CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - ISSY
I wake to the sound of the TV in another room and for a few confusing seconds, I have no idea where I’m at. But then I smell him—the shampoo we used last night in his shower—and the whole thing comes back to me.
Not like a nightmare though. Which I have to ponder for a moment before I let my thoughts wander down the inevitable path.
Like a dream. And even though most of it has the potential to be—well, let’s be honest here since I’m only talking to myself—scary as fuck, I’m decidedly pleased with last night.
The sex. Was. Fantastic.
And I’m not even talking about the wall sex at my house, or the kink-play we did when we got here to his place. I’m talking about the stuff we did after that. The slow stuff. The seductive stuff.
“Oh, you’re awake?” Finn is standing in the doorway, leaning up against the wall. His head is cocked to one side, like he’s not sure what kind of mood I’m gonna be in, and his expression is something between fear and excitement.
The pleasure of panic, I realize.
It’s sexy as fuck. And he’s looking hotter now—wearing nothing but those same cut-off sweat shorts—than he did last night in his black Fed suit.
“I’m awake. What time is it?”
“Nine am. I should probably take you home.”
“Oh.” Well, that deflates me.
“So you can change, ya know. And get ready for your seminar.”
“Oh. So… what are you doing today?” I’m trying to feel him out, which is what he’s doing to me.
“What do you think I’m doing?” He grins. Wide. “I’m your bodyguard, Ms. Grey. I’m following you around, playing chauffeur, and generally being your muscle.”
I smile. Pretty wide.
“Not that you need muscle,” he continues, walking slowly towards the bed.
I can’t take my eyes off him. The planes of his stomach are perfect. His unshaven jaw just makes me want to picture him between my legs. And his shoulders. Damn. They are so wide. Wide enough to be the perfect pillow for my head last night.
I cuddled with him.
The thought is startling. Mostly because I’m not really a cuddly person, but also because I might want to turn into a cuddly person. With him.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, sitting on the bed near me. He sinks into the mattress and I let my body roll towards him a little, until my face is right next to his thigh.
I lift my head, scoot closer, and rest it right on his leg.
Yup. He makes me want to cuddle.
“Do you want some breakfast before we go?”
“What are you making?” I ask, looking up at his hazel eyes.
“Cereal,” he whispers.
“Sounds great,” I whisper back.
“OK,” he says, throwing the covers off me and slapping my thigh. “Get up. And come as you are.”
He leaves without looking back so I get up and follow. Just like I am.
Boxers and t-shirt. Both his.
Maybe I’m his too?
I don’t know why I’m thinking this shit. This really isn’t me. I’m not usually this girl. Not with men, at least. Yeah, I put on a good front for the business. And yeah, I’ve been through some major shit. I’ve done things. Things I’d call courageous.
But this is something else. It’s… vulnerability.
I hate being vulnerable. It’s why I crave control. It’s why I’m always the one in charge. It’s why… it’s why I needed this game.
It’s not a game, Issy Grey. This shit is real and that should scare you so bad. Because what he told you last night is information you didn’t need to know.
“Dayum,” he says, when I appear in the main room. He’s got one of those open-concept places where the kitchen, dining, and living rooms all run into each other. “Your bedhead is pretty fucking sexy.”
I sigh. Because he’s saying all the right things. And man, I really hope this isn’t a game, because I like him. He’s done so much right since we were forced together last night. And men who still say all the right things the next morning have potential, right?
Even if they did kill their—
“Here,” he says, handing me a bowl of cereal. It’s got multicolored mini-marshmallows in it, which only makes me like him more.
I take it and climb up into a bar stool at the island. He pours some milk into his bowl, then starts eating it with a giant spoon.
I look down at my bowl. I’ve got a giant spoon too. Which makes me chuckle. Because I’m not even sure it’ll fit in my mouth.
“It’ll fit,” Finn says, winking at me. “I got that demonstration last night about the volume capacity of your mouth, so I know things.” He taps his head with his spoon to illustrate his point.
“You’re dirty,” I say, scooping up some cereal and shoving it in my mouth.
He watches me. And I’m thinking, who makes eating cereal sexy?
“Dayum,” he says again.
“What’s that mean, anyway?” I ask, chewing slowly. I haven’t had sugar cereal in like a decade. It’s delicious. Why don’t I eat this crap daily?
“Just…” He shakes his head. “I was thinking about you all morning.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Hours,” he says. “Many, agonizing hours.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I wanted to enjoy the fact that you were sleeping in my bed for a little longer.” He grins around his spoon and I have to look away because I think… I think I blush.
“Anyway,” he says. “I was thinking about you all morning. Wondering if you’d be mad at me when you woke up. Wondering if you’d try to ditch me. Wondering if it was just gonna be a one-night thing, or…”
“Or?” I ask, when he doesn’t finish.
He shrugs. “I don’t wanna be that guy.”
“What guy?”
“The one who falls for the girl and she’s just… being casual, ya know? So she gets spooked and ghosts on him. I don’t want that. So I’m just gonna put it out there. I know what’s happening is kinda weird, but I like you. And I hope you don’t ghost on me.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I take another bite of sugar and chew slowly to think about it.
I was gonna say, I’m not a ghoster. But it’s a lie. And I don’t want to lie to him. I am a ghoster. I’m the fuckin’ queen of ghosting on people. I’ve done it so many times, in so many places, I just can’t deny it with a straight face. And I don’t really want to start this conversation unless I can finish it.
I’m not ready for that. At all.
Finn takes the hint and reaches for the TV remote, turning up the volume.
I swivel around in my chair to stare at it, for lack of anything better to do, and that’s the moment that makes my heart skip.
Makes my hand freeze halfway to my mouth.
Makes me gasp with surprise.
Makes me question every thought, every action, every choice I’ve made over the past eight years.
Because that’s when my past catches up with me.
The room goes dark everywhere except the TV. It’s like I’m in a tunnel and there’s a spotlight on the screen.
Two faces.
“Holy shit,” Finn says. “That’s Declan.”
But that’s not the face I see. It’s the face of the man standing beside Declan.
It’s Caleb.
“And he’s with…” Finn continues. “What the fuck?”
And isn’t it ironic that I was just thinking about how well I ghost and there he is? The man I walked out on eight years ago. The man I ran from.
The only man who knows who, and what, I really am.