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Chapter Nine

Claire pressed her face into his neck, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he carried her into the house. She heard the sound of the garage door closing and then the door being shut, keeping out the cold air. There was the jingle of his keys as they hit the counter, the steps of his shoes, and the creak of a door.

She tried to hold on as he set her down into bed, but he ducked under the loop of her arms. Claire opened her eyes and found him staring at her, entirely too close but also not close enough. It was dark in his room, and she could just barely make out the pupils of his eyes, the shape of his nose, the breadth of his shoulders.

He had two hands on either side of her head and just kept staring.

"Are you going to stay here?" she whispered.

"I'll take the couch."

"No. I'll take the couch. You sleep in your bed."

Claire thought she heard him smile.

"I'm trying to do the right thing here, Claire Bear."

She blindly reached forward, somehow managed to smack his thigh. "Don't call me that, Gregory."

He put his hand over hers. "God, you are stubborn."

She laughed. "As if you aren't."

"We made a good pair, huh?"

"We did."

Greg ran his thumb over her hand, but then he got up. She heard as he rummaged through his dresser drawers, and then clothes landed next to her. His warm hands were on her shoulders then, rubbing gently and coaxing her to sit up.

"I'm gonna go get you a big glass of water and some Tylenol, okay? Do ya think you can change into these while I'm gone, or do you need help?"

She pushed at his chest. "I'm not that drunk."

"Sure you aren't. I'll be back in a little bit, okay, Claire Bear?"

Claire opened up her eyes and just glared at him, but he was smiling, and she couldn't help smiling back. He looked beautiful, standing there. The hallway light was on, and it cast his form into a silhouette. He was broad shoulders and thick neck, firm chest and powerful legs. He was beautiful.

So she told him. "You look beautiful."

"And you look tired."

"Compliment me."

He sighed, but she could see that smile still there. "You're gorgeous, Claire. Simply stunning. You took my breath away then and you take my breath away now. You . . . ruined me."

She didn't know what to say. She honestly couldn't say anything. So she waved him away, tried not to cry, and waited for him to leave before she took her sweater off. The room started spinning when she bent to slide off her jeans, but she held onto the bed and managed to get his shorts on. She was even able to take her socks off.

There was a knock on the door. "Are you decent?"

"Yeah."

She sat up straight on the bed, wrapped a finger around her hair as Greg brought two glasses of water and the Tylenol over. He handed her a glass, shook out two pills into her hand, and handed her the second glass once she was finished with the first.

"Feeling any better?"

"Just fine. I really don't think I'm all that drunk. I was just . . . emotional."

"Period?"

She smacked his chest again, but he knelt and held her hands there. Her legs were on either side of his shoulders, the insides of her calves touching him. She'd shaved before going out – just one of those precautions – and her smooth skin was a sharp contrast to his hairy arms. She couldn't help but laugh. It tickled.

"You can't blame every emotion a woman has on her period."

"So you are on it."

"No. . . It starts next week."

"So it's PMS."

"It is not PMS! Unless if you mean Pissed at Men Syndrome, because I am definitely feeling that right now."

"And which man are you pissed at? Need me to go beat him up for ya?"

"You'd have to beat up yourself, genius."

"You're not mad at me."

"No," she said, rubbing her thumbs against his chest. "I'm not. Thank you. For taking me home and taking care of me. You're too good to me."

"If I was too good to you, I would have forced you to have a glass of water between every drink. And I definitely wouldn't have let ya done shots with Taylor." He huffed. "She knows you're a lightweight. God, I knew –"

Claire cupped his face with both hands, smoothing down the prickly hairs. She ran her thumbs over his lips and then those thick eyebrows. He looked at her with those big puppy dog eyes, closed them, and nuzzled into her hand, kissing the skin there.

"Stay with me," she whispered. "Please. Or at least let me take the couch. You deserve the bed."

"Are you saying you don't?"

"Don't what?"

"Deserve the bed."

She ran a hand through his hair and cupped the back of his neck. "I'm just saying you deserve it more."

"No." Greg kissed her hand again. "But I'll stay with you. At least until you fall asleep."

"Okay."

They both knew he'd stay longer.

Claire moved back onto the bed and got under the covers. She brought the quilts up to her chin and watched as Greg went through his dresser again. He shucked off his jeans and socks, then his nice button-down, replacing it with a t-shirt.

The bed shifted under his weight as he climbed in next to her. Nothing but their pajamas separated them, and she could feel the heat of his body practically seep into hers. He was quiet as she laid her head on his shoulder, wrapped an arm around his thick waist. The hair of his legs tickled hers. She wrapped a leg around him, too.

"Thank you," she said.

"Anytime." He shifted and put his arm around her, pulling her closer. "Now go to sleep, Claire."

She closed her eyes and thought she felt him kiss her forehead.