Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Gray?” I curl my hands into fists. All I want to do is hug him. That’s the last thing he needs. What should I do? The blank I’m drawing is far and wide. I try to shake off the stunned fog. “Can you, um, talk to me?”

  A muscle in his jaw pops. Grady isn’t moving otherwise. He’s frozen as stone, which is exactly what we’re taught to do in these situations. Struggling can make the damage worse. His green eyes are flaring wide open, dilated and unfocused. He appears to be staring at nothing. There’s a clammy sheen to his complexion, the color pale and ghostly. My mind scrambles with the proper steps I should be completing. I can’t see past the helpless image of Grady. The daunting possibilities are fangs sinking into my neck.

  A stinging slap of clarity knocks some much needed sense into me. I fumble while digging out my phone. The numbers are a blur, but I don’t need them. I press the red button with a trembling finger.

  “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

  My tongue is five times too large. “M-my friend is s-stuck in a hay b-b-baler. He n-needs help. R-right away.”

  “I need you to remain calm. What’s your name?”

  “Sutton.”

  “Okay, Sutton. I have assistance on the way. Is your friend breathing?”

  I gulp down a lungful of useless air. It does nothing to ease the flames in my chest. “Y-yes.”

  “Okay, that’s a good sign. Is he able to communicate?”

  Grady’s throat bobs with a forced swallow, but he doesn’t speak. I bite my tongue while trying to trap another sob. Fresh tears gather in my lashes that I can’t seem to blink away. “I’m, uh, not sure. He isn’t saying anything.”

  The dispatcher hums softly. “That’s all right. Don’t force anything. Just stay with him.”

  As if I could possibly leave. The thought alone is inconceivable. I reach for his free hand and almost jolt backwards. He’s cold to the touch, even though it’s nearing ninety degrees outside.

  “Stay with me, Gray.” The plea drips off my quivering bottom lip.

  Grady’s grip on me is weak at best. I shuffle closer to inspect his gaping wound. Rivulets of blood flow out and puddle onto the grass. A pool of bright red is collecting, too big and spreading wider. I want to collapse under the weight of it all, and this isn’t happening to me. I can only imagine the agony Grady is experiencing.

  “Sutton? Are you still on the line?” Her voice is a distant buzz.

  “Yes, we’re here.” I keep my gaze locked on Grady while answering her.

  “Feel free to put me on speaker while tending to your friend.”

  I follow her suggestion robotically without pause. The screen lights up when I set my cell down. I watch the seconds tick by on the call tracker. It’s been five minutes. Grady appears more ashen and despondent. The air grows thick and gray, a suffocating cloud descending upon us. I scoot forward, ready to do whatever is necessary to save him.

  Where the hell are they?

  The dispatcher interrupts my rising panic. “The rescue team is about two minutes out. Will they have any trouble finding you?”

  I glance around at all the open space. “We’re in the far corner field of my property. There’s a trail they can take straight back. It’s easily accessible. Tell the driver to follow the gravel path. Or they can take the private drive off Batron and Straller. That leads directly to us and might be faster. Either way, just hurry. Please.” I’m on autopilot at this point, spitting out whatever information seems important.

  “All right, Sutton. They’ll be arriving any moment. Just sit tight.” Her tone is measured and level, meant to soothe jagged nerves. But I barely hear the words over the rush of my pulse.

  I squeeze the chilled fingers that are laced with mine. “Hear that? It’s going to be okay, Gray. They’ll be here soon.” Even to my own ears the attempt at reassurance sounds like a hollow echo. I clench my eyes shut, silently chanting for them to hurry.

  The wailing siren alerts me first. In the next beat, flashing lights appear in my periphery. An ambulance races up the small hill and across the pasture to where we wait. Through bleary eyes, I track the wheels bouncing over the rough terrain. I will them to speed up, impossible as that might be.

  After what feels like an eternity, the red and white vehicle screeches to a stop beside us. Three men in blue uniforms hustle over, their arms loaded with necessities. One is carrying a massive wedge of sorts and shoves it into the mangled machine’s busted front. The other two are fussing over Grady, shining a flashlight in his eyes and checking for a pulse. A shot of who knows what gets injected into his vein. Whatever it is must be strong because his body droops with a long sigh.

  I do my best to follow their rapid and efficient movements. The knot in my chest grows with each tense second. One of them suddenly has his hand on a crank, ready to force the jaws open. I choke on a garbled gasp.

  “Wait! Are you sure that’s safe?”

  The tallest guy snorts. “With all due respect, let us do our jobs.” His deep timbre does nothing to set my concern at ease.

  I bounce my gaze between Grady and these strangers. I wish he was lucid enough to tell me what’s best. As it is, I can’t process everything while keeping my sanity intact. Not sure why I bother trying. My opinion doesn’t mean shit and they make the choice for me.

  With a sickening creak of metal, the rusty teeth lift and release Grady’s arm. With the spikes gone, his wounds erupt with blood. The two gouges are deep and resemble a poisonous bite. A tremor ripples through him, but he doesn’t make a sound. The baler’s lethal clutches drip with evidence of the attack. My lunch threatens to make a reappearance. I shudder and avert my eyes.

  Grady sags against the man behind him, all the fight melting from his legs. Another paramedic slides a stretcher into place. He flops down onto the board, seeming relieved for the sturdy surface beneath him. His lashes flutter shut while he groans.

  They strap Grady down as he fades in and out of consciousness. A river of blood continues to trickle down his arm. I gulp down another round of bile. The waves of nausea crash into the walls of my stomach. I’ve never had a weak gut, but this is Grady. Seeing him hurt crumbles any defenses I could attempt to conjure up.

  They load him into the ambulance with seasoned finesse. This team is competent and capable. It’s obvious they deal with this type of situation often. Sad, but realistic. The paramedics are talking at a rate I can’t comprehend. Every other sentence includes a sliver of positive.

  Missed the bone.

  Not critical.

  Can save the arm.

  Permanent damage unlikely.

  “So, he’s going to be all right?” I hang back to avoid getting in their way.

  The stocky one hops out and offers me a smile. “Yeah, absolutely. He’ll need to visit the hospital to get patched up. But that’s basic procedure. He’s very lucky. Your boyfriend will be good as new in a few days.”

  My belly swoops at the title I don’t have any claim to. That doesn’t mean I’ll correct him. I tuck some hair behind my ear. “That’s really great news.”

  “He’ll be out of it for awhile. Some of that is from shock and the adrenaline wearing off. It’s a very common reaction. We‘re pumping him with morphine for the pain.”

  “There’s no reason to worry?” But how can I not?

  He shrugs. “Not really. But the doctor will run tests to be sure.”

  I give him a blank stare. How the hell long will that take? Grady will be suspended in the balance of unknown for hours. “Um, okay?”

  The paramedic turns away without another word. That’s it? But he motions for me to follow. I remain frozen in place.

  He quirks a brow at me over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

  I blink at him while static buzzes in my brain. “Where?”

  “To the hospital.” His bland tone makes me feel as though this should be obvious. “You can ride in the back with him.”

  I inch forward. “O-okay.”

  He nods
and walks off to the driver’s side. I climb into the ambulance on trembling legs. My knees knock together as I sit on the cold metal bench. Everything is so clinical and sterile, except for the man laid out in the center. There’s a cuff around his bicep. A single tube is attached to his uninjured forearm. They slam the doors behind me and the sound is deafening. It’s just the two of us, one awake and the other zonked out. I’ve imagined us in countless positions. This was never on the list.

  I reach for Grady’s hand, clutching him in a tight grip. He’s not aware of his surroundings. I doubt he can feel me sitting right beside him. I’m a mess, jittery and fidgeting from the inside out. There are probably unwritten rules about proper bedside behavior. I should be comforting him. But he keeps me grounded even during sleep.

  The slightest pressure against my palm has me looking down. My heart leaps into the sky when I realize he’s holding me in return.

  10

  Sutton

  Happy something #73: Spending time with my brother’s best friend, also known as the love of my life.

  I shut the heavy wooden door, closing off any further disruptions from the opposite side. Grady’s discharge instructions run on a loop through my mind. This needs to be a stress-free environment. He’s under strict orders to rest and stay off his feet for at least twenty-four hours. Keeping him still will be a challenge. He isn’t allowed to do anything that will cause harm to the injury site. Strenuous activities are his livelihood. He won’t stay put for long. But I plan to use the not-so-subtle art of persuasion.

  Grady’s soft snores draw me deeper into the room. I perch on the edge of his mattress and watch him sleep. Thankfully, he didn’t have to stay overnight in the hospital. Once he regained consciousness, Grady immediately started bitching about being there in the first place. At that point, another dose of morphine had kicked in and he wasn’t feeling any pain. Much like now. The doctors gave him a tetanus shot, stitched up his arm, and sent us on our way with a few prescriptions to fill. Whatever horse pill he was directed to take first knocked his ass out. And here he lies.

  I brush the wispy hair off his forehead. He looks so serene without the stone mask. I could almost trick myself into believing he’s at peace. But the deep purple smudges underneath his eyes appear worse. Maybe he’ll be able to sleep easy for a bit.

  His forearm is heavily bandaged from wrist to elbow. The gory sight hidden below threatens to turn my stomach all over again. I choose to focus my wandering attention on more appetizing sights. The dark scruff lining his angular jaw is a glorious distraction. I bet that stubble offers a tantalizing burn against sensitive skin. The soft area between my neck and shoulder tingle from that visual tease. A plain white tee does little to disguise his sculpted pecs and torso. The bumps and ridges are meant to be traced with a slow drift of fingers.

  A slight shift of his hips lowers the sheet. That glorious happy trail leads to the promise of ecstasy. I’m privy to the fact that he’s only wearing a pair of boxer briefs under there. A wicked infusion of heat enters my bloodstream. I curl my fingers into the blanket, wishing for something more solid. A thick steel rod encased in velvet would fit just right. I blink the image away. My creeper meter has officially reached new levels.

  Maybe he needs some privacy.

  Grady’s voice stops me before I can move off the bed. A single garbled word drips off his lips and I nearly choke. There’s no way he said what I think—

  “Sutton.”

  Well, that settles any doubt. Holy shit. My gaze scours his face, searching for any sign of alertness. I find none. It’s fairly obvious that he’s not lucid. But he’s saying my name. Very clearly. The sultry tune is more of a moan, in a seductive way. Those two syllables strum off his tongue in a song that leaves me stunned. That delectable purr reels me in. I’m helpless against the pull. I want him to keep whispering it, over and again, like a chant.

  The bed squeaks with my slight movement. Grady’s lashes flutter open, those emerald eyes cloudy and sluggish. I curse a blue streak for waking him. His lazy stare finds me hovering at an inappropriately close distance. This alone could be considered crossing a line. A few pesky inches between our bodies isn’t suitable for friends. But maybe we’re about to be more than that.

  Does Grady remember dreaming of me? The green fire that’s now illuminating his gaze suggests so. His languid perusal carves a path up my body. I can feel that trail, a hot brand covering every inch. Lust. Need. I cross my legs in an attempt to alleviate the ache. It doesn’t work. The desire begins to boil in my veins. Soon it will hijack my entire system. From the looks of it, Grady is having a similar issue. The paper-thin sheet does a horrible job concealing his reaction to my proximity.

  I clear my throat. My front row viewing party had to end eventually. Might as well get this over with. “Hey, Gray.”

  Grady lifts that fiery gaze to mine. Beyond the shimmer of lust, there’s a smoky veil diluting the usually vibrant green. His lids are heavy, barely at half-mast. He slaps a sloppy palm onto my thigh. His fingers dig into me with the slightest amount of pressure. The movement is disjointed, and extremely unexpected. That’s the only proof I need to determine that he’s fucked up. The evidence is damning.

  “Hi, Sutt.” His voice is rough gravel, as if he’s been sleeping for days instead of hours.

  “How are you feeling?”

  His fuck-hot gaze remains on mine. “Damn good.”

  I almost scoff. “Those pain meds must be powerful. You were stuck in a baler. There are over thirty stitches in your arm.”

  Grady doesn’t spare his injured limb a glance. “It’ll heal.”

  I flatten my lips. “That’s not the point.”

  “No? Tell me what is.”

  “You’re hurt, badly. Seeing you that way was petrifying.” My voice trembles, revealing the fear. I’ve managed to tamp down the hysteria, but that crazy bitch is simmering just below the surface. My hackles would rise every time a doctor or nurse would enter the room. Unreasonable? Absolutely. Did that stop me? Not a chance. That fierce level of protectiveness was new to me, yet held a glimmer of familiarity. I’ve always wanted to shelter Grady from impending storms. Offering him a safe space came naturally. Those glaring facts will keep my ass parked in his house until he kicks me out.

  His brows slowly crease, as though the thoughts are sluggish. “But I’m all right, Sutt.”

  “Because you’re lucky. It could have been deadly. You scared the shit out of me, Gray.”

  “It’s just a scratch. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “But I do. I always will, Gray.”

  He stares at me for a stilted moment. “Why?”

  Hiding the truth would be safer. Spelling out the engravings on my heart will certainly lead to more scars. But I’ve never been smart when it comes to this man. “You mean a lot to me.”

  “It’s the same for me, Sutt.” Grady begins drawing small circles around my knee, the motion seems absentminded. The gentle caress from his fingertips should feel foreign. We’ve never exchanged anything of this caliber. These soft strokes offer a deep-rooted comfort. This is exactly what I need after the frantic events of this afternoon. Can he sense that on some elemental level? That soothing balm sinks directly into my bones and spreads throughout every part of me. I’m practically panting over that simple touch. Is Grady getting any satisfaction out of this?

  “I like having you in my bed. Waking up with you is something I could get used to.” His drawl is pure sugar, warm caramel dipped in chocolate.

  An explosion of searing heat singes my cheeks. I fight the urge to dip my chin. “Oh?”

  The sound he emits resembles a predatory rumble. I barely restrain a shiver. “You’re the first girl to be in my room.”

  I flick a glance over the bare walls and minimal furnishings. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he just moved in. Or isn’t planning on sticking around long. The second gives me pause. That may very well be the case. I try not to let that spoil th
is moment, pasting a grin on my lips. “Should I be honored?”

  “I believe the honor is all mine.” A loose smirk curls half of his mouth. That slow lift to his lips might be my undoing. The hitch in my breath rivals a foghorn. Attempting to hide my reaction is pointless. If the full-blown smile is any indication, Grady catches on quickly. He bathes the dim room in blinding happiness.

  Good Lord, he’s trying to give me a spontaneous orgasm. Is that a thing? Sure feels like a possibility. But pump the brakes. Who is this sweet-talking, panty-melter?

  I take a closer inspection of this swoony charmer. Not an ounce of deceit registers in his expression. There’s no stony edge blocking his emerald stare. His ironclad guard is nonexistent. Zero inhibitions block the sliver of space between us. Everything is on display for me to see. I should be the one to stop this. He’s obviously not in his normal state and under the influence of hefty narcotics.

  Who the hell am I kidding? Basking in a rare smile from Grady is a gift I won’t take for granted. Appreciating from a safe distance will be the true challenge. I test my willpower by trying to evade the sneaky fingers inching up my thigh. But our skin is magnetized and moving is impossible. The golden specks in his eyes glitter at my failed attempt. Yep, he’s onto me. I’m a goner.

  As if there was another option.

  The itch to comb through his shaggy hair tickles my fingertips. Would he lean into my embrace if I cupped his jaw? The tiniest bit of resolve stops me from acting on those impulses. But it doesn’t stop my brain from working overtime.

  I wonder if anyone else has seen this side of him. The romantic in me wants to believe I’m the first, and hopefully only. I shove the fanciful notion aside. “Well, you sure seem to be in a great mood.”

  That luscious bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth. I’d love to take a bite. As if hearing my thoughts, Grady rolls toward me. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Why wouldn’t I be? I have a gorgeous woman within reach, ready to take care of my aches and pains.”