Grayson #3
“WHAT?” she yells, a little too loud for my small truck. “How do they make worm friends then?” she asks seriously.
My hands rest on her thigh, drawn to her like always. Her two-toned eyes soften when they land on me. “Perseverance, I guess.”
Our faces are drawn to each other. I can count each freckle dotting her nose and cheeks. I want to map them with my finger like constellations. Our breaths merge, her cherry scent giving me a high.
“Perseverance,” she whispers, looking at my lips. I nod, staring back at her lips. “And does that work on you too?”
“Maisie,” I sigh. “We can’t go there.”
“Because you don’t want to?”
“Because I can’t,” I plead, hoping she sees how desperate I am for her to understand and drop the conversation.
“But you want to?”
“Want to what, Maisie?”
“Kiss me,” she breathes.
I spin her in the seat so I can bracket her legs. “I’m only going to say this because I know you won’t remember by morning.”
She crosses her arms, giving me a look that says yeah right, buddy, but I know she’s drunk from the way she sways in her seat.
“I want to do more than kiss you, Maisie. From the second I saw you in this skintight tease of an outfit, my only thought was how badly I wanted to get you out of it, bend you over the bathroom sink, and see if your pussy tastes as sweet as the whiskey you’ve been sipping on all night.
Watch your beautiful makeup run down your face while you watch yourself come apart on my dick buried deep inside you. ”
“Oh,” she responds, her lips making a cute o shape. She blinks, stunned, that pretty blush returning.
“So yeah, Maisie, I want you, but I can’t have you. And I sure as shit am not kissing you when you’re drunk. If we kiss, I’m going to make sure you remember it.”
“Why?” Her voice is a broken whisper.
I drop my face into my palm, grinding my teeth. “I can’t tell you.”
She thinks on those words, running her finger over my busted knuckles. “Then tell me something real.”
“You scare me, Maisie. No matter how hard I try to keep my distance, you draw me back in every damn time. You have me in a death grip, but I can’t let you get hurt. Let me bear the pain in this, please.”
Her brows furrow, a deep line etching between them. She says nothing, just nods to herself. “Take us home, Grayson.”
I do, gladly, leaving the windows down to let the sounds of nature drown out my thoughts. Maisie lets out a few yawns, practically half asleep. “No panic attack tonight, yippee,” she mumbles.
I’m not sure what that’s about. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have wanted me to hear that if she was sober.
It’s none of your business, Gray. But what if I want to make it my business?
What if I can’t help but want to learn everything that makes up Maisie, from her childhood trauma down to each freckle gracing her skin?
I feel like I’m in the passenger seat of my own vehicle, unable to steer my path away from her.
We arrive home, and I help Maisie into her house, guiding her towards the bedroom. She clings to me, the alcohol morphing into exhaustion. That makes two of us.
There’s a chair in the corner of the room that she chucks my jacket onto. “Help a girl out?” she asks, turning her back to me.
I press against her back, and my breath hitches when she swoops her hair to one side, exposing her neck.
My palm finds her hip, steadying her, I tell myself.
My thumb trails down the dip of her neck before finding the zipper.
She shivers under my touch. I slowly drag the zipper just enough for her to slip out of it.
I clear my throat. “I’ll grab you some water.” The sound of her romper hitting the floor just a foot behind me is unbearable. I bite my fist and keep my eyes faced forward like a gentleman.
“You decent?” I shout into her room when I return with her water. Her responding adorable little snore calls back. I decide it’s safe to enter and place the water alongside some pain pills on her bedside table for morning.
I risk one look at her and find her passed out on top of the comforter. She’s only wearing an oversized band tee that barely hits the middle of her thighs, along with some long socks with pink typewriters on them. I swear, Maisie could wear a trash bag and still look cute.
I slip the comforter from under her and drag it over her body. Her hair obstructs her face, so I gently brush it behind her ear. Her lip twitches. “Too bad I swore off men, because you can be quite the gentleman when you want to be,” she mumbles, letting out a content sigh.
I’m not sure what she’s going off about, but I make a mental note to figure out why exactly she’s here on the ranch. I lean down and give her a parting kiss on the forehead.
“Goodnight, honey.”
Soft snores fill the room as I head out her door and make myself comfy on the couch. I don’t plan on leaving her unattended when she’s drank so much. I’ll be up working before she even wakes up anyways.
This will be the first and last time I’ll be sleeping under the same roof as Maisie Brooks, mark my words.