Page 79 of Things I Wish I Said
“Are you sure? I don’t want to interfere with your personal life just because of my wish.”
“I’m sure,” I cut her off.
“And what if you want sex? What then?”
I offer her a wry smile. “Despite what you might think, I can control myself, Sinclair.”
A lot of restraint you showed tonight on the dance floor, dickhead.
“For the bulk of the summer? But what if you want—”
“I can easily reacquaint myself with my hand.”
I laugh when her cheeks flush again. I could get used to being the one to make her blush.
Chapter eighteen
GRAYSON
The first thing Ithink of when I wake is Ryleigh, so it’s only natural she’s the first person I want to see.
Nerves spark to life inside my stomach the moment Jill Sinclair swings open the door. “Grayson?” Her eyes widen. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”
I rock back on my heels, clutching the drink tray and take-out bag in my hand, the pack slung over my shoulder heavy on my back. “Uh, yeah. I brought Ryleigh breakfast. Thought maybe she might want to hang out.”
Her gaze homes in on the carryout, and she smiles. “You brought her breakfast?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s . . .” She shakes her head as if to relieve herself of the emotion glittering in her eyes, then steps aside. “Come in.”
“Is she up?”
“I heard her up a little while ago, actually. You can just go on back to her room if you like.”
“Thanks,” I say, already heading for the hall.
“Door open!” she calls out after me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I quickly make my way down the short hallway to her closed bedroom door and knock.
After a minute, Ryleigh’s raspy voice calls out. “It’s unlocked.”
I peek my head inside on the off chance she’s not decent, to find her lying in bed like a starfish in yoga pants and a T-shirt, arms and legs sprawled. A silk scarf replaces the wig she wore last night, and her chest rises and falls with each breath.
“How you feeling?” I ask, as worry slithers in my chest.
Her head whips toward me, surprise etched in the normally smooth lines of her face. “It’s you.”
The corners of my mouth curve. “It’s me.”
“I thought you were my mother.”
I grin, leaving the bedroom door cracked as I come closer. I set the coffees on her dresser before making my way toward her, trying not to think too much about last night and the way she melted against me when I kissed her.
“You can shut it.” She motions to the door.
“I was given explicit instructions to keep it open,” I say as I take a seat on the edge of her bed.
