My breasts ache so badly, they’re hot, heavy, the silk covering them an irritant. With shaking hands, I reach up. The fabric tugs against my neck then comes free. It slithers over my skin like a caress.
He sucks in an audible breath as my breasts are exposed. I see myself through his eyes, sitting half-naked in this dim back room, my nipples puckered, my breasts quivering with each shallow breath I take. The vulnerability of it feels naughty, forbidden, and I nearly whimper.
A noise of pure satisfaction leaves him. Not bothering to lift his gaze from my breasts, he reaches out, runs the tips of his fingers over my nipple. I’m so sensitized now the touch sends a bolt of pure, searing lust straight through me. I flinch, clench my teeth to keep still.
He hums, strokes me back and forth as if he owns me. “So pretty.” He grazes me again. “You like that, sweetheart?”
Eyes closed, I bite my lower lip and nod.
I feel him move. The wet flat of his tongue drags over my nipple. My eyes fly open on a strangled cry. He grins up at me, his mouth hovering at my breast. It isn’t his usual cheeky grin but something more wicked. “Mmm. Delicious.”
He takes a step closer, and I swallow convulsively. Gray’s voice lowers. “I wonder where else you taste good. You want to show me, sweets?”
I’m practically panting now. My hair swings as I give my head a hard shake. He leans in, trailing the blunt tip of his finger up the curve of my breast. I nearly yelp when he gives the stiff peak a quick, crude pinch.
His smile is pure male smugness. “Lift up your skirt and show me where you’re wet.”
God. My thighs shake. I want to resist him. I want to do exactly what he says. As if against my will, my hands lower to the hem of my skirt.
Up, up, up. Every inch that slides over my thighs pushes my agitation higher. I can’t take it. I gather up the skirt until it’s around my wait. Cool air caresses my wet skin.
The silence is deafening. There is only the roar of my blood beating and the quiver of my sex, now fully on display. He just stands there, his eyes narrow, his expression almost fierce. I don’t miss the way his broad chest moves with agitated breaths.
I expect him to touch me. He doesn’t. He stares, his gaze fixated on my sex. And it drives all my awareness to my exposed state, to the fact that the small bud of my clit is throbbing.
He licks his bottom lip as if he’s imagining my taste. When he speaks, it’s a raw demand. “Spread wider.”
I do, wide enough that I feel the strain in the tendons between my thighs.
Still he doesn’t touch me, which drives up my need. I want him to so badly now that I bite the inside of my lip, arch my back just a bit to entice him with my breasts.
That bastard simply gives me an evil look. “You’re dying for it, aren’t you?”
“No,” I whisper. A lie.
He knows it. The corner of his mouth curls as his hand drifts to his belt.
Short of breath and aching, I watch him slowly unfasten his belt, the metal buckle clinking in the silence. He doesn’t unzip immediately but runs the heel of his hand down the significant bulge of his erection.
I have to clench my fists so I don’t reach out and cup him.
The hiss of his zipper lowering buzzes in my ears. I only have eyes for his hand, reaching in to pull out that beautiful cock. Long, hard, thick, a bead of precome glistening on the wide head. I know how smooth his skin is. I know his taste. How well he’ll fill me.
“Do you want this?” he asks.
“I’m a good girl,” I whisper.
He wraps his fingers around his wide base, his eyes on me. “Let me put it in you. See how it feels.”
“I don’t know…” I trail off, biting my lip. Pretending that I won’t scream if he doesn’t fuck me soon.
He steps between my legs, and gives his cock a stroke as if he needs that small relief. The sight has my sex clenching. Licking his lower lip, he guides himself to my opening.
“Just the tip, sweetheart.” He nudges against me, slipping along my wetness, as I whimper. His voice goes dark. “Just for a second.”
That thick crown pushes inside. I’m so worked up with lust, I begin to moan and wiggle, ripples of heat running along my body. He shudders, his cock sinking further, stretching me, invading as he groans out, “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna need more.”
Like that, I’m coming around his hard cock as he glides in, deeper, deeper, until fully seated. The orgasm quakes through me so hard and fast that I arch back, my inner walls squeezing him tight.
“Jesus,” he says, holding on to my neck. “Jesus.”
Somehow, I manage to lift my head, catch his eye. He’s no longer Not Gray, but my Gray, looking at me as if I’m beautiful, as if I’m his world. I don’t want to pretend anymore. Maybe he sees the knowledge in my eyes, because he gives me a look that’s part pain, part helpless want. Deep inside me, his cock pulses.
I draw in a breath, touch his cheek. “Gray.”
That’s all he needs. With an impatient sound, he hauls me close, bringing us chest-to-chest, mouth-to-mouth. He kisses me, no longer detached but pure Gray, sweet and seductive and just a little dirty.
“Ivy. Honey.” He fucks like he’s savoring me, holding my upper body against his so that the only movement is his cock pushing in and out. A steady pounding, so good and raw that I shiver.
“More,” I whisper before finding his mouth again.
Without pause, he grabs my ass and backs us up until he’s leaning against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist, and he lifts me with ease, steadily works me up and down his swollen cock. I can only hold on, feel his muscles shift, and the stretch of him inside me.
“Ivy.” He kisses me quick, needy. “I’m close.”
He thrusts up, moving his hips in a little circle, the pressure hitting my swollen clit just right, and my sex clenches, pleasure licking up my thighs, over my skin.
I suck in a breath, my lips coasting over his. “Finish it.”
My ass hits the counter. I’m pinned, spread wide for him as he takes what he needs. He’s beautiful to me like this, his brows drawn tight, his lips parted as if he can’t get enough air.
Our eyes meet, and I’m the one who can’t breathe. Everything seems to pause. There is only Gray, his gaze wide and clear, his cock lodged deep as though it’s found home.
My body tightens like a fist, my heart so tender it hurts. I feel him everywhere, draw in his scent and heat. But it’s that look, as though there will never, ever be anything more important to him than me, that does me in.
This time my orgasm is an almost painful roll of pleasure. Crushing my lips to his shoulder to keep quiet, I cling to him and let go. And he follows me, his mouth on my neck, his fingers digging into my thighs.
He comes with a quiet shudder that wracks his whole body. All the tension leaves him on a sigh.
We’re still for several breaths, then he pulls out and sets me on my feet before tucking himself back into his pants and doing them up. My skirt flutters down as I reach for him. I hold him close, stroke his hair, my face pressed into the warm hollow of his neck. He smells of sex and sweat and whiskey.
I can’t stop kissing his silky skin. “Thank you.”
Gray runs his hands down my back. “For what?”
“You gave me my fantasy.”
“Not a hardship, honey.” Slowly, he kisses his way up my neck, scattering fine shivers in his wake. “In fact, that now rates as one of my top fantasies too.”
I tilt my head to the side to give him better access. “You were good. Maybe you should consider acting.”
His laugh is a snort against my neck. “It wasn’t an act. I meant every word I said.”
I hadn’t meant a single one of my protests. But my body’s response had been real and so intense, I still feel pleasurable little aftershocks. I adore Gray for that, for making me feel safe to play. For wanting to do that with me in the first place.
“I haven’t forgotten about yours, you kno
w,” I say against his temple.
Gray lifts his head. “My fantasy?” He looks blank, but he doesn’t fool me.
“I know what it is.”
“Oh, you do?” Gray smiles yet his tone holds a note of caution, as if he doesn’t want to believe me.
“Yeah, Cupcake, I do.” I kiss the tip of his nose. “You take care of everybody. But who takes care of you? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be cared for.” My palm smooths down his cheek as he stares at me with wide eyes. “That’s my job now, Gray. I’m always going to be the one there for you.”
His throat works on a swallow, and when he speaks, his voice is husky. “How did you know?”
I rub my cheek against his, drawing in his familiar scent. “Because I know you.”
Gray is very still for a breath. Then he eases back. His hands settle on either side of my neck, his fingers so long they bracket my jaw. Gently, as though I’m suddenly breakable, he presses a kiss to my forehead, my cheeks, my closed eyes, the tip of my nose, and finally my lips.
“Every inch, Ivy,” he whispers against them.
I open my eyes and smile. My arms wind around his neck, holding him close. “You said that once, before your last game. But you never really told me what it means.”
Gray’s hands move to my waist. “Before you, it meant I’ll fight for every inch of yardage, never give up until I’m in the end zone. But now?” His blue eyes meet mine. “It means I’ll fight for every inch of you. That I love every inch of you.”
For a second, the air between us goes heavy and still. His words settle on me like a warm blanket. It sinks beneath my skin when he slowly smiles, as if he’s realized what he’s said and likes it.
“I love you, Ivy Mac.” His smile grows and he cups my cheek. “I really do. So much.” A husky laugh leaves him. “It feels good saying that.”
He loves me. No man has ever said those words to me. I’ve never wanted to hear them from anyone else but Gray.
I draw in a tremulous breath, my heart swelling within my chest. “I love you too.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Yeah?”
Standing on my toes, I softly kiss his forehead, his cheeks, eyes, his smiling mouth. “Every inch, Cupcake.”
Gray sighs and hugs me close, his lips skimming along my neck. “I’ve never been in love before.”
I have to smile as I snuggle closer. “Neither have I.”
Gray breathes in deep. “Drew was right. It’s better than football.”
A shocked laugh bursts out of me. “Oh, wow. That’s huge.”
Gray pulls back to look down at me. The love in his eyes comes through crystal clear. “Huge as in, ‘Oh Gray, let me give you a celebratory blow job’ huge?”
I give him a look. “You’re killing the moment, Cupcake.”
But Gray grins, his big hand caressing my side. “It’s turning you on. Just admit it.”
I snicker, leaning into his touch. “Yeah, okay,” I whisper. “A little.” Sexy stranger Gray was exciting, but this is the Gray I love with all I am.
He chuckles low, contented, and gently cups my breast. “I knew it.” He palms me, moving in a slow circle. “Let’s go home, and we can celebrate properly.”
I’m about to agree when he hits a spot that is tender. “Ow, careful.”
Gray frowns. “That hurt you?”
“Yeah, it’s a little sore.”
His face grows eerily blank as he gently touches the spot, then draws a sharp breath. “What the fuck?”
“What?” I ask, alarmed.
“This,” Gray hisses, wrenching my shirt further down. With a grim look, he bends close and prods at my breast. “This…lump.” The word comes out like a curse.
Frowning, I bat his hand away and feel for myself. Okay, there’s a small lump on the fleshy side of my breast. “Huh. I’ve never noticed that.”
“Never noticed?” he cries in outrage. “Jesus, Ivy. Don’t you check your breasts?”
Normally I’d laugh, never expecting a guy to even know about that. But this is Gray. He’s seen his mom die from breast cancer. So I keep my voice low, calm. “Of course I do. This is new.”
“New?” He presses his fingers to his eyes. “Fuck. Fuck.” His hand falls and he levels me a blue-eyed glare. “You have to get it checked. Now.”
“I can’t go now. It’s late at night—”
“We’ll go to a clinic.” He paws at my breast again, moving it this way and that, angrily prodding it as if he can will the lump away.
“Gray,” I snap, pushing at his hand and trying pull up my shirt. “Would you stop?”
“No.” He’s beside himself, his voice almost shrill. “Are you even listening to me? You need to get this checked.”
My temper breaks. “Calm the fuck down. Someone is going to come in here any second.”
As if timed, there’s a knock on the door and a tentative, “Uh, is everything okay in there?”
“Fine,” I shout, just as Gray yells, “Go away.”
“Not helping,” I snarl at Gray. But the distraction lets me get my top up and my breasts covered.
“I give a fuck what that guy out there thinks,” Gray snaps back. “You’re not taking this seriously. You have a lump.” He’s shouting now. “A goddamn lump. Do you even care?”
I’ve never seen him like this. His skin is ashy, his eyes wide and wild. He’s shaking so hard now, I’m afraid for his health. “Gray, baby, you need to calm down. It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay,” he bellows. “You have a lump. Fuck.” Gray stumbles back, his hip hitting a shelf and sending brooms clattering to the floor like matchsticks. “Fuck! I can’t…” He grabs the ends of his hair and clutches them as he stumbles backward to the door. “Can’t breathe.”
“Gray!”
But he’s wrenching the door open. “I can’t do this again.”
Before I can say another word, he flees. Gone so fast, I swear I feel the air stir. And I’m left alone, wondering what the hell just happened.
Twenty-Five
Ivy
It’s scary how quickly life can turn to shit. One second, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. The next, your head is spinning and your heart is a bleeding wound within your chest. Thirteen hours after Gray’s complete meltdown, I’m still reeling. And I can’t find him. He’s just gone.
Though hurt at Gray’s abandonment, I did as he asked. I’d swallowed back the urge to cry or rant and went to see the on-call doctor. One exam and a few tests later, I have my answers and am free to walk out of the clinic on legs that feel wooden and uncoordinated.
Standing on the sidewalk, I stare blankly at the parking lot. My brain has gone on vacation or something, because I can’t seem to process what I’ve been told. The results were not what I’d expected, not at all. In the distance, my little pink Fiat shines like a beacon. I focus on it, trying to bring my thoughts to order. Gray. I need to find him. I need him.
Hot rage surges up my throat, and I grind my teeth against the urge to scream. He left me. Ran away. And I know why, I do. It doesn’t stop the anger. Especially now.
I look down at the papers I’m clutching. My hand shakes a little, and I draw in a deep breath of cold December air.
Jamming the papers in my purse, I fish out my phone. The shaking has stopped, replaced by a steely determination that makes my muscles strain. Dialing, I start striding to my car.
Drew answers on the third ring.
“It’s Ivy.” My throat feels like raw meat. “I can’t find Gray.”
It’s hard telling Drew the whole, shitty story. But he needs to know why Gray took off so he can help me track him down.
“Hell,” Drew says when I finish. “I think I know where he might have gone. Let me talk to him, okay?”
“You do that.” It amazes me how calm I sound. When inside, I’m falling apart.
“Ivy.” Drew hesitates. “You have to understand—”
“I do,” I cut in. “Doesn’t make
it right.”
“No,” he agrees slowly.
I sigh, wrenching open my car door. “Just let me know when you find him. I…” My voice almost breaks. I keep it together with sheer force of will. “I need to talk to him.”
“Will do,” Drew says quietly. Then hangs up.
Sitting in the little car that still carries Gray’s scent, I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel. My nails dig into the puffy, pink grips as my breathing accelerates. I won’t cry. I won’t. But a sob breaks free.
I cry myself dry in the car where it all began.
* * *
Gray
I’ve got to go back. I need Ivy, and Ivy needs me. But I can’t seem to make myself move. I’ve been working out for hours, until my body gave out on me. Sitting on the floor of the team-gym showers isn’t productive, but the scent of bleach and deodorant is familiar. Safe.
It’s quiet now, the gym long since closed. So I sit, curled up in a corner, asking myself what the fuck I’m doing. No answers come. Only this sick, fucked-up fear and the need to curl in on myself and shut everything out.
Some distant voice in my head tells me I’m losing my shit in a big, bad way. On the field, I’m a fighter. I never give up. I have got to get my head in this. But everything is silent, numb.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
I jump at the voice. My head is heavy as a rock when I lift it to find Drew in the doorway. I can’t seem to say a word. His cast thuds on the floor as he walks over. Slowly, he lowers himself next to me, his broken leg stretched out in front of him.
He doesn’t say anything, just sits close enough to press his shoulder against mine. And I remember. The night his parents died, I’d hunted him down, found him in the locker room of his school gym. I’d sat with him as he quietly lost it on my shoulder.
The memory works like a ball snap. All the terror and panic I’d been holding down rushes up. “Fuck,” I choke out, pressing my fists against my forehead as I bring my knees to my chest. “Fuck.”
Drew’s shoulder pushes harder against mine. “What’s going on, Gray?”
There’s a clump of pain inside my throat the size of a baseball. I push past it. “Ivy. She had a lump…” I take a harsh breath. “On her… And I remembered Mom. When she told me about the lump and how she— Fuck.”
The Friend Zone Page 23
