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He hangs his head momentarily, closing his eyes before lifting his head back up and meeting my questioning gaze. Sorrow is evident on his face. “I wantyou. I want to lay you on this bed.” He pauses, his fingertips tracing my collarbone again and pushing the strap on my tank top off my shoulder, sincerity in his eyes. “I want to do so many things to you, yet I can’t. Not because they tell me I can’t, but because physically, it’s exhausting.Even walking from one room the next.” He swallows, a slow shake to his head. “You don’t deserve that.”
I take his face in my hands. “I want you too. So bad, but soon, it will get easier. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not getting rid of me.” I can feel the sadness radiating off him, so I add, “You’d do the same for me.”
That gets his attention. “In a fucking heartbeat.”
“Then remember that. When you feel like you’re being a burden, or whatever you think this is, you’d be doing the same for me. That’s what two people in love do.”
He nods and though it feels good to open up with him, something tells me this isn’t the end of our frustration.
58
EVIE
Grayson sleeps soundly, moving very little through the night. I know this has to do with all his medications.
I lie next to him, tugging at my pajama shirt that keeps slipping off my shoulders. Staring at the clock, I realize he has physical therapy in Montgomery this morning and it’s going to take an hour to get there.
Gently, I touch my fingertips to his bare shoulder. He stirs, his breathing evening out, his lashes fluttering. Scooting closer, I lay my head in the crook between his chest and shoulder. A sound leaves his lips and I’m not sure if I’ve hurt him or not.
My eyes snap to his. They’re open, staring at the ceiling but his body responds when my hand rests on his stomach. It’s dark in his room, the curtains drawn to create a more even light for him. Sweat glistens at his temples. His skin’s sticky to the touch.
Crap. What if he’s spiked a fever again? Does he have an infection?
His breathing picks up, the muscles in his stomach tensing. His hand moves from his side, covering mine on his stomach. For a moment, we don’t move, until he lifts my hand and rolls onto his side. That’s when I realize what’s about to happen. Heatcrashes over me and before I know it, I’m flat on my back and he’s on top of me, his erection pressing between my legs.
A moan escapes my lips. I didn’t realize how badly I needed his touch, until now. I grab onto his shoulders, yanking him to me, a carnal passion igniting inside me.
“Fuck.” A growl comes from deep within him, his hips twitching as his tongue runs up my arched neck, jaw, and then my lips. “I want inside you,” he mumbles, his cock slides over my clit, barely concealed in my skimpy bottoms in the most delicious way.
“Me too.” My thighs damn near shake. No, they actually shake. Palming my breast, my pajama shirt slips up as his mouth teases mine. Rolling my hips, I savor the tingle that erupts inside me, my legs widening. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted him so much as I do now, but we can’t do this.
For a moment, I don’t stop him. I let him grind into me, his groans of pleasure too hard to deny.
It happens suddenly, Grayson’s movement of lifting his head that causes a sharp pain, or dizziness, I’m not entirely sure but his entire body turns rigid. His movement falters and his hand jets out to catch himself, pulling my hair in the process.
I yelp, not expecting it, his sharp breath of pain following. He rolls off me just as quickly, grunting in pain and grabbing his head. “Goddamn it,” he grunts, bringing his knees up.
“I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?” I sit up against this headboard.
Twisting around, he swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to shower.”
“Do you need help?”
“No.” And then the door slams and I’m left feeling rejected again.
Blowing out a breath, I shake my head, righting my pajamas.
Once I hear the shower turn on, I get dressed and make my way down the hall for some coffee. Julia is in the kitchen along with Frankie. They’re talking about the wedding.
“How’d he sleep?” Julia asks, sending a coffee cup my way.
“Good, I think. He’s showering.” I pour myself a cup and then reach for the creamer on the counter. “He has PT in Montgomery this morning.”
“You look flustered,” Frankie notes, standing from her place at the table, dressed in scrubs.
I wait until Julia leaves the room before I spill my guts. “He rolled over this morning, on top of me, then started, well, you know. Anyways, it didn’t get very far and he must have had a pain or dizziness and tensed up. It ended shortly after that.”
“Oh.” She smiles. “He’s probably incredibly frustrated. Not only does he want to have sex, physically, it might cause too much pain for him.”