One day you're happy, and the next, a freak accident exposes your boyfriend's dirty little secrets in the worst possible way.
I lost the man I loved, my trust in people, and my home in less than one afternoon.
At least I know that I've pushed past...
I don't remember who moved first. I don't care who claimed whose mouth and I could give a damn who saw us. Gray's supple lips were on mine as we hungrily explored.
Our tongues stroked over and over, swirling and licking and tasting. A shiver ran through my body as his fingers tightened reflexively around my hand.
He tasted like coffee and cream and sweet, dark spices that entice you in and burrow in the fibers of your clothes until you are surrounded by them.
He tasted like borrowed time. Because that's all it was. But at that moment, I didn't care and neither did Gray.
Sucking his top lip between my teeth for a playful nip, I enjoyed the deep groan that rumbled inside his chest and up into his throat. I rested my free hand on the stubble of his neck to feel the resonance of his pitch. It tickled goosebumps up my arm as I shuddered from the intense need winding around my bones.
Gray let go of my hand to encircle my back and draw me closer. I molded to him, enjoying the way we moved so easily together. As if he already knew how to hold me. How I wanted a man to touch me. How to love me.
His breaths were so ragged, or maybe it was me.
The frenzy of our kisses and the heat of our desire was pushing me to try more, to crave more, to need more. Our heads tilted, making it easier to discover new angles and sensations.
I was clawing at him. Trying to work my frozen fingers around the buttons of his woolen coat to gain access to his chest. When Gray's hands found mine, I thought he was going to help. Instead, he pushed them back into my lap and ended our kiss.
"What are we doing, Isla?" His question sounded as if it was ripped from his throat.
"I don't know," I answered honestly, panting like a horny housewife that got caught with her pool boy.
Gray thought for a moment while I tried to clear my head of his enduring kiss.
He wasn't just sexually frustrated, he was troubled. I could see the struggle behind his expression. We'd been ignoring the consequences of our actions for too long and it looked as if it were eating away at him.
"Well, I need to walk it off," he announced, keeping his tone low as a young couple strolled past us with their babbling toddler. "Do you want to come?"
Gray unwrapped himself from around me to stand up and offer his hand. I accepted and rose to my feet while taking a deep, cleansing breath. The crisp air stung the soft tissue of my lungs and brought me back to reality.
We strolled beside one another, mindful to keep a few inches between us but close enough to possibly be mistaken for a couple.
"Isla," my name on Gray's lips made my chest feel light. "I think you and I both know that this isn't a sustainable friendship model."
My ribs contracted, squeezing my heart painfully. I wanted more, I couldn't deny that any longer, but I wasn't sure I was ready to face reality. As soon as we talked about our strange attraction, we were acknowledging the pain this would cause other people.
"I like you, Isla," he took a deep breath as if steadying himself after saying it out loud.
"I like you, too, Gray," I lobbed back, too uneasy to think of something better.
"I mean," he paused, halting next to a tattoo shop that operated below street level. "I like you more than I know I should. Fuck, this is bad, isn't it?"
He caught my eye and we chuckled darkly, acknowledging the irony of our attraction. What I desperately wanted to know, however, was whether it was enough to keep us apart, or push us closer.
"It's not great timing," I admitted while still mentally debating whether that mattered.
After all, Elijah had already moved on. Then again, I wasn't looking for a rebound and I sure as shit didn't want to make Rebecca mad at me for hooking up with her man crush. Ugh. Fuck. Gray was right, it was bad.
I needed to find a way out, one that I could live with.
"And besides, according to your rule," I informed him, planting my feet to try and argue my point while grasping at straws. "We shouldn't be doing this, Gray."
"My rule?" He lifted his pierced brow like the suave British villain in a black-and-white movie.
"You told Rebecca," I reminded him, a little triumphant at the loophole I'd just remembered. "You don't sleep with coworkers."
"I only said that to get her off my jock," Gray laughed, this time a full-on belly laugh. I could see the tension in his shoulders shake loose with each bounce. "I'm not interested in Rebecca. Not, that way, anyway. I think she's a talented artist and a blast to hang out with, but she's not you."
Gray was saying all the right things, and each phrase was chipping away at my resolve. There were still so many obstacles, and he knew it. We both did.
He looked as if he were holding back like he wanted to take the step that would bring our bodies back together.
"Besides, I promised Bart that I'd have a dinner party so he could talk to Rebecca. You know, get to know her," he kept going. "Oh, that reminds me, you're invited to a dinner party. At my house. I don't have a specific date in mind yet, but I was going to see if you'd bring Rebecca?"
"You throw dinner parties?" I asked skeptically.
"Correction," Gray stretched his mouth into a grin, "I throw amazing dinner parties."
"How come you never invited me?"
Gray's smile disappeared and my heart sank along with it.
"Because I," his breath caught in his throat. "Because as much as it hurt me to lie to you, and it did, Isla, it really did, it hurt more to see him with you."
That time, I knew who made the first move. I kissed Gray.
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