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“Well?” I prompted, my adrenaline still fueling my annoyance. “Cat got yourtongue?”
He chuckled, but I had a feeling it wasn’t frommirth.
“Yeah, my tongue wants nothing more than to be buried deep in yourpussy.”
“Ahhh, gahhh!” I exclaimed. “Grant Thorne, I’m hanging up now. Go to sleep and take a chillpill.”
I swiped to end the call, left the gym, and marched to my bedroom. Taking a long hot shower, I barely had the arm strength to dry my hair. My muscles were achy from all my workouts that day. Ugh, what it took to manage my Grant frustrations. I didn’t even change out of my robe. I dropped into the mattress face first and fell blissfullyasleep.
Sometime between midnight and dawn,I awoke with a start. I felt eyes on me, and I almost screamed when I saw a shadow rise from the couch at the foot of thebed.
“It’sme.”
Grant.
My relief was palpable. “How?”
He didn’t say anything but slipped into bed beside me. He drew me close and started touching me, kissing me. I hungrily returned his caresses. I missed him. I missedus.
“You’re so wet for me,” he grunted against my mouth as his fingers brushed against my core. “You make me lose my mind, Blaire. I can’t function with this distance between us.” He made me come on his fingers before he hauled me up and took me hard against the headboard. When I climaxed a second time, he released inside me, groaning my name with an ache in his voice. I could barely raise my head when he eased me down from the headboard. He tucked me under the covers and left thebed.
Drifting off to sleep, I heard myself ask. “Where are yougoing?”
I didn’t hear hisanswer.
20
Blaire
If it weren’tfor the evidence between my legs, I would have sworn Grant’s pre-dawn visit was a dream. I wasn’t sure either if the soreness I felt was from my exercise yesterday or from the roughness with which he fucked me. Maybe it was a combination ofboth.
Taking in the state of the sheets, one would think a wrestling match occurred on the bed. I forced myself to get up and stripped off the bedding. A piece of paper fell to the floor. And like an old woman who was having trouble moving, I bent to pick up thepaper.
On it, six words werescrawled.
“Never hang up on meagain.”
Anger ratcheted up inside me. I crumpled the note and hurled it into the trash bin, then I walked into the shower to wash Grant offme.
When I got to the kitchen, Colette had breakfast ready as usual, but I was surprised to see Jake drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Had Grant not left for New York? I was hopeful, but at the same time I was ready to have a knuckle-dragging match withhim.
“Where’s Grant?” I asked his head ofsecurity.
“He’s in New York,” Jake told me. At my confused look, he added. “He took Tyler with him.” His face was bland, so I wasn’t sure what his thoughts were. Well, he could be sure ofmine.
“What. The. Fuck?” I cried, startling Colette. I yanked out my phone and started to call him when Jake fished it out of my fingers. “What the fuck?” This time this was directed athim.
“Cut him some slack,” Jake said coldly. “We drove from New York to Boston at midnight. That was a three-hour drive that should’ve taken us three and a half. It was a wonder we didn’t wreck. He’s in the middle of a security upgrade, which, by the way, is because of your issues and is also in the midst of a multimillion dollar deal the company could lose because Mr. Thorne’s focus iselsewhere.”
That threw water over my anger, but didn’t quite eliminate it. I exhaled heavily. “Okay.”
“I don’t know what happened between you two, but I tried my best to calm him down before he entered the house,” Jake said. “He hasn’t had any sleep because he insisted on driving last night. At least he let Tyler drive him back to Manhattan this morning. He needs to keep a clear head for these next few days, Blaire. Can you give that tohim?”
There was only one word I could push through my teeth that morning. “Okay.”
The next threedays was an exercise in keeping my cool. Liam was still off the grid. I agreed not to leave the house, so I’d been working out my frustration in the gym because the restrictions stymied my creativity as an artist. With nothing to do, I’d become an online stalker. I was thirsty for news of him, for glimpses of him, and how he was coping with the Galleria development that I’ve heard was a big story on Wall Street. Instead, I found photos of Grant sitting in various Manhattan cafes and restaurants with the same woman—an ex-girlfriend.
The headlines were screaming of areconciliation.
