Page 35 of Love Me Back
The tent in his pants had my face heating, and I turned away as he laughed at me. “Can’t you do something about that?” I asked, waving my hand in the direction of his crotch.
“You could.”
I turned an icy glare his way, and he lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.”
“I thought you wouldn’t apologize?” I said as I put a pillow under his head.
“I apologized for the crass remark. I refuse to apologize for getting hard when a beautiful woman is sprawled on top of me.”
I shook my head at his comment. Ellie was beautiful. Haizley was beautiful. Addie was downright gorgeous. I could admit I was pretty. All Hispanic women were. It was in our genes. Wide hips and big tits were also in our genes, and that was usually what most men noticed first.
Ignoring his comment about being beautiful, I lifted one leg and brought it up to a ninety-degree angle with his hip, keepingit bent at the knee. Then I pushed it up toward his chest.
“Fuck me, Jessie.” Grayson reached down and grabbed my hands from his leg, letting it fall back down on the bed. “Warn a guy next time. By some miracle the fall didn’t break my fucking dick, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
I rolled my eyes when he reached down and adjusted himself. I noticed he had deflated from the pain, and while I felt a little sorry for him, I was relieved it wouldn’t be staring at me while we did these exercises.
I spent an hour with Grayson, and the more he complained, the more excited I got. I knew he had feeling in his lower back; it was only his legs that didn’t work. That meant there was a chance that when the swelling had fully healed, he might walk again.
“Are you done torturing me?”
“Can you feel any pain in your legs?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
“No, but my hips and ass are on fire.”
“That’s good.”
“You’re a sadist, aren’t you?” I laughed at his pout. The man was too handsome for his own good, not to mention he was sweet and kind. Not for the first time, I wondered how he had made it to thirty-five without getting married.
“So how come you never married?” I asked, pretending to straighten up his blankets and tuck him in. It was something I always did when helping someone in the evening. Morning sessions, I’d help them into the bathroom to shower.
God, I’ll never survive helping him shower.
“Waited for the right girl,” he answered, though his voice sounded sad.
I should have kept my mouth shut and just said goodnight. But in true Jessica Montoya fashion, I said something stupid instead.
“I’m sure she’ll be around soon. Goodnight, Grayson.”
As I left the room, I heard him say, “Pretty sure I missed my chance.”
The next morning, I knocked on the door to Grayson’s room. When there was no answer, I slowly opened the door, but the room was empty. I slipped inside and made my way quietly to the bathroom, listening for movement. Silence answered me, and I began to worry.
I stared at the bathroom door, imagining the worst. Did he fall? His chair was missing, and it led me to believe he had made his way into the bathroom. I gently knocked on the door before opening it with my eyes squeezed shut.
“Grayson? Are you in here?”
Met with nothing but silence, I peeked through one eye.
“Where the hell are you?” I whispered into the empty room. I stormed down the hallway to the kitchen, and there he was, sitting at the table with his sister and brothers.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shouted, getting everyone’s attention. Grayson looked up at me with wide eyes, confusion marring his brow.
“What?”
“You keep saying you’ll let me help you, but then you call your brothers,” I argued, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I didn’t call my brothers. I got into the chair by myself,” he said quietly.
