Beyond What is Given(80)

“He’s on the phone,” Jagger said and then drained his bottle.

I took a deep swallow of coffee, wishing I’d poured liquor into it.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Grayson’s voice reached me at the same moment the door shut. “I know, I do, too, but I can’t. Looking at the schedule, we won’t have another four-day until the middle of October.” There was a pause, and everyone in the kitchen looked anywhere but at me. “I know,” his voice softened in a way I thought was only reserved for me, and I knew. He was talking to her. “It doesn’t work like that, and I can’t miss days, or they’ll set me back a class. I’ll try in a few weeks, but I can’t promise anything. Why don’t you have Miranda set you up with Skype and I can see you later?”

My heart crumpled, and it felt like a sucking wound, a black hole pulling everything in around it. This hurt so f*cking much. Worse than being left behind when my friends went to college. Worse than being left when Ember took off for Nashville. Worse than Mom leaving for Afghanistan. Worse than Harrison walking away after I discovered his wedding ring.

Grayson might be here, but he’d already left, too.

Somehow I’d done it again—become the other woman, the one left behind and forgotten.

I felt it happen—the bricks of my defenses started to click back into place. It was like a tiny army invaded my heart and tried to slow the hemorrhage by shutting off every feeling.

“I’m so sorry I’ll miss it, Starboard, but I can’t leave.”

Holy shit. She had a f*cking nickname. Ultra-serious, calls-me-Samantha Grayson called her by a nickname. Click. Click. Click. That tiny little heart army mortared the last brick into place.

Anger conquered hurt in the wrestling match to control my emotions.

Grayson came into view as he cleared the half wall between the living room and kitchen. Why did he have to be so beautiful? His eyes met mine, and my stomach sank. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

He said it to her, but it felt like it was meant for me.

“You headed home again?” Jagger asked.

“No. At least not for a couple weeks, if that.”

He said that one straight to me.

“Sounds like you’re needed,” I choked out.

“It’s a stupid news story that Parker leaked. I’m not joining that circus or acting the part she’s assigned.” He walked around the counter and caught the bottle Jagger threw at him. “I’m not even sure why the news is interested.”

“Beautiful miracle girl awakens from five-year coma to the gorgeous, dutiful boyfriend who never left her side. Pretty sure that has Lifetime movie written all over it.” I faked a smile, and his eyes narrowed.

“Sam.” He did the little headshake thing that meant he wanted to say something more but wouldn’t.

But I sure as hell would. I wasn’t getting left this time. Hell no. I was getting ahead of this bull before it ran me the hell over. “It’s okay, really. You have everything you’ve dreamed of, and even got in a farewell f*ck last night.”

His head snapped back like I’d hit him.

“And that, people, is our cue to leave,” Josh said. The room cleared while Grayson stared me down. I didn’t flinch, despite the energy crackling between us.

“Samantha.” He stepped toward me, and I thrust my hands out as I stood.

“Don’t bother.”

“You can come upstairs with me while we have a civil conversation, or I can carry you there, but either way, you don’t get the last word. We’re going to talk.”

Tense moments passed until I sighed. “Fine.” My feet carried me to his room without being told to, and Grayson shut the door behind him. He pressed me up against the back of his door before I could mutter a protest. One of his hands held both of mine captive above my head, and he pressed his weight against me, connecting us from breast to thigh.

My traitorous body melted. That bitch. Why was there such a fine line between angry and turned on? He glanced from my eyes to my lips and they parted.

Grayson kissed me, claiming every recess, every line of my mouth. His free hand cupped my neck, angling me for a deeper kiss, and I responded, pressing against him, giving back everything he was putting into it. If this was our last kiss, I wanted to brand his soul so that he’d never kiss again without thinking of this—of me. He wedged one of his massive thighs between mine, and applied subtle pressure. My body positively hummed, and it took all of my control not to rub back against his thigh.

I whimpered, and he retreated. He’d wanted my surrender, and damn it, I gave it.

When I opened my eyes, he was almost nose-to-nose with me, his eyes boring into mine. “First of all, I didn’t f*ck you last night, Samantha. I made love to you, and there’s a huge difference. Second, even when we’re f*cking—hot, sweaty, skin slipping against each other, and my only thought is craving that little keening sound you make when you come—I am still making love to you. I never touch you with anything less than my soul. Don’t ever cheapen what we do. Third, why the hell haven’t you moved into this room? I want you in my bed. Sleeping, not sleeping, that’s your choice. And fourth, last night was not a good-bye. I’m not saying good-bye.”

Move in? “Are you on drugs? There’s no chance I’m moving in with you after what just happened. You have a girlfriend, Grayson.”