A strange mix of emotions rush through me—relief, disappointment, something dangerously close to longing. It’s confusing as hell, and I don’t like it.
I exhale sharply and take another sip of my drink, letting the sharp, fruity burn settle my nerves before pushing back from the bar and head for the restroom, needing a moment to collect myself.
Pushing through the first door I see, the bathroom is mercifully empty and smells like someone went full war-time strategy with bleach. Every surface gleams like it’s auditioning for a cleaning product commercial. Even the mirror sparkles like it’s judging me in HD.
I lean against the counter, splashing cold water on my face and take out my phone to text Annie.
“Get it together, Bonney,” I muse silently to my reflection. “He's just a man. A stupidly attractive, surprisingly complex man who makes you feel things you haven't felt in ever. He’s just...” I trail off, closing my eyes.
“Grant,” I whisper, testing his name on my lips like a secret.
And just like that, the night takes a turn I didn’t see coming.
Chapter 9
Grant
I hear my name, did I imagine it?
I shove off the wall, my pulse thundering in my ears. My body’s strung tight, one live wire of tension and want. I had to get out of that bar before I lost my damn mind and bent her over it, consequences be damned.
So instead, I’m waiting out this hard-on in a restroom stall like a goddamn teenager with no impulse control.
I push open the stall door—and fuck me sideways.
Mia.
She’s standing at the sink, head bowed, lips parted, eyes closed like she’s trying to pull herself together. Failing. Just like me. Her chest rises and falls with sharp, shallow breaths, her nipples straining against the fabric of that sinful black dress that hugs her curves like it was sewn directly onto her skin.
I don’t think.
I move.
Two long strides and I’m behind her. She doesn’t hear me, not until my breath ghosts the shell of her ear.
“Mia,” I murmur, voice rougher than I mean it to be.
She jumps, eyes flying open, meeting mine in the mirror. The moment hits like lightning. Her reflection—surprised, flushed, pupils blown wide—tells me everything. I see the momentthe realization hits her like a thunderbolt—She’s in the men's restroom.
She spins around, her back hitting the counter. Panting. Hell,I’mpanting.
I don’t say a word. I step into her space like it’s mine to take—because in this moment, the magnetic pull to her won’t let me do otherwise.
Her breath stutters. That sound? It undoes me. My cock throbs behind my zipper like it knows this woman’s name, like it’s been aching for her since the day we collided in that store.
Her expression mirrors mine. Raw. Hungry.
“I should—” she stammers, backing up.
“You should what?” I ask, my voice a low growl. “Run again?”
“I don't run,” she protests weakly.
I close the sliver of space between us. Bracing my hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. She’s trapped. She knows it. And she doesn’t look like she wants to be anywhere else.
She’s so warm, the heat rolling off her like waves, and I swear if I touch her now, I’ll lose every ounce of control I’ve got left.
I watch a shiver roll over her skin.
