As long as I could get past the fact that I’d seen Grant naked. That his mouth had made me come, I’d be able to move on with my life.

I composed the email and sent it off, only to realize that my fingers were shaking. I was still reeling from the shock of nearly sleeping with him.

I could move away? I thought. I could move to a different city, try and start over. I entertained the thought in my mind for a while, before I figured that alcohol might help.

I had a bottle of whiskey stashed away, which I found and poured myself a large one. It started off as a few sips, but eventually turned into one large gulp. I poured myself some more. What did I have to worry about? It wasn’t like I had to get to work the next day. I had nowhere to be. With that email to my lawyers, I had begun the process of officially being without work. So, what was there stopping me from getting all out drunk and spending the whole day in bed the next day? When was the last time I’d taken a vacation or even a day off?

My thoughts wandered to Grant and I imagined him vacationing in the Bahamas or the Swiss Alps. His arm around a supermodel, or maybe two. Once again, Grant Jennings had overtaken my life. I wish I’d stayed away from him. That I hadn’t gone to that meeting, so that he couldn’t kiss me and mess up my brain.

Within half an hour of starting to drink, I was already drunk. I stripped myself of the blue dress and kicked off my heels. I’d have to wash those clothes, take a shower…hopefully that would get rid of Grant’s smell on them. I could still feel his hands gripping my waist. The weight of his head between my legs. Now I was beginning to wish that I hadn’t stopped him. That I hadn’t pulled away.

There were too many conflicting emotions running through me, and I couldn’t settle on a single one. I’d sold my company. I’d nearly slept with a man who I had feelings for but no future with. I was considering leaving the city I had settled down in. Nothing was going my way, and I felt more miserable now than I’d ever felt before.

Chapter 12

Grant

“Shit, shit, shit!” I kept swearing to myself as I dressed myself. I knew I should have held back, controlled myself. Despite how frustrated I felt, I also knew that Beverley had a very valid reason to be angry with me. Not only was I buying her company, but I had also seduced her. Or had she seduced me? She was the one who had turned up at my house in the middle of the night. What else was it supposed to mean?

Once I was dressed; I walked back to my den and poured myself another few drinks of whiskey. I needed to drink these thoughts away. That was the only way I could deal with it. I still wanted her. I wished she had

n’t pushed me away.

My mind reeling with drink and thoughts of Beverley, I found my phone and her number stored in it. I could feel myself swaying on my feet as I dialed the number. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to her. In fact, it was pretty obvious that she wouldn’t even take my call. She had stormed out of my house without turning back.

Beverley answered, and I crossed my brows in confusion. I hadn’t expected her to. But then I realized that she might not have had my number.

“Hello?” her voice sounded groggy. She had left my house an hour earlier, she couldn’t have already fallen asleep!

“It’s me,” I said, trying to steady my voice.

“Grant?” she asked, and I noticed that her voice had become somewhat screechy.

“Yeah, I just wanted to check if you’d reached home okay,” I said and sat down on my couch. I heard her taking in a deep breath.

“Yes, I’ve been driving home by myself for several years now,” she said and her voice sounded slurry. Had she been drinking?

“Yeah, I figured, but I just wanted to check,” I said, and took another gulp of the whiskey.

“Check what?” she asked and a giggle escaped her lips. She had definitely been drinking. I found myself smiling as well. We were both drunk.

“That you were home,” I said.

“You want to come to my home?” she asked and I resisted the urge to agree.

“I would have if you weren’t drunk,” I said.

“Always the knight in shining armor,” she said and then we both fell into silence. I’d never seen or heard Beverley drunk before. In college, we all figured that she was a teetotaler, which suited her otherwise serious image as well.

“What are you drinking?” I asked her, after we’d been silent for a few minutes.

“Some whiskey. I got it as a gift. I don’t usually drink,” she said, sounding groggy again. Every time she felt silent, I wondered if she had fallen asleep.

“What are you drinking?” she asked me and I laughed.

“Whiskey too. I didn’t get it as a gift though, and I drink it quite often,” I replied.

“Figures. You seem like a whiskey kinda man,” she said.

Tags: Mia Ford Erotic
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