Free Cross Country Christmas by Tiffany King Page A

Suddenly, hazy memories of last night began flooding my mind. I remembered Grant lying next to me on the bed and me saying something about how I wanted to get him in the sack. Oh God, it was the pills Doc Jones had given me. Were they pain pills or truth serum? I was pretty sure I told Grant I loved him too. I would have given anything for it to have been a bad dream, but the memories were too clear now. Grant was sleeping on his side, facing me, holding me securely against his body. I was tempted to stay there, basking in his embrace, but my mouth felt fuzzy from falling asleep without brushing my teeth. I shifted my body to climb off the bed, but when my foot touched the floor, my sprained ankle reminded me I wasn't ready to walk on my own.
    I crumpled to the floor, crying out in pain. The bed creaked and Grant's head peeked over the side, seeing me sprawled out on the hardwood floor. Glancing at the clock on the mantle, I saw it was barely five a.m.
    "What were you thinking?" Grant asked, appearing at my side. He kneeled down to help me stand.
    "I forgot," I answered, feeling like a complete ass. "I'm sorry I woke you," I apologized, looking at him. He was shirtless like the night at the roach motel. My already fuzzy mouth became as dry as the desert as I took in his taut muscles and defined six-pack abs. He had the physique of someone who was no stranger to physical labor. My fingers wanted to reach out and trace the contour of his pecks that because of his height were at my eye level. They became even closer when he scooped me into his arms.
    "Were you trying to get to the bathroom?" he asked. I heard his words, but they didn't quite register. My mind continued to be preoccupied with the fact that I was in his arms while he was practically naked. I ran my hand over his chest. His skin was as warm as I imagined it would be. My eyes found his as I continued to explore the planes of his muscular upper body. He didn't speak, but shifted his stance. I suddenly felt the stirrings of humiliation. Of course he felt uncomfortable. He had no interest in me. I pulled away from his body, but he tightened his hold on me. My breathing began to match my rapid pulse as his eyes focused on my lips. I was ready and hesitant at the same time. I wanted to feel those lips pressed against mine, but what would it mean for us?
    "Bathroom?" he asked huskily, returning his stare to my eyes.
    "Huh?" I answered. His words shook me back to reality and my pressing needs. Crap, my teeth. He almost kissed me and I'm sure my breath was rank enough to turn Medusa to stone. I clamped my hand over my mouth.
    "Is that some kind of hint?" he asked in a strangled voice
    "I need to brush my teeth," I mumbled around my fingers.
    "Are you still high on those pills?" he asked, waiting like I was going to spout out more gibberish like I did last night.
    I groaned at his words. "No, I just hate morning breath," I said, flushing. I vainly hoped the dim light from the fire would keep him from seeing my embarrassment. "Please stop looking at me like I just climbed out from under some gross rock," I begged, hoping he would just let the whole pill thing go. Couldn't it be like going to Vegas? What happens when Jamie takes pills stays at blah blah blah.
    He stared at me for a moment before coming to the conclusion that I wasn't high. I was getting close to the point of becoming defensive by the way he was looking at me, but something in his stare struck a chord in me. It was almost as if he cared, which confused me, but still fueled my feelings of desire for him. The desire that had been dormant for the past five years since we'd last seen each other was now smoldering.
    We continued to stare, both nervously waiting to see who would make the first move. I felt something akin to pain with need. I strained closer, willing him silently to ease the burning inside me. A log in the fireplace settled loudly, startling us both. The moment was broken like coming to from a hypnotic