He brought his other hand up to cup my face, his thumb running along the curve of my cheek. The sneaky bastard slipped another finger inside of me and I couldn’t help but groan. My body was a total traitor.
“I…uh…well…I just wanted to hang out,” I said in a rush as his hand started to move. My fingers still encircled his wrist but I wasn’t trying to stop him anymore.
Mitch gently kissed my mouth, his tongue teasing the seam of my lips. “Liar,” he murmured, kissing me harder. Urgently.
“Stop fighting what’s always been between us, Gracie. You want this. I want this. It’s meant to be.”
Was he right? Were we meant to be?
My head was so muddled. I wasn’t thinking straight. I mean, how could I with his fingers doing glorious things between my legs?
“You’re my friend, Mitch,” I argued half-heartedly.
Mitch pulled out his fingers and then wrapped me in his arms, holding me as closely as he could. We were lying together on the hotel bed, nose to nose. Our legs tangled together. Breathing heavily.
“You’re not just my friend,” Mitch began, smoothing my hair back from my face. His brown eyes implored me to listen. To hear him out.
“Mitch—” I began, but he cut me off by kissing me again.
This was such a bad, bad idea…
He pulled back, his heart in his eyes.
“You’re not just my friend, damn it!” His voice cracked and broke, along with what was left of my resolve.
“Gracie, you’re everything!”
A tear slipped down his cheek and fell onto my skin. I was branded. Burned.
I was going to hurt him.
I didn’t trust myself not to.
I had one last chance to end this before it got out of control.
“I can’t be who you need me to be, Mitch.” I turned my face away, staring at the wall. I couldn’t look at him. It would be my undoing.
“I only need you to be exactly who you are, G. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Mitch whispered and I closed my eyes trying to stop the tears.
He knew how desperate I was to hear that. He knew how shattered I was. How I was hanging on by such a thin thread.
“Let me be what you need. Please,” Mitch pleaded.
And I was lost.
I had no will power.
It was a failing of mine. I could never say no to the thing that could destroy me.
So I took off my best friend’s clothes.
I kissed him as fervently as he kissed me.
I opened my legs, and for a brief time, I opened my heart.
And in the morning, I left before Mitch woke up.
I had ruined everything.
“You’re too thin, Grace. Have you lost more weight? I thought you were working on your food issues,” my mother scolded, putting down a plate in front of me. I sipped on my coffee so I didn’t scream. Dealing with my mother took a special form of self-control that I had mastered in the last year and a half.
“I’m eating, Mom. Three regular meals a day. I promise,” I said tiredly, feeling the telltale signs of a migraine in the center of my forehead.
A migraine that was spelled M-O-M.
My mother smoothed her hair, the same shade of blonde as my own, and repositioned her silk blouse. She was a relentless primper, particularly when she was feeling annoyed, or being annoying, it really didn’t matter.
“Sit up straight, you slouch too much. You’ll become a hunchback,” she instructed, smacking the back of my hand. I didn’t flinch at the sudden sting. I was used to her casual abuse. It was as normal as apple pie.
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I knew better. So I bit my tongue and put my shoulders back, making my spine as straight as a steel rod. She’d get nothing from me. No reason to pick and pull apart. I was stronger than that and I’d never give her an inch.
Though the truth was I was a twenty-four-year-old woman who was more than a little scared of her mother.