My heart races as he confesses this.
He must see my hesitation, my fears. “I’m not asking you to move in with me…yet,” he smiles, “but I would like you to stay with me.” He brushes a piece of my hair back and tucks it behind my ear. “I like spending time with you,” he whispers and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in tightly to him.
I can feel a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Maybe just a couple of days a week…but Brooklyn is my home.” Brooklyn is the first place I laid roots in New York City. While it’s not Chelsea or the Upper West Side, it’s home to me.
“Five days a week,” he bargains, and I almost want to laugh. I can’t believe we just met two days ago—not even—and he’s negotiating how many days I’ll stay with him in his enormous, gorgeous condo.
I bite my lip, having fun with this. “Three,” I counter.
“Six,” he tosses back. A smile begins to crawl across his face, highlighting that adorable dimple in his cheek.
I sigh, but I’m still amused. “Four.”
“Five, Gracie.” He smirks at me. He always fucking smirks at me when he knows he’s got me. I fight back a grin and look away from him.
“You don’t even know me,” I whisper. “What if I’m crazy?”
“Oh, you’re crazy all right.” He laughs darkly and places his hands on either side of my face. “Crazy for me.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes just as he leans in and kisses me. “Four days and maybe sometimes five,” I tell him between kisses as I loop my arm through his and head toward Tenth Avenue. An excitement grows in my belly with the realization that I’ve just agreed to spend most of my days with this deliciously beautiful man I just met. I’m never impulsive and this may just be my biggest regret yet, but there’s only one way to find out.
Drew and I spend the next two hours walking the streets of Chelsea. We take in the local shops and restaurants and stop for the best Mexican street tacos I’ve ever had. We stroll along the High Line, which is half a block from Drew’s new condo and is an elevated walking trail built over an old railroad track. Today was perfect; it was easy and simple. And I loved it. Maybe too much. Unease grows inside me as I find myself getting comfortable with this… us.
Throughout the day, I found myself slipping easily into the space in my mind where I could see us creating a routine. Walking the High Line. Dinner at nearby restaurants. Grocery shopping at the local market, and I can’t let myself do that. My life is a far cry from Drew’s, and the sooner he realizes that and we go back to being nothing more than co-workers, the easier it’ll be for both of us.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks as his driver appears at the corner.
“Nothing,” I lie to him.
He side-eyes me and I know I’ve been caught. I shake my head and look out the window. “You’re going to love it here,” I say quietly, my throat tightening with growing emotion.
“We’re going to love it here,” he corrects me. How can this man be so certain about us?
I’m not in the mood to argue, so I let him finish with that, but the silence in the car is suffocating. He pulls me closer and I resist.
“Grace.” He says my given name, not Gracie. This is how I know he’s serious. “Talk to me.”
I give my head another little shake and he takes my cue and lets it go, but not before reaching out and pulling my hand into his.
When we pull up to the Four Seasons and exit the car, Drew all but drags me through the bustling lobby to the private elevator for the suites. The tension in the air around us is thick and heavy. We step off the elevator and he taps the card reader on the door. Pulling me inside, he pushes me to the wall and slams his mouth into mine, stealing my breath, and my worries momentarily vanish.
His touch is intoxicating, and when his fingers pinch my nipples through my shirt, I instantly feel the heat pooling between my legs. I moan as he drags his lips across my neck and bites that sensitive spot behind my ear.
“Get out of your head, Gracie,” he whispers as he slips his hand into the front of my pants and right into my center. His fingers slide between my slick folds and he groans as he inserts a finger, spreading my wetness around my opening. He removes his hand and pulls me toward the bedroom, and I don’t resist. I can never resist his touch.
Just inside the bedroom, Drew pulls my shirt over my head and slides my pants down my legs. While I kick them off my feet, he removes his jeans and shirt and guides me to the bed.
My entire body trembles when he lays me down on the bed and settles between my legs. His gaze holds mine as he slides into me with one firm thrust. He never breaks eyes contact with me and I gasp as my body stretches to accommodate him. A moan falls from me as he slowly moves in and out of me.
His movements are slow and methodical, careful and telling. This isn’t him owning my body; this is him owning my heart. His body is telling me what he won’t say because he knows it’ll scare me. He’s telling me this is more than one night, this was never one night. It’s so much more. I close my eyes and accept what he’s giving, even if it’s just for tonight. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me and allowing him greater access, both physically and emotionally, to my body and to my heart. As much as I fight it, I can feel my walls slowly begin to crumble.
Drew takes his time making love to me. This isn’t sex. This isn’t fucking. This is emotional and deep. He lets his body speak to me without ever muttering a single word. His hands and his lips explore every cavern, every peak, and every curve of my body while he devours me gradually, claiming ownership of me.
We lie wrapped in each other, a tangle of arms and legs, and also my silent fears. I need to keep my focus and not lose myself or my career over Drew. My body shakes beneath his as he brings me to orgasm, and he finishes at the same time, spilling himself into me. We lie, staring at the ceiling as we both catch our breath and come down from our climaxes.
“Tell me what’s bothering you,” he murmurs against my ear, brushing my long, tangled hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. I tense and he feels it, but he pulls me closer to him anyway. “Don’t pull away from me. Talk to me, Grace.”
What do I tell him? I can’t fall in love with you? Because that’d be a lie. I’m already falling for him. Every smirk, every touch, every kiss draws me into him, and I fear once I fall completely, I won’t be able to let him go.
Do I tell him that I have so much crap to deal with that adding a relationship to the heaping pile of shit that is my life will literally break me? That my focus has to be on my career, my mom, and paying off the loans that are literally robbing me of any happiness.
I wiggle out of his arms and push myself up. Drew grabs the bedsheet I’ve wrapped around me and pulls me back down next to him. “Don’t walk away, Grace. Talk to me.”
“I can’t.” I choke out the words, my throat closing around them. Tears sting the backs of my eyes and I feel the anxiety building. “Let me go!” I cry out and he releases his grip on the sheet.
I haul the sheet and my body across the dark room to the bathroom, where I close the door and throw myself down next to the toilet. The dry heaves come as they always do. My body does its best to expel the stress and anxiety I do my best to hide on a daily basis. Physically, I can’t continue with this much longer; my body won’t allow it.