Pieces of Us - Carrie Elks Page 0,63

body.

He needed this. She knew that much. And maybe she did, too. There was only so many things that words could say. Their bodies would do the rest.

21

Griff rolled over on the mattress, pain shooting through his back muscles and making him groan. Bright sunlight was spilling in through the cracks in the curtains of Autumn’s bedroom, and he blinked his eyes open, lifting his head to look around.

The space next to him was empty, though the pretty panties he’d all but ripped off her last night – or more specifically this morning – were still there, the vivid pink ribbon a contrast to the pale whiteness of the sheets. His lips curled at the memory of her standing there, her eyes never leaving his as he told her in a deep, needy voice, what she had to do. He’d never seen her look so beautiful. Or so vulnerable. She’d made him feel about ten feet tall.

His stomach rumbled like an approaching storm. When was the last time he’d eaten? It growled again, as though it was answering him.

About twenty hours ago, you asshole.

He grabbed the drawstring pants they’d given him at the hospital, pulling them over his bruised legs. Catching sight of himself in her dresser mirror, he raked his fingers through his hair to neaten it up, then gave up. It was a fool’s battle.

Autumn was sitting cross legged on the sofa, her laptop balanced on her thighs, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and in those cut-off shorts and tank top she looked more like a college girl than a business woman.

“Hey.” She smiled brightly when she saw him. “I didn’t hear you get up.”

“I’m silent like a ninja,” he joked, and she rewarded him with a laugh. “Can I use your phone to call the hospital? I want to see how Sam’s doing.”

“I just called. He’s doing good. They’re hoping to release him tomorrow. I said you’d probably visit him later.”

His eyes crinkled as he looked at her. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” She closed her laptop and put it on the table, uncrossing her legs to stand.

“Don’t stop working on my account. I just came out in search of something to eat.”

“Other than me?” She grinned at him.

“Don’t tempt me.” Who was he kidding? She was always tempting him. His body felt shattered, and yet he could still feel himself stir at the sight of her as she uncurled her legs and stood, her ponytail swinging.

“I’ll grab myself a sandwich if that’s okay with you. Then I’ll head home to get some real clothes.”

She glanced at his green-cotton clad legs. “I kind of like those scrubs. They fulfill all my doctor fantasies.”

He shook his head at her wicked grin. “In that case, I’ll keep them.”

She walked into the kitchen area, brushing past him. He couldn’t stop himself from squeezing her ass. “Hey, stop mauling the cook,” she told him, grinning as she opened the refrigerator. “What do you want on your sandwich?”

“I can make it.”

She turned, tipping her head to the side. “I know you can. But I’d like to make it for you. Go sit down, you must be aching like crazy. How are the cuts?”

He ran his finger down the one on his face. “Not hurting.”

“That’s good. Now shoo,” she said, waving her hands in the direction of the sofa. “Let me feed my man.”

“You’re bossy.”

“I’m learning from the master.” She blew a kiss at him as he sunk into the sofa’s squashy cushions, then pulled the bread from the cupboard, deftly making two pastrami sandwiches. She carried them over, along with two glasses of ice water, before sitting next to him, her thigh skimming his.

“Thank you,” he said softly, as she passed him a plate.

“It’s just a sandwich.”

“I wasn’t talking about the sandwich. I was talking about last night. You coming to the hospital, then taking me home. It means a lot.” He brushed his lips against her cheek.

“It meant a lot to me that you let me.” She gave him a shy smile. “I know Lucas wanted you to come home with him. And Jackson, too.”

“I can’t imagine Jackson looking after anybody.” Griff raised an eyebrow. “There’s probably nothing more than a six pack of beer and a moldy lemon in his fridge. I prefer the pastrami.” He took a bite of the sandwich, letting out a low moan. “God, this is good.” He swallowed and his stomach gurgled