Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Chloe
Istep out of the bathroom wearing Grant’s clothes and stop in the doorway of the kitchen.
He’s standing at the stove with his back to me, wearing a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts.
The shirt stretches across his broad back and clings to the muscles in his arms every time he moves.
Even covered, it’s obvious how strong he is.
His shoulders are wide, his arms thick and solid, and when he shifts his weight, I can see the firm shape of his ass in the loose shorts.
He looks powerful without even trying. God, he’s sexy.
My pussy throbs as I watch him. I shouldn’t be thinking like this, not after everything that happened tonight, and definitely not about a man who’s old enough to be my father…
and that realization only makes my pussy throb harder.
I should be ashamed of how wet I already am.
But I can’t stop staring at the way his body moves.
I’m not a virgin, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex.
Ever since my ex and I broke up over a year ago.
He turns slightly and catches me looking. His eyes linger on me for a second before he speaks. “Hope you’re okay with beef stew,” he says, voice low and rough. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s hot and it’ll fill you up.”
I swallow and step further into the kitchen. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.”
He plates the stew along with some buttered toast and sets everything on the small kitchen table.
We eat quietly at first. Every so often I glance at him, at the way his t-shirt pulls across his chest when he reaches for his water, at the thick muscles in his forearms, at how the shorts sit low on his hips.
My body keeps reacting to him in ways I can’t seem to control.
When we’re finished, he clears the plates and rinses them in the sink. He dries his hands and nods toward the living room. “I’m not ready to sleep yet. You’re welcome to stay up and watch some TV with me or go crash in the spare room. Whatever you want.”
I should go to bed. I’m exhausted. But the thought of lying alone with my thoughts is worse. “I’ll sit with you for a little while,” I say.
He nods and walks into the living room. I follow and sit on the far end of the big couch, tucking my legs up underneath me. Grant drops down on the other end, grabs the remote, and puts on some old action movie with the volume low.
For a while we just sit there. I keep stealing glances at him, at the way his t-shirt stretches across his chest, at the strong line of his jaw, at how big and solid he looks even when he’s relaxed.
Eventually he glances over at me. “Long night for both of us, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah. You could say that.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “You want to hear something crazy? I spent the first half of my shift trying to talk a drunk guy down from the roof of the old bait shop because he was convinced his ex-wife’s new boyfriend turned into a werewolf under the full moon.
Spent twenty minutes listening to him howl at the moon before he finally agreed to come down if I bought him a burger. ”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “Did he actually howl?”
“Twice,” Grant says, smiling. “Loud ones too. Scared the hell out of Mrs. Ellison across the street.”
I laugh again, shaking my head. Without thinking, I say, “That guy sounds exactly like some of my first graders.”
Grant raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “First graders?”
I feel my cheeks warm as I realize what I just said. “Yeah… I teach first grade.”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “That explains a lot. I was wondering what you did for work.”
“I’ve been teaching for three years now,” I say, relaxing a little more into the couch. “Some days it feels like I’m babysitting tiny drunk people who say whatever comes into their heads.”
Grant laughs at that. “Sounds familiar. I coach Little League on the weekends, and some of those kids are the same way. Last season, one of them tried to bribe the umpire with a half-eaten Snickers bar so he’d call the next pitch a strike.”
I laugh. “Did it work?”
“Not even a little,” Grant says, shaking his head. “The umpire made him run laps instead.”
I smile, tucking my legs in tighter. “What else have they done?”
Grant thinks for a second, then grins. “One kid struck out and immediately started crying. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me it wasn’t his fault, the sun was being ‘too bright and disrespectful.’”
I laugh harder this time, covering my mouth with my hand. “That’s actually kind of brilliant.”
“Yeah, I thought so too,” Grant says, still smiling. “It's hard to stay mad at them when they come up with stuff like that.”
We keep talking like that for a while, trading stories about kids and the ridiculous things they say and do. The conversation feels easy. I find myself laughing more than I have in a long time, and slowly, the tightness in my chest starts to ease.
At some point Grant gets up and disappears into the kitchen.
A minute later he comes back with two short glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
He pours a little into each one and hands me a glass before sitting back down, closer this time.
His thigh is almost touching mine now. “Figure we could both use something to take the edge off,” he says.
I take the glass from him, our fingers brushing. “Thank you.”
He settles in beside me, glass in hand, and looks over at me with those steady eyes. “So,” he says, voice lower now. “You wanna tell me what had you driving around in the middle of the night?”
I stare down into my whiskey for a second, then take a small sip. My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. “I just had to get out of there,” I say.
“Where?” he asks.
He’s turned toward me now, one leg tucked up on the couch while the other rests on the floor. His body is angled in my direction, elbow resting on the back of the couch as he gives me his full attention. The way he’s looking at me makes it feel like nothing else in the room matters.
“Fridays are family dinner night at my parent’s house.
I walked in on my sister announcing she was getting married…
to my best friend. I may have been thinking about telling him I thought we could try for something more.
” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Turns out they’d been secretly dating for almost a year.
They never said anything because they knew I had a crush on him. ”
I shake my head, my thumb tracing the rim of the glass.
“My sister’s only a year and a half older than me, but she’s always acted like she has to beat me at everything.
Ever since we were kids. School, clothes, attention from our parents…
it’s like she’s been competing with me since the day I was born.
I don’t even know why. She’s always been the pretty one, the smart one, the one who did everything right.
She went to an Ivy League school, got a business degree, and still acts like she has to prove she’s better than me. ”
My voice gets tighter. “So when she announced she was marrying Bryant… it just felt like one more thing she took from me. And when I got upset, she started crying and made it seem like I was the problem. My parents took her side, like they always do. They told me I was being dramatic.” I swallow hard.
I blink a few times, trying to keep my voice steady. “I felt so stupid,” I say quietly. My voice cracks a little as I continue. “So I left. I got in my car and just drove. I didn’t even know where I was going. I just needed to get away from all of them.”
I shake my head and take another sip of whiskey before letting out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “And now that I’m saying it all out loud… it sounds so damn stupid.”
Something in his tone, combined with the way he’s looking at me, makes my chest feel tight. Before I can overthink it, I lean forward and kiss him.
The second my lips touch his, a sharp jolt runs through me. I kiss him again, softer this time, but he still doesn’t move. When I pull back, embarrassment crashes over me so fast it makes my face burn.
“Oh god,” I whisper, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I quickly set my glass on the coffee table and start to stand up, my heart pounding.
“You were just being nice and I went and made it weird. Fuck, I’m so stupid.”
Before I can fully get up, Grant’s hand gently catches my wrist. When I look at him, his expression has changed. The calm control is still there, but there’s heat underneath it now, dark and focused.
He doesn’t say anything at first. He just tugs me back down, pulling me into his lap in one smooth motion. The second I’m settled against him, his hand slides into my hair and he kisses me.
This time, there’s nothing hesitant about it.
He kisses me like a man starved, deep, hungry, and possessive.
His tongue parts my lips and I greedily kiss him back, my hands gripping his shoulders as a soft moan escapes me.
One of his hands stays tangled in my hair while the other grips my hip, holding me firmly against him.
I can feel how hard he is beneath me, and it only makes me kiss him harder.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing heavily. His forehead rests against mine, his voice rough and low.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “I’ve been trying to be good.” His hand tightens on my hip as his eyes drop to my mouth again. “But you make it really fucking hard.”