Grey_The Infatuation

by Allison White

  He turns around and pins me with a nervous smile. “Oh, you’re here. Come in, babe. Have a seat. Breakfast should be finished soon.” He turns around and tries to make it seem like he didn’t just fail at flipping a pancake. A pancake that I can see clear as day, on the ground.

  “I saw that,” I say and glance at the floor, putting my hands behind my back.

  He scoffs while bending down, grabbing the pancake, and tossing it in the garbage bin. “You saw nothing.” He leans on the granite counter and watches me walk over and sit on one of the black kitchen stools.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry about the mistake, Chef Grey,” I tease and laugh when his eyes widen and a blush colors his cheeks.

  “Shut up,” is all he says and pouts. “You should be grateful for what I made you. I slaved over this stove all morning, and all I get is mocking. It’s just not right.” I laugh and watch as he turns around and shuffles about, transferring the food onto a plate.

  “I’m sorry. Did you go to the store for all of us?” I ask, gesturing to the food.

  He nods. “Yep. Woke up super early to make this fantastic breakfast for you.”

  Oh, damn it. I’m totally in love with this man.

  He turns around and gives me my plate. I try not to scrunch up my face when I look at the overly cooked bacon, the droopy eggs, and the somehow moist pancake. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have a range of cooking other than macaroni and cheese…

  “Well? Go ahead. Eat.” He pushes the plate toward me, and I unwittingly back up. He looks at me skeptically. “What’s wrong? Are you, like, a vegetarian? Is it horrible I never even asked before…?”

  “No, it’s—I’ll eat now.” I tap his nose, and he bats his eyelashes. I smile at him, but then I look at the plate. Here goes nothing. I scoop some eggs onto the fork and slowly open my mouth. It is mere inches from my mouth when my phone goes off.

  “Oh, thank God!” I exclaim without thinking. “Shit,” I mutter, looking over to find him pouting his lips and blinking sadly, like I just crushed his hopes and dreams. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this.” I grab the phone and peck his lips.

  “I’m a great chef,” he mumbles to himself as I slip out onto the back patio.

  I shake my head at him and quickly answer the phone without looking at the caller I.D. “Hello?”

  “Olivia Renee Westerfield, where are you?” my mother’s icy voice barks.

  I freeze for a second. I completely forgot about her. “Oh, hello, Mother,” I say nervously. “I’m at the cabin. Why?”

  She scoffs and sneers, “Why? Because you are supposed to be home with your family. Not off doing God knows what with that…that scoundrel!”

  “He’s not a scoundrel, Mother.” She is so dramatic.

  “He is!” she shouts; I cringe. “That boy has an illegal past,” she says, “a past that could very well catch up to him, and I do not want you to be near him when it does.”

  “We’re not all innocent, Mother.” I bite my lip and let out a shuddering breath. “Listen, I love him. I know you don’t like him or think he’s right for me, but you have to at least trust that I know what I’m doing.”

  “But you don’t, Olivia!” she snaps, and I know she’s shaking a fist, like she does whenever she’s frustrated, whenever she doesn’t get her way. “You’re just too blinded by his leather jacket and that foolish feeling that he is ‘the one’ to realize he will screw you over. Listen to me when I say he will only distract you more than he already has—”

  “Mother,” I say firmly, cutting her off. “I love him. You may not think that I have the best judgment, but I know him. And I know my feelings for him are too great for me to walk away now. He’s got a hold on me, and I have a hold on him. We’re much more than you think we are. He isn’t a phase or a distraction.” I turn to the window and laugh, finding him watching me intently. When I catch him watching, he makes a funny face, and I have to look at the lake to keep from laughing again. “He’s my Grey, my middle ground…and I don’t want to hear anymore protesting from you, Mother. You’ll just have to hold it in. For now, I have to get back to my man.”

  “Olivia!” she gasps.

  “Goodbye, Mother.” I hang up the phone and let out a relieved sigh. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. But I know she’ll continue to bash Grey and try to persuade me from my feelings. It’s just how she is. At least I got to say my piece, and now she knows how I really truly feel about the man I love so deeply; it’s almost embarrassing. I laugh to myself and shake my head.

  “The dragon sedated yet?”

  Grey pushes the door and comes out.

  “I’m not even going to defend her, so I’ll just say yes.”

  “That was so hot.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his chest. I arch an eyebrow when he grabs my ass and picks me up. I laugh his name as he walks backward and sets me on the railing overlooking the forest line and the lake.

  “Me screaming is hot?” I raise my eyebrows.

  He nods. “Hell yeah, but—” He skims his fingers under my dress. I suck in a breath and briefly close my eyes because of his suggestive touching. When I look into his eyes, they have grown dark, and he whispers, “You screaming my name would be even hotter…”

  I begin to tell him that we should wait awhile, but then I look into his big black eyes and the smile washing over his face and think: Why wait when all I want in this moment is him? I wrap my arms around him and say, “Make me forget about her?”

  His eyes alight, he chuckles before nodding. “Okay.” I laugh too and squeal when he presses into me and conquers my mouth with his.

  ***

  I wake up in the middle of the night for no reason at all. I sit up in the bed and groggily rub my eyes. A smile rests on my lips, basking in the memory of Grey hovering over me, kissing me, and making me feel whole and complete. I wonder why we hadn’t started having sex before. It’s amazing.

  Gently, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and moan at the cramp pinching my lower region. Admittedly, it is still a little sore, but I felt some pleasure this time. And boy am I ready to feel all the pleasure the next time.

  I am slow and careful as I walk down the stairs, the bedsheet still wrapped around me. I even use the walls for minimal support.

  When I reach the kitchen, I find Grey on the phone. Something makes me step back and watch him. His voice is low and harsh. It sends a chill down my spine.

  “Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone…I will not hesitate to rip your fucking…call me again one more fucking time, and I swear I will—”

  “Grey.” I step in the room, and he turns to me with a scowl, but it isn’t directed to me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not affected by his bone-chilling expression. He turns and curses low into the receiver. I pad over to him the same time he hangs up and turns around to wrap his arms around me. “Is there something wrong? Who was that?”

  “Nobody,” he tells me in a tone to let it go, but I won’t. He threatened that person, and he didn’t sound like he was joking. “I see that look in your eye, Liv. It was nothing. Let’s go back to bed, hmmm?”

  “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” I frown and stand my ground despite him pressing against me. I thought we’ve connected. We’re officially together now. Meaning he can tell me if anything is upsetting him. I’m sure he’d want me to tell him if anything were upsetting me. So why can’t this go both ways?

  “Grey…” I grab his hand when he’s just been staring into my eyes, obviously calculating his next words.

  He brings my hand up, kisses it, and whispers, “There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that we’re talking about nothing. Come on…if you don’t want to walk back, then I’ll just have to carry you.” He bends down and lifts me into his arms. I stay silent as he heads back to the room. “Will you please not be mad with me over nothing? Please?”

  “I’ll stop being mad—even though I am not—when you tell me every
thing is okay,” I tell him while my eyes scour his face, searching for any signal that would tell me if he’s lying or not. I’m not very good at it, but trust me when I say I’ll become a master at it.

  He looks down with a charming smirk and nods. “Everything is okay. Happy?”

  I hold my pinky out and wiggle it. “Pinky promise?”

  He chuckles and arches his eyebrows. “I can’t exactly make that kind of a promise right now.” He squeezes my thighs as emphasis, and I blush and clear my throat. I narrow my eyes, and he rolls his before bending down and kissing my finger. All the while he holds deep eye contact with me. “Kissy promise.”

  And I believe him. A huge part of me has already let it go and chalked it up to him getting pissed off by the wrong person. But that doesn’t mean the smallest part of me isn’t wondering: Who was he talking to?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Two weeks later, I have come to the conclusion that I love Grey. And I don’t mean he’s sweet to me and makes me feel things no one ever could—that’s true. I mean love as in, I feel dreadfully miserable without him. I mean love where I desperately miss his kisses and his touches, even his corny jokes. Each day feels like a year. The calls and texts make it better. But they aren’t enough. I don’t think they’ll ever be…

  “We still up for a study session tonight?” Mason nudging my shoulder snaps me back to the sad, miserable present. He and I left on rocky terms when I left for Thanksgiving, but the moment I came back, I hugged him and apologized for acting like an ass, pushing him away because of a promise he made with his sister. I asked him why he wasn’t at my house with his sister and mother, and he told me they parted on even rockier terms. Apparently, his parents are arrogant a-holes that didn’t take his transition with open arms. So he spent the holiday with his accepting grandparents. I hope to meet them someday. They sound sweet.

  “Yeah, of course. Eight at my place, right?” I inquire, and he nods. I nod back, and we part ways. I’m on my way to my dorm after a long, grueling day of classes.

  I plan on taking a much-needed nap and preparing for the intense studying that awaits me later. Finals are already taking place, and I feel like they’re kicking my butt, even though I know practically everything they’re testing me on. I asked Grey how he was able to take the time off when finals are here, but apparently he already took and aced them all. It boggles my mind how smart my man is, but at the same time, he is pretty clever.

  When I get into my dorm room, I kick off my shoes then change into my university hoodie. I put my hair up into a half-assed bun, using the one band Grey lent me. I have to buy hair bands. The memory of me finding them gone because of his sticky fingers makes me laugh.

  I grab a book, plug in some headphones, and climb underneath the sheets. Listening to music while reading a classic usually puts me right to sleep. Better than staying up and kicking myself while Grey beats some guy’s face to a bloody pulp. And then the thought pops up and scares the living heck out of me: What if he’s the bloody pulp? But then I think of how “talented” he is in that department and laugh. The guy could fight his way through a crowd if he wanted. That is, if I was on the other end of the crowd.

  I smile to myself as I find myself sinking lower and lower into the enchanting words of Harper Lee. I even find myself reading the words under my breath. Passion and provocation, all the same. I could read this book a million times and never grow tired of it. Same with all other books. I find it incredibly amazing how authors use the same words and twist and shape them into new scenarios, making various stories, each unique and exquisite.

  I am so wrapped up in the engaging words that I almost miss the vibrations creeping up my ankle.

  I slide my finger across the screen and put it between my shoulder and cheek. “Hello?” My voice sounds groggy, and I glance up to the alarm on my bedside table, finding it’s already seven twenty-five. I’ve been reading for five hours?

  “Hello, Princess,” Grey drawls. “What are you up to? I can practically smell one of your dusty books on your lap.”

  I sit up and laugh, my heart picking up speed as it normally does when I hear his voice or even catch a glimpse of him. “You know me so well—I’m reading. And for the record, it is not dusty…a bit old, but not dusty.” I sound offensive, but it’s playful and he knows it. I know by the bellowing laughter that booms through the phone. I smile.

  “Sure,” he says, amused. I roll my eyes but hold the smile on my lips. It’s so good to hear him. I’d rather see him, but I’ll take what I can get.

  “What about you?” I ask and put my book to the side. It no longer has my attention. He does.

  “Oh, just de-gearing. I just finished up a fight.” He groans, and I can imagine him unwrapping his bloody black gloves. “I won. Again.” Gloating. How Grey. I can just hear the default devil-may-care smirk of his. “How about you? You de-geared?”

  I glance down at my attire and scoff, playing with the strands of the hair that escape my loose bun. “I’m just wearing a hoodie.”

  “I didn’t hear any pants in that,” he notes.

  “That’s because I’m not wearing any…” I am hesitant because of the suggestion in his voice. I consciously fidget with the hem of my hoodie.

  “You aren’t, huh?” His voice is low and soaked with seduction.

  “No, but what does that—”

  “Do you miss me, princess?” he cuts me off.

  I pause, not knowing where this is going, and glide my fingers anxiously over my right thigh. “Yes, a lot.” More than you could possibly imagine…“Do you…do you miss me?” My voice is shaky, and so are my fingers.

  He laughs, and I smile and lean back against the headboard behind me. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it, princess. I think about you every night. Do you do the same?”

  “Do what?” I clear my voice and wrap my free arm around my waist. Why am I getting heated by his words? He’s barely saying anything! I really am under his spell…

  “Think about me?” He pauses and expels a lengthy sigh. “Do you touch yourself, the way I do?”

  “What? No,” I exclaim and clamp my nails in the fabric against my heated skin. I feel beyond flushed and shift, but not because I’m uncomfortable, because he’s making me feel…things.

  I clear my voice again for the second time in five minutes and listen to him laugh a silky laugh. It makes my stomach clench and my breath hitch in my throat. “Do you? You know, do that?” Gosh, I sound like a horny pre-teen girl.

  “All the time, princess,” he says with a laugh that deepens the crimson color in my face. “The image of you and your pretty little lips around me is what keeps me going.”

  “Oh, really?” I can’t help the smile that stretches over my face. His words are dirty and makes me feel naughty—in a good way.

  “I bet you’re thinking about me right now,” he says. “I bet you’ve been miserable without me touching you…kissing you…tasting you.”

  “I—I—” I have no words. All I can do is stumble like an idiot.

  “I’m right, and you know I am,” he tells me with an air of cockiness that should deflate this sensation burning within me. But it doesn’t. It only inflates the tightness in my stomach. He sucks in air through his teeth that rattles my chest. “My naughty little princess.”

  “Grey—”

  “Have you ever touched yourself, baby?”

  I laugh softly and mutter, “No,” while I try to get my frantic heartbeat under control.

  “Then it’ll be damned more satisfying when I push you over the edge…on the phone,” he breathes, and I frown in confusion.

  “What are you—”

  “You miss me, right?” He cuts me off, and I nod when I realize he can’t see me. I answer him “yes,” and he says, “Then listen to me, until I can be there in the flesh and taste your sweet little—”

  “Grey!” I gasp, and he laughs.

  “Fuck, I love when you scream my name.” He clears his throat and
says in a low, raspy voice, “Just listen to me and you’ll feel good—trust me. I want you to take off that hoodie of yours.” I am hesitant, but something in me—something primal and in need for him—is compliant. I take off my hoodie until I am bare in my underwear. A blush splashes across my face, and I bite my lip.

  “Done,” I say in a shaky breath. Am I really doing this?

  “Good…now slowly ease your hand in your panties. Feel yourself for me.” His words mixed with the fist-sized desire swirling in the pit of my stomach coaxes me to do just that. I suck in a breath as my small fingers meet my dripping core. So wet, and just because of the sound of his voice. “I take it by that adorable little gasp, you’ve found that sweetness of yours. Rub slowly, gently, until your toes curl. Fuck, do I want to be the on—”

  “Shut up,” I tell him, and he laughs, but I roll my eyes and do as instructed. It feels odd doing this. I’ve never ever touched myself or even thought about doing so. But Grey…he has this strange, effective way of making me experience things—amazing things—I never thought once about. And boy, am I grateful I met this twisted but captivating man.

  I take my time as I run the tip of my finger against myself. My toes curl like he said they would. All-knowing bastard…

  “Grey,” I breathe his name in a low whisper.

  “Take it easy, baby. I don’t want you to go overboard too soon,” he warns me, and I stop for a second, but I want more. I want him, but this will definitely do. Why haven’t I done this before? “Go slow and easy. Change the speed if you want to, but keep yourself grounded. Remember that I’m here.”

  “Wishing you were here,” I drawl, my eyes falling shut as I continue to touch myself. I feel my heart beat against my throat as I round my fingers in circles. Fire entwines through my veins, creating a road map of spots pleasure has taken up camp. I writhe slightly on my bed and arch my back as I listen to his heavy breathing. The distinct sound of his zipper. And the encouragement spewing out of his lips I would do anything to kiss. To feel against me.