Page 119 of Built to Fall
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “God, how couldn’t I?”
Then, his hand reaches out to push a loose strand of hair behind my ear. It’s possibly the gentlest touch that’s ever grazedmy skin, and there’s a pocket of my heart that isburstingbecause of it.
The air between us is thick, charged, like a live wire. I don’t know who looks at whose mouth first, but once it happens, there’s no taking it back. His jaw clenches like he’s fighting with himself, like he knows he should turn away, but he doesn’t.
And I should, but I don’t either.
“Grant…” I breathe, but it’s barely a sound.
His hand comes up, hesitating again, before it ghosts along my jawline. His fingertips brush my skin again, so lightly it makes me shiver. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now,” he mutters.
I don’t think. I can’t. Not when he’s looking at me like that.
He closes the distance before I can say or do anything. His mouth hovers over mine, so close I can feel the heat of his breath, the tension coiled so tight it’s almost painful.
“Do you want this?” he rasps.
It doesn’t matter whatthisis. I know I want it. I bob my head, too breathless to speak.
That’s all it takes.
“Fuck it,” he whispers, more to himself as he closes the gap. His mouth finally presses to mine, slow at first, careful, like he’s giving me one last chance to pull away. But I don’t want to. I press closer instead, and something inside him snaps.
His hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back as he deepens the kiss. It’s all heat and hunger and aching restraint, like he’s been holding himself back for far too long. I gasp against him, and he groans low in his throat, pulling me even closer.
The kiss turns desperate, greedy, months of tension crashing into one reckless, perfect moment. I fist the front of his sweatshirt, anchoring myself to him, afraid that if I let go, he might disappear.
My brain naturally wanders to every kiss I’ve had before. How everyone that was paced like this and progressed this quickly always led to sex.
And I know I can’t do that. Not after everything that happened and all the ways it’s altered the way I view intimacy.
Being cheated on will do that to you. Scrapes something raw in you that doesn’t quite heal right. Rewires your brain to believe closeness is a setup, tenderness a prelude to betrayal.
I can’t stand the idea of handing my body over like a fragile offering, only to watch him grow bored of it. To watch him walk away fine, while I’m left hollow and half-dressed.
But with Grant, it feels different. Like hecares.And even with how people perceive him, there’s a softness that doesn’t match his reputation. It makes me think doing something with Grant could be something easier than what I had with Gage. Somethingbetter.
I’ve never considered casual sex to be something I’d be able to do, but with the way Grant’s kissing me, I think I’d fall to every one of his whims.
So, I kiss him harder, like I can push the thoughts away with pressure and tongue and teeth. I kiss him and hold on too tightly, and maybe he notices.
His hand stills. His lips slow.
And then he pulls back, barely.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, neither one of us ready to move.
“Fuck,” he whispers, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “You’re gonna to ruin me.”
I’m about to agree, but somehow, deep down, I know that he’salreadydestroyed me.
We stay like that for a moment longer, breathing each other in, until Grant finally pulls back enough to look at me. Histhumb grazes my cheek, like he can’t quite stop touching me even if he wanted to.
I can’t believe we went from talking about orgasms to kissing the way we just did. Which begs the question, “Do you think you could make me come?”
“I’m positive I could.” He moves more hair out of my face, cupping my jaw. “And you can take me up on the offer any time you want. Just maybe wait until you can actually keep your eyes open.”
“You’re not into that?” I joke.
