Grey: The Reconnection (Spectrum Series Book 4)

by Allison White

  “Oh, yes, it is. You should have seen your face!” He laughs his head off, dimples popping into his hair-dusted cheeks.

  I roll my eyes and examine my phone that now has a crack in the middle. “Dang it,” I curse when I switch it on and see the screen has some weird pixels. “Damn you, skeleton man!”

  “What’s wrong?” He leans over, his shoulder brushing against mine. I ignore the tingles in my fingertips as I run my hand along the crack.

  “There’s a crack,” I reveal to him.

  “Don’t sweat it.” He shrugs.

  I snap my head at him and scoff. “This is my phone I’m talking about here. You know, my means of communication.”

  He shrugs again. I wish he would just stop doing that. “So?”

  “So?” He sounds insane. I can’t be laid back about this.

  “You’re too reserved sometimes,” he says. “You need to let go, Liv.”

  “I can let go,” I defend myself.

  Oh no…

  His eyes sparkle as he works my nerves, like the first time he challenged me to go to that god-awful frat party. “Then come dance with me.” He crosses his arms with the smuggest look ever. It makes my blood boil, and I grit my teeth.

  “Okay, then—I will!” I stomp past him and faintly hear him snickering behind me as I emerge into the massive group of people dancing. I suddenly realize how good he is at getting me to do things and turn around to tell him to suck it. But I run into his chest, and he smiles like he’s won, because, well, he already has. Denying this now would just make me look stupid and like a baby. But I am neither. I just roll my eyes and begin moving around to the beat of an old song, “Maria Maria” by Santana.

  He takes my hips in his hands, and I stiffen, beginning to reel back. “No, look.” His eyes dash around the vibrant crowd. I look around and feel myself heat up at what I find: couples dancing against each other. But when I look closer, I notice the girls are shaking and moving their hips in a really sexy, intimidating way. They are also dressed in tight-fitting clothes and are showing off their insane wide hips and toned stomachs. I feel myself gulp as I realize I look like I’m dressed for church on Easter Sunday.

  And Grey must want them. They’re all so beautiful and not afraid to show off their sexy sides. That’s why he pointed them out.

  “I don’t feel good,” I lie and begin to pull away again, but his grip on me is like steel—I don’t budge.

  “Don’t lie, just dance. Follow my lead,” he instructs. I look down and watch as he moves like the guys, slow and sensual against me. I feel flushed and shake my head. He finally steps back and frowns at me as his eyes roam my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…” I gulp and look around. “I can’t…dance like that.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ve witnessed it myself,” he argues.

  “But I’m not…I’m not like them.” Ugh! I sound so stupid. I look away from him, ashamed.

  He tsks and cups my face, forcing me to look at him. “I don’t care about them. I like you for you. Now, show me you’re different and dance, god damnit.” He breaks into a contagious grin, because I mirror it and hesitantly nod my head.

  I begin to move again and look around at the girls again, but he forces me to look into his eyes. I smile small, blushing profusely. I close my eyes and actually let myself get lost in the beat of the music. I swing my hips from side to side as best as I can and dance to the music.

  “There you go,” he praises, voice thick with desire.

  I open my eyes and feel my mouth drop open. He looks incredibly sexy: his black button down is open, revealing his tan, tatted chest and chiseled stomach and torso. His black hair looks slicked with sweat or the night mist under the intense light from the bulbs hung all around. And his eyes, oh boy, they’re shooting right through me, and they are laced with fire and I feel as though I am out of breath.

  He turns me around like he’s trying to hold back from doing something, and I find I am grateful he did. I continue to dance and let my head fall onto his back. The laughter and loud music are drowned out…the only thing I can hear is his heavy, hot breathing from behind me. I can no longer feel the vibrations of the music system, but the even more prominent beat of his heart on my back. I lick my lips and bite my lips as his arms drape around my hips, helping me move them from side-to-side. I gasp but it’s easily drowned out by his little groan as he slowly slides my skirt up my thigh.

  I should get off of him. I should stop him. I should because…oooh, his hand is moving and moving and moving…why should I stop him?

  “No…” I begin, then it hits me. “No, Grey—stop.” I turn around and place my hands on his hard chest. Oh, such a wrong move.

  “Why should I?” he rasps and leans down. I moan when his hands cup my butt, and I fling my head back. His soft lips gently kiss my right mouth corner. “When I know you want this as much as me?”

  “Because I am—” I begin breathlessly.

  He cuts me off when he smashes his lips onto mine. I am engulfed in flames. My toes curl, and I lean on my toes to help. I find my fingers wrapping in his hair while his squeeze into my butt, making me moan and drop my mouth open. His tongue slides in and teases mine. I smile a little when he finds a certain spot that always makes me laugh because fuck, can he tease.

  He pulls away too soon and smirks against my lips as I pant for air.

  “You were saying,” he breathes.

  “Wet…” I mumble.

  He laughs a little, and I smile because of it, tracing a tattoo on his right pec.

  “Don’t be so fucking cocky,” I warn, dragging my nails down his chest.

  He hisses, but his eyes light with obvious pleasure, and he opens his mouth to say something.

  I swallow his immature reply with my mouth meeting his.

  Chapter Eighteen

  We got home around two in the morning. I have never felt so…energized, so alive. Grey and I danced all night and drank and drank until we couldn’t anymore. He said, “Screw being a chauffeur,” and forced Isabella to drive, since she was the oldest. I had so many churros and bought a lot of souvenirs for everyone back home. The thought of a certain boy dimmed my mind for a second, but then my lips found a certain pair I hadn’t realized I craved so desperately until they devoured me last night. I came back to the house drunk out of my mind and exhausted.

  Waking up the next day, I feel a headache the size of Russia swelling inside my brain. I slowly sit up and instantly regret it. It feels like a rubber band is wrapped around my head and pulls me back onto the pillow beneath me. I close my eyes and groan, rubbing my temples in a foolish attempt to ease the throbbing ache. As I thought it would, it does absolutely nothing.

  I groan some more and wiggle around as if it will relieve the pain. All it does is set off a low rumble beside me. I stiffen, thinking it’s a bear. But then I look down and actually feel the legitimate fear ease off my chest. It’s just Grey. I look again and find myself giggling. His mouth is ajar, and his tongue is hanging out of the side of his mouth, like a sleeping puppy.

  “An adorable puppy,” I mumble to myself, poking his nose. He scratches it and turns onto his stomach. I frown, not able to see his face anymore, and lean up on my elbows. The bed is incredibly small, but he has managed to fit on it with me. He is shoved against the wall, one of his boot-covered feet lapping over mine. One of his huge arms is wrapped around me tightly, like he’s a strap meant to hold me down instead of a human being. I fall back onto the bed, extremely confused.

  What the heck happened last night? All I can remember is drinking what felt like one hundred shots of tequila and then…nothing. That’s it. I rub my forehead and try to find a clear image from the collection of blurry memories in my head like it’s a scrapbook. It is a really crappy scrapbook. I can’t believe it’s mine. If there is one thing that can help clear the fog in my mind, it is a nice, long, hot shower. And if that doesn’t work, then I will resort to one of Earth’s finest creations: coffee.
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br />   I grip Grey’s hand and pull it off. I begin to get up when he claims my waist and yanks me into his chest. “Oh, come on,” I groan as he snuggles his face in my neck. He raises his leg higher and gets comfortable, exhaling heavily on my neck. He’s getting comfortable. And so am I. I close my eyes and begin to drift into a peaceful sleep when there is a loud knock on the door.

  “Are you guys still fucking? You were pretty loud night, didn’t think you’d fall asleep,” I hear Isabella tease as the door creaks open.

  I quickly sit up and immediately regret it because of the pins and needles rattling behind my eyes. “Shut up,” I manage to groan, falling back down and rubbing my eyes.

  “Oooh, they so fucked.” I open my eyes and lean over the bed, finding Emilio behind her, snapping his fingers. “Shame, shame, shame—I know your name,” he sings.

  “Oh my gosh,” I mutter, rubbing my nose bridge and watch as Sofía joins the shaming party.

  “So? How was the bang?” She holds up her mouth when I prepare to tell her nothing happened. “But please, refrain from too many details.” She sips the tea in her hand and says, “He’s still my cousin, after all.”

  “Nothing happened!” I hiss, cursing myself for being too loud even though it was a bare whisper.

  “Right,” they say and nod simultaneously.

  I roll my eyes and throw my pillow at them. They all squeal, but the door shuts, and I rush over to it, ignoring all the pain in my body, and lock it. I lean against it and slump to the floor, cradling my pulsating head. I swear, I am never ever going to touch another alcoholic drink in my life. The after-pain is just not worth it.

  After a couple of minutes of waiting for the beating in my head to stop, I manage to stand. I limp to the small closet and open the door. I gently run a hand down the hung-up lace black dress and feel tears in the bottom of my throat. Today is Grey’s grandfather’s funeral. I think it’s why they wanted to go out so bad. And why Mateo didn’t come, because he wanted to be alone to prepare for today. Because they wanted to distract themselves from the hurt that awaited them.

  I look back at Grey’s sleeping form and feel a sagging wave of sympathy. I walk over to him, ignoring the pain ricocheting in my head, and bend down. I untie and gently take off his boots. I take off his jeans, since it is very hot, and he may be feeling it tenfold. His shirt is next to go. I fold them all and place them in the hamper.

  I then leave the room and tiptoe down to the kitchen. I freeze at the doorway. Alma is sitting at the kitchen table in tears and everyone is surrounding her. I feel my heart slow down as I hold back tears. The feeling of a loved one being ripped from your hands is not a great feeling. It makes you think that the world has ended. I rush over, wiggle through people, and hug her, ignoring how I may smell like liquor and blow the lie Grey told her about last night. It doesn’t matter. She needs all the love and support she can get.

  After a while of her praising me, I kiss her forehead, and she beams up at me like the sun. I smile at her, and she rubs my hand before letting me go. I maneuver around the kitchen, making a cup of herbal tea. When it’s ready, I quietly pad back up to the room. Grey is in the same position I left him in. I smile softly at his heavy snores and leave the tea next to him on the table beside the bed. I open the window so some fresh air can come in. I then grab my toiletry bag, makeup bag, my dress and shoes, and run across the hall to the bathroom.

  I strip, fold my clothes, and put away my stuff, hanging the dress. I brush my teeth and take my iron pill. I feel guilty finding my morning-after pills. Some part of me knew I’d cave in to Grey, and I had that part of me, but I can’t help it. He’s like a drug I can’t quit. Anyway, we haven’t done anything sexual at least, so I don’t have to worry about going all the way. I don’t take my anti-depressants, though. I stopped taking them after I took too many. They never did anything but make me feel less like myself and I need a clear mind, not a cluttered one.

  Since I have a clear mind, I go back to trying to find out what exactly happened last night. The very last thing I remember is a very tall skeleton…and then that’s it, weirdly enough. Why would I remember a skeleton? Did we go to a cemetery instead or something? Images of bright yellow and red flash behind my eyes. No, we definitely went to the festival. I think I remember dancing and feeling really hot, but other than that, my mind is a complete blank.

  “What happened last night?” I whisper to myself, rubbing my lower lip and biting it.

  The curtain is ripped back, yanking me out of my head. I jump and face a naked Grey.

  “Morning, beautiful,” he drawls, his voice thick with sleep.

  “Grey, what the fuck?” I shriek, shrinking and trying to cover my body.

  “Oh, don’t act so shy.” He pouts his lips and does the craziest thing ever: he steps into the shower with me, naked, completely naked, like, really, really, naked…he tips my head back in time before I can voice my naughty, derailing thoughts. “Especially not after last night.”

  “W-what happened last night?” I reiterate my previous question to myself.

  He smirks. “I never kiss and tell.”

  “You basically just did, you ass—”

  He kisses me, hard.

  My body takes over and pushes my rational mind behind a locked gate. I thread my fingers into his lengthy black hair that can stand a few snips, then hold his stubbly cheeks. This can stay. I love the way it feels against my fingertips. I find myself lifted by his strong arms, my legs wrapped around his tight torso. I unwittingly moan in need. I want him in me. I need to feel him filling me and claiming me.

  “Grey, please—”

  “Do you have those morning-after pills?” he asks, tugging my bottom lip with teeth.

  “I do…now please—”

  He cuts off my plea by doing as asked, plunging into me. I cry out, but he quickly clamps his mouth around my open one. He kisses me to the point where my lungs are drowning in fire. I grip his hair and he groans and wraps one hand around my neck. I moan as he grips my throat a little. I kiss him fiercely and wholly, loving the feeling of him in me. He pounds and grows deeper and faster with each thrust.

  “You like that, princesa?” he whispers, pulling his mouth off me.

  I nod and close my eyes in pleasure when I feel his mouth on my right nipple. “I—ugh…” I bite my lip, swallowing a scream. He tugs the other one, and I tighten my fingers around his hair. He groans against me and shifts his tongue to the other. I roll my eyes back and can’t help but yelp.

  “You are so fucking perfect,” he pants as he removes his mouth and kisses up the valley of my breasts. I open my mouth in anticipation, and he meets it, smashing his lips against mine. I drag my fingers down his neck and smirk when he shivers at my cold, slow touch. However, the smirk dies the minute he picks up speed, thrusting into me so fucking deep and so beautifully fast, hitting a certain spot that causes me to see the stars in heaven. “And all mine, always.”

  His. Hmmm…it really nice being his to fuck…wait. His? I am not his…but he is—this feels so fucking good. What am I trying to say?

  I bite my lip and am drawn out of my muddled mind, humming as he begins to suck on my neck. “Y-you’ll leave a mark.” I don’t want to wear much makeup. It’d be unnecessary since it’s hot out. Plus, I don’t want to appear disrespectful by wearing so much cover-up to a funeral.

  Funeral…why am I going to a funeral?

  “Mmmm, Grey. That feels so good.” I moan and tug on his hair.

  “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he grumbles, digging one of his hands into my skin.

  “G-Grey,” I stutter his name and close my eyes, biting my lip. I slowly open my eyes when I feel a familiar pit in my stomach. “I’m, fuck, Grey, I’m—” I try to get out, but the words are stuck in my throat. I feel like I’m being ripped apart but in a strangely good way. I zone out as I feel him clench around me, and I feel myself hitting my high. My eyes widen when they land on my black dress for his grandfather’s funera
l, which I promised to attend with him despite…

  Fuck!

  Despite Noah’s wishes.

  “Fuck!” I voice my thoughts mixed with the feeling of ultimate pleasure as I reach my climax. I writhe against him as he still pounds into me, pulling himself there as well. I grip his neck and arch my back as his lips crash against mine. I kiss him with everything I have and scream into his mouth. I pull back, lightly sucking his lower lip. And that pushes him over the edge.

  “Jesus fucking—ugh! Shit,” he stutters, releasing inside of me.

  I pant, completely out of breath. He pants as well, his forehead pressed against mine. It hits me tenfold when I realize what I’ve just done and who I’ve just betrayed and proved right.

  “Fuck, Grey,” I groan.

  “Again?” he jokes with a little laugh.

  “I’m being serious.” I push his shoulder, and I fall to my feet. I look up at him. “We just had sex.”

  “Um, and?” He squints his eyes, and I groan, pushing past him to the curtain.

  “And I am not with you,” I remind him as I step out. I grab a towel and quickly dry myself.

  “So?”

  I turn around and gawk at him; he’s washing up. I tear my hungry gaze from him and shake my head, saying, “You have no shame.”

  “Right, but we have something you’d never feel with that Ken doll,” he says rudely.

  I stop as I am putting on my underwear. “Are you serious? I just cheated on him!”

  “And how is that my fault?”

  I pause as I shimmy into my dress. “You know I am with him.”

  “Yet you didn’t stop me!” he shouts, pissed off now.

  I close my eyes and nod. “You’re right.”

  “I’m what now?” He sounds shocked he was right.

  I roll my eyes in annoyance and stomp over to my flats. “I said you were right.” I hop into them and face him; he is dripping soap suds. Jesus, does he look good…I have no shame. I hate myself! Ugh! “I just can’t do this to him. I need to tell him.”

  “So tell him.” He shrugs.