by A. D. Ryan
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see that it’s Greyston telling me kickoff is about to start.
I tap out a quick reply, telling him I’m on my way, and hit send. I quickly use the facilities, wash my hands, and then head back to my seat. I find the section easily enough and smile wide when Greyston’s eyes pop open upon seeing me.
“Aw, Jules, really?” Dad groans, clearly not satisfied with where my loyalties have fallen.
“Sorry, Pop,” I apologize, stepping around them to get to my seat and struggling with my balance along the way.
Greyston holds out his hand for me, and I take it to keep from falling into the row of people in front of us. Before letting me go, though, Greyston pulls me to him, his hand running over the fabric of my new shirt. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“You like?”
A familiar grumble escapes him, exciting me. “Let’s just say I’m going to have a very difficult time concentrating on the game.”
I step up onto my tiptoes and kiss him before we take our seats. Once we’re settled, Greyston’s hand finds a home on my thigh as we wait for everything to begin. We rise from our seats when it’s time for the National Anthem, and I smile up at Greyston as everyone in the stadium sings along.
The game starts, and I have to admit, it’s pretty exciting. While I don’t get everything that’s going on, Greyston does a really good job at explaining things to me in a way I can understand. Dad is trying to ruffle Greyston’s feathers the entire game, especially when the Eagles score a touchdown that puts them ahead of the Cardinals.
The majority of the crowd is not happy about this, and I find myself momentarily worried. It’s especially worrying when halftime rolls around and the Cardinals are still down by seven. Since there’s nothing really going on, Mom and Dad excuse themselves, leaving Greyston and me alone for a bit.
“Are you having fun?” Greyston asks.
I nod emphatically. “I really am. It’s a little confusing, but I think I understand the basics.” I lean forward in my seat, taking Greyston’s hand and lacing my fingers with his. “Thanks for inviting us. It’s really great, and Dad’s having a blast.”
He pulls my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “I couldn’t imagine being here with anyone else, Juliette.”
I lean closer to him. “Well, that’s good, because I wouldn’t go to a football game with just anyone.”
Mom and Dad return from wherever they snuck off to—honestly, it’s best if I don’t even ask—and it looks like the game is about to get back underway. The second half of the game is interesting. The teams both seem to be doing well, but, much to Greyston’s dismay, the Eagles win the game. He’s a good sport, though, listening to Daddy relay the winning touchdown as we walk through the parking lot.
We stop at my mom’s SUV, and my dad turns to us. “Thanks for inviting us along, Greyston.”
“Anytime, Cam. I’m glad the two of you had a good time.” He shakes Dad’s hand and then turns to my mom to do the same.
Mom pushes his hand away and pulls him in for a hug instead. “You two have a good night, okay?”
“We will, Mom,” I tell her, hugging her and my dad next before telling them I’d talk to them later in the week. They climb into their vehicle, and Greyston and I head for his car so we can go home after what I can only describe as one of my top five favorite days.
So far.
Chapter 17
After a spectacular weekend with Greyston and my parents, waking up on Monday morning seems kind of depressing. It’s almost like the weekend was a wonderful dream, and now I’m being thrust back into reality.
Feeling less than enthused to start my day, I turn my alarm clock off, crawl out of bed, and head to my bathroom to get ready. As I finish up and head back into my room, I pull the hem of my oversized sweater down to cover my shorts, and the neckline slips, exposing my shoulder. I expect to smell breakfast cooking as I hit the hall, but I’m shocked to see that Greyston is still in bed. Fast asleep.
Not sure yet if I enjoy this view more than him swimming, I lean against his door frame, cross my arms, and watch him for a minute. He appears deep in sleep still as I let my eyes roam over his peaceful face. His hair is even more messy than usual, but instead of wanting to run my fingers through it to tame it, I want to make it worse.
The minute I notice his breathing pattern change when he shifts to roll over, I back away from his room and proceed downstairs to make coffee and start breakfast. I find the kitchen a little quiet, so I flip the radio on before digging through the fridge for the ingredients to make omelets.
Dancing to the music, I crack the eggs into the bowl and whisk them before pouring them into my oiled frying pan. When I notice the top is cooked, I sprinkle some shredded cheddar on it and fold it over.
“Now this is a sight I could get used to in the mornings,” Greyston says from behind me, making me jump. He chuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
Laughing at myself, I remove the first omelet and pour the second one into the pan. “No, that’s okay. I either need to learn to not be so jumpy, or tie a bell around your neck.”
Greyston smiles, crosses the room until he’s standing right next to me, and tugs at the hem of my sweater. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re running around here in next to nothing just to drive me crazy,” he says, grazing my bare thigh with the backs of his long fingers.
“And I’m starting to think you do that”—I nod my head in the direction of his hand on my leg—“to drive me crazy.”
His hand moves up a little farther, above the fabric of my shorts until he’s fingering the waistline of them. My abdomen quivers when his knuckle grazes the ticklish skin there as he dips a finger in and pulls me to him. My chest is pressed so firmly to him that he can probably feel my heart beating. He holds my gaze, eyes blazing, and I sigh when our lips barely touch.
“Greyston, our breakfast,” I whisper, raising my free hand and teasing the hairs at the nape of his neck. Though, if I’m being entirely honest, the longer we stay like this, the more focused I am on how his body feels when it’s pressed so close to mine than the stupid eggs.
Breakfast be damned.
He briefly presses his lips to mine before releasing my shorts. “You’re right.”
Regretting saying anything at all, I toss the spatula on the counter and grab his arms before he’s out of reach. “Nonononono,” I tell him, tugging him back to me and shaking my head. “I’m wrong. So wrong.”
Laughing, Greyston kisses my forehead and moves around me to pour a cup of coffee. “No, you’re not. I’d hate for you to be late for school because I wouldn’t let you leave the house.”
I pick up the discarded spatula, add cheese to the omelet, and fold it over. “I think you’re just being a bit of a tease,” I accuse playfully. “Building the anticipation between us.” I turn and point the spatula at him. “I’m on to you, Masters.”
He quirks a brow and gives me that devilish half-smirk. “Not yet.”
I suddenly feel like my legs might give out beneath me, but I refuse to let him see this. “Funny.” After dishing up the second omelet, I pick up both plates and head for the island. “Breakfast is ready.”
Over breakfast, I ask Greyston if he’s got a busy day. Apparently he doesn’t have to go into the office until this afternoon, so after I leave, he plans to go for his swim. “I’d have preferred to have gone while you were still home.” I eye him curiously. “It’s just I hate that I’ve robbed you of your little routine.”
My jaw drops. I’m stunned. “I…uh…I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I stammer, poking my eggs with my fork, refusing to meet his smug stare.
“Yeah, that almost sounded believable.”
I set my fork down and turn to him. I’m not going to try and deny that I’ve been watching him, because he knows just as well as I do that I’m guilty, but his accusation has me curious about something. “So, you’v
e seen me up there, and yet you still thought I was into Toby?”
“I wasn’t certain what you were doing up there, to be honest…you very well could have been enjoying the desert view and fresh morning air,” he admits, smirking crookedly at me. “It wasn’t until we finally got everything out in the open that I finally put two and two together.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “If only the two of us could have mastered basic math a week ago before jumping to all of the wrong conclusions.”
Before I know what’s happening, Greyston pulls my chair toward him, the feet scraping loudly against the tile. His warm hands are on my thighs, moving down to my knees where he curls his fingers and lifts my legs, resting them on his own. It’s kind of awkward, but I don’t really mind since I’m only inches away from straddling him—which must be his newest form of torture.
“Oh, I don’t know.” A tingle begins to work its way up my legs as his hands move up and down my thighs, his fingers occasionally dipping just beneath the hem of my shorts before resurfacing. There’s a really good chance that my heart is going to give out at the rate it’s beating. “I think things might be better this way,” he says, his voice low and seductive, increasing my desire for him exponentially. “All of those nights spent wondering kind of…intensified everything. Don’t you think?”
I nod once. It’s not the most fluid movement given my brain is more focused on the fact that Greyston’s hands are still running up and down my legs. Warmth spreads through my body, starting where his hands are touching me and moving all throughout until it settles in the pit of my belly, igniting a flourish of butterfly activity. No one has ever made me feel half as alive as Greyston, and if he’s able to elicit this kind of response from me with only his hands…well, imagine the possibilities.
I lean in to press my lips to his, but when they’re a hairsbreadth away, he whispers, “You’re going to be late.”
I move my head back and forth, allowing my lips to lightly brush his. “You’re doing it again,” I tell him softly. “Being a tease.”
He refuses to acknowledge my accusation with anything more than a smirk. “You should go get dressed; I’ll clean up.”
“All right. But this isn’t finished,” I warn, leaning in and pecking his lips before hopping off my chair.
After quickly dressing, I grab my car keys off of my dresser and my book bag off the floor as I make my way out of my room. By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, Greyston is there, holding a travel mug out for me.
“For you, beautiful,” he says. “Have a good day.”
I hum, brushing my nose over his. “You too.”
Inhaling deeply, Greyston groans. “Okay, you should go before I force you to play hooky with me all day.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my eyes moving back and forth between his and watching conflict spark in them. “That actually sounds like a lot more fun.”
“Go on,” he says, his eyes showing just how much he’s struggling with letting me go. “I’ll see you when you get home from work.”
“’Kay.” Walking out the door isn’t easy; it’s almost like it’s the last step to accepting that my fantastic weekend really is over.
With a depressing sigh, I climb up into my car and buckle up. When I slip the key into the ignition and turn it, the engine clicks a few times, so I pump the clutch repeatedly to force it to turn over. Nothing. “Come on,” I grumble, turning the key again. “Don’t do this to me.” I repeat this process several times, only to get the same results. Abso-freakin-lutely nothing.
Now I’m not just sad that my weekend is over, I’m pissed off that my week is starting off so crappy. I unbuckle my seatbelt, angrily flinging it back against the window, grab my bag as I throw my door open, and storm back into the house.
Greyston is just coming down the stairs in his trunks, and for a brief moment I forget all about my stupid car. Because he’s half-naked and halfway between our bedrooms and me.
Then he has to ask the question that reminds me why I was upset. “What’s wrong?”
“My stupid engine won’t turn over.” I grab my phone and start flipping through my contacts to find a cab company.
“Who are you phoning?”
“A cab. I don’t have time to take a bus. I’m going to be late as it is now.”
I’ve just found the number I need when Greyston’s hand appears over mine, blocking the screen to my phone. “I’ll give you a ride.”
It’s sweet of him to offer, but I feel guilty that I’m robbing him of his morning off. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to have to give up your morning,” I tell him. “I’ve got some cash. It’s fine.”
“Juliette, I’m not going to make you take a taxi when I can go get dressed and give you a ride.” He sounds resolute, so I just nod. A smile spreads across his face as he lets go of my hand, and he rushes back upstairs, re-emerging about two minutes later, fully dressed.
“Thanks,” I say as he holds the door open for me, closing and locking it once we’re outside. “For the ride.”
“Anytime, Juliette.” He opens my car door for me and shuts it once my legs are safely inside, then runs around and climbs in next to me. “I’ll have someone come over and take a look at your car this afternoon.”
We arrive on campus a little while later, and Greyston parks near the doors. He hops out while I struggle to untangle the straps of my bag from around my ankles. How it happened, I have no idea; I’m just glad I noticed it before trying to get out of the car.
My door opens as I free my right ankle, and Greyston is holding out his hand for me. One look around at the students who’ve stopped to see what’s going on forces my cheeks to warm. But it doesn’t stop me from taking his hand. Nothing ever would.
“Thanks again for the ride.” Greyston closes my door and pulls me closer, the warmth of his body making every inch of me hum. “I’ll, uh, find a ride to work, and I bet Katie can drive me home afterward.”
It’s like he doesn’t hear me. “What time is your last class over?”
“Three. But, Greyston—”
“I’ll be here at three and drive you to work,” he says, not letting me finish.
I shake my head. “No, Greyston. It’s out of your way.”
“Not really. I’ve got meetings nearby this afternoon. I’ll see you at three.” He leans down to give me a chaste kiss and then straightens up. “Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
I’m just walking away, my fingers sliding along the palm of his hand until only our fingertips are touching. Before we lose connection, his hand reclaims mine, and he pulls me back to him. Our chests collide, expelling all the air between our bodies and my book bag falls heavily to my side while he’s still got a hold of my other hand behind my back, our fingers now woven together. There’s a familiar spark in his eyes, and this excites me, making me forget all about the people milling around us.
“You forgot something,” he tells me in that low, gravelly voice that makes all of my senses numb to anything but him. His other hand comes up to cradle my face, and he lowers his lips to mine.
I don’t mean to, but the minute he kisses me, I whimper, drop my bag the last few inches to the ground, and bring that hand up to lie on his chest right above his pounding heart. His thumb moves slowly over my cheekbone, and the fine hairs all over my body stand on end. Pushing up on the tips of my toes, I curl my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, holding him close as he takes my bottom lip between his and traces it with his tongue.
There’s nothing in this world I enjoy more than being kissed by Greyston. At least, not yet, anyway.
Apparently I’m no longer in control of anything I do whenever Greyston’s lips are on mine, because it’s Greyston who ends our kiss, pressing his forehead to mine and smiling.
Panting breathlessly, I try to calm my racing heart. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”
“Just proving a point,” is all he says.
My
eyes snap open, and I shake my head. “And what point is that?”
Instead of answering me right away, Greyston’s head lifts away from mine and his eyes drift off to focus on something behind me. Slowly, I turn my head to follow his gaze and find Ben standing several yards away. “Oh, I see.” I smile. “He looks a little upset.”
“Good,” Greyston responds, tightening his hand around mine gently and drawing my eyes back to his. “Juliette, I’d like to take you out on a date tomorrow night.”
I nod, a smile slowly spreading across my face. “I’d like that.”
Greyston’s smile rivals my own before he kisses my nose. “Okay, you should head to class. I’ll see you in a few hours, beautiful.”
My heart flutters each and every time he calls me that. Greyston releases my hand and bends down to pick my discarded bag up for me. I don’t head right inside, choosing to wait until his car is out of sight. When it is, I turn around and come face to face with Ben.
Nothing he might have to say interests me, and I sure as hell don’t want him to sour my once-again good mood, so I side-step around him and proceed toward the building. He’s clearly dense, because he doesn’t seem to take the glaringly obvious hint, instead taking it as an invitation to follow me.
“You know, Ben, I could have you charged with stalking,” I threaten. “I’m pretty sure my father wouldn’t even bat an eye.”
He laughs, apparently mistaking what I’ve said for a joke. Greyston’s right; he’s a twit. “You know, you have a lot of nerve, Juliette,” he tells me. “You get mad at me for screwing Delilah, when you were stepping out on your sugar daddy with Erik on Friday night.”
His accusation stops me dead in my tracks, right in the middle of the hall. I turn to face him, glaring daggers that I hope to hell will maim him beyond recognition. When it doesn’t work, I contemplate thrusting my knee into his groin and dropping him like a sack of potatoes.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him venomously. “And even if you did, what you have to say means exactly jack-shit to me anymore, Ben.”
