by Mia Carson
“After we heard your partial tryst this morning, we thought you two might want some… assistance,” Mel said after a second. “Ready?”
“Ready? Ready for what? Your brother is too worried about my broken wrist to do anything,” she told them, leaving out the other reasons he wouldn’t give in. He wanted to. The erection in his pants could not be hidden, though when she felt his size, it did worry her slightly wondering how… it… would… well, fit. Just thinking about it brought another hot wave of embarrassment over her.
“Belle,” Molly whispered in her ear, “it’s okay to be nervous. We were all virgins once upon a time.”
She flinched. “I never said that.”
“You don’t have to,” Tiff said with a delightful smile. “I do love helping the newest ones find their deepest desires. Come along, ladies, time to shop!”
They dragged her further into the store, and Belle walked out two hours later carrying three bags filled with items she wasn’t even sure how to use. The skimpy, red lingerie they finally agreed on was insanely hot. She tried it on and stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. She’d really never paid attention to her body, and having it wrapped so delicately in the lace made her feel sexy for the first time in her life. That morning, all she’d had on was her nightgown, and Greyson had almost lost it. If he saw her in the red number, he’d never be able to resist her.
Carrie met them at the house around seven, and Mel and Molly quickly became friends with her, too, as they dug into Greyson’s wine cellar. They ordered pizza and Chinese takeout, turning the living room into one giant bed with sleeping bags, comforters, and pillows. For the first time, Belle had what essentially turned into a grown-up slumber party.
“So,” Carrie said after they’d gone through four bottles of wine, maybe more. “What’s the deal with you and Mister Brute?”
Mel giggled and leaned against Carrie’s shoulder. “Mister Brute, I love it.”
Belle watched as Carrie rested her hand on Mel’s knee and raised a brow. Maybe there were things she didn’t know about her friend after all. She smiled and nudged Molly, nodding towards the two giggling girls.
“Well, lookie there.” Molly snickered. “Maybe we should be asking you two the same thing.”
“Whatever,” Carrie brushed them off. “We’re not part of the discussion here, Belle is. Give us the dirty—have you two done it yet? And I hope you say you have, holed up in here together for what, three weeks now?”
Belle fiddled with the fried rice she held and shrugged. “About that—”
“You two still haven’t had sex!” Carrie yelled, and Belle glared at her. “I’m sorry, it’s just surprising, broken wrist or not.”
“That’s what he keeps saying,” she muttered and exchanged the rice for a glass of wine. “I keep trying, and we keep getting so close, but he holds back like he’s scared or something. He even forgot Valentine’s Day.” She remembered waking that morning and thinking he’d have done something for her, but nothing. No card, no roses, not a damn thing to say he even knew what day it was.
Mel’s eyes narrowed on her face. “Are you scared?”
She gulped the whole glass of wine and poured another. “I’m nervous, but who wouldn’t be? And he’s larger than I expected—you know, down there,” she added and stared at her own groin. Then she remembered these were Greyson’s sisters and was about to apologize when they cackled in unison.
“You just have to go for it,” Molly told her, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “Really, both of you are holding back. You can blame it on him all you want,” she said, holding up her hands when Belle started to argue, “I’m just pointing it out. Even now, you look apprehensive.”
“Sex is a big deal for me,” she muttered. “I don’t want it to be just a one-time thing.”
“And he knows that?”
Belle glanced at Mel and nodded. “You said it yourself, he pulls away from people. I want a commitment, and he… I don’t know if he’s on board for that yet.”
“I don’t know if you are either,” Carrie told her and reached across the pillows to hold her hand. “I’ve never seen you commit to anything besides school and your jobs. I’m the only friend you’ve made—ever—who’s actually lasted.”
“Thanks for making me feel like a psycho,” Belle grumbled, but Mel and Molly tackled her and Carrie followed. They laughed together, and it soon dissolved into a drunken pillow fight as they yelled and shrieked at each other. The stress of the past few weeks fell away, and Belle let herself forget about what might happen with her and Greyson. That was a problem for another day.
A day when she was ready to face her own fears of a committed relationship. When she was ready to stop being afraid, period, of what the future held if she failed.
***
Greyson shot back his whiskey and held up his hand for the bartender to pour him another.
“Man, you’re not driving,” Tim said and dug in Greyson’s slacks for his keys. When his friend protested, he smacked his hand away. “That’s your sixth whiskey. Not happening.”
“Fine, whatever,” he grumbled, and when his whiskey was set down, he drained that glass, too.
“What’s gotten into you?” Davis asked with a laugh. “Wait, don’t tell me, you and Belle are having issues. Is that it? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything, and that, my friend, is the damn problem,” he said, the words slurring as he spoke. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, or thinking, not anymore. Not when it comes to that spitfire of a woman who’s driving me crazy!”
Davis and Tim exchanged a glance before the latter laughed darkly. “The mighty womanizer brought to his knees by his intern. I’m impressed. I knew Belle was tough, but damn, if she’s got you all twisted up in knots, she’s really under your skin.”
“So why the celibacy?” Davis asked. “You like her, right? Or did you just feel the need to have a roommate?”
“I do like her,” Greyson said with an exaggerated sigh and rested his arms on the bar. “Think I might actually love her.”
He held his head in his hands and heard his friends whispering behind his back. Not that he cared. He couldn’t even begin to explain what restraint kept him from making that final move. He wanted her so bad it ached, every muscle screaming to hold her, touch her, be with her, but still his mind resisted the idea for one reason or another, and none of them were valid.
Tim patted him on the back, and Greyson straightened, glancing through bleary eyes at them both. “You need to stop being scared, seriously.”
“I can’t help it,” he told them, and in a voice barely above a whisper added, “She’s a damn virgin. And she’s not like the rest! I’m terrified of this going south, of breaking her heart. It’s giving me nightmares. I can’t even think straight when she’s around.”
“Then what’s the problem? You like her, and clearly she likes you or she wouldn’t be hanging around,” Davis told him.
“I think, sometimes, that she hates me,” he stammered and called for another whiskey. The bartender eyed him until Tim said he wasn’t driving. “I forgot Valentine’s Day, guys. What boyfriend does that?”
Davis cringed and Tim hung his head. “You never forget that day,” the first said. “But you can still make it up to her.”
“How?”
“We’ll swing by the florist on the way home tonight, or somewhere that’s open,” Tim assured him. “You can get her some belated flowers.”
“That’s not going to make up for how I’ve been acting,” he said and swallowed the next glass of whiskey slower. “I want her to be with me. I want this to work.”
“Then you have to be the Greyson Taylor we all know and love,” Davis said sternly and set his glass down heavily. “Be assertive, be the man she needs to take care of her.”
“Funny story,” Greyson said, holding up a finger. “She hates being taken care of.”
Tim shook his head. “She’s not used to it. She's t
old me a bit about her past. She’s had to fight tooth and nail for everything, so show her what you could do for her—really do for her—if you were fully committed.”
Slowly, Greyson nodded and held up his glass to Tim in toast. “You’re right. You’re freaking right. I’m Greyson Taylor, and spitfire or not, that woman just met her match.” He shot back the whiskey, slammed his glass down, and strode for the door.
“Uh… Grey? Where are you going?” Davis called out.
“Leaving to get flowers, why?”
Tim and Davis rushed to grab his arms right before he hit the door and turned him around. “That’s the women’s restroom. Why don’t we go this way instead?”
Greyson whispered an ‘oh’ of surprise, and they laughed, guiding him out. As Tim promised, they stopped by the nearest store still open and Greyson purchased a single, long stemmed red rose for his Belle. He grinned as the florist tied a red ribbon around the stem. His Belle. That’s exactly who she was.
Tim drove Greyson to his house while Davis followed in his Mustang. His friends asked if he wanted any more company, but he said his sisters were in town and he wasn’t sure what the house would be like. They left him, both giving him encouraging thumbs-up before Tim drove away, and Greyson fumbled with his keys and the rose. He cursed when he almost dropped it, but caught it at the last second, blowing out a breath of relief.
Once he was finally inside, he found his living room turned into a bedroom and laughed quietly. His sisters were passed out alongside Carrie and Belle. His Belle. Takeout containers, pizza boxes, and many empty wine bottles littered the tables, but he didn’t care. Belle grinned in her sleep, and it warmed him to see her so content. He noticed the shopping bags near the counter and a note was taped to the wall above them with his name on it. Mel and Molly informed him of their shopping spree and how much they’d spent. At first, he’d grumbled, but then he read it was all for her, things he would’ve bought for her eventually anyway, so he told himself to remember to thank them in the morning.
Greyson tiptoed around the room, and when he reached Belle’s pillow, he laid the rose gently beside her face so she’d see it when she woke. For a moment, he simply stood there and watched her sleep before he maneuvered to his room, kicked off his shoes, climbed into bed, and passed out.
Chapter 7
Belle’s nose twitched, and she rubbed it, brushing something soft nearby. Laughter echoed around her, and she winced when she sat up too fast and her head throbbed.
“Damn, how much wine did we drink last night?” she mumbled, squinting against the brightness of the morning.
“Why don’t you tell us, Sleeping Beauty?” Carrie called out. “And it looks like someone left you a present.” She glanced to Belle’s pillow before turning back to the kitchen. The sound of bacon frying reached Belle’s ears, and her stomach rumbled.
She glanced at her pillow first and stared, confused, at the red rose lying there, tied with a red ribbon. She picked it up and twirled it, smiling as it caught the light. “Greyson,” she whispered. That man continued to amaze her as much as infuriate her. “When did he get in last night?” she asked as she groaned, finding her feet, and staggered into the kitchen. “And how are you all so chipper?”
“You drank the most,” Mel reminded her. Carrie walked behind her and ran her hand over her shoulder before kissing her cheek.
Belle grinned and hopped up on the counter. “Looks like I’m not the only one with the love bug.”
Carrie laughed, and Mel shrugged as she cooked the bacon. “It’s in the air, I guess.”
“Must be,” she agreed, staring at her rose. “Is he awake yet?”
“Nah, but I’d let him sleep. He’s grumpy if he wakes up too early after a night of drinking,” Molly told her. “We’ll get him up before we head out in an hour.”
Belle pouted. “You have to leave so soon?”
“Mom’s expecting us sometime today,” Mel told her. “We have plans later.”
“Oh, right, of course you do,” she said and tried not to sound saddened by it. She’d enjoyed their girl talk, and it’d been nice to get her worries off her chest, though their advice wasn’t all that complicated. By the end of the night, all three girls told Belle just to go for it—what was the worst that could happen?
Molly hopped up on the counter beside her and threw her arm over Belle’s shoulder. “We’re just a phone call away, but you got this. We gave you plenty of help in that department.”
Belle’s mind flashed to her sexy reflection in the mirror. “Yeah, I guess you did. Now, I just have to get up the nerve to use it.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Mel sympathized. “Alright, ladies, breakfast is ready.”
They carried coffee and plates of bacon, eggs, and hash-browns to the table and sat down to eat. Just like the night before, the conversation flowed easily, and before long, Mel and Molly were heading to the bedroom to get dressed. Greyson walked out of his room, rubbing a weary hand over his face, and greeted them halfheartedly.
“Morning,” he said through a yawn to Belle and Carrie.
Carrie smiled and excused herself, leaving Belle alone with Greyson. He poured himself a cup of coffee and breathed it in, turning to face Belle. She fiddled with the rose on the table, and his lips twitched in a grin.
“Thanks for the rose,” she said shyly.
“You’re welcome. Sorry I forgot Valentine’s Day. I'm not used to having anyone around,” he said quietly.
“And now?” she asked.
“Now what?”
“Are you used to having someone around?” she asked and held her breath.
He set his coffee down, and she wished he was shirtless like yesterday morning as he stalked across the kitchen towards her. He bent and nuzzled her neck until goosebumps broke out on her arms, his lips kissing her sweetly.
“I’m getting used to it,” he whispered, and she turned her head so her lips could meet his, but the kiss was brief because the three girls came back out, talking loudly. He groaned and pulled away, leaving Belle wanting to drag him back down, but not in front of his sisters.
“We have to get to Mom’s,” Mel told him and set her duffel by the door.
“You’re just going to leave this mess?” he muttered, staring pointedly at the living room.
Mel nodded enthusiastically, but Molly was already moving with Carrie to clean it up. Belle hopped up to help, and before long, the living room was back to normal.
“See? Perfect,” Molly said as she patted him on the cheek. “Oh, and by the way, Mom wanted us to ask you to come to Dad’s gravesite with us.”
Greyson’s face turned to stone. “What?”
“You heard me, so don’t act like you didn’t,” Molly told him. “You know you should go, if not for him then at least for her. Just come with us, please?”
Belle glanced between the twins and Greyson, the tension so thick she feared she wouldn’t be able to walk through it.
“I’m not going. I already talked to Mom about this, so I’m not discussing it with you two.”
“Come on, you can’t still hold a grudge after all this time?” Mel asked, exasperated. “It won’t be that bad. We’ll go and sit there for a while, Mom will cry and get mad at him like she does every year; she’ll insist we talk about our lives, and we’ll pour whiskey on his grave and leave. Simple.”
Greyson crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “No. I said no, and I’m going to keep saying no, so just let it go.”
Belle’s hands twitched at her sides. She knew that it was a family matter and that she should keep her mouth shut, but the fact that she didn’t have graves to visit for her parents—if they were dead—drove her mouth to open. “Greyson, maybe you should listen to them.”
His heated gaze turned to her, and the temperature plummeted in the room. “What?”
“I think you should go with them,” she said louder and planted her feet. “There’s no reason not to. Just do it for your Mom. What w
ill it hurt, honestly?”
“You don’t know what that man did,” Greyson snapped. “He doesn’t deserve a minute of my time, dead or not. And I sure as hell am not going to pay my respects to him. Not now, not ever, so stop insisting on something you don’t understand.”
Belle’s anger grew, and she glowered at him. “I don’t understand? What don’t I understand? He’s your dad. Just go and see his damn grave and stop running scared from a dead guy!”
Molly, Mel, and Carrie all stood in silence, watching, but Belle hardly noticed them.
Greyson’s arms fell to his sides, and he moved closer. “I’m not running scared,” he growled. “I’m not scared of anything, least of all that bastard.”
“Not scared of anything, that’s rich,” she bit off sharply. “If you’re not scared, then why won’t you go? Why do you keep hiding and making excuses?”
He lifted his hands, clenched them towards her as he growled in annoyance, and turned away. “Just let it go, Belle.”
“No, I won’t. Your sisters want you to go, your mom wants you to go, so just do it!”
“You don’t understand because you’ve never had a damn family!” he yelled as he turned back around, stomping over until he was right in her face. “You don’t know what it’s like to have a parent not care about you and treat you like shit for years! You don’t understand any of that because you never had parents!”
Mel and Molly both snapped at him, and Carrie gasped, rushing to stand by Belle, but she held up her hand, her eyes on Greyson’s as she sucked in a deep breath. Her hand curled into a fist and before she could manage to count to ten, she hauled it back and decked him.
The twins gasped as Greyson’s head shot to the side, but his feet didn’t move. When his head turned back around, his eyes warred between anger, worry, and sheer panic.
“You bastard,” she hissed. “You’re right, I don’t have a family and I certainly don’t know what it feels like to be thrown out like trash by your parents.”
He lifted a hand and rubbed his jaw. “I thought you said you never tried to find them.”
