All In (Cedar Mountain University #2) (13 page)

It’s barely cracking dawn the next morning, as I sit in the
passenger seat of Cole’s car. The heat from the to-go order of French toast,
from the Grease Spoon, is seeping through my jeans. Tapping my fingers idly
along the top of the box I wonder again, for the hundredth time that morning,
what in the hell I’m doing.

I’m not quite certain that showing up at his door at the ass
-
crack
-
of
-
dawn the morning after a party was the best way to start my
apology.

I’m hoping the French toast will help smooth the way because I
couldn’t wait any longer to see him and try to explain myself.

Since I’d left my car at the fraternity last night, Cole agreed to
drive me, even though dragging him out of bed had been somewhat of a challenge.
I’d heard him coming back into the apartment not long after I’d left Delaney in
her room, then I’d plugged my headphones into my iPod and fallen asleep
listening to The Maine.

“Do they leave the front door unlocked?” Shit, I should have
planned this better. Or, you know, at all.

“Grace, how the fuck would I know? I agreed to drive you over here.
Hell, I even agreed to stop for the freaking food which took for-fucking-ever.
Getting in the damn door is your problem. I’m dropping your ass off and going
back to crawl into bed with Delaney. It’s way too early for this shit.”

Eyes wide I study him. “Wow. Your language seriously goes downhill
when you’re grumpy.”

Cole grunts. “I’m not fucking grumpy.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out slowly. “If you say so.”

He turns the car onto fraternity row, slowing down as we pull up in
front of the right house. The door is cracked open. Guess that answers that
question. When the car has come to a complete stop I lean over and give Cole a
smacking kiss on his check. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Grace—” He looks uncertain for a second. “Thank you for last
night.”

Smiling softly I tell him, “For the record, she’d already come to
the conclusion that she shouldn’t shut you out all on her own.”

He nods his head. “I just can’t wait for this fucking month to be
over.”

“Agreed.” I slide out of the car, jogging up the stairs to hurry
through the early morning chill as quickly as I can. I push through the open
door and come up short. There is someone asleep face down in the entryway.

At least I hope they’re asleep.

Given the size of said person I’m pretty certain they’re male. I
have to step over them to get to the stairs, wincing slightly when I accidently
step on their arm. Pausing for just a moment I watch to see if
he’s
going to move.

Nothing happens.

But I can see the very faint rise and fall of their back so I at
least know
he’s
alive.

I hurry up the stairs, maneuvering around various empty red cups as
I make my way down to Jacob’s room. I stop at the door, one hand on the knob,
and pull in a deep breath. The bag of takeout suddenly feels like it weighs a
million pounds in my hand.

This was such a stupid idea.

Groaning, I turn the knob and step into the room.

With the shades drawn, and the lamp off, I can just barely make out
the silhouettes of his furniture. Lucky for me there isn’t a lot to contend
with, so I don’t bump into anything as I make my way over to the bed. Setting
the food on the nightstand, my eyes adjust enough that I can see that Jacob is
still sound asleep. And, thank you Jesus, he isn’t wearing a shirt.

Lying on his side facing me, with one arm tucked under his head,
the muscles in his chest and abs are stretched tight. I’m happy to note they
are just as beautiful this time around as they were the last time I saw them.
Maybe even more so since this time I’m one hundred percent sober.

The sheet is laying low enough on his hips that I can see the
slight V his muscles make, and low enough to make me pretty damn certain that
Jacob Ross is completely naked.

Well, what a lovely way to start my day.

Leaning over, I grab the edge of the sheet, incredibly careful not
to touch him even though there is nothing I can think of at the moment that I’d
like to do more, and start to pull it up over his hips. A small shriek escapes
my lips when one of his large hands circles around my wrist, stopping me.
Glancing up, my eyes lock on his, which are still heavy with sleep and only
half open.

“Hi.” Brilliant, Grace. Just brilliant.

“You’re about to get a show.” His voice is low, deepened with
sleep, and incredibly sexy.

“I’m sure it would be a good one, but I was pulling the sheet up
and not down.”

His mouth kicks up on one side, that delectable dimple flashing.
“That’s a little disappointing.”

“It is.” I agree wholeheartedly.

“What are you doing here this early?”

I lick my lips. “I told you I wanted to see you today. It’s today.
So here I am.”

“Yes, here you are.” I take a couple steps back when he sits up in
the bed, thankfully pulling the sheet across his lap.

Or maybe not so thankfully.

Raising one brow he says, “You’re either going to turn around for a
minute, or things are going to get a lot more interesting.”

Laughing, I spin around to face his door. “That doesn’t inspire me
to give your privacy, Jacob.” In fact, I can’t help but turn my head so I can
sneak a peek, finding that he hasn’t moved at all, but is studying me instead.
Shooting him a smile I turn back around to face him. “I think,” I say slowly as
I move toward the bed. “That you should sit there just like that for a few more
minutes.”

I stop at the edge of the bed, reaching up I run my thumb over his
bottom lip, smiling again at his small groan that suddenly fills the space
between us.

“You’re playing with fire, Pixie.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, still only touching him with the pad
of my thumb. “That’s good. It’s fucking cold out there this morning. I could
use the heat.”

I drag my thumb across his lip again. Then, while keeping my eyes
on his, I lean forward enough so that my lips can brush against his. Softly,
teasingly, I let them rest there, unmoving, with our eyes still locked. I run a
hand down the side of his neck, over his shoulder and then down the length of
his torso, delighting in the shiver that runs across his body at my touch. My
lips tilt up in a smile, moving slightly against his, still just the barest
hint of contact.
 

“What are you doing?” He whispers.

“I have no idea, but it’s sure as hell fun.” I whisper back. Then I
move in, sliding my mouth more firmly against his. I trail my other hand up the
back of his neck, my fingering skimming over the skin before sinking into his
hair.

It only takes him a second to get into the spirit of things, his
hands moving to rest on my hips, pulling me closer to him as we delve deeper
into each other. It’s intoxicating, the way he makes me feel. Like a drug, it
moves through my body, seeping into my bones.

I have to draw on every ounce of willpower I have to let this
moment go, to pull away from him. His eyes are still closed, his lips wet from
mine.

It is perhaps one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

“I brought you French toast, so this time when I turn around you
should actually put some pants on.”

I face the door, listening to the rustle of him moving out of the
bed, padding across the floor and grabbing something out of his dresser. I can
picture him. I have a damn good imagination, and I can perfectly imagine what
he looks like.

“It’s safe.”

“I doubt that.” I mutter, turning back to face him. He’s pulled on
a pair of black athletic shorts that hang low on his hips, and no shirt.

“You seemed to enjoy the view.” He says in answer to my questioning
look.

I hand him his Styrofoam container, before opening my own and
sitting down on the bed. The bed that is still warm from his body.

“What are you doing here so early, Grace?”

Swallowing, I stab another piece of my pancakes. “I want to try and
explain what happened last night.”

He is silent for just a moment. “You left with him.”

“I did.” I stab another piece of pancake, but I still don’t take
the bite. “Delaney, she—” I shake my head. Shit, I can’t tell him. Even though
she told me I could. “I can’t tell you. She told me I could, but only because
she knew I left with Grant and she wanted to help, but I can’t tell you. Just
know that I had to get home. I let her down once before, so I couldn’t now. I
just couldn’t, and I couldn’t wait, and Grant was the fastest way for me to get
there.” I look up. “But it was just a ride. An incredibly uncomfortable,
awkward ride.” I take one long deep breath. “Please tell me I didn’t fuck this
up before we even really got started. Because I’ll probably cry. And I promise
that isn’t something you want to see. I’m an ugly crier, Jacob. A horribly ugly
crier.”

I shove the pieces of pancake in my mouth, more so I’ll stop
babbling like a lunatic than anything else. He looks so intense as he studies
me, and I want to squirm under his gaze. I run my fingers through my hair,
tucking and untucking one strand from behind my ear while I wait for him to say
or do something. Anything.

After what I swear feels like ten years of silence he says, “She’s
lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Ha! I have my moments. They aren’t always pretty. Eat your French
toast, Jacob, so my groveling can be complete and I’ll feel better.”

He smirked, “I thought the wake-up call was you groveling.”

“That was just an added bonus.” I lick some syrup off my thumb
before taking another bite. “A very lovely added bonus.”

“I think all your groveling should start that way.”

“Don’t get used to it, smart guy, I don’t plan to be doing it again
anytime soon.”

“Well that’s just a damn shame.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Eat your breakfast.”

We’re silent for a few minutes, both of us eating our somewhat
lukewarm breakfast. But it’s not an uncomfortable silence, and even though he
didn’t actually say it, I know he understands why I left with Grant last night.

I’m only partially distracted by the glory of his half naked body
sitting next to mine.

“I thought we could hang out today.” I say slowly. “Low key and
just the two of us?”

“I’d love to.” Jacob says,
but
the
tone of his voice indicates that hanging together today isn’t in the cards.
“But I have to fly out in a few hours to attend my father’s charity event.”

Hmm. I mean, I know that Mark Ross is his father. Mark Ross who is
a legend in the NFL, the same father that he had been compared to on a daily
basis when he was playing football. I guess I just never really connected what
having Mark Ross for a father might include.

“Don’t you have class Monday?”

“Yeah, this is just an overnight trip. It’s in Charleston so it is
a short flight. I’d much rather stay here and be lazy with you. Explore this
groveling bit a little more.”

“I want to say it sucks, but you’re going to a charity event so me
being bummed that you can’t stay here and make out with me because you’re
raising money for—“

“To support an inner city sports program that help keep kids off
the streets and hopefully out of gangs. It’s a really great program actually
.
They have to maintain their grades in order to play, and the
program provides tutors, and they have a place set up where the kids can go and
use the computer for school since a lot of them don’t have computer access at
home.”

“Shit, now I really feel bad.”

Jacob chuckles softly. “I promise half the kids that are going to
be there tonight, would probably much rather be home making out with a girl.”

I shove another bite of pancake in my mouth because otherwise I’m
pretty sure my lips are going to drop into a pout.

“You could come with me.”

My head jerks up. “What?”

Smiling he repeats himself. “Come with me.”

“I, um, don’t have a plane ticket.”

“I’ll get you one.”

“Or a dress, or whatever I would need to wear to a formal charity
event thing.”

“It’s a barbeque. No formal wear required.”

Shit. “I, ah, I’d hate to spring a last minute guest on your
father.”

“I promise, other than berating me for not playing football anymore
or the obligatory father/son publicity photo, my father isn’t going to
acknowledge my presence.” He stands up, gathering the trash from our breakfast,
and stack it on top of his dresser next to the lone picture. “You’d actually be
doing me a favor, Grace. I hate these things.”

He looks so excited with the prospect that I can’t say anything
but, “All right. Let’s get me a ticket.”