Page 54 of You First
“Um… homework.”
Gray’s eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned up. “But you were looking at me.”
Meredith felt her cheeks heat. He must have thought she was so weird, waking up to find her in his room a second time now.
“I-I was worried you might have another seizure. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”
His half-amused, half-doubtful expression held. “I’m not going to have another seizure.”
She arched a brow at him. “You don’t know that.”
“I’ve never had two in one day.”
He was her boss. Best not to argue with him. Certain she was being dismissed, Meredith closed her book and stood. “Can I get you anything? Lunch? Something to drink?”
It was now after three o’clock. She’d helped herself to a banana right after Brooke left, but that was hours ago. Meredith was hungry, so, unless he was nauseated, Gray had to be close to starving.
“I’ll get up and have something in a minute.” He raised a hand and rubbed his forehead, frowning.
“Let me get it for you.” She expected him to say no, so she quickly appealed to his logic. “Save your strength for writing.”
He eyed her for a moment, hesitating. “Have you eaten?”
Meredith shrugged. “I had a snack earlier. I’m good.”
“A snack,” he echoed, regarding her with suspicion.
“Yeah,” she said, unwilling to elaborate. Gray watched her for a moment, his eyes amused but penetrating. She felt he could see each of her thoughts.
“Why are we both pretending we’re not hungry?” he asked finally.
Meredith couldn’t help her grin, but she spoke the truth. “Because you don’t want me to wait on you.”
“And you don’t want to eat if I don’t.” He spoke truth, too.
They stared at each other for several seconds. “Please make us each a plate of that spaghetti and come back here with me.” His voice pitched low. He’d said “please,” but Meredith understood he did not want her to refuse. She also understood that his pride was at stake.
She would never refuse.
“I’d be glad to.” She walked up to his bedside table and collected his glass of water. Before she could stop herself, she reached forward and ran the fingers of her left hand over his forehead. “How’s your head.”
He shut his eyes and tilted his head back against the headboard. Gray made a noise in the back of his throat that told her the touch brought relief. She put down the glass and took his head in both hands.
“Does massage help?” she asked softly, rubbing her thumbs across his hairline and her fingers against his temples.
A sigh escaped him. “I don’t know.” But his voice was just a whisper, as if that were all he could manage. He didn’t open his eyes or make any move to stop her, so Meredith sat on the edge of the bed beside him.
“Let’s find out.” She ran her fingers into his hair, rubbing his scalp with gentle pressure. His breath deepened, and Meredith watched the small muscles on his forehead and around his eyes relax. She marveled at his will to steer away from opioids when he so clearly suffered.
When she bent her fingers and let her nails scratch lightly against him, he made a sound he abruptly halted, like a swallowed moan. Even if it didn’t stop his pain, she knew it had to feel good, and a delicious satisfaction made her smile.
But making him feel good was more than satisfying. It was fulfilling and intoxicating all at once. Touching him felt amazing, but it felt dangerous, too. It stirred her all the way down her chest and deep into her belly. Resting with his eyes closed, his male beauty was hers to drink in. After his seizure, he’d had his head in her lap for a good fifteen minutes, but she’d been so terrified and worried about him, she couldn’t spare a thought about how attractive he was.
But now, there was no ignoring it. His beauty was classic. It reminded her of the way she’d pictured Theseus or Perseus when she’d read Greek mythology in middle school. A heroic handsomeness. Dark eyelashes that fanned out just above his cheekbones and full lips softened his brilliance just enough to keep him from looking too severe and imposing.
This close, she could appreciate that he was the handsomest man she’d ever met. Thinking exactly that, she moved her fingers to the nape of his neck, and he opened his eyes, looking straight into hers.
His were a shocking blue, and, even with his pupils as wide as they were now, she felt arrested. He’d caught her staring — again — and she needed to look away. Meredith could keep her mouth shut some of the time, but Brooke often said her face was like an open book.
