He Will be My Ruin

And stare at my phone.

Doug called to relay a message from Zac that Jace did wake up. I guess the Ambien only kept him down for a few hours. At least I know that I didn’t kill him. Though, after seeing what I saw tonight, after seeing how he used Celine, how he left her there to cry, a part of me wishes that I had.

What’s nagging me is that she seemed shocked to see that money left on her coffee table. But why? Unless their relationship had evolved into something more. Something that didn’t involve cash payments. Then . . . having him throw money at her again after so long would be a slap in the face.

A sudden knock on the window startles me. I bolt upright, staring at the large shadow that looms behind the curtain.

Someone is standing on the fire escape.

I don’t know what to do. Do I see who it is? Call the police? I have my phone open, and I’m about to call Doug, when another knock rattles the old glass. “Maggie?”

I recognize Grady’s muffled accent through the glass.

Slipping out of bed, I slide open my window. “What are you doing out here?” Taking in his T-shirt and jeans, I surmise, “You locked yourself out.”

A sly smile touches his lips. “No. I just . . . You didn’t come up to the roof the last few nights.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with stuff down here.”

He nods. “Well, I just wanted to check in.” His shoulders hunch in as he digs his hands into his pockets, glancing up the fire escape. “I’m right there. I just thought . . .” Gooseflesh covers his forearms. “I wanted to see you.”

He’s awkward and cute and shivering from the cold, as am I in my skimpy thigh-length cotton nightshirt. “Get inside. Quick.” I step out of the way, making room for him to climb in, and then I quickly shut the window.

He rubs his arms, his gaze rolling over Celine’s bedroom, landing on the bed. “How’s it going?”

I take a seat. “Shitty.”

Cool fingers graze my chin, and as much as I want to turn away from them, they feel nice.

“Have I done something to upset you?” He tilts my head up to meet his sincere hazel eyes. “You seemed pissed yesterday, when you came to my door with your PI.”

“Yeah, well you seemed really suspicious . . . like you were hiding something. Or someone.”

A slow grin finally stretches his lips. “Is that what this is about? I did have someone to hide. Two someones. Betty and Veronica.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a joint. “They’re kind of hard to miss under my grow lamps.”

Realization dawns on me and I fall back into bed, suddenly laughing hysterically. “Of course that’s what it was. You’re growing pot in your apartment.”

He chuckles. “Why? What did you think it was?”

I laugh even harder, because I was jealous for no reason. And because I was jealous to begin with. “I thought you had someone over.”

“And that would bother you.”

“I don’t know. I guess it would. I mean, yes, it did.” After a moment of silence, I peer over at him, standing at the end of the bed, staring down at me with intensity. I know what that look means because I’ve seen it several times already, only in thirty-degree temperatures, hidden beneath layers of blankets.

Reaching down, I pull my nightshirt up, over my head, and toss it to the floor. My panties go next.

Grady grins. “No energy for foreplay tonight?”

“Not tonight. And I don’t usually need it with you,” I admit truthfully.

I watch him kick off his shoes and peel off his shirt, jeans, and boxers in front of me. He kneels on the bed, pushing my thighs apart with his knees until he’s nearly shimmied up beneath me. Grabbing me by the wrists, he pulls me up, his hands landing on my ass to press me flush against him. “You have nothing to worry about. Just so you know, I’m a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy.”

I don’t want that to mean something to me—we live worlds apart, and I’m leaving soon—but it does, all the same. I stay quiet, though, as he tears the foil wrapper open with his teeth and then rolls the condom over himself with one hand.

Meeting my gaze, he tenderly pushes a strand of hair off my forehead. “I’m so glad I met you,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss me.

My back hits the mattress at the same time that he slides into me.

————

“You don’t think we woke Ruby, do you?” I guess having walls around me instead of a rooftop garden and lattice screens weakened my inhibitions.

“Me? Not likely. But you and those screams of yours, I think everyone on the floor will be eying you oddly tomorrow,” Grady murmurs, lying on his back. Looking completely sated.

“Shut up. Really?” I feel my face flushing in the dark.

A tiny smirk curls his lips. “No, not really. Ruby takes her hearing aid out at night and Mr. Sherwood over here,” he reaches up to knock hard against the wall behind our head, “he sleeps like the dead.”

I smack him playfully against his hard stomach. “Jerk. That’s not funny.”

“On the contrary,” he rolls over until he’s pressed against my side, his mouth hovering inches from mine, “I think it’s hilarious.” He yanks the covers over both of our heads, pinning me down beneath him.

And suddenly all the air is sucked out of my lungs.

“Stop, Grady. Stop!” I spurt out between gasps, bucking him off me and working to free my arms so I can tug the duvet down. My chest heaves with the fresh, cool air. “You can’t do that to me,” I whisper through pants, my heart drumming against my chest.

He turns to stare at me through bewildered, pained eyes. “Jesus, Maggie. What just happened?”

“I’m claustrophobic.” I chuckle, more embarrassed than anything right now. “When I can’t breathe . . . I tend to get a little bit crazy.”

“I see that now.” He winces. “You nearly emasculated me with your knee.”

“I’m sorry.” I reach for him under the covers, my fingers sliding to the sensitive skin. He groans as I cup him gently, but it’s not so much a sound of pain anymore.

“I’m going to miss this when you leave,” he whispers.

“You’re going to miss getting bagged?”

He chuckles. “Maybe not that. But definitely this. And you.”