Page 16 of For the Love of Skating
10
Kat
By the time I’m warm, it takes a lot of effort to get out of the tub because it’s comforting and safe, but my fingers are turning into prunes. I’m still short of breath from how Granger stared at me. It’s like he wants to strip me naked and take his fill, but at the same, time he wants nothing to do with me. It’s confusing as hell, but when my own mind can’t decide what it wants, I’m right alongside him in this mess. Plus, I’m still embarrassed about barging in on him. I didn’t know where to go or who could help, but coming here felt right.
With a sigh, I stand from the tub and get out with a shiver as the cool air touches my skin. I quickly shed the wet clothes from my body, but it’s a struggle with everything sticking to my skin like a coat of paint. Wrapping a fluffy towel around me, I pad barefoot to the door and glance in his room to see a shirt and sweats laid out on the bed. He’s the most confusing man ever—one minute, he’s an ass who says filthy, dirty words to me, getting my blood heated and my panties wet, but then there is that sweet side of him that kisses me like I’m made of glass and takes care of me without questioning it.
Who is Granger really?
He keeps me on my toes, and I never know what he’s going to say or do next. It’s exhilarating and baffling at the same time, because he makes me feel things I thought I never could or didn’t want to. Thoughts keep running through my head—what if he regrets offering me to stay here with him? Where would I go from here if he changes his mind? I’d have to go live under my father's thumb again, with him making choices for me for the rest of my life—what I should do for a living, who I should marry, where I would live. With just a snap of his cold, hardened fingers, my life would not be my own.
With those thoughts cluttering my mind, I drop the towel and change as fast as I can before I’m caught naked. His bedroom door is closed, but who knows when he might come in. It is his room after all. I have to roll his sweats a few times and tighten the drawstring until they aren’t falling down my hips. After I’m satisfied that they won’t fall around my ankles, I’m finally able to notice my surroundings. I’m a bit surprised it’s not a stereotypical bachelor pad. Warm tones of grey and white furniture decorate the walls…he even has a headboard that matches with the rest of the room. I was picturing a typical college guy house with a bed on the floor or at least a beanbag chair. How the heck can he afford this place? I wiggle my toes on the soft grey carpet, feeling a sense of peace coming over me because it’s homey and comfortable. I haven’t felt that in a long time. Maybe he lives with his parents? That thought gets my feet moving, because no way am I staying here if he lives with them. Talk about awkwardness.
I quietly open the door, peeking my head out to see the hallway dark, but there’s a dim light at the end leading back to the front door. Moving down the hall with my stomach a ball of nerves, I follow the sound of clinking glasses and cabinets closing. My head whips left and right, taking in every detail of his home for the first time. I pass a living room with two white loveseats angled to face a fireplace with a large TV above the mantel. Outside floor to ceiling windows, the wind blows the snow against the glass from the snowstorm that came out of nowhere, and it draws me nearer to glimpse the city below. It’s mesmerizing and gorgeous to try to see through the snowflakes, making the city lights look like glowing specks. I don’t know how long I stand there, distracted by the beauty of a quiet night sky, but eventually, I feel his gaze on me like a soft caress. I glance up, and his reflection shows him behind me with his dark eyebrows drawn together as he looks me up and down. I probably look ridiculous with his larger shirt swallowing me whole, my wet, dripping hair clinging to my back, and the sweats rolled up.
“I like you in my clothes,” he rasps out behind me, and my eyes widen of their own accord. He couldn’t have just said that, I look like a drowned rat.
I turn around, taking in his appearance, and feel my breath freeze in my chest. He’s a beautiful mess. His black hair is disheveled, like he’s run his hand through it a million times. Worried green eyes roam over my face, and his wide lips are in a firm line. He’s changed clothes too. Grey sweats cling to his strong thighs, and a white shirt emphasizes his bulging arm muscles. His huge biceps lead down to muscular forearms, with his veins running down to strong hands, that can be so gentle with me. He crosses his arms over the impressive chest that I just want to snuggle into and bury myself in him. I don’t know where these thoughts are coming from, but he puts me at ease. Even when he towers over me…I feel small and protected. It’s a strange feeling that I’m not used to.
“Is this your parents home?” I blurt out without thinking when I notice his intense gaze taking in my breasts, no doubt noticing I’m not wearing a bra.
My nipples harden the longer he stares, and I feel myself straining towards him, asking for something I’m not used to. He clears his throat and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. I cross my arms over my breasts and will my stomach to stop fluttering. I look back at his hands and wonder what it would feel like to have him touch me, stroking me until I erupt with pleasure. I bet he knows his way around a woman's body, to bring her to great heights until she’s begging for it to never end. My pussy pulses as I rub my thighs together to seek some relief, and I don’t think that goes unnoticed by him. I blush a bright red, trying to command my body to get a hold of itself and look away, but my gaze keeps coming back to him. We continue to stare at one another, not saying a word. It should feel awkward, but for some reason, it doesn’t.
He’s the first to break the silence. “It’s my place, but my parents own the building. So I guess technically, it’s theirs. Are you hungry?” he asks, changing the subject.
It seems like he doesn’t want to talk about his parents, and I can understand that. So I let it go and shake my head no. I notice two steaming cups on the coffee table between the couches and smile at the thoughtfulness.
“I made you some hot chocolate, figured it would help warm you up. Sit with me?” He gestures to the couch, and I already know where this is going to lead.
My feet shuffle hesitantly over the wood floors, moving around him and slowly sitting down, and I’m hoping I didn’t make a mistake in coming here. He hands me a cup filled to the brim with whipped cream on top and sits next to me with his arms on his knees. I can tell he’s trying to figure out the best way to start the conversation we need to have, so I decide to put the poor guy out of his misery.
“I can’t live the life I want if I stay at my father’s place. I need to live, and this is the way to do it…that is, if you were serious before?” I ask warily, chewing on my lip and scared out of my wits of what he’s going to say.
My mom always told me to do what makes me happy no matter what, and I think this might be the first step I can take to chase my happiness.
"Of course I was serious. This is us helping each other out. I don't have time for a real girlfriend with all the drama. Stay here, live the life you want. I'll help you along the way." He has his head turned towards me and is looking at me like something is on his mind. "Can I ask you a question?"
And there it is, what I’ve been dreading. I wonder if he's going to ask about the bruises he saw, or why I was running in the middle of the night in the dead of winter. I don't think I can share that part of myself. I feel embarrassed, shameful, and so freaking alone.
“Uh, sure.” I gulp, fidgeting with my cup handle and taking a sip that burns my tongue, but I keep drinking for a welcome distraction.
“What about your mom?” he asks, but swears under his breath because it must be written all over my face. “You don’t have to answer that, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry,” he whispers in that deep tone that does something to my insides and calms me down.
“It’s fine, you can ask. She’s been gone for years now. She passed away from cancer when I was a young age. So it’s just me…and my father.” I bite my bottom lip when it starts to tremble. That pain still cuts deep.
“I’m sorry, Princess. I can’t even imagine, but it just proves my point when I first met you.” His lips stretch into a wide grin, and he leans forward to run his index finger down my cheek like a lover's caress.
He abruptly withdraws his hand, as if he's just as surprised he was touching me. Suddenly, he stands up and turns towards the hallway, looking over his shoulder at me once with a nod to follow. I drain my hot cocoa and quickly follow him, watching his back muscles ripple under the tight shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.
“What point is that?” My curiosity is piqued as he leads me into a guest bedroom right across from his room.
He flips the light switch on and spins around to look at me, his face expressionless.
“That under the tough shield you have around your heart is a woman beyond any beauty I’ve ever seen,” he says tenderly, staring into my eyes as if he can see everything that I keep buried deep inside. Without another word, he leaves the room before I can reply, but calls over his shoulder without looking back, “We’re meeting Beast and Mary in the morning for breakfast. Night, Princess.” His bedroom shuts quietly behind him, and I have to sit down before I collapse, my knees suddenly feeling weak.
My back hits a mattress that feels like heaven, and all I keep doing is replaying that whole conversation on repeat in my head. My heart is racing like I just ran a mile, and I probably have a ‘what the hell just happened?’ expression on my face.
He’s the most confusing man I’ve ever met.
