Give Me Grace(46)

“Everything okay?”

Morgan fumbled with her phone, tapping out a message. “Yeah.” She sighed. “Just a big brother who keeps interfering in my shit. He’s just turned up at my place. He wants to see me and God forbid I don’t do what the fuck he says.”

I stepped up to the kerb and hailed her a cab. “Sounds like an asshole,” I said to her over my shoulder. I didn’t want to interfere, but if he was the type of asshole that got violent, then I should at least make sure she was okay. “Sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

“Uh, no. I’m good.”

I opened the car door for her and after hopping in, Morgan wound down the window so I leaned in.

Meeting my eyes, she said, “Call me, okay? We’ll set something up for the weekend. I can’t wait to get my hands on you again.”

I could wait and it should’ve surprised me. Morgan was hot, and I was never one to turn down a good fuck. But that was before Grace. It seemed the only woman I wanted right now was her.

After quickly pressing her lips against mine again, Morgan gave the driver her address. I waved briefly before walking the few blocks home to my loft. I needed that drink I’d promised myself.

Leaning forward on the couch, I tugged my phone from my pocket before sitting back. Scrolling down the contacts, I found Grace and dialled. Putting the phone to my ear, I waited, wanting to hear her voice and feeling like an asshole because I had no right to want it.

“Batman!” she answered, sounding drunk and happy.

“Hey, Slim,” I murmured, feeling better already. “How’s your night going?”

“Oh God. So good, but it just went downhill really fast,” she slurred.

Before I could reply, a bloodcurdling scream pierced my ear through the phone, causing my heart to thump in panic. “Grace?” I shot to my feet. “Grace? Are you there?”

“Oh God,” she moaned. “It’s getting worse.”

“Are you okay?” I asked, my tone urgent.

“No,” she whispered in the phone. “I’ll never be okay again. Ever. Never ever in my whole life. I’m gonna be—”

I heard her gag.

“Do you need me there?” I was already reaching for keys and shoes and when I heard another shrill scream, I said in the phone, “I’m on my way.”

I stumbled over the coffee table when the floor shifted under my feet. There was no way I could drive.

Fucking hell.

“Hang on. I can’t hear you.” Loud drunken laughter boomed in the background and my panic eased a little. The noise decreased as though she was walking away. “Are you there?” she whispered.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“They’re making me watch Wolf Creek, Casey. I don’t know why they would do this. Somehow we got talking about horror movies and Evie said it was the most terrifying movie of all time, so naturally I was an idiot and told everyone I’d never seen it. Have you seen it?” she asked and then continued before I could tell her there was no fucking way you’d get me watching that shit. “It’s his laugh,” she hissed. “His horrible, creepy-ass laugh. It’s more terrifying than zombies chewing off all your body parts, or … or … falling out of a shuttle and floating off into space.”

I pressed my lips together, laughter rumbling in my chest while I listened to her drunken chatter. She stopped suddenly and whispered my name.

“Mmm?” I replied.

“You should’ve come. You could’ve been here right now, doing that thing you said you wanted to do. You know, the thing you said I didn’t even have to get naked for. How do you make me want you so much?” Her voice cracked and the sound resonated straight to my heart.

“Ahh hell,” I rasped. I was fully hard just thinking about it. Reaching down, I adjusted my cock in my jeans, giving it a quick squeeze. I knew I’d come easily if I sat on the phone and detailed all the things I wanted to do to her.

“I wanted to see you, Casey. I want to see you.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. “You mean … like a date?”

A feeling of utter shame hit me. Dating both Grace and Morgan would be something no do-over would fix. Trust was something special, and after Dalton, Grace needed trust, not some stupid prick who’d only fuck up her life more.

“No!” Grace blurted out. “Not a date. I mean, like …” She paused. “I don’t know. I just want to see you.”

“Grace,” I muttered hoarsely.

“Just … let’s be friends,” she announced decisively. “You know, buddies, pals, mates. We can draw a line. No talking about kissing, or sexing. Sexting,” she corrected with a slight slur and a hiccup. “Or whatever the hell you call it. What do you do with your buddies, Casey?”