redeeming cupid 01 - struck by eros (9 page)

I picked up my phone, refusing to even glance at the screen, turned it to vibrate, and tossed it back on the nightstand. Silencing Cupid. Even if it was for only one lousy day.

The mid-morning rays peeked through the cracks from the drapes, and brought on a whole slew of emotions that last night’s liquor-induced binge momentarily suppressed. I pulled the comforter over my head, lingering musky cologne clung to the fabric. The smell reminded me that Len’s side of the bed was cold and empty. Tears I had fought against all night rolled down my cheek. Hot, salty, blinding.

I didn’t want to do Cupid’s bidding anymore. I didn’t want to sleep with Grayson anymore. I didn’t want to feel angry or empty or helpless anymore.

I just wanted to live my life the way I wanted, with who I wanted. “Is that too much to ask?” I spoke in the general vicinity of Cupid’s cloud-covered castle.

As if to answer my question with a snarky response, my phone vibrated and rang out at the same time, skittering across the nightstand, moving closer to the edge. Cupid had found a way past the vibrate mode. Great. I grabbed it before it hit the floor and shoved it under my pillow, wrapped myself into a ball, tucked my knees into my over-sized T-shirt, and closed my eyes.

My phone rang again.

I tossed it into the nightstand drawer.

It rang again.

“Arg.” I mimicked a frustrated pirate, opened the drawer, and yanked the offending hunk of technology out. Escaping the sheets tangled around my legs, I got out of bed. Using the furniture and walls to keep me from going ass over teakettle, I walked into the bathroom, held my phone over the toilet, but decided against sending it to a watery grave, and threw it into the sink instead.

Back in bed I cuddled up and started to drift off.

The Cupid-possessed phone rang again. Louder, more urgent.

“Fucking ridiculous.” Pushing my covers off, I grabbed my battered bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. “I’m taking a sick day,” I yelled, and left the room, slamming the door behind to cut off the last word of the stupid ring tone.

The bloody hangover pounded at my temples. My world rocked and rolled at the top of the stairs. I wobbled back and forth down each step, bouncing between the wall and the railing. When I hit the bottom stair, I picked my head up, tried to ignore the lurch of my stomach, and rode out the dizziness that attempted to dump me on my ass.

I
sluffed-sluffed
into the living room, past the couch, with the empty tub of ice cream and tilted-over booze bottles littering the ground around it, and past a sleeping Grayson.

Grayson?

Ugh. Stupid hide-a-key.

He looked like shit, curled in the fetal position, his arms wrapped tight around his knees. His usual olive-toned skin pale and clammy, his breathing shallow and labored, and his body shook with a shiver.

Probably the flu. Or a venereal disease. Served the bastard right.

His phone chirped from its spot on the coffee table, next to his wallet and keys. I wandered over and picked it up. Twelve text notifications covered the front screen, all from Cupid.

Mira Mesa Library. 4 p.m. Green Arrow—Q

I tossed the phone back on the table, took another look at my in-need-of-a-day-off partner, and then left them both behind and went into the kitchen.

First thing on the agenda, grandma’s miracle cure for a hangover. I opened the refrigerator, took out two raw eggs and a bottle of tomato juice. Mixed the ingredients in a glass, dropped in two Alka-Seltzer tablets, and sucked it down. It tasted like the devil pissed in a glass, but did the trick.

In the middle of sucking down my second glass of slimy concoction Grayson wandered into the kitchen.

“Key.” I held out my hand.

He dug through the pockets of his slept-in jeans and placed it in my waiting palm.

He swayed, then leaned down, and laid his head on the granite counter top.

“Something’s wrong.” His voice held a weakness I had never heard from him before.

“Besides your incredible lack of timing, our sick relationship, and my joke of a life?” He’d have to find one of his Friday night hook-ups if he wanted sympathy.

Grayson’s hand slipped from the counter and he fell to the ground. His head hit the floor and then he didn’t move. As tempting as it was to leave him to suffer, the loud bang of his skull bouncing off the wood planks was a hint that all was not right in Grayson’s world.

Anger was quickly replaced by worry. I knelt next to him and resisted slapping him across the face like they do in the movies. Instead, I gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. “Grayson. Can you hear me?”

He nodded his head, but didn’t open his eyes. I lifted his head off the cold floor and placed it on my lap, thankful my T-shirt was long enough to separate our flesh. “Grayson, we’ve got to get you to bed.”

His lips lifted in a half-ass smile. Perv.

I helped him sit up, snaked my arm around his back and under his shoulder, lifted with everything my five-foot six frame had, and helped him to his feet. “Help me get you upstairs.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Figures. The guy could barely hold his head up, but was still able to switch into man-whore mode. He leaned his linebacker weight on me and we shuffled one foot after the other to the staircase.

The view of the sixteen stairs that lead to the second floor suddenly resembled the two hundred and twenty stairs to the Christ the Redeemer statue. With Grayson using me for his crutch, we took it slow, one foot after another, step by step by step. When we got to the top, he let go of me and used the wall to help himself into my bedroom. He dropped onto the bed, and I collapsed to the floor to catch my breath.

His arm slipped off the side and smacked me on the side of the head. I pushed it back, then stood and positioned myself next to him on the edge. “When did you get sick?”

“After I left your house last night.” He curled back up in the fetal position, his face contorted, and pain stole the rest of his words.

“But I watched you leave. When did you come back?”

After several moments he answered, “A couple of hours later. I couldn’t sleep. Was worried about you.” He paused and clenched his teeth. “Pain came on fast, knocked me out. Passed out on your couch.”

I was extremely familiar with the pain that caused Grayson to have an unauthorized sleepover on my couch. After skipping our first soul mate connection, I spent hours bent over the crapper losing my lunch. Cupid had punished me for disobedience. Looked like this time he decided to take his anger out on Grayson.

I rested the back of my hand on his head to see if he had a fever, but pulled it back when the familiar pangs of lust crept into my unmentionables.

He grabbed my wrist and placed it back on his forehead. “Keep it there.” He took a deep breath and his body relaxed. “The pain goes away when you touch me.” He moved my hand to his shoulder, but I pulled it away when the desire I felt for Grayson reached the rip-his-pants-off level. The moment my flesh left his, his body tightened and his face distorted.

Grayson needed help, but helping him would end in hot sex and multiple orgasms.

My mind screamed, “No. No. No.” Don’t betray Len. Don’t sleep with Grayson in the bed you shared. Don’t be weak.

My who-ha screamed, “Let him in.” You’ve already lost Len, what’s the worst that could happen? Hell. Those multiple orgasms would go a long way to erase the pain of losing Len, if only for a minute. Or thirty minutes.

A strip of skin showed between the edge of his pants and the bottom of his shirt. I resisted the urge to put my hands on his flesh, to lose myself in the moment, to kiss the sexy man in my bed. My brain scrambled for a compelling argument, a reason to keep me from acting on the impulse.

My who-ha won.

I ran the tip of my finger along that bare piece of skin, watched the chill run through his body and shake his frame. Listened to the moan leave his now parted lips. Watched the blue of his eyes darken with desire.

He wanted me.

And honestly, I wanted him too.

Sex with Grayson would be the release I needed, a momentary lapse in judgment, a chance to forget. Time with a man who didn’t want anything more from me than what I had to offer.

Before I knew it, my hand was sliding up underneath his T-shirt, exploring, something I had never allowed myself to do before. Six seconds is all it took for the lust to roll through me, little tremors that ran from the tip of my nose to the tip of my toes. Setting my body on fire, making me ache for the man who watched me with eager eyes and a hopeful smile.

Lust and need drove my other hand over his taut nipples. I leaned over and circled his belly button with my tongue, pushed his shirt higher up and licked my way up his stomach. I moved on to his chest, his nipples—sucking, teasing, exploring. His skin tasted like salt and sin. My mouth watered for more.

His fingers raked through my hair, pulling my head away from his body, his eyes meeting mine. “I need you, all of you. Not just your flesh, or your body. Your love.”

My heart skipped at his words, his declaration. He was asking for something I couldn’t give him, would never give him. But I offered him something that I couldn’t give Len. The truth.

“I can’t love you, but I can give you this.” I sat up, grabbed the edge of my shirt, lifted it over my head, baring not my soul, but my body.

Grayson stared at my exposed breasts, at the flesh that was his for the day. “Good enough for today.” A dash of determination lay underneath his obvious disappointment.

He sat up and took my nipple between his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue across the hard bud, igniting the start of my orgasm. Putting a chink in the foundation of hatred I had built. I rubbed myself into his erection, feeling the hardness of him through the cloth, pulling a moan from my throat. I reached down between us and pulled his shirt over his head, taking a long look at his sculpted abs. Running the tips of my finger along the curves of the muscle, trailing my nail to his belt. Sensual frenzy hit. I unbuckled, unsnapped, unzipped, and pulled open his jeans, happy to see he went commando.

Naked, except for a pair of expensive undies, he went to work on making me feel better. He flipped me onto my back, straddling me, taking the lead. His fingers crept down my stomach, under my panties, and dived into the folds between my legs, flicking at the sweet spot, rubbing until my body arched, and the orgasm rocked me.

“Holy fucking shit, I fucking needed that,” I yelled, happy to be able to use my full arsenal of swear words.

He removed his hand from no-no land and met my gaze. “Oh sunshine, I’m not even close to being done yet.” His words caused my libido to do the snoopy dance.

Grayson wrapped his hands around my waist and slid me down the bed. His lips found mine, and I felt that spark, that oneness like the first time we touched. The feeling that he was a missing piece to my giant-size jigsaw. A piece I never knew was gone. And wasn’t sure I wanted to find.

His tongue and teeth traveled down my flesh, leaving tiny tingles. He stopped at the edge of my last remaining article of clothing. “Hope you didn’t like these.” He pulled the silky, striped fabric and tore, leaving me very naked and totally exposed.

I knew where he was headed, and I couldn’t wait for his tongue to do naughty things. “I need more. I need you to make me forget.”

He separated me with his fingers, rubbed my cleft, worked me hard and fast. Then he licked me along my crevice, slow and sure, fingers still pumping away. He lifted his head and his eyes gleamed. He bent his head and replaced his very skilled fingers with an even more skilled tongue. His tongue dove deep, working me, fucking me with his mouth. And it was good, so very, very good. He grabbed my hipbone and held me down when the second orgasm raised my hips.

He stood, and in that instant, I needed him to fill me, wanted to feel him deep inside me, moving as one.

I sat up and went for his pants, stripping them from his legs; his cock sprang forward like a good soldier saluting his superior officer. I rubbed the tip and his head fell back on his shoulders. “Noel.” He panted. I stroked, rubbed, squeezed, and watched his eyes glaze over with satisfaction.

“Do you want to be inside of me?”

“Always.” No hesitation when he answered.

“Good, cause that’s right where I want you.”

With profound I-don’t-give-a-shit-but-this-moment momentum, I hauled myself onto his lap, but he flipped us over, and pushed his legs between my knees.

“I’m going to make you forget you’ve ever wanted anyone else.” Pinned underneath his body, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind he would do just that.

He pushed past my defenses, both physical and emotional, entering me in a long slow stroke, pulling out until just the tip remained, and then entering again with such force my head bounced against the headboard.

Grayson stared into my eyes and did as he promised. For just one day he made me forget that I had ever wanted anyone else but Grayson Adler.

* * * *

My phone tra-la-la’d Cupid’s ringtone, reminding me that we still had a job to do. I untangled my limbs from the sheets and Grayson’s legs and went in to the bathroom and pulled my phone out of the sink. The screen was full of text messages and they all said the same thing.

Mira Mesa Library. 4 p.m. Green Arrow.—Q

I looked at the time. Two p.m., plenty of time.

A hot shower was in order. I cranked the water and climbed in. My body was sore and the water did wonders to ease all my aching muscles, but as I stood there the after-sex shame washed over me, and my heart ruptured.

A small part of my heart, a part I didn’t even know existed, a part I wish had remained hidden, opened up some time this morning, and allowed feelings for Grayson to seep their way in and settle. Feelings I wanted to ignore, feelings that caused me to betray Len…yet again.

Allowing Grayson to help me forget, falling into bed with the person who had destroyed our relationship, that was the ultimate betrayal. But being with Grayson last night hadn’t felt wrong. Just the opposite. It felt right. Normal. That feeling of normal scared me, shook everything I believed to be true.