Bad Seed

“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t already. I mean, you’ve wanted to since we were teenagers,” I said with a grin.

“Wait. Teenagers?” Hollis asked, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Jane glared at me as I sipped on my fourth drink.

“Oops, did I say that out loud?” I said.

All of us played musical chairs so Jane could cuddle up to Hollis. The two were talking softly to themselves, and I was painfully aware of how close Grant and I were in the booth. Hollis dragged Jane over to talk to one of his cop buddies, which left me alone with Grant, and even though we didn’t speak, I could feel his eyes on my body.

Gazing down at me with his seductive brown stare.

By the time I finished my fourth drink, I was practically leaning on him. Alcohol on an empty stomach was not a good idea. I was sweating, and my hand was starting to meander. Without realizing what I was doing, my fingertips traced designs on top of Grant’s leg, and I could feel the chiseled strength of his thigh.

I also realized that he was making no move to stop me.

I could hear the bar bustling around us, but all I was focused on was the way Grant slid his arm around my waist. His fingertips traced lines along my hips as I leaned further into his body. I pressed my cheek against his sculpted chest and relished how he held me.

He didn’t control me.

He simply cradled me.

My eyes were nearly closed when I heard Jane’s voice off in the distance. She was telling Grant to take me home. She was leaving with Hollis, but I didn’t care. My best friend had had that crush on my brother for years, and it was about damn time I could finally stop hearing about her desire for him.

“Come on,” Grant said into my ear. “Let’s get you home.”

He picked me up effortlessly in his arms, and I slid into his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him as he carried me to his car. He dipped me down into the backseat, and I laid my head down, watching as the world spun around me. I rattled off my address and drifted in and out of sleep, but with every passing second, I could feel myself sobering up.

I was single, newly single, for the first time in eight years, and I wanted to celebrate it. I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to be a reckless single twenty-six-year-old and spread my wings and make memories I would enjoy looking back on. I wanted to erase all the arguments and all the yelling and get into the pleasurable meat of what it meant to be a twenty-something adult in this day and age.

And I wanted it with Grant.

He pulled up to my apartment complex and helped me up the steps. I was significantly soberer than when we had left the bar, but I was also more confident. I slipped my key into the lock and pushed the door open, then I gazed up into Grant’s twinkling brown eyes.

“Need help getting inside?” he asked. “Or is this where we say goodnight?”

And without another word, I threw myself at him.

Our lips collided, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I expected him to pick me up and walk me into my apartment. To press me against the wall with his taut muscles and rip my clothes off my body. My lips were undulating against his, and my tongue slid across his lips. But instead of his hands falling to my hips or his lips parting for my tongue, he stood there.

Unmoving.

I felt like an idiot. All of those swirling teenage dreams came to a grinding halt. I pulled my lips away from him and settled back down on my feet as embarrassment cascaded over my body. What the hell had I been thinking? I had clearly misread any signals I thought he’d been giving off at the bar. I looked down at my feet before I slung my purse over my shoulder, then I turned to head into my apartment.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, without turning to face him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Are you drunk?”

His question stopped me in my tracks as I stood just inside the doorway to my apartment.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you drunk?” he repeated.

I turned and lifted my eyes to Grant’s. I could see the conflict running behind them. Was that what he was afraid of? That he was taking advantage of me?

“No,” I said. “The fresh air from the car ride sobered me up. Thank you for that, by the way. For bringing me home.”

“Okay,” he said. “And you’re welcome.”