Tell Me It’s Right (Sweetspire #1)

Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

GRACIE

4:14 PM Liam missed call

Liam: Please call me back

5:00 PM Liam missed call

Liam: Gracie, talk to me

5:45 PM Liam missed call

6:00 PM Liam missed call

Liam: Please

“Finally.” I flip the page with a sigh and burrow deeper into my blanket burrito, but not so far that I can’t reach the straw poking out of my wineglass. It’s a lot to juggle, what with also trying to keep the reading light currently clipped to my book at the right angle while also not covering any words on the page, but the enemies finally became lovers and now everything is right in the world.

Except for, of course, everything else.

But that—that I’m not thinking about.

No, tonight I am binge reading, drinking an entire bottle of wine myself, and I’m only leaving the warmth of my bed for absolute dire circumstances…like needing to pee.

With a groan, I untangle myself from the blankets, carefully set my wine and book on my nightstand, and shuffle to the bathroom.

The moment my brain is undistracted, memories of what happened earlier force themselves to my attention.

Pity hire.

Downgrading .

But then…Liam. Looking at me in utter disbelief as soon as I said it. And then…kissing me.

Kissing me .

I don’t know why I ran. Maybe because crying in front of him about it was humiliating. Crying about it at all was stupid. That would be the one word to sum the entire thing up. Stupid.

I know Casey probably heard those things from Liam’s dad, maybe his siblings. I don’t know why I overreacted like that. Why I took my embarrassment out on him. Then I panicked and ran like an idiot.

My fingers trail to my lips as I stare at my reflection in the mirror and it’s like I can still feel him there. And that…that does strange things to my body. My stomach is wound tight as a fucking spring, my heart rate is concerningly high, and my skin is all hot and tingly. Because I’ve been touched by men before, but never like that .

The kiss probably lasted only a few seconds. I honestly have no idea. The second his lips were on mine my brain just stopped working.

Why did I run?

I pace the length of my room, too wound up to go back to my book now. Too afraid to look at my phone in case he reached out again—or worse, he didn’t.

I tried to respond. I did. I typed out a message, deleted it.

Tried again, deleted it.

Stared at the screen for a solid ten minutes until my eyes started to burn.

I feel like I need to run , but the treadmill is loud and Keava and Leo are sleeping, plus it’s late and I watch way too much true crime to go outside by myself.

Short on other options, I end up back in bed. But I pause as I reach for my book, my eyes drifting lower to the drawer in my nightstand.

Fuck it.

A quiet buzz fills the room as I throw the comforter over me to muffle the sound because if they hear me upstairs I will simply have to smother myself with my pillow.

God, this really isn’t helping.

I close my eyes and try to force my muscles to relax, to think of hot book boyfriends and banter and slow-burn sexual tension.

Of hands on skin and lips on necks and the way Liam’s hands held my head so firmly, no trace of uncertainty?—

I suck in a sharp breath, trying to force the image away, trying to stop imagining what might have happened if I hadn’t left. If I’d kissed him back— had I kissed him back? I can’t even remember. I must have.

If we’d stood there much longer, if I’d let myself touch him the way I wanted to, if his hands had trailed into my hair, his body pressing mine against the wall…

I clamp my mouth shut against a moan.

But what does it, what finally pushes me over the edge, is the memory of his eyes staring into mine as I’d pulled back, so deep and intense and earnest. He has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. I’ve always thought so.

The silence of the room is stark once I shut the toy off, and I lie there panting for several moments, waiting to come down.

But I don’t feel better. Not even a little bit.