Seducing Lola

by Jessica Prince Author

  I was jolted from my musings when Grayson stepped up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he buried his nose in my hair. I was so enamored with the space that I hadn’t heard him come in. I jumped, startled, and he let loose a deep chuckle that vibrated from his chest into my back.

  “Sorry.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I turned in his arms, my own twining around him to return his embrace without my brain giving it much thought. I pushed that realization to the back of my mind. I was too relaxed from sex, too content in just being with him to focus on the scary reality that I was really starting to fall for this guy. That was something I could fixate on and stress about in the privacy of my own home. For now… I was just going to go with the flow. Fighting it was just too damn exhausting.

  “How long have you lived here?” I asked, curiosity niggling at me.

  “About six years. Why?”

  My forehead furrowed in confusion. Six years? That was a long time to live in a house devoid of any personality. “It just… doesn’t really seem like you.”

  “How so?” he asked, releasing me and moving to the oven, hitting the Off button before grabbing an oven mitt and pulling the door open. My mouth watered at the sight of him in nothing but a pair of jeans resting low on his trim waist. God, he was sexy.

  As he pulled out a cookie sheet containing two foil packets, I was hit with another wave of delicious smells. I moved to his side and peeked over his shoulder as he tore at the tinfoil on one of the packets. Inside was a perfectly cooked pink salmon filet sprinkled with spices and olive oil, plus slices of sautéed squash and zucchini. It looked heavenly, and my mouth started watering for an entirely different reason.

  “Lola….”

  I pulled my gaze from the food and looked at Grayson to find him smiling at me. “I asked how my house doesn’t seem like me.”

  “Oh.” I shook my head and took a step back, thinking how best to answer as he moved around the kitchen, pulling plates from a cabinet and utensils from a drawer. “Well, other than the kitchen it’s kind of… bland.”

  “Bland?” he asked, one eyebrow quirking up as he turned from plating the food to look at me.

  “Not… bland,” I quickly backtracked. “It’s a beautiful house, really. It’s just… there are no real personal touches anywhere but in here. I guess I just found that kind of surprising. It doesn’t look like you’ve been here for six years. It looks like you just moved in and haven’t gotten around to decorating.”

  “Ah.” He nodded in understanding as he handed me our plates and forks before pointing me toward a round, four-seater table nestled in the middle of a large bay window. I set our plates down and took a seat, gazing out into the immaculate backyard.

  The curtains and blinds were open to the outside. I could see the backyard butted up to the forest, landscaped just as immaculately as the front. A kidney-shaped pool with an attached Jacuzzi was the main focal point of the space, surrounded on all sides by wicker lounge chairs and patio furniture. A look at the crystal-clear water sent a shiver up my spine. Water and I didn’t get along. A bad experience as a child — one of the very rare memories I had of my father — left me scared of any size body of water.

  I turned my attention from the pool to Grayson as he joined me at the table, placing a large bowl of salad in the middle and two glasses of red wine by each plate. I scooped out the lettuce, noticing he’d already coated it in a vinaigrette. Man, he was good. I didn’t even cook this well, much to my mother’s detriment. I was Italian, after all. It was a disappointment she pointed out to me many times in my adult life.

  “It might sound trite,” he began, “but when I bought it, I always imagined I’d eventually have a wife who’d put her own touch on the place.”

  My heart fluttered while my stomach dropped. For a second, I pictured myself putting my stamp on the whole house and was filled with excitement that quickly turned to dread. I wasn’t ready for anything like that. Not even close. But when I thought about some other, nameless, faceless woman decorating Grayson’s home, making it hers, a bitter taste filled my mouth. I was a mess of conflicting emotions.

  “That doesn’t sound trite,” I said quietly, truthfully. Because it didn’t, not at all. If I allowed myself to really think about it, it sounded kind of… amazing.

  “Maybe not, but it’s a naive thought,” he responded.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, lifting my fork to my mouth and taking a bite. “Oh God,” I groaned. “This is so good! Did you really make this? Be honest. You got takeout and staged it so you could take credit.”

  He smiled and shook his head, his hair tousled from sex. It was a really good look on him. Hell, everything was a good look on him.

  “No, I cooked. I love to cook. It’s why the kitchen is the only room in the house with a bit of life to it. When I’m home, I spend most of my time in here.”

  “Damn it,” I grumbled around a mouthful of food. “You’re making it really hard not to jump you again.”

  He laughed and took a bite, and I watched in fascination as his jaw worked while he chewed. His throat bobbed on a swallow and I was hit with the desire to lean across the table and lick his neck. I had it bad.

  “That’s the plan.” He winked. “Seduce you with sex and cooking until you can’t resist me.”

  I fake-glowered as I continued shoveling salmon and vegetables into my mouth. The dinner really was delicious.

  “So,” he started, pulling me from my food-induced euphoria, “tell me something about you.”

  “What do you want to know?” I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of my wine.

  “What’s your family like? I know you mentioned having a brother, but besides him cheating on your friend, you haven’t said much else. Do you two get along?”

  “Yeah. In spite of everything, we actually do.”

  He set his fork down, resting his elbows on the table as he drank some of his wine. “You sound surprised.”

  “Yeah, well, it was rocky for a long time. After he cheated on Sophia, I hated him for hurting her, for being like our father, but after they broke up, I saw how torn up he was over it. He tried to get her back for a while, but she wasn’t having it. When I saw how repentant he was, I realized he wasn’t actually a carbon copy of our dad. That bastard never felt bad for hurting my mom… or anyone else. Dominic did.”

  He studied me for a few moments. “You don’t have a good relationship with your father.” It wasn’t a question. My stomach sank as my mind replayed the conversation I’d had with him on the phone just a few short hours before.

  “It’s… complicated,” I answered. “And not something I really like to talk about.”

  “Okay.” He nodded, thankfully letting the subject drop. “And what about your mom? Are you two close?”

  With the topic of my father on the back burner, and the mention of my mom, the tension swirling in my gut began to loosen and I smiled. “Yeah. We’re close, more so now that I’m older. I kind of drove her crazy when I was a teenager.”

  Grayson’s smile sent off an explosion of butterflies in my belly. “I can imagine.”

  “She put me in Catholic school, hoping it would help to ground me,” I laughed. “Poor Mom. I think I’m responsible for most of her gray hair. Hers and all the sisters at the school. When I graduated, I think they all cried tears of joy that they wouldn’t have to deal with me any longer.”

  His jade eyes glittered with amusement. “I’m sure you weren’t that bad.”

  “Oh, but I was!” I giggled. I took another sip of wine and set the glass down to continue my story. “One of the sisters actually left her order after one of my little pranks during the homecoming dance.”

  Grayson’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “I didn’t think private schools had dances and stuff like that.”

  “I didn’t go to an all-girls school. I think my Mom knew if she did that, I would’ve been so muc
h worse.”

  “So what did you do?” he asked, his tone full of curiosity.

  “I’d just watched Carrie for the first time. I was struck with inspiration at the whole pig’s blood scene.” He choked on his food as I carried on. “In my defense, I didn’t use actual blood. It was corn syrup. And the girl who’d been crowned Homecoming Queen was a real bitch.”

  His laughter was deep and gravelly, coming straight from his belly. I watched in awe as his head fell back, a smile splitting his handsome face. I loved how I was able to make him laugh wholeheartedly like that. I knew I was screwed when all I could think was that I wanted to be the cause of more of those laughs.

  Grayson Lockhart was illegally gorgeous, an amazing cook, fan-freaking-tastic in bed, and had a beautiful laugh.

  And he liked me. He wanted to know me.

  As his laughter began to taper off into a chuckle and his green eyes pinned me in place, I came to a frightening realization.

  It wasn’t just sex. I wanted to know him too.

  Shit.

  Shithelldamnfuck.

  I lowered my gaze back to my plate and started eating with gusto, trying to ignore the way my heart pounded and the blood rushed in my ears.

  “Stay with me,” he said without a hint of amusement, pulling my focus back to him. The dancing in his eyes was gone as he regarded me intently.

  “What?” That one word came out breathless.

  “Tonight. I want you to stay with me tonight.”

  The wise decision would have been to say no, to go home to my own apartment and work to reconstruct my walls. But I’d never been known for making wise decisions. That was why I found myself nodding in acceptance. I wanted to stay with him.

  For as long as I could.

  And that was the problem.

  Lola

  IT WAS NOON on Saturday and I had finally come out of my Grayson bubble. After agreeing to spend the night with him the evening before, he’d proceeded to keep me up until the early hours of the morning, supplying me with more orgasms than I could count.

  I received a wakeup call most women would fantasize about — Gray’s head between my legs, under the covers. We finished in the shower, my back against the wall while he pounded into me as the three — yes, three — showerheads rained down on us.

  Never in my life had sex been so good. Ever. Maybe it was because he wouldn’t give me control. I’d never had sex where I wasn’t the one calling the shots, but after round two, it became abundantly clear that Grayson would never be dominated.

  And after I discovered what he could do with his tongue, lips, fingers, cock, etc., I was totally cool with that.

  He’d driven me home earlier once I’d been fed bacon and eggs — the bacon sent the last part of my wall that was still standing crumbling to the ground in a massive cloud of dust — and kissed the hell out of me on the steps of my building before making me promise to have lunch with him the following day. I’d blissfully agreed, still floating in my Grayson bubble.

  But that was then, and this was now. We’d been apart for two hours, which was apparently just enough time for me to start freaking out. In a panic, I’d called my girls and demanded an impromptu lunch. I needed them to talk me off the ledge. And honestly, no one liked freaking out on their own. That was what friends were for, after all.

  We agreed to meet up at a little bistro we all loved in Queen Anne Hill. I decided to wear a pair of my most comfortable heels and walk, hoping the cardio would help work off some of my anxiety.

  It was twelve on the dot when I pushed through the door to the bistro. Both my friends were already there, sitting at a little table by the open glass doors that led to the patio.

  The second my butt hit the chair Sophia was pushing a mimosa my way. I accepted the drink gratefully and downed the contents in two long gulps.

  “Whoa,” Daphne said. “Someone’s stressed.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” I replied, holding my glass out for a refill. Sophia picked up the pitcher and poured.

  “Would it have anything to do with this?” Daphne handed me her cell phone. On the screen was a picture of me wrapped around Grayson like a second skin just inside the doorway of his house. I backed out of the photo to see it had been posted on a celebrity gossip site.

  “Christ! So much for privacy. How did they get this? It was only last night!”

  “You know how fast those vultures work,” Sophia chided. “And nothing’s private with them.”

  I handed the phone back to Daphne and dropped my head onto the table with a pained groan. “Hey, look on the bright side. This whole stunt was to repair his public image, right? Well, it’s working. The papers are eating this stuff up.” That was Daphne for you, the eternal optimist.

  “God, this is bad. This is so bad,” I mumbled into the tablecloth.

  Sophia’s hand on my shoulder pushed, forcing me to sit up straight. “What’s going on? Why’d you call us in such a dither?”

  I gave her a look. “Dither? Really?”

  She shrugged. “I’m trying to use one new word a day.”

  “And you couldn’t have picked a better word than dither?” I deadpanned.

  “Would you have rather I have used ‘tizzy’?”

  I curled my lip. She knew I hated that word. It was right up there with “moist” and “Kardashian.”

  “Can we stay on topic, please?” Daph asked, looking at me. “What’s going on?”

  The waiter stopped by the table and set out a loaf of French bread and an olive oil dipping sauce. Normally I loved my carbs, but my appetite had run for the hills right around the time my Grayson bubble popped.

  “We had sex,” I said on a dramatic whisper.

  “Who had sex?” Sophia asked.

  “Me and Grayson. I went over to his house last night for dinner. You know, the one he bullied me into yesterday?”

  Sophia smiled wickedly. “Didn’t look like it took too much bullying to me.”

  “Anyway….” I scowled. “I showed up and he answered the door and I kind of… threw myself at him.” I pulled in a much-needed breath. “And we had sex. Like, a lot. And he asked me to stay the night… so I did.”

  My friends’ jaws hung open in shock for several seconds before Daphne came back to her senses. “You had sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “With Grayson?

  “Uh-huh.”

  “A lot?”

  “Will you stop repeating everything she just said?” Sophia snapped. “We’ve already established she had a lot of hot and sweaty sex with Grayson—”

  “I didn’t say anything about hot and sweaty,” I protested.

  She gave me a “Bitch, please” look. “Well, wasn’t it?”

  Damn it. It really was. I rolled my lips between my teeth and bit down, refusing to answer, but the bright crimson blush on my neck and chest gave me away.

  Sophia let out a delighted whoop. “I knew it! I knew that guy was going to be killer in the sack. I’m so jealous of you right now.”

  “Can we please get back on point?” I whined. “This isn’t about whether it was hot and sweaty or just lukewarm. It’s about the fact that it never, ever, ever should’ve happened.”

  A scoff traveled up Sophia’s throat. “Okay, Taylor Swift. It never, ever, ever should’ve happened.” The bitch actually sang the “never, ever, ever” part.

  “It shouldn’t have.” I glared, somehow refraining from kicking her in the shin beneath the table. “First of all, he’s my boss—”

  “Your dead-sexy boss who’s been chasing after you like a puppy for weeks,” Daphne unhelpfully added.

  “Secondly, this whole thing was supposed to be for show. It was never supposed to get real.”

  I hadn’t realized just how much I’d given away until my friends turned quiet, their expressions growing concerned and speculative.

  “And is it?” Sophia asked softly. “Getting real? For you?”

  “It is,” I finally admitted after
several seconds of silence, in which I stared down at the table, toying with the cutlery. “I have… feelings for him. I know I shouldn’t, that it’s a huge mistake, but I can’t help it. I tried to talk myself out of it over and over.”

  “Honey,” Sophia whispered, reaching out to place her hand on mine, “this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. He seems like a really good guy. He’s not your dad, or—”

  Her mouth clamped shut, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. He wasn’t my dad… or Dominic. I turned my hand over under hers and twined our fingers together, giving her a comforting squeeze. She’d loved my brother more than anything. She still hadn’t gotten over that heartbreak, and it killed me every time I saw the pain in her eyes.

  “She’s right,” Daphne chirped, intentionally cutting through the morose mood that had suddenly enveloped our table. “It wouldn’t be fair to paint him with that brush. Especially if he hasn’t done anything to warrant your distrust. What if he truly is a good man and he really wants to be with you? Do you really want to risk losing that just because you’re scared?”

  “How can you say that?” I asked. “You know better than anyone… hell, we all know just how bad this could go. All three of us have lived it.”

  She shrugged and gave me a sad smile, her past still causing pain as well. “We have to let it go at some point, right? I mean, we can’t stay bitter forever, can we?”

  “Of course we can!” I smacked the table for emphasis. “We even made a pact, remember?”

  She rolled her eyes at my dramatics. “That was years ago, Lo. We’re in our thirties—”

  “Shut your whore mouth,” Sophia gasped. “I’m twenty-eight.”

  “You’ve been twenty-eight for three years,” I teased. “Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

  “As I was saying,” Daphne continued with a giggle, “we’re getting older. We need to learn how to move on. We offer relationship advice for a living, for Christ’s sake. Don’t you think it’s time we start practicing what we preach?”

  Sophia and I hung our heads in shame, knowing she was right but unwilling to admit it out loud.