Beneath His Darkness (Healing Hearts #3) (26 page)

I chuckle at his reference, but the holidays are coming soon.

“Speaking of, Thanksgiving is a little over a month away.  What are you doing?  Going home to spend time with family?”

“I don’t have any family,” he says flatly.  “I’ll be here.”

“All by yourself?”  I don’t mean to pry, but no one should be alone during the holidays.  My family isn’t big, but we always had a huge amount of love to share.

“Yes, Cammie, all by myself, and I’m okay with that.  It’s been that way for a while.”

He does seem okay with it, but I’m not.  It breaks my heart to think of this man who has been so kind to me being alone on a day meant to spend with family.

“Come home with me,” I blurt out.  I know I should ask my folks first, especially since they don’t like the Grant they’ve heard about, but if they get the chance to know him, I know they’ll love him—just like I do.

“Thank you, Cammie, but I prefer to be alone.  I’m not the kind of guy you bring home to Mom and Dad.”

“Grant.”

“Really, I’m not a holiday person.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods and starts pulling our lunch from the bag.  He gives me the choice of a turkey or pulled pork sandwich.  The pulled pork is calling my name.  He even bought me a bag of Doritos.  This man knows the way to my heart.

“I bought a couple of Joe’s chocolate chunk brownies, too.  He said they just came out of the oven.”

“Mmm,” I say through a mouthful of food.

“I love that you are not like normal chicks.  Why are they so afraid to eat in front of guys?  We all have to eat to survive.  Don’t they realize passing out on a date would kill the mood?”

We both laugh at the absurdity of it and like that, the awkwardness is gone.  I feel like our friendship is restored.

“Oh, your caramel latte is on the counter.  I almost forgot about it.”

“Dude, that’s just bad form.”

He puts his food down, walks to the kitchen, and gets my drink.  Walking back to me, he kneels down in front of me.  “Milady,” he says as he holds out the cup.

“You’re such a dork,” I say around giggles.

I am so in love with this man, I don’t know what to do with myself.

After lunch, I help Grant pick up the mess and pack dinner into the fridge.  A few times, we accidentally brush our hands together and the spark is still there.  I know he feels it, too.  I hear his breath catch once or twice.  He can say we’re only friends, but he’s fighting feeling more, just like I am.  I’m going to work my ass off to bring those feelings out of him.  He’s worth the fight.

“I forgot to grab a movie,” he admits, seeming almost shy about it.

“It’s okay.  We can finish Avatar.”

There’s no teasing or taunting about the lack of movie, no wondering what we’ll do after that, we just get comfortable on the couch.  I curl into his side and lay my head on his shoulder—just like I always did.  Peace washes over me.

The thing is…I want more than peace.  I want Grant.

Feeling inspired by my feelings for him, I tilt my body slightly and bring my arm around his stomach.  My head stays on his shoulder, but now I can feel his hard muscles under my hand, his warmth through my arm.  He tenses for a second, but it’s only a moment.  After a minute he throws his arm around my shoulder.

I want to go so much further, but I know I need to take baby steps with Grant.  These small touches are monumental.

“Grant, will you go to the work Halloween party with me?”  I’ve been trying to work up the nerve all night to ask him.  Snuggled up in his arms, I finally have the courage.

“Isn’t it a couples theme?” he asks.

“Well, yes, but I’m not coupled with anyone and since you’re my bestie, I thought you’d be willing to be my date.  I love Halloween.”

I want to look at him to see what he’s thinking, but I can’t.  I’m afraid I may have just pushed things too far.  I do that sometimes.  It’s the only child thing.  I’m used to getting my way.

“You really want to go?”

“I really do,” I say, getting excited because I think he’s going to say yes.

He sits in silence for several minutes and my excitement starts to deflate.  I listen to his breathing and try to tell myself I can find someone else to go with me.  Eddie maybe, but I know no one else will fill his shoes.  I have the urge to cry and it pisses me off.  I don’t cry easily, but my need to be with Grant is starting to break me.

How long can I go on pretending I’m only his friend?

“Okay, buttercup.  I’ll go, but you better find us a kick ass costume.  I won’t wear any frou-frou shit, understood?”

“Oh, thank you, Grant.”

I jump up into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.  His body stiffens underneath me.  I know I should feel bad for making him uncomfortable, but I don’t.  Especially when his arms wrap around my back.

Nothing feels better than being wrapped in this man’s arms.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Grant

“How does my ass look in this?”

“Seriously, buttercup, you cannot ask me about your ass.”  I shake my head and walk away from Cammie.

“But you’re my bestie.  Who else am I supposed to ask?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.  Is that really part of the bestie code?  I am not a chick and she is not demoting me to one.  If I start staring at her ass, my dick might rip through that fucking Red Riding Hood costume she has on.  This was a bad idea.

“It’s just an ass, Grant.  Now get over here and look at it.  I need to know if it looks big in this costume.”

“You’re going to have a cape on,” I yell from the living room, where I’ve escaped in order to avoid her ass and my dick colliding.  She has no idea the agony she’s putting me through.

“Stop being a baby and come help me out.”  Her voice is getting closer.

I close my eyes and drop my head back on the couch.  If I keep them closed until it’s time to leave, I can avoid fucking my best friend and ripping her innocence from her.  I tell myself, again and again, to focus on the back of my eyelids.  We have to leave in twenty minutes.  I can last that long.

“Grant, can you please tell me how this looks?” I can tell she’s standing right in front of me now.

“I’m sure you look gorgeous, buttercup.  You always do.  And for the record, you have a great ass, so I’m sure that looks great, too.”  I keep my eyes firmly shut.

“You’re seriously not going to open your eyes and help me out here?”

“Nope.”  I shake my head back and forth.

“You asked for it.”

I what
…
?
 
Ooomph.
  Her body slams down into my lap, her ass grinding into my dick as she throws her arms around my neck. 
Don’t get an erection.  Please God, don’t let me get an erection.

She starts to swivel her hips in my lap and run her nose up my neck.  I feel her breath on my ear.  “Does my ass feel big to you, Grant?”

I’m paralyzed.  I can’t speak or move.  Why is my innocent buttercup acting like a wanton woman?

She nips my ear and my eyes fly open.  Her face is in front of mine and hunger burns in her eyes.  Fuck me sideways.  I don’t know what to do here.  I’m trying to be the good guy, which is so out of my depth of understanding, but she’s pushing me back into the territory of the Grant I know.  If she keeps up with this lap dance, I’m going to take her and I’m going to take her hard.

“Are you going to answer me?” she asks.

“I’m not sure I know what the fucking question is.”  I stare at her in confusion and she laughs.

“Does my ass feel big to you?”  She mashes it into my dick again and I know she feels my arousal.  
Traitorous motherfucker.

Her lips quirk up on one side, taunting me.  That’s it.  I grab her by the back of her head, crush our mouths together, plunge my tongue in, and devour her.  Her moans sound out around me as I grip her hair.  She starts to grab at me and I rip her off my lap, breaking the kiss and jumping from the couch.

“Your ass looks great, buttercup.  You do realize it’s a dress and it covers your ass, right?” I ask.

She sits on my couch, looking flushed and completely fuckable.  Her dress is pushed up, showing off the red panties and matching garter.  I walk to my bedroom, needing to separate myself from her.

What the fuck did I just do?

I head for the bathroom connected to my bedroom and steady myself on the sink counter.  Why did I let her push me that far?  Looking in the mirror, I startle at the image I see.  I had forgotten I was in costume, and didn’t I portray my character perfectly?

I wonder whether Cammie realized how perfect these costumes were when she went to the designers on our show and asked for help.  The big bad wolf.  HA!  She couldn’t have picked a better damn costume for me and look what I was about to do.  I wanted to devour her.  I can’t promise I won’t by the end of the night.  I want to splash cold water on my face, but I can’t because I’ll mess up all the hard work Cammie put into this.

It really is amazing.  She didn’t want me to look completely like a wolf.  Instead, she wanted me to look like a man transitioning into a wolf.  I have patches of hair on different parts of my face and all over my body.  My clothes are tattered.  Claws are starting to descend, as well as fangs.  My face is slightly morphed.  I’m floored by what our makeup and special effect departments were able to do.

I can’t believe I attacked Cammie looking like this.  And it does feel like I attacked her.  I’m dressed like a wolf.  She may have been taunting me, but that didn’t give me the right to put my hands or my lips on her.  I need to remember that we’re friends.

“Grant, are you ready to go?”

I’m glad she doesn’t ask if I’m okay.  I hate lying to her.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”  Somehow, I keep my voice steady.

Eddie had the set turned into a haunted mansion and it kicks ass.  The one good thing I can say about him is he spares no expense when it comes to his crew.  Normally, writers don’t run everything, but Eddie Carmichael isn’t your everyday writer.  He knows his shit about every aspect of production.  There is a reason actors, directors, producers…you name it, line up to work with him.  He’s the best in the business.

I expected there to be tension between Cammie and I, but she’s acting like nothing happened.  I guess acting is the word I should worry about.  She has to be upset about what I did, but for tonight, I’ll let it go so she can have a good time.

We get several compliments for our costumes and Cammie gushes over the crew creating them for us.  I let her go on about it because I had nothing to do with it.  I’m just here as her accessory.  I can’t stand holidays or the parties that come along with them.  I follow her wherever she goes so people can see the hard work she put into this idea of hers.

There are some great ideas and some lame ones.  I won’t say which ones I think are which.  One couple is dressed up as a light socket and an outlet.  Another is a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.  There’s the evil witch from
The
Wizard of Oz
and one of her flying monkeys.  The couple I find the most interesting is Davyd and Emma.  They’re dressed as a king and queen.  I don’t know what king and queen and I don’t care.

I watch people compliment them all night and see Davyd puff up every time they do.  I wonder how no one sees it…the arrogance and his need to control everyone.  Even his costume choice shows this.  A king, really?  Isn’t the king always the supreme ruler?  Even over his queen?  I want to go knock him off his fucking throne, but I’m here with Cammie and she deserves my attention.

Cammie and I dance, even though we’re horrible.  It seems everyone loves our terrible dancing because they try to mimic our moves.  God help us if this becomes a dance movement.  I watch the way Cammie smiles and commands people’s attention in amazement.  She draws everyone in with her infectious personality.  I have to admit to myself that I’m jealous of how easy it is for her.

I head to grab us drinks, needing a few minutes by myself.  All this Halloween festivity is starting to give me a headache.  I want to go home, despite the fact that I’ve actually had fun, and just chill on my couch with a beer.

“I finally get you alone.”

“What do you want, Davyd?”  I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

“What do I always want?”

“You can’t be serious.  Your wife and most of the crew is here.  This is not the time for your bullshit.”

“This is the time or I will broadcast the video right now to everyone here.”

I glare at him and his unwavering gaze tells me he’s serious.  I hate this motherfucker.

He starts walking toward his office and I follow.  What else can I do?

As we walk away from the party, I look for Cammie.  She’s dancing happily with cast-mates.  Thank God she has no idea where I’m headed off to.

Davyd closes the door behind me and I cringe.  “Make sure you lock it,” I hiss.

“Afraid we’ll get caught?” he smirks.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs.  “I intend to.  I like this animalistic look on you, lover.”

My hatred boils over and I start to envision the many ways I can kill him.  It starts out simple, with me choking the life from him, and grows into bloodier ways.  Yes, I want his blood on my hands.  I want to see his blood seeping from his body.  I smile as he violates my body because I know very soon, Davyd Viktry will no longer be walking this earth.  I’ll make sure of that.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Cammie

The buildings pass by in a blur through the cab window and it’s not because I have a crazy taxi driver.  It’s the third week of November and we’re getting a snowstorm.  I’m told it’s early for this weather and wouldn’t you know, it’s the night Eddie planned the Thanksgiving gathering for the
Facing Extinction
cast and crew.  I’m trying to focus on the beauty of crystals falling from the sky, but my mind and heart are fighting a war with one another.

Last week, Tucker told me Grant was the one who sent the paparazzi to New Hampshire when he was there trying to get his head on straight after Victoria cheated on him.  I tried saying there was no way Grant would do that, but Tucker said he and Eddie confronted him a couple weeks back and it was confirmed.  I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with the information since.