I kept working, intrigued by the “shit” she’d had enough of but wanting to play it cool.
When she reached me, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked, blasé about her presence as I played around with a picture on my computer.
“Go on Instagram. Right. Now.”
“Hmm, I’m a little busy right now. Maybe later.”
“Grayson.”
When she didn’t continue, I chanced a glance up at her.
“Do it now.” She was practically snarling at me.
“I’m sure I’ll get to it—”
The rest of my words were cut off by her grabbing my keyboard, yanking its cords free of my monitor, and flinging it like a Frisbee across our office.
I worked my lips for a second before I pointed to where my keyboard had landed. “You know I don’t actually need that to edit my pictures, right?”
“The monitor is next,” she warned.
“What’s going on out here?” I heard Mr. Thomas ask, though I didn’t dare look away from Lynda. “Lynda, did you throw a keyboard across the room?”
Also unwilling to break eye contact, Lynda replied with a curt, “Yup. And heads are going to start rolling in a minute if this dickhead doesn’t get his stupid ass on Instagram.”
“I’m definitely not posting pictures of my ass on Instagram,” I retorted, because I’d evidently sunken to her pre-teen level.
She rested her hands on my desk and leaned into my space, which caused me to shrink back into my chair. Her whole demeanor was more than a little frightening.
“Grayson,” she said, her voice low and menacing. “I’ve always almost liked you. So I’m going to give you one more warning before I roll you like a dumpster diver. Get on your phone and log on to Instagram. Now.”
I wasn’t sure what her words even meant exactly, but I knew she meant them all the same.
“Lynda, you can’t threaten the staff. It’s not—”
“Not now, Tommy. I have a message to send.”
I heard Mr. Thomas sputter at her interruption and odd abbreviation of his last name, but I was too busy fishing my phone out of my pocket to look over at him.
“Christ, everyone here is fucking nuts, I swear. Fine, I’m on Instagram.” I held my phone out so she could see the screen. “Happy now?”
“Go to our page.”
After rolling my eyes, I clicked on our profile and watched it load. I was so busy being petulant, it took me a moment to notice that the most recent illustration wasn’t one I’d posted.
I clicked on it and was taken aback by how horrible it was. Had a toddler taken control of our page?
But looking closer, I was able to see it for what it was.
It was two people—both fairly androgynous but for one having long hair—smiling at each other. Around them were a variety of items: a coffee cup—I think—a feather, handcuffs, a pencil and paper, and a few other things I was hard-pressed to decipher because the drawing was that bad. But between them was a heart, and it was the only part of the picture that was colored in.
“You guys are into some weird shit,” Lynda said as she looked over my shoulder. “I approve.”
Ignoring her, I looked down at the caption.
Sometimes we’re so close to something, we don’t see it for what it really is. All the things we shared, I wasn’t just sharing them with my sexpert. I was sharing them with the boyfriend I didn’t even realize I had until you were gone. But now that I finally see the truth, I know without a doubt that no one else will ever mean as much to me as you do.
Grayson, I want you to keep drawing me failing at life so we can laugh about it on your couch. I want to do all the things that best friends who fall in love do. I don’t even know what those things are, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. As long as you’re with me, I’ll always figure it out. Please tell me I didn’t ruin it before it even truly started.
XOXO, Isla
I reread the caption again, and then a third time.
“You’re hesitating. Why is he hesitating?” Lynda asked.
I looked up and saw the rest of them crowded around my desk.
“Is he crying?” Jess asked.
“Not yet, but it looks like he’s close,” Lynda added.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Thomas asked.
He was immediately shushed by Dax, who announced that we were “having a moment.”
“This is spanning longer than a moment,” Curtis said. “Why isn’t he saying anything?”
“Because he’s emotionally disabled, like all men. Fucking worthless.” Lynda huffed as she finished speaking, like she was indignant on Isla’s behalf.
“Give him a minute. He’s processing.” Jess’s voice sounded like she was talking about a dog who was too dumb to learn how to sit.
Lynda scoffed. “For fuck’s sake, stop being so understanding. It’s nauseating.”
“Don’t get mad at me just because I’m a people person and you’re a cynical shrew.”
“You know what, Jessicunt? You’re lucky I can’t kill people with my mind, because you’d be fucked.”
“Whatever, Lyndorrhea. You don’t scare—”
“Can you both shut the fuck up for a second?” I finally said. “And go away. I have a phone call to make.”
Jess immediately lost all traces of agitation and looked at me as if I was recreating her favorite rom-com moment. “Are you going to call Isla? Because she seemed really nice when she emailed and asked us to post her picture.”
“Totally,” Dax agreed. “I mean, her drawing skills suck, but it’s the thought that counts and all that. Right?”
There were murmurs of agreement from around me, but I ignored them in favor of selecting Isla’s name on my phone as I stood to start gathering my things.
“Hello?” came the tentative voice on the other end of the line.
I stopped what I was doing and let those two syllables wash over me.
“Hey.” Silence filled the connection between us for a second before I was able to push more words out of my mouth. “I saw your picture.”
“Would you believe that was my fifth draft? I’d almost forgotten what a horrible artist I am.”
I chuckled into the line. “Yeah, it was pretty terrible.”
“Ah, well, can’t be good at everything.”
“No, that would be unfair to the rest of us.” It was her turn to laugh, and I waited until it was quiet again before I continued. “The caption was pretty great, though.”
I heard her take a deep breath. “It was maybe a little sappy.” Her tone made it clear she was teasing, but there was uncertainty laced into the words.
“Maybe a tad. That’s what made it perfect, though.”
“Perfectly sappy?”
“Perfectly everything.”
She sniffled. “Gray, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“Can we not do this over the phone? Christ, that was rude. I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I come see you? I just…I need to see you.”
I needed her like I needed my next breath would’ve been a more honest statement, but I didn’t want to completely overplay my hand. Every moment we’d been apart for the last few weeks had been gut-wrenching, and there was no lifting that burden until I could see her face and know it was real.
I wasn’t naïve to think my own hang-ups had simply disappeared, but wasn’t this the chance I’d wanted? The chance that had caused me to pull away from her because I thought I had no shot at getting it? I’d be a fucking moron to let it—let her—slip through my fingers.
It sounded like she released a sigh into the phone. “Yeah, I need to see you too.”
I grabbed my bag and maneuvered around my gawking coworkers and headed toward the exit.
“Are you at work? I’ll come to you right now,” I said.
“Actually, I’m a bit closer than work.”
“Great. Where are you?”
&n
bsp; “On the sidewalk outside your office.”
I stopped in my tracks. “That’s…convenient.” Getting moving again, I pressed the down button for the elevator.
“Yeah. The security guard in your building has been watching me for a while. Which, in his defense, makes sense since I’ve been here almost two hours.”
“Two hours?” In my surprise, I practically yelled the words. “You’ve been waiting down there all that time?”
“Maybe just do what we say the first time from now on,” Lynda yelled from behind me.
As the elevator slid open, I gave her a wave over my shoulder that was more of a fuck off than a goodbye, but she could take it however she wanted.
“You were really taking your time up there,” Isla said. “It was making me nervous.”
“Well, in about two minutes, I’ll start making up for keeping you waiting.” I watched the numbers tick down as the elevator descended.
“You’d better. See you soon.”
And with that, the call disconnected, and I was left with my foot tapping wildly and enough hope to nearly bowl me over. Today had turned into a pretty great day.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ISLA
Waiting for Gray had been a long, painful process. His coworker Jess had been keeping me updated on his stubborn ass, which I appreciated, but it didn’t help alleviate the anxiety. What if he’d seen it and still hadn’t wanted to talk to me? I’d have run the risk of getting tased by his building’s overzealous security guard for nothing.
But when he’d finally called, I knew everything was going to be okay. Sure, we probably had some shit to sort through, but that was fine. I’d sort through anything as long as I got him at the end of it.
It had taken me a few days to come up with the idea of drawing the picture and another couple of days to work up the nerve to reach out to his colleagues for help. They quickly agreed, but they evidently weren’t the most convincing bunch. Oh well. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
As I stood there staring at the door for any sign of Gray, I let it wash over me again just how big a moron I was. The man of my dreams had literally been cuffing me to headboards and listening to me bitch about my day for weeks, and I hadn’t realized he was the one. How fucking dense could a person be? My level of obtuseness would actually be awe-inspiring if it hadn’t almost cost me a happy future.
Finally, I saw him push through the doors of the building and stride up to me. I hadn’t thought about what I was going to say once I had him down here, and panic suddenly filled my body.
Gray walked directly into my space, cupped the back of my neck with a big, warm hand, and drew my mouth to his. I should’ve known my sexpert would know just what to do.
The tension I’d been holding in my body faded away as I let myself get lost in him. This. This was what coming home felt like. This was the feeling I’d only ever heard about, had been convinced I could find if I looked hard enough.
As it turned out, I hadn’t had to look at all. It had been sitting across from me in a coffee shop goofing on my ridiculous dates the whole time.
It was one of those time-slowing, traffic-stopping moments that only existed in the movies but felt as though the importance of it could warp reality and make the earth revolve around us for a change. And boy, if there was ever a kiss that could cause a tear in the fabric between reality and fantasy, it was this one.
As his lips smoothly moved against mine, I realized that this was our true first kiss—the one I’d always remember. This kiss wasn’t clouded by pretenses and deals. This was pure, uninhibited passion, and I was a fan in a big way.
I opened my mouth to gasp, and his tongue stole inside to tangle with mine. He tilted his head slightly, which allowed him to deepen the kiss to the point I felt I might drown. I slid my arms around him tightly, as if he was my buoy in unfamiliar, though not unwelcome, waters.
He pulled his lips from mine so he could trail kisses along my jaw, and when he reached my ear, he whispered, “I missed you.” And with that, I let myself be swept away in the current that was Grayson Hawkins, confident that what we had would keep me afloat.
“I missed you too,” I murmured.
He pulled back enough to look into my eyes, and I could tell from the crinkling at the corners that he was smiling. We exchanged a few more gentle but brief kisses before we parted enough to talk.
“I can’t believe you came for me,” he said. “I really am like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”
My laugh echoed down the street and likely garnered us more stares than our kiss had. “I can deal with being Richard Gere.”
He chuckled for a beat before sobering. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. It’s just…it was hard. Watching you with him. Knowing he was getting everything I wanted.”
I shushed him. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I don’t understand how I could’ve missed all these feelings. Once I recognized them for what they were, they were practically dripping from my pores. I was covered in fucking feelings. But I was in denial or something. It was like I’d so thoroughly convinced myself I’d never have you that I didn’t even let myself see our relationship for what it was. And instead I projected all those feelings onto Hunter.” I took a breath before continuing. “Which was pretty shitty all around, because I think I hurt the poor guy.”
“Fuck Hunter,” he practically growled, which was totally unnecessary but seriously hot as hell.
“There was absolutely no fucking of Hunter,” I told him because it needed to be said. I didn’t want him wondering about what had happened between us.
“Really?” He looked ridiculously pleased. It shouldn’t have been so endearing.
“Really.”
“So I’m still the only one who’s…?”
I rolled my eyes. “We’ve been over this. I was not a virgin when we met.”
He scoffed. “You practically were. Like a born-again virgin.”
“That’s so not a thing.”
“For the sake of my ego, can it be a thing?”
“I don’t think your ego is lacking.”
“Oh yeah? Try almost losing the girl you love to a pair of Hunters.”
“A pair of Hunters?”
His smirk should’ve clued me in to the fact that I was going to be affronted by his next remark. “Yeah. Don’t tell me you didn’t have a lesbihonest moment after meeting the first Hunter.”
Groaning, I smacked him on the arm. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet still somehow the best.”
I twined my arms around his neck. “Maybe because you just said you loved me.”
“Caught that, did you?”
“Most definitely. Though I’m not opposed to hearing it again.”
He pushed my hair away from my face, and then he cupped my jaw. “I love you, Isla.”
I gazed back at him, smiling, hoping my feelings for this man were clear. “I love you too.”
“Good,” he whispered before closing the short distance between us and sealing our mouths together again.
Neither of us pushed to take things further, but we remained there in our own world for too long if the loud wolf whistle was anything to judge by.
“We should maybe take this somewhere more private,” he said, though he didn’t make any move to step away from me.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
We stood still for a second longer, as if we were worried to break the spell we were under. But we finally parted, and Gray grabbed my hand and laced our fingers.
“My place or yours?”
I thought for a second. “Your place has the sex treasure chest.”
He looked over at me and gave me a smile. “I don’t think we need any props today. Just you and me.”
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I almost didn’t have this man. How absolutely tragic that would’ve been.
I squeezed his hand and said, “Just us sounds perfect.”
“My place is closer,
though,” he said.
“Your place it is, then.”
We walked quickly, exchanging brief snippets of what had been going on in our lives since we’d last spoken. Not a second too soon, we arrived at Gray’s place. I faked patience while he unlocked the door and led me upstairs to his apartment, where I had to wait again for him to unlock the door.
But once we were inside and he’d kicked the door shut, all pretense of patience was gone. We were on each other like we were attempting to establish a covalent bond.
He hoisted me up, and I wrapped my legs around him as he pressed my back against the door. I ran my hands over him like he was going to disappear if I didn’t touch him everywhere.
And lucky for me, it seemed like he felt the same way. His hands were on my breasts, my ass, my shoulder blades after he pulled my shirt over my head and held me in place with his hips. It was probably the hottest thing I’d ever experienced. I was a puddle of feelings, both physical and emotional.
My skin was hot, like a fire had been lit inside me and was making its way out through my flesh as Gray kissed me. Nothing, nothing had ever felt this good before. This right.
My body molded to his like it had been created to fit there—the way he cupped my lower back as it arched, how perfectly his lips melted against the sensitive place between my collarbone and my neck, how delicious his cock felt between my legs.
All of it made me wonder why I’d ever thought this wasn’t what I was supposed to have, wasn’t who I was supposed to be with. Because without a doubt, I was drunk on Grayson Hawkins, and I never wanted to sober up.
At some point, he must’ve put me down, but I was too wrapped up in the moment to take notice of how our clothes ended up on the floor below us. All I could focus on was his coarse facial hair brushing over my chest on his way lower.
He dipped down, both hands on either of my thighs as he knelt in front of me. Still against the door, I wondered how many of his neighbors could hear me moaning, yelling his name in between choppy breaths as he licked and sucked me so fucking good I wondered if Gray might drown down there.
Misadventures with a Sexpert Page 15
