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My hands shake with rage, how fucking dare he! First he humiliates me in front of DC, then he tells me to get out when my best friend is laying on a hospital bed, and now he accuses me of being immature! What a joke! I drive to a bar and order a double of Vodka. After three shots I'm pouring my soul out to my bartender who advises me to talk things out with Lincoln. Yeah, okay boomer. I drink a few more shots before my ex, Grant Ward, walks over to me and throws his arm over my shoulder.
"Is there a reason you're getting drunk in my bar Sweetheart?"
Grant gives me an arrogant smirk. I scowl and flip him off.
"Seriously Skye, what are you doing here? If this is a spy mission Coulson sent you on... I'd settle down on the Vodka."
Ward teases me as he settles in a bar stool next to me. I scowl at him venomously.
"What do you want Ward?"
He smirks at me in a way that's simultaneously familiar and foreign.
"You. If you're offering."
I scoff haughtily and I open my mouth to drunkenly tell him exactly where he can go. Then my favorite song filters through the bar and my stupidly delicious ex holds out his hand in a silent offer. And I know, in that moment, I'm going to let him have his way. Fuck the consequences and fuck Lincoln. I slip my hand in his and for the first time I get to see the real Grant Ward and he's intoxicating.
I groan miserably as the hangover from hell crashes a big ass sledgehammer on my squishy brain. I roll over into a warm muscular chest as masculine chuckles fill my ears. I freeze as his big hand gently, soothingly rubs a line down my spine. I'd know that low, sexy sound anywhere. Grant. I look up into the eyes of the man I've loved for years, the man who broke my heart, the man who I still love, the man who I cheated on my sweet put-everyone-else-first-saving-the-world-with-my-own-two-hands boyfriend. Fuck! Lincoln! I shoot up in bed panicking. I need to go back to our apartment. I rush to put my clothes on steadfastly avoiding looking at the sexy human embodiment of temptation. I quickly check my cell phone.
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"Leaving so soon?"
Grant stands in the doorway completely naked. I flush red and slowly trace the lines of hard muscle with my eyes, remembering the hot night we shared despite being hungover, before I remember I have a boyfriend.
"I have a boyfriend Grant."
My ex gives me a dark look that should scare me, but secretly makes my panties a little (a lot) wet. Before I know it he's crossed the distance between us and kisses me hard. I wish I could blame what happens next on still being a little drunk, but I can't. All I can feel is passion and lust as I'm roughly pushed back into his bed. Grant practically shreds my clothes before he possessively takes control of my body and all I can do is scream his name again and again and again. I don't leave his bed for the next week. By the time I do, I'm sufficiently wrecked and totally okay with the idea of fucking Grant behind Lincoln's back. I just wasn't strong enough to resist temptation.
