Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(29)

With conviction, I button my coat and grab my purse and march out to my car. I arrive at his place in less than ten minutes and decide at his doorstep that I’m going to knock until he lets me in. If he doesn’t let me in, I’m going to knock until one of his neighbors lets me in.

I rap my knuckles on the door exactly five times before it opens. Davis is standing in the foyer, keys in hand.

“You’re wearing jeans,” I say, surprised to see him in denim and a button-down shirt. In anything other than a pressed suit and jacket. I eye the keys in his hand. “I hope you weren’t about to drive somewhere in your condition.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Where were you going?”

His gray eyes narrow. “Out.”

I cross the threshold and shut us inside. I worried on the way over here that Davis was sitting with whiskey bottle in hand, his tie and shirt askew, belting out show tunes. Instead he’s bright-eyed and smells of his crisp, pine-y cologne. “You don’t look drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.” His eyebrows crash over his nose. “What the hell are you doing here?” It’s not exactly a yell, but his voice has lost that calm, warm quality he exudes around me. The question stings, but I stand my ground.

“Vince came into McGreevy’s looking for you. He was worried.” I finger the button on my coat and admit, “He made me worry.”

Davis takes an intimidating step toward me, his voice a low warning. “What did he tell you?”

“Not much. That you were home and wanted to be alone.” I lick my lips nervously as I peer up at him. I ignored Vince’s advice, and now that I’m standing in front of Davis, I wonder if we’re friends after all. Did he give Vince and Jackie the same hard time? With no other explanation, I sort of repeat, “I was worried about you.”

“Worried I’d be drunk,” he states, his expression downgrading from enraged to peeved. “When have you ever seen me drunk, Gracie?”

I think back to all the times he’s sat at my bar and shake my head. “I haven’t.”

“Right. I drink. I don’t get drunk. I had a buzz earlier. Then I had a nap. Then I had a surprise visit from Vince and Jackie. And then I changed to come out and see you.”

That takes me a moment to digest.

“You were coming to see me?” I ask to be sure I heard him right.

“Yeah.”

“But you said this weekend.”

“I did.”

“Were you going to McGreevy’s?”

“I was going to start there.”

“I’m not there,” I whisper.

He smiles and catches my hand, tugging me close. His arm braces my back and his fingers slide into my hair. I’m rewarded with a soft, slow, deep Davis kiss. I sigh into his mouth and kiss him back.

When he pulls away, his fingers are massaging my scalp and his forehead is resting on mine. The arm at my back tightens and I wrap my arms around his shoulders and we hug.

We hug for a long while.

His heart thumps heavily against my breasts and he breathes out long and slow. I bet it’s the deepest breath he’s taken since he left my house last night.

“Don’t go” is all he says.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” I stroke his cheek and look into his eyes, seeing pain there.

He kisses me again before leading me up two sets of stairs to his bedroom. In front of his bed, he palms my hands and weaves our fingers together. We stand like that for a few beats before he lets go and starts on his shirt buttons. He bares his golden chest before he strips off my shirt. Together we unbutton and unzip our jeans, mirroring each other as we bend to slip off our shoes.

In a matter of seconds, Davis is in boxers, and I’m in my pale pink satin bra and panties.

He crooks a finger for me beckoning me to him. I still want to know what’s wrong with him. If anything is wrong with him. I don’t think I’m part of what’s wrong, considering he’s tossing my bra aside and plunging his hand into my panties to stroke my wetness. It further confirms he wants me here when he says those very words into my ear, his breath hot as I massage his thick cock with one hand.

“I want you, Gracie,” he breathes.

“You can have me, Davis,” I answer.

We make love in a different way from the first two times. Davis has always been respectful of my needs, but his kisses are more reverent tonight. He holds me tighter than before. His kisses linger, and his eyes don’t leave mine as we move together.

I experience that same planet-shifting sensation when we come together.

When we’ve recovered, Davis returns to bed and lies beside me, snuggling me close. I rest my head on his chest and stroke his chest with my fingers. I decided not to bring it up—to let Davis have his secret.

Evidently he has other plans.

His chest lifts and on a quiet sigh, he announces, “Today’s my wedding day.”

My hand stills its exploration. I prop myself on one elbow and regard him.

“You were…supposed to get married today?” My whisper is hollow, because—honestly?—I’m not sure what he’s confessing. That he’s had a fiancée the whole time he’s been offering “packages” to every blonde—and me—in Columbus? Or that he used to be married? That seems more likely. He doesn’t strike me as having a double life.