The Terms 2

by Ruby Rowe

  “I love you, baby. Thank you for saying yes.”

  Still straddling him, I sit up and grin.

  “Oh, like your spoiled butt would give me a choice.” His eyes widen before he grabs my waist. He tickles me hard, and I squeal loudly.

  “You’re getting a punishment now for sure.” I squeal again, and his laughter warms my heart. Other than the day Liam was born, I’ve never been happier.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Sasha

  I knock on Greyson’s bedroom door and gnaw on my lip while I wait for him to answer. This is the sixth time I’ve approached his room and the first time I’ve gotten the nerve to knock.

  I hear him come to the door, but it remains closed.

  “Greyson, I need to talk to you.”

  Opening his door, he tilts his head to each shoulder, popping his neck. His blond hair is sticking out in different directions, like he’s ran his hands through it, and I have the urge to touch it. He’s avoiding eye contact with me, and I don’t understand what changed between us.

  “What do you need?”

  “That’s what you have to say? We haven’t spoken for three days, so can you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, Sasha. I’m trying to sort some shit out.”

  “Maybe I could help. Will you come talk to me in the living room?” I coax him with a smile.

  “All right.” He follows me, and we both sit on the couch. Facing him, I rest my bended leg on the cushion. As he tents his fingers at his stomach, he lets his head fall back.

  “Did my happiness over our time at the cabin scare you off?”

  “That’s not it.” He stares above him, so I use the moment to admire him in the grey athletic shorts and white t-shirt he changed into after he came home from work.

  “Was our kiss bad? I mean, did it make you realize I’m just one of the guys?” I poke his arm, needing to lighten the mood.

  Leaving his head on the cushion, he turns it and looks at me. Reaching his hand out, he hooks a piece of my hair around his finger.

  “If you’re a dude, then I’ve developed a vagina allergy, too, because that kiss was fucking amazing.”

  I snicker. “I knew you were still in there. Where have you been the last few days?”

  “Trying to stay away from you.” Sighing, he lets go of my hair and drops his hand to the couch.

  “My sister told you to leave me alone, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, but she had a right to.”

  “I’m an adult. She needs to butt out of my business.”

  “She cares, Sasha, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Grabbing his hand, I thread our fingers.

  “I’ve never felt more alive as I did when you kissed me, and all I’ve thought about since is how I want you to do it again.”

  “I can’t be selfish any longer.”

  “I give you my permission.” Climbing across the couch, I force myself onto his lap. I straddle him and place his hands on my hips. He squeezes them, and a heady sound rumbles from his chest. “I’m asking you to kiss me. That is if you want to.”

  “Fuck, you have no idea how bad I want to.” Grabbing the back of my head, he pulls me to him and kisses me passionately. Our tongues collide, and the exhilarating sensations I’ve craved for days roll over my body.

  He gets hard beneath me, and I start to freeze up, but I manage to stop the knee-jerk reaction. No, I want Greyson. I want to feel his touch and taste his mouth.

  Coming up for air, he nips at my bottom lip and groans. I move his hand over the top of my shirt, but he doesn’t respond. He’s staring at my breasts, growing even harder beneath me.

  He glances up. “Are you sure?”

  “I trust you, and I want you to touch me.” Without further hesitation, he squeezes my breast and buries his face against my neck. Sucking and nipping, he trails kisses around to the front of my throat. My head falls back, giving him room to explore.

  Grabbing the bottom of my top, he pulls it over my head and unhooks my bra in only a second. He tosses it aside and palms both my breasts, causing me to whimper.

  “Your tits are sensational.” He holds them as if he’s feeling the weight of them. His tongue swirls around my nipple before he sucks on it, and experiencing a new depth of pleasure, I rub against his erection, the act uncontrollable and spine-tingling.

  His pelvis lifts to meet mine, too, and I believe I may come from the friction alone.

  “I need more,” I mutter. In a swift move, he loops an arm around my waist and lays me over on my back. He grips the arm of the couch as he sucks on my nipple and grazes his fingers down my stomach.

  I flinch, so he tilts his eyes up at me. “Are you OK?”

  “Yes.”

  Out of breath, he looks down at my body, and the corner of his mouth lifts.

  “I still don’t see your other tattoo. Does that mean it’s farther south?” Biting my lip, I lower one side of my leggings to show him the outlined tiny heart on my pelvis. “I like it, but I expected something more colorful from you.”

  “Once I’ve … you know, reached that point of trust again, I’ll finish it. It will mean I’m healing. My hope is that I can add one man’s name inside it and feel confident that he’s the only man who will ever see it.”

  He traces the heart as he faintly kisses my lips, and I’m ready to take another step with him. I’m desperate to feel his fingers inside me.

  “Please, touch me.” Dipping his hand into my leggings and panties, he sinks his fingers inside me. His eyes snap shut as he exhales a hiss.

  “So fucking perfect.” My first reaction is to resist, so my muscles squeeze, and as if he senses my tension, he presses gentle kisses to my chest. My breathing is strangled as I attempt to calm myself. You trust him, Sasha. You can handle this.

  As his fingers move in and out of me gingerly, the tingling sensations dance along my nerve endings, the feeling more intense than I’ve ever experienced. I abandon all fear and allow the pleasure to take hold.

  “You’re dripping wet. I can’t take it, Ladybug. Come on my fingers.”

  The pumping of his hand and his naughty words push me over the cusp, and I dive head first into a pool of pleasure. My nails dig into his bicep and waist as my body spasms beneath his. The colors behind my eyes are a psychedelic trip, an unparalleled high.

  Dropping onto me, he buries his face at my neck, and I jerk my head back to find room for more breaths. His hand skims along my curves and back up again.

  “Make love to me,” I whisper.

  “Now that you’re sober, that’s sacred, Sasha. Save it for someone special.”

  Grabbing his shoulders, I push him upward to lift his head and chest.

  “You’re special to me.”

  “Don’t forget weird.” Climbing off me, he sits on the couch.

  “I’m being serious. I couldn’t give my body to anyone else, and I don’t want to leave you sexually frustrated,” I add.

  “It won’t be the first or last time.”

  Self-conscious that I’m partly naked, I cross my arms and sit up to grab my shirt.

  “That was amazing. The colors I saw were like a bag of Skittles.”

  He shakes his head and drags his gaze away from my breasts before I pull my shirt over my head.

  “I’m surprised you have teeth left after all the sugar you consume.”

  “Speaking of sugar, do you want some tea? I made more today. We could junk out and watch our show. That always makes me feel better.”

  “Sure.”

  I brush the side of his hair with my fingers.

  “If you’re upset about Camilla, please don’t be. She forgets I’m an adult. I’m often naïve, but not about what’s happening between us. Remember, I’m Podunk and you’re Fiji. We’re not of the same caliber, and I can accept that.”

  Grabbing my hands, he squeezes them between his.

  “That’s bullshit.”

 
; “Are you saying your family would accept me?” His eyes avert to the floor. “That’s what I thought.” Pulling my hands free, I use my fingers to lift his mouth into a smile. “Now, stop frowning and help me get the snacks.”

  “You’re a class act, Sasha. Far better than the bitches I’ve been subjected to all my life.”

  Ellis

  “Ellis, what a pleasant surprise,” Uncle Rich says in his Texas accent after opening the door of his home. His ranch in Evergreen sits on a sprawling 450 acres.

  He met my aunt Mary Ann while in Texas on business, and once they married, he began working for her father’s oil company. He could never call Texas home, though, and it’s why he has the ranch here, where Lawrence and Greyson were raised.

  “Hi, Uncle Rich. Do you have time to discuss something with me?”

  “I do, but for you, I’d make time regardless. It’s a nice day out. What do you say we sit on the patio?”

  “Sounds good.” I follow him through the house and out the back door. For as far as you can see, it’s pasture and fencing. The day’s a little warm for jeans and a button-up shirt, so I roll up my sleeves after I take a seat at the table.

  “You never drop in on a weekday like this. Is something wrong?”

  “Maybe. It’s about Greyson.”

  As Rich sit’s up straighter, I eye his wide silver belt buckle. His forehead wrinkles, and he rubs his thumb and finger together nervously.

  “Please tell me he’s not back on drugs.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Oh, what a relief. He’s not been himself lately.”

  “I agree, and I believe it’s because of his relationship with Whitney Peterson, or lack thereof.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Uncle Rich, you must know he has no desire to marry her.”

  Looking out over the fields, he taps his fingers on the arm of his chair.

  “I’m aware, but sometimes we have to do things that benefit our family. This union is about something much greater than any of us individually.”

  “From the research I’ve done, Gant-Peterson is doing fine without Greyson’s help. You already have Lawrence on board.”

  “I need Greyson because his grandfather said so before his death. It was his dying wish that Greyson marry the Peterson girl.”

  “I mean no disrespect, Uncle Rich, but I believe your son’s happiness should come before Mr. Gant’s wishes.”

  “Ellis, there’s more to it than that.”

  “Then explain it to me. I’ve been watching Greyson change for some time now. He’s headed backward, and the last thing anyone wants is for him to turn to drugs again.”

  Pulling a lighter and cigar from his shirt pocket, he cuts off the end and lights it. The smoke from it floats up to the umbrella that’s shading us from the hot sun.

  “I’ll tell you, but it stays between us. Maybe you can help me get my son hitched.” Inhaling the cigar, he blows out the smoke again.

  “Greyson believes all his grandfather’s wealth was passed on to his mother and me, but there are two trusts from his estate that were not contained in the will. Greyson doesn’t know about them. One is for him, and the other is for me, and they are each worth seventy-five million.”

  “Each?” I ask.

  “Yep, and the only way we get them is if he’s married to Whitney at the age of thirty-five. At that time, the money will be disbursed to us.”

  “So, you don’t get your share, either, if he doesn’t marry her?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Damn. Why would Mr. Gant do that?”

  “He was old-fashioned, and he lived and breathed oil. I’m not his flesh and blood, but the boys are. He wanted to ensure they carry on the business after we’re both gone.”

  “I don’t understand why you’ve kept this from Greyson.”

  “Lawrence received his trust with no stipulations at the time of Orson’s death since he was already working with us. We’ve been keeping that information from Greyson.

  “I mean, how would you feel if you found out your grandfather left you and Tony money, but the only way you received yours was if you married the woman he chose? Not too fair if you ask me, but that was Orson Gant.”

  While processing the unbelievable news, I stare out at the pasture again and the specks of color from the cattle in the distance.

  “With that much money at stake for the both of you, I’m surprised you haven’t told Greyson.”

  “Mary Ann won’t let me. She’s all about feelings, so she thinks it would devastate Greyson to know Lawrence got an inheritance free and clear. I think Orson did it to get back at Greyson for not coming to work for us like his brother did.”

  “He might think his freedom is worth seventy-five million.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. Whitney’s been pressing him hard, but it’s not working.”

  “She knows about the money?”

  “Her father told her. We knew the dollar signs would pressure her to seal the deal. Our hope has always been that if they marry, Greyson may decide to join the company, too.”

  “That’s definitely not going to happen. He’s built a successful business on his own.”

  “Are you seeing the pickle I’m in?”

  “Yeah, and I’m seeing the one I’m in now. You have to tell him. I can’t keep a secret like this from him.”

  “Whitney said he’s putting a ring on her finger this week. We’ll rush the wedding along, and then when he’s thirty-five, he’ll get the trust. We’ll make him think Lawrence got his inheritance then, too, and the secret will be dead and buried.”

  “No, you have to tell him or I will.”

  “I thought you’d understand, considering the amount of money on the table. I was hoping you would nudge him to hurry this wedding up.”

  Standing from my chair, I shove it under the table.

  “Then I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did, and I see you’re not the man I thought you were, either. Goodbye, Ron.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Greyson

  “I can’t believe you wanted to do this in a damn grocery store parking lot,” Whitney snaps as she sits down in my vehicle.

  In one second of hearing her annoying, pissy voice, my ears feel hot, and my vision clouds. I also imagine myself doing forty to life behind bars.

  Shifting to face me better, she tosses her hair back. I notice she’s keeping it longer and blonder these days. I hold out the small bag from the jewelry store.

  “Here’s my leash. I’ll marry you under three conditions.” Rolling her eyes, she swipes the bag from me and looks inside for the ring box.

  “Let’s hear them,” she says rudely.

  “One, I’m not proposing. You can put that ring on your own damn finger. Two, you better never have a man in my bed. Do that shit elsewhere. Three, we’re not having children.”

  “Greyson, you know I’ve always wanted babies.”

  “Not happenin’. I’m not raising kids in a loveless, dysfunctional marriage.”

  Pressing her palms to her face, Whitney bursts into tears. Fucking hell.

  “Do you think I want to be in a loveless marriage any more than you do?” she asks, jerking her hands down to scowl at me.

  “Uh, yeah, seeing how you snatched that bag from me.”

  “I have the same pressure from my family as you do from yours. Probably more so since my father didn’t have a son. He’s counting on me marrying you so that Gant-Peterson Oil stays half Peterson once he’s gone. That requires us having children, Greyson.”

  “How did we get to this place?”

  “We got here from you not accepting the inevitable like I did.”

  Leaning my head back against the seat, I turn it toward her.

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  “Who?”

  “Sebastian. I hear the rumors.”

  Shaking her head, she digs for a tissue in her purse.

  “It doesn�
��t matter how I feel about him.”

  “It should. We could take a stand together. We’ll sit down our parents and tell them we’re not getting married. End of story. Leave us the hell alone.”

  “Daddy has given me everything. I’m not breaking my promise to him.” Wiping the last of her tears, she sits up straight. “OK, so to speed this along, we’re going to have an engagement party at your parents’ ranch in one month. There’s no way I could get a venue that fast.

  “However, I did get us a cancellation for the wedding venue. It’s in October, and I’ll keep you up to date with emails.” Pulling the ring box out, she opens it. “This isn’t my fairytale engagement, but I’m sure the wedding will be spectacular.”

  “Get out of my car, and please get some professional help before the ceremony.”

  “You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I have to put up with you for the next fifty years.”

  “Oh, please. I’m sure you’ll smother me in my sleep long before then. I can dream, anyway!” I yell as she slams my door. “My fucking life!” I scream before I pound my fist on the steering wheel.

  Sasha

  After Greyson touched me on the couch, we spent several days enjoying each other’s company, but then he began to withdraw again.

  He’s been distant for over a week now. A conversation every couple of days is all we share. There have been no laughs and absolutely no touching.

  I do catch him watching me from the living room or at work. His eyes give away his feelings, but it doesn’t matter if he isn’t acting on them. I guess he wised up and saw the truth, too; we’re from two different planets.

  I’m heating up some dinner when the doorbell startles me. Who could that be? I wipe my hands on a towel and stroll to it. Through the peephole, I see her. Shit, it’s Whitney. I debate on not answering since Greyson’s not home, but the curiosity over what she’s doing here gets the best of me.

  “Hi,” I say once I open the door.

  “Hi, I’m Whitney.”