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He glared at her.
“Trust me. No man wants this.” She pointed at her body and Grant had heard enough. He put his mug of coffee down, as well as his toast, and took a step toward her.
“I am looking at you, and I can tell you, I guess I’m not a man, because I fucking want what I see.” He was tempted to put her hand on his dick, but he didn’t want to push her too far. She was hungover.
He stared into her blue eyes that were open quite wide. Grant wanted to kiss those plump lips, to feel them against his own, but instead he took a step back.
“Water, painkillers for the headache you’ve got. Toast to settle your stomach, and coffee. I’ll drive you home afterward.”
“What time is it?” she asked.
“A little after eight.”
She gasped and got to her feet. “Crap. Shit. Crap. I was supposed to be at work an hour ago. Where’s my cell phone?”
“You left your bag in the sitting room,” he said.
She rushed out of the kitchen and he couldn’t help but look at her ass. She wore the pair of jeans he’d seen her in yesterday. He had left them on her last night, even though it had upset him to put anything on her body. Aria shouldn’t be hidden away. Not from him. Never from him.
Picking up his coffee, he moved to the doorway and listened.
“I’m so sorry, Andy. I was … time got away from me. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
He doubted Andy would care. The other woman was nice and cared about Aria. He also knew that Aria was always at work earlier than needed most mornings, if not all of them. If Andy and Phil caused her any trouble, he’d deal with them. Simple as that.
Aria finished her phone call and returned to the kitchen. Grant had already moved back toward the stove. Picking up his toast, he walked toward the table and sat opposite her.
“What did your bosses say?”
“They’re happy that I’m fine.” Aria rubbed at her temple. “I’m so sorry for crashing here last night.”
“I invited you back, don’t you remember that?” he asked.
“There’s a lot about last night I don’t remember.”
“Like telling me you’re a virgin?”
She groaned. “Could we stop?”
“Why? It was very sweet.”
“I didn’t, like, beg you, did I?”
“To what?”
“To … you know?”
He wanted to ask her to say it, but seeing as she looked so embarrassed already, he decided to save her the trouble.
“You didn’t beg me to do anything. You told me a statement of fact.”
“How is it that I can’t remember anything from last night but you do?”
“I can handle my drinks. Last night was your first time and you had three or four shots of whiskey and I have to say it’s very powerful stuff. Very, very powerful.”
She blew out a breath. “Yep, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry. I enjoyed the company.”
