Page 116 of Built to Fall
I don’t move right away. Just hold her there, feeling the buzz of electricity crackling in the inches of space between us. Her legs are swinging less now, slowing until she’s resting them against my arm.
Dropping her ankles slowly, I let my hands trail down her calves before stepping into the space between her knees. I don’t think she even realizes that she parts them without a second thought, her legs framing my hips now, her body so close I can feel the heat radiating off her skin through the layers we’re both wearing.
“I thought you were hungry,” I say, my voice raspier than I mean for it to be.
“I am,” she whispers, eyes locked on mine, her meaning so obvious it nearly guts me.
My hand finds her knee, thumb stroking over the denim of her jeans. Her whole body tenses, like she’s holding her breath, like she’s waiting for something to happen.
Like shewantsit to happen.
“Food’s going to burn,” I say, my forehead nearly touching hers now.
“Let it,” she murmurs, barely audible.
AndGod help me, I almost do.
But the sizzling of an almost burnt grilled cheese takes both of our attention off each other. A minute later, I’m sliding two bowls of tomato soup and two plates of sandwiches onto the kitchen island. She’s already there, hands wrapped around her bowl like she’s been starving for days.
The first bite she takes, she freezes, eyes going wide.
I lean my elbows on the counter, smug. “Told you.”
She lets out a ridiculous, dramatic groan, like the food is so good it’s physically painful. “You’re my hero.”
My lips rise, unable to tear my eyes away from her. “Yeah?”
She looks up at me through her lashes, a wicked little smile playing on her lips. “For now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
LINA
“Why do you have sex with so many girls?” The question leaves my lips before I can even think to control it.
“What?” Grant almost falls off of the couch.
I grab another Scrabble piece, placing it on the board before saying, “Your turn.”
We’ve been sitting here for hours, ever since I made Grant make me grilled cheese for dinner for the third night in a row. The days we’ve been here have been pretty laid back, consisting of the same general schedule: us walking around the beach in the freezing cold, forcing Grant to take me around Martha’s Vineyard, eating grilled cheese in the evening, and playing Scrabble to close out the night.
Now, it’s our last night here, and there’s a huge part of me that never wants to leave this place. It feels like we’re suspended here, far away from the world we regularly know. Maybethat’swhy I ask the question.
“Fuck that,” he says, his eyes still wide. “How are you gonna keep playing Scrabble after asking methat?”
My weight shifts on the pillow I’m sitting on in front of the coffee table. “It’s just a question.”
“Just a question that came out of nowhere?” he asks, like he’s still trying to piece together how we went fromquartzon the Scrabble board to this.
“I mean, it’s pretty well known that you have an active sex life.” I try to sound casual, but I’m not sure if I’m succeeding.
Grant lets out a long breath, pulling at the roots of his hair as he glares up at the ceiling.
“You don’t have to answer,” I add, sensing his frustration. “I guess I didn’t think a well-known sex god like yourself would mind talking about it.”
He chokes on a laugh. “Sex god?”
“Not my words.”
