“Are you suggesting I become some guinea pig? For some drug that isn’t legal in the country which we’re standing in at this very moment? For some drug that isn’t even on the market in Europe yet? After making a ‘donation’? By the way, how much will that donation be? I doubt the lab working on this miracle drug is a charitable institution. Probably one of those money-making ones, right?”
Grant lifted his hands again. “Slow down. I just talked with Ravi an hour ago. Even he doesn’t know all of the particulars and is going to have to look into it for us, but the reason I’m bringing this up is because there’s hope, Ryan. This could be it. The miracle you’ve been looking for.”
And there was that word. Miracle.
I knew better than to believe in miracles. I knew better than to go off in search of one. I wasn’t expecting or even hoping for a miracle—I would have been happy with time.
“And if this drug is so great over there, why don’t we have it over here yet?” I asked, ready to start punching hole after hole through this whole miracle issue. I wished he’d just accept that I had Huntington’s and nothing was going to change that. Then we could both move on and enjoy however many months or years I had left of being me.
“Listen, Ryan, I’m a football player. The dumbest of dumb jocks. I don’t understand how this works. Shit, I didn’t understand half of the words Ravi was using tonight.” He inhaled slowly, a painful look passing over him. “But I do know this is something good. I do know Ravi knows his shit and wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t think it was worth something, and I know he’ll do everything he can to get us the answers we need. And I know that I would pay any price to have more time with you.”
Rising from my perch on the bed, I started toward him. My head was spinning with everything from experimental drugs to how powerless I’d felt crashing to the ground earlier today. I was tired of thinking about Huntington’s and all that revolved around it.
“I don’t want to talk about dying anymore.” Dropping my hand in his, I laced my fingers through his and gave him a tug.
He followed me, giving me a curious look. “What do you want to talk about then?”
When I felt the edge of the mattress against the backs of my legs, I stopped. “Living.”
His eyes flashed as the moment caught up with him. A smile started to form when I patted the bed, and he sat there. “Is that something you talk about or more something you do?” He managed to make do sound every bit as illicit as one word could get.
“It’s something you do. Something I’m about to do.” Splaying my fingers on the caps of his knees, I leaned in until my mouth was brushing his ear. “All.” He quaked when I kissed the line of his jaw. “Night.” A rumble echoed in his chest when I sucked at his neck. “Long.”
When I leaned back, I found his eyes were excited and his muscles so stiff they were pressing veins through his neck and forearms. “I’ve always been a fan of living. A big fan. Huge.”
I smiled as I reached for the hem of my nightgown. “I remember,” I said, sliding it up my body.
This was the first time I’d stripped for a man since I was seventeen. First time I’d be naked and exposed, and the first time I’d seen a naked man and felt his body.
The first time Grant and I had had sex, I’d been nervous. At least a little. I’d been worried because I was young and inexperienced. I worried I wouldn’t know what I was doing or how to please him. I worried I wouldn’t be enough. But he’d put every one of those worries to rest that night, and even after all of this time, those worries were still in the ground.
When I finished pulling the gown over my head, I let it fall on the carpet behind me. My chest was moving as fast as his.
“Sweet Jesus, Ryan,” Grant rasped, his eyes wandering my body. He didn’t miss anything, giving the cap of my bare shoulder as much attention as he did the canyon running between my breasts.
“I haven’t been with anyone in seven years.”
When my fingers hooked under my panties, Grant reached for my arm and pulled me closer. His fingers replaced mine, slipping my panties down my body, his thumbs caressing the insides of my thighs as they lowered.
“I’ll go slow—I’ll be gentle.” His head dropped to my stomach, his breath warming the area south of my navel. It made my body weak with want.
“That’s not what I mean.” My eyes sealed shut as his hands made their return journey. This time, his thumbs caressed what was between my inner thighs.