Give Me Grace

by Kate McCarthy

  He sounded confused. “You don’t lust after him?”

  “Don’t get carried away. I just think that having sex a few times is going to make it worse. It’s more than just lust for me and that makes this whole proposal idea really, really stupid.”

  “Is it more for him than that, too?”

  “No!” I replied hastily, remembering Casey’s words.

  “I might want to fuck you, but it doesn’t mean I want to be your friend.”

  I know he was only lashing out, saying the words to push me away. Getting guys to open up was difficult at the best of times, and Casey was a vault. But it didn’t mean there wasn’t a ring of truth to what he said. This proposal was about sex for Casey, nothing more. I was sure of it.

  But he did share, said the niggling little voice in my head. When you were walking away from him at the beach, he dragged out that painful memory about his brother and shared it with you.

  That’s because I was injured, I replied defensively. He was trying to get me to go with him to Emergency because he felt bad about what he said.

  Yeah, said the voice. Keep telling yourself that.

  I will, thanks very much.

  Whatever, the voice muttered.

  “You there?”

  “Yes,” I replied, realising I’d gone silent while I had a conversation with myself.

  “Have you even had sex with him?”

  “No. It’s been a whole week since the surfing incident and I haven’t even seen him. We’ve talked on the phone every night though. For hours,” I added.

  If I had a female best friend, she’d be squealing right now and subjecting me to a detailed inquisition on what Casey and I talked about. I knew because I’d seen it happen in movies.

  “That’s nice,” John replied.

  I sighed and rolled over. Mitsy snarled at the move and retreated to my pillow, curling himself into a little white ball of fluff on top of it. “So back to my original question, what the hell am I doing?”

  “We’re back to this again? If you don’t know that by now, then I agree, this proposal is stupid and so are you.”

  “Nice, John,” I muttered. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  “I’m a guy. We base pep talks on reality and logic.”

  “And what do women base pep talks on?” I dared to ask.

  “Fantasy.” John paused and I heard the flick of a lighter. “It’s all about what you want to see, not what’s right in front of you.”

  “This conversation is getting ridiculous,” I told him.

  “Agreed.”

  We finished up the phone call with shop talk, and then I hung up no better off than what I was before.

  I stretched with a loud squeal and rolled back over, careful not to jostle a dozing Mitsy. It was Friday afternoon and with no live show for Jamieson happening until Sunday, I promptly fell asleep, the phone still clutched in my hand.

  Minutes later I woke to something tickling my face. I swatted it away, murmuring irritably. When the tickling began the second time around, I was more alert. My eyes flew open. Henry hovered above me, a black permanent marker sitting ominously in his right hand. My eyes flared wide. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t, Henry.”

  He grinned and I wanted to smack it off his face. Repeatedly. Really, really hard. Preferably until he was unconscious. “Black’s your colour, Gracie Bean.”

  I shoved him away as I leaped from the bed. Racing for the mirror on the back of the wardrobe door, I grabbed the handle and flung it open.

  “Oh my God,” I declared as I stared at my reflection in horror. A moustache and three quarters of a goatee had been drawn on my face. Henry obviously hadn’t had time to finish before I woke up. It made me look like a serial killer.

  “You ass!” I hissed and pegged the only thing at him I had handy—the new phone Casey gave me when we left the hospital on Saturday. It was supposed to bean Henry in the head, but he ducked and it sailed past, smacking into the wall behind him. The screen cracked on impact before falling harmlessly to the floor. “Oh great. Thanks, Henry,” I said, my voice biting with sarcasm. “Now you broke my new bloody phone.”

  “I broke it?” he said, incredulous. “You threw it!”

  “Arrrghhh!” I screamed wildly. Recognising my best battle cry, Henry spun around and ran for the door. I leaped on his back. I hoped my momentum would take him down, but he stayed steady on his feet. Grabbing fistfuls of hair, I yanked hard.

  “Owww!” he howled and tried to loosen my grip with his hands. “Get … off …” he panted. When that didn’t work, he took two steps back, slamming me into wall.

  “Ooomphf.” My head bounced off with a crack and we both slid to the floor.

  Henry started crawling away, but I wasn’t done so I grabbed at the back of his shirt. It ripped when he kept moving, the fabric tearing away from the ribbed neckline.

  “My shirt!” he gasped and did some weird kind of tuck and roll.

  I leaped on him again like a Terminator programmed to destroy or die trying. This time I grabbed the front of his shirt in my left hand. “You know what drawing on someone’s face get’s you, Henry?” I cocked back my right fist and glared. “Punched. Repeatedly.”

  The sound of someone clearing their throat was heard above the harsh sound of our breathing. We both froze and looked towards the door.

  Casey stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe. He looked good enough to eat in a pair of expensive navy pants and a grey pinstripe shirt. The top two buttons were undone and the shirtsleeves rolled up, revealing tanned, muscular forearms. Dragging my gaze upwards, I saw eyes full of laughter.

  “Casey,” I breathed. Pushing away from Henry, I brushed the hair off my face in a casual gesture. “You uh, been there long?”

  “Awhile,” he told us, his eyes raking over me in a way that set a flush to my skin, “Everyone’s downstairs and dinner’s ready.”

  “Dinner?” I repeated stupidly. I tugged my tank top down where it had ridden up near my armpit, revealing the hot pink lace of my bra beneath.

  “Yeah, everyone’s here for Friday dinner. Didn’t Mac tell you we were all coming?” he asked for Henry’s benefit, because of course I knew. I’d only messaged Casey about it that morning but I didn’t want to give us away. “Henry was sent upstairs to wake you.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Henry and his definition of ‘waking’ someone, silently informing him that this wasn’t over. Aloud, I said, “Dinner’s not until seven.”

  “It is seven,” Henry told me. “You’ve been asleep for four hours.”

  “Oh.” I blinked. “I guess I was tired.”

  All those late nights staying up talking with Casey. His lips pressed together in a smirk and I knew he was thinking the same thing.

  I returned to the mirror before the two of us gave anything away to Henry, hoping my face didn’t look as bad as it did when I first saw it.

  It looked worse.

  Between that and the stitches in my scalp, my head could officially be declared a warzone. It was lucky I was on a moratorium from modelling or I’d get fired.

  “Rubbing alcohol,” Mac declared, taking in my appearance at a glance as she walked the room. “That’ll get it off.”

  “Really?” Casey raised his brows as the three of them stared at the half-assed goatee on my chin. “Let’s fill in the rest first. See how it looks.”

  Henry weighed in. “Maybe we should we put it to a vote?”

  Feeling the flush of embarrassment climb my cheeks, I replied, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you all disappear so I can get changed and get this crap off my face.”

  Walking inside the wardrobe, I slammed the door shut behind me for good measure and flicked on the light. I didn’t have any rubbing alcohol—I wasn’t even sure what that was—but I had nail polish remover. Surely that was the same thing.

  Rifling through my beauty case, I took out the little pink bottle and a cotton ball. Stepping up to the mirror, I wiped at the black
scribble. The acetate in the remover left behind a slight burning sensation on my skin and made my eyes water, but I was relieved to see it coming away with some heavy duty pressure.

  The wardrobe door opened suddenly and I stumbled back in surprise, the cotton ball hovering somewhere near my chin. “Casey.”

  I set the polish and cotton ball down when he shoved his way inside the little space, pushing me in farther with his bulk. He shut the door behind him and my pulse ramped up a notch.

  “I told them I had to use the bathroom.” His hands clamped hold of my hips and he yanked me against his body. “I thought about you all day.”

  I licked my lips. “All day?”

  His eyes fell to my mouth and they burned. “All fucking day.”

  “Me too,” I admitted.

  There was a pause where I thought he was about to kiss me and didn’t. “Grace,” he began, his tone suddenly serious. “If we’re going through with whatever this is we’re doing, then I’m telling Henry that you and I are seeing each other.”

  “What?” Henry would have a stroke. “It’s none of his business.”

  “It is his business,” Casey argued. “You’re his little sister.”

  “I’m also someone who’s quite capable of making my own decisions. Henry’s not. He thinks my life is going to turn into some Liam Neeson movie.” That was no joke. Casey told me that his business partner and friend, Jared, had been involved in a case that got his sister, Mac, kidnapped and Evie shot. Then Travis got called in by the Federal Police to work a case that involved Jamieson’s assistant manager, Quinn. She had a stepfather involved with the Sydney Zampetti crime ring, owing them money. They came after her and not for the money her stepfather owed like they all thought, but because Quinn’s father was working undercover inside the crime ring. The Zampettis found out and she almost died. “I can take care of myself,” I added stubbornly.

  Casey didn’t look reassured at my words. In fact, he drew back, creating a small amount of distance between us. I felt the loss like a physical ache. “You’re asking me to lie to your brother, Slim. I don’t like it. He’s a good guy and a friend. I respect him.”

  “I’m not asking you to lie. I’m just saying we should keep this on the down low. Look, if you don’t want to do this…” I folded my arms and tipped my chin in the direction of the wardrobe door, my internal voice screaming at me not to say the next words “…then just leave.”

  Casey’s eyes locked on mine with enough intensity that I couldn’t look away if I tried. “Is that what you want? For me to leave?”

  Absolutely not. Hell to the no.

  “Because I’m not leaving, Grace.”

  Oh thank God.

  His hands clamped on my hips once again. They slid around to my ass, his fingers digging in as he pulled me against him. I flailed, forced to unfold my arms and grab on or lose my balance. “You’re mine for however long we have left.” He ducked his head and swiped his tongue along my lips. “We’ll work it out, okay?”

  Then his mouth was on mine, soft at first, until I parted my lips and let his tongue sweep inside. His mouth was hot and wet, his kiss hard and controlling. I whimpered at the force, at being shoved back against wall. My arms wound around his neck, my fingers sliding into his hair as he grabbed at my leg, lifting it up and wrapping it around his hip.

  My breath hitched when his palm scraped along my outer thigh, sliding down until he was rubbing between my legs. I broke the kiss, throwing my head back and hitting the wall as I gasped in a lungful of air.

  Casey groaned, his mouth and tongue biting and licking at my exposed neck. He ran his finger along the seam of my panties, and my clit pulsed desperately, urging him to touch me. Instead, he drew back and I wanted to cry.

  “Grace,” he panted and licked his lips as I regained both my feet. “You taste like … like … ethanol.”

  I laughed, reaching up to touch my chin where the permanent marker had been. “I guess I better have a quick shower.”

  Ten minutes later, clean and dressed in a short, stretchy black dress that showed off a mile of leg, I made my way down the stairs and onto the back deck. Everyone was already seated and eating. Indoor chairs had been dragged outside to cater for the numbers. I wedged myself into the only available space between Mac and Cooper and sat down.

  “Here.” Evie leaned over the table, thrusting a glass of wine at me from two places down.

  “Thanks,” I replied, a little breathless when I spotted Casey across the table from me, his eyes on my lips. I downed half the glass in record time, feeling the warmth of alcohol flood my system instantly.

  Henry placed a plate of food in front of me before returning to his seat beside Casey. It was piled high with roasted chicken and hot chips. A drizzle of gravy was added as the final flourish. My stomach almost wept at the vision. I looked over at Henry with a furrowed brow as I set my glass down. “Where’s the salad?”

  Jared pointed his fork at me. “Exactly.”

  “Get a room you two if eating a bunch of lettuce gets you so hot,” Evie bitched.

  Jared arched a brow as he glanced at her belly. “That’s my baby in there. I should get a say in what you feed it.”

  Evie, who’d announced her pregnancy just shy of two weeks ago, gasped. “You did not just say that.”

  Everyone at the table began weighing in with their opinion on what Evie should be eating. I cringed at somehow being the instigator. Mouthing a quick “Sorry,” her way, I reached for my glass and downed the remaining contents quickly.

  Cooper topped it up again without missing a beat.

  I glanced sideways. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  He leaned in, whispering, “Yes. Is it working? You seem a bit edgy.”

  That was because my body craved sex. Lots of it. With Casey. A quick check across the table found him watching our exchange intently.

  Between the revolving front door of the duplex and his roommate, finding privacy was going to be more complex than long division. He would either have to climb a ladder to my window or sex was going to happen in the back of his car, and because he was yet to mention anything about the damaged backseat, that option was off the table. The man was either biding his time or he hadn’t yet seen it. Considering I was still alive, I was voting for the latter, but it was only a matter of time.

  Focusing on my plate, I picked up a piece of chicken and peeled the skin away. “Can you pass me a napkin?” I asked Mac on my left as I licked my finger.

  My phone vibrated in the pocket of my dress as she handed it over. Pulling it out, I saw a text message from Casey. I glanced at him across the table, but he appeared in deep conversation with Travis. Swiping a finger across the cracked screen, I read the message.

  Do that again.

  Do what again? Lick my finger? I put my phone down, and after a quick glance around the table, I slid my finger in my mouth, sucking gently before dragging it slowly from between my lips. Finished with the slightly erotic display, I glanced over at Casey. His eyes were locked on my mouth, dark with hunger. Wincing slightly, he reached down and with a quick, casual movement, adjusted himself in his pants.

  I quickly tapped out a return message.

  Do that again.

  He did.

  After reading my reply, he actually reached down, cupped the bulge in his pants and squeezed. My entire body clenched at the sight, forcing a light sweat to break out across my brow. I reached for the wine Cooper poured, feeling the urge to rub the ice-cold glass soothingly across my forehead.

  After downing another half glass, I set the wine down and caught Casey intent on his phone, his fingers tapping away.

  This was sexting? How did people survive it?

  Mac was talking to me when my phone eventually alerted the incoming message. After taking a bite of chicken, I picked it up and promptly began choking.

  If my cock looks half as good as your finger did the way it slid in and out of your mouth, then I want in.

&nb
sp; Mac pounded me on the back with surprising force while I choked and wheezed. Jesus. The message basically said blow me now, yet he’d managed to word in such a way that I was ready to get on my knees right then and there. I put my phone down to grab at the napkin Cooper waved in my face. Casey sat across from the table laughing at me while I dabbed at my watery eyes.

  I narrowed my gaze on him with deliberate intent before putting down my napkin and tapping out another message.

  You said you were good with your tongue, Casey. Prove it.

  Travis was talking to him when he opened the message. I watched his eyes flare wide before he typed out a quick reply and pocketed his phone.

  Upstairs. You’ve got five minutes.

  I should’ve known better than to issue a challenge to Casey of all people. He was the type of man you saw running towards danger while everyone else ran in the opposite direction.

  I utilised a good three minutes eating another piece of chicken, finishing off my wine, and getting caught in conversation with Cooper. I spent another minute wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. In the last minute left, I excused myself from the table and stood on unsteady legs. I glanced behind me as I walked inside. Casey was laughing at some comment Travis made that I didn’t quite catch. His eyes met mine for a split second as he said something in reply, and they were on fire. That was all it took to know I’d never wanted anything more in my life than I wanted him right now.

  No sooner had I closed the bedroom door behind me, it opened and Casey slipped inside. I barely had time to whisper, “This is crazy,” before his mouth crashed down on mine. It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was hard and wild and almost painful. His hands gripped my shoulders, nudging me backwards until my knees hit the bed.

  “We need to hurry,” he muttered, and with a shove, I fell on the bed, crawling backwards to make room when he climbed on above me, wedging his hips between my legs and fusing his mouth to mine. He placed his palms on my outer thighs, pushing upwards until my dress bunched around my hips. Moving from my lips, he began licking and kissing his way along my neck.