Page 47 of Losing Forever
There's that zing again, just from the change in his tone. Bikini bottoms be damned because they're getting soaked again.
“And that is one of the other things I do to you.” He waves his finger around my features, his eyes luminous with desire. “It's like looking in a mirror.”
I gasp. He's good. Intuitive in ways he shouldn't be, and Lord help me because I like it. When I'm with him, I don't dwell on the past or let my thoughts take me to places it shouldn’t. When I'm with Grayson, my mind is where it should be. I guess he's right. He is good for me.
I swallow and scratch an itch on my leg. My nails scrape over a small bump. “I got a mosquito bite.”
Leaning toward me, he checks my outer thigh where red nail marks streak my skin. “You sure did.” He runs a finger across the bump, and I shiver. “Lucky mosquito. Come on. Let's get you out of here.”
He scoops me up into his arms.
I squeal. “I'm not crippled.”
“I know. I’m masking your sweet scent. Now the bugs will have to go through me to get to you.”
He picks up his pace as he hits the trail leading to the shore. I don't fight him. His grip means business, and truth is, I don't know what will happen when we get home. Noah? Awkwardness between us? His date rescheduled? I'm going to enjoy being in this moment with him until I can't anymore.
I put one arm around his neck and clasp my hands together, my body bouncing with his quick steps. “Today was fun. I haven't had fun in a long time. Thank you.”
“The day isn't over yet,” he says as he jogs.
My feet whack the palm frond of a large bush we pass. I barely notice, my thoughts caught on his last words and the rush of excitement coursing through my veins.
“You okay?” He angles his body.
“I'm fine. Are you okay? Running sideways can't be good for your back.”
“If it gets sore, you could always help me out with a massage. A little I-rub-your-back-you-rub-mine exchange.”
“Or rub other places,” I tease and second-guess it at once.
Grayson stumbles.
I strangle him with my arms.
He rights himself and chuckles. “I can't see, Braylee.”
Oh. My chest is covering his face. I loosen my hold and lower back into his embrace. “Sorry.”
“Not complaining. I got a face-full of your boobs and some insight into your dirty little mind. But for the sake of getting us back to the boat safely, I figured I'd save invading your cleavage until later.”
We break from the trees. Wind stirs around us, blowing my hair around my face and into Grayson's. He sets me on my feet in the sun-warmed sand. Dark clouds roll in the distance, with sheets of rain blurring the horizon.
We're so close to the house I'm not worried.
“Time to go,” Grayson says.
I follow him to the dock, where the boat rocks on the choppy water.
Once the ropes are untied, and on board with us, Grayson starts the engine and steers us home.
Home. I haven't thought of any place as home since I moved away from Seattle—and I think Grayson is helping me feel this way.
18
Grayson
Thunder crashes, sounding close. The boat ride back is bumpy as fuck with the gusting winds. I’d managed to text Noah to see if he’s coming home tonight.
