something he couldn’t begin to compare. His body was beyond aching for this woman as her hands traveled over the nape of his neck, but he knew this wasn’t the way he wanted it to be. This meant more to him than it should. Finally, he found his raspy voice as she parted for just a second to catch her breath. “Gracie, not this way, honey.”
“Yes, this way.” She whimpered against his lips and he drew back. It felt beyond torturous and unnatural to pull away from her. He let his hands cup her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. Her skin was like rose petals, softer and even more beautiful than he had imagined. He caught her pouting as she tried to jerk away.
“Grace, no. Look at me.”
“I’m not your type, Evan.” She twisted her body to look out the window and rested her forehead on it.
It had been twice that night that he heard it from her mouth, and it upset him that she thought so. “Yes, you are, Grace. You’re precisely my type. That’s why I don’t want to continue kissing you when you’re not fully coherent.”
Stillness pervaded the space as he exhaled. “You have your stuff here?” He rose and looked around to the seats nearby and spotted a brown leather bag. He knew it had to be hers, it was just her style. He picked it up and moved back, sitting down beside her again. “Grace, is this your purse?”
He waited for her answer. Great, she was playing the silent game with him. “Grace.” He shook her shoulder, and realized she was fast asleep. Sitting back, he studied her and laughed under his breath as he then dug inside the purse for her keys. This woman was just too much for his heart to handle.
G race attempted to pry her eyes open, but they instantly shut again, feeling heavy and dry. Her throat was on fire, and her nose was stuffy. She gave a slight cough, but groaned as her throbbing head informed her how that was a mistake.
“Shit,” she creaked and shifted her sore body. The muscles felt tight as she twisted and turned, trying to tuck the pillow behind her neck. Sleeping forever seemed like the perfect solution for her hangover from hell.
“Morning, cupcake.”
The deep voice startled Grace and she sat up way too quickly. “Ouch, fucking hell, shit-fuck.” Clasping her head, she stared at the man who sat in the corner of her room on her recently reupholstered lounge chair. His feet rested on the footstool she matched to it. He rested with a book in his hands and looked positively delicious. Did he look that great last night too? Grace barely recalled.
She tugged on the ponytail holder that had kept her hair in place and yanked it out along with stray strands of hair. Her hands worked through her aching scalp as all of it tumbled down. She groaned and fell back. “What are you doing here, Matthews?”
“Making sure you wouldn’t vomit in your sleep, Captain Kirk.”
“Shit.” She grimaced in humiliation. “God, it feels like Thor is hitting my head with his fucking hammer.” She propped herself up in a sitting position against her headboard. She’d never fall back asleep now. “Did you see me throw up?”
“You didn’t throw up, Grace.” Evan moved beside her and pointed to the nightstand. Grace grabbed the water and gulped. “But you sure kept me entertained.”
“What? Why?” Her mind swirled, trying to figure out what happened. “Did we? We didn’t…”
“We’re still clothed, doll.”
Grace shut her eyes in relief. “Thank God!”
“Don’t sound too relieved.”
“Well, that’s the last thing I’d want to happen.”
“You do wonders for my ego, you know that?” He kept his eyes on her, a smile playing over his lips like he had a secret. “Never seen your hair down before, Grace.”
She closed her eyes, not wanting to imagine if she looked as horrible as she felt. “I don’t give a flying fuck if I look like shit right now, Evan, so go ahead and make fun all you want.”
His husky laugh still did things to her body even
“Yes, this way.” She whimpered against his lips and he drew back. It felt beyond torturous and unnatural to pull away from her. He let his hands cup her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. Her skin was like rose petals, softer and even more beautiful than he had imagined. He caught her pouting as she tried to jerk away.
“Grace, no. Look at me.”
“I’m not your type, Evan.” She twisted her body to look out the window and rested her forehead on it.
It had been twice that night that he heard it from her mouth, and it upset him that she thought so. “Yes, you are, Grace. You’re precisely my type. That’s why I don’t want to continue kissing you when you’re not fully coherent.”
Stillness pervaded the space as he exhaled. “You have your stuff here?” He rose and looked around to the seats nearby and spotted a brown leather bag. He knew it had to be hers, it was just her style. He picked it up and moved back, sitting down beside her again. “Grace, is this your purse?”
He waited for her answer. Great, she was playing the silent game with him. “Grace.” He shook her shoulder, and realized she was fast asleep. Sitting back, he studied her and laughed under his breath as he then dug inside the purse for her keys. This woman was just too much for his heart to handle.
G race attempted to pry her eyes open, but they instantly shut again, feeling heavy and dry. Her throat was on fire, and her nose was stuffy. She gave a slight cough, but groaned as her throbbing head informed her how that was a mistake.
“Shit,” she creaked and shifted her sore body. The muscles felt tight as she twisted and turned, trying to tuck the pillow behind her neck. Sleeping forever seemed like the perfect solution for her hangover from hell.
“Morning, cupcake.”
The deep voice startled Grace and she sat up way too quickly. “Ouch, fucking hell, shit-fuck.” Clasping her head, she stared at the man who sat in the corner of her room on her recently reupholstered lounge chair. His feet rested on the footstool she matched to it. He rested with a book in his hands and looked positively delicious. Did he look that great last night too? Grace barely recalled.
She tugged on the ponytail holder that had kept her hair in place and yanked it out along with stray strands of hair. Her hands worked through her aching scalp as all of it tumbled down. She groaned and fell back. “What are you doing here, Matthews?”
“Making sure you wouldn’t vomit in your sleep, Captain Kirk.”
“Shit.” She grimaced in humiliation. “God, it feels like Thor is hitting my head with his fucking hammer.” She propped herself up in a sitting position against her headboard. She’d never fall back asleep now. “Did you see me throw up?”
“You didn’t throw up, Grace.” Evan moved beside her and pointed to the nightstand. Grace grabbed the water and gulped. “But you sure kept me entertained.”
“What? Why?” Her mind swirled, trying to figure out what happened. “Did we? We didn’t…”
“We’re still clothed, doll.”
Grace shut her eyes in relief. “Thank God!”
“Don’t sound too relieved.”
“Well, that’s the last thing I’d want to happen.”
“You do wonders for my ego, you know that?” He kept his eyes on her, a smile playing over his lips like he had a secret. “Never seen your hair down before, Grace.”
She closed her eyes, not wanting to imagine if she looked as horrible as she felt. “I don’t give a flying fuck if I look like shit right now, Evan, so go ahead and make fun all you want.”
His husky laugh still did things to her body even
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