing.
“I’m not?” She didn’t mean for those words to sound like a question, but she was still struggling to drag herself out of the mire of old memories.
“If you can’t tell me something, just say that.” His voice gentled. “But please don’t lie.”
Emotion clogged her throat, the truth sitting there, heavy and terrifying.
She’d never told anyone about that night, outside her family, who had been there, and Sophie.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out and the panic only grew.
She was ruining it! All of it!
Grayson watched her struggle, and she waited for him to rise and excuse himself. Because this was the part where shit always fell apart.
It probably spoke to just how fucked up she was that she was actually a tiny bit proud of tonight’s panic attack. Because it was a hell of a lot less severe than the ones following her first failed attempts at intimacy.
“It’s okay, little bird,” he said softly.
His reassurance and that sweet nickname nearly broke her.
“We’re going to do this on your timeline,” he added.
A tear slipped free before she could catch it.
Because Grayson got there first, brushing it away. “One day, you’ll trust me enough to share all your secrets.” He spoke with such confidence, she found herself believing him.
“Some secrets…” she whispered, the words fading away when her throat closed again.
Grayson ran his finger over her lower lip. “I’m a patient man, little bird, so you don’t need to worry about that. Okay?”
She blinked a few times, willing the tears away before nodding.
“Until then, we’ll go slow.”
The knot in her chest loosened.
“You were okay with the kisses?”
“So okay,” she breathed, her quick response prompting him to smile.
“Then we’ll stick with that for now.”
“You’re not leaving me?” she asked, uncertain why she’d added the word me to that question. It was just…she couldn’t believe he wasn’t getting the hell out of Dodge.
“Never.”
The word hovered, filling the space between them with a promise so sweet and true, she was struggling to breathe again.
Only this time, she didn’t mind the breathlessness.
The relief that washed through her was so powerful, she was glad she was sitting, otherwise her knees would have buckled and she would have fallen.
Then, as if to prove he meant what he said, he leaned toward her, kissing her again.
And again.
For the next hour, they remained exactly like that, curled together on the couch, kissing, talking…and eventually, even laughing.
While Wren didn’t have much experience with this kind of night. At least not any positive experience. It reminded her of the late nights in high school when Lark would come home from a date, sharing far too many details about her make-out sessions with her boyfriends.
Wren gave herself over to it, instead of thinking about what might go wrong.
She didn’t worry about tomorrow and she wasn’t waiting for a disaster.
She was simply happy.
That was when she realized that her cozy apartment had never truly felt like home until this moment, sitting there with Grayson, wrapped in his arms.
Suddenly, being normal didn’t feel like a pipe dream.
It felt possible.