“Come for me, Grace.” He breathes against my mouth. “God you feel so fucking incredible.” His words send my already growing orgasm to the brink.
I let out a loud cry as it rips through me, my entire body quivering and pulsing beneath him. After a few more thrusts, his head collapses on my shoulder, his breathing heavy and erratic as he chases his own release.
“I swear, Grace, I don't know what you do to me but being with you, like this...” He grinds his hips, still pressed deep inside of me. “It's unlike anything I have ever experienced.”
His confession causes a ripple to run through my entire body. I can't imagine that after all the women I am sure he has slept with, that I would be anything special. And yet, that's exactly how he makes me feel. His reaction to my body is just as intense as mine is to his and I can't help but think, in some weird way, that we were made to fit together like this.
Eventually, he pulls out and helps me re-dress before pulling his boxers and pants back on. The music in the background has changed into a mournful tune. I don't recognize the woman's voice but the song is absolutely beautiful.
“Are you hungry?” He pulls me into his arms, snuggling his face into my hair.
“Starving,” I answer honestly. I can't remember the last time I ate and until he mentioned food, I hadn't even thought about it.
“We could order in. What are you in the mood for?” I love that he's giving me a choice and not choosing what he wants to eat. Considerate is not something I expected him to be, but then again, very little about this man is what I expected.
“Everything sounds good right now,” I reply, not able to come up with one specific thing that sounds better than the other.
“We could order sandwiches from the deli down the street. They deliver and the food is really good.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my cheek. My god this man makes me feel so perfect and yet so terrified all at once. The combination of emotions is dizzying and I struggle to get a grip on myself.
Zayne orders sandwiches while I take a quick shower, changing into a pair of his boxers and one of his plain white t-shirts before joining him in the living room. “I swear, you look better in my clothes than I do,” he says, holding out his arm, gesturing for me to join him on the couch.
I don't hesitate, immediately snuggling into his side. My damp hair instantly leaves wet splotches across his gray shirt. “Well, considering I'm wearing your underwear, I highly doubt I look anything but a hot mess.” I laugh, pulling back to look at him.
His eyes dance across my face before he leans down and places the sweetest kiss across my lips. “More like the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he says, pushing a clump of my wet hair over my shoulder.
“Oh yeah, well you should smell me. I'm totally wearing your deodorant too.” I laugh at the amused smile that stretches across his face. “You really should keep a variety of toiletries stocked for when you have company. I can't imagine many women are fond of walking around smelling like a man.”
“Well considering I never have house guests, other than Alec, I've never had the need to keep anything here. But for you, I think I can arrange something.” He smiles and gives me a playful wink.
“I find that hard to believe,” I say, hoping that the statement isn't offensive. “Don’t get me wrong but look at you.” I let my eyes slide up and down his perfect body. “There's no way you don't have women lining up at your doorstep.”
He lets out a light laugh and shakes his head. “I didn't say they weren't lining up, just not on my doorstep.” He laughs when I playfully smack him across his chest.
“Ass.”
A knock on the door pulls us from our banter and Zayne quickly makes his way to the front door, reappearing moments later with our sandwiches and two bottles of soda.
We spend the next few minutes eating and watching Fox News. While I have never been one to watch the news, as I don't like hearing about all the bad things that are going on in the world, Zayne apparently watches it religiously.
“Seriously, don't you care what's going on? What if we were in the beginning stages of a Zombie Apocalypse? How would you know unless you went outside, at which point you would probably either be eaten or turned into a zombie yourself. I'm just saying.” He chuckles.
“I'm pretty sure if zombies were running through the streets I wouldn't need to watch the news to find out.” I roll my eyes at him.
“Eyes,” he growls. “I fucking hate that.”
“I'm sorry, you hate what exactly?” I roll my eyes again.
“You are a major pain in the ass, Grace Morgan.”
“You want to do what to my ass? I'm sorry, Mr. Evans, but I am simply not that kind of girl,” I say in my best country accent, which is actually really awful and ends up sounding more English than country.
He bursts into laughter and I can't help but join him. Even though today is the day I dread every year, Zayne has found a way to keep me occupied and thoroughly entertained for most of it and for that, I am more grateful than he will ever know.
“I can think of a few things I'd like to do to you, only one of which involves your ass.” He reaches over and pulls me into his lap.
Chapter Seven
“GRACE, YOU GOT A MINUTE?” Emma asks, knocking lightly on my door. I've only been home from Zayne's for about an hour and I knew, considering I didn't come home for more than twenty-four hours, that Emma would want some type of real explanation.
Emma knows me well and she knows that I despise staying at other people's houses, or at least I did until Zayne's. But regardless, I knew she would question me about it, especially given what yesterday was.
“Come on in,” I call out, pushing myself into a sitting position on my bed. She walks in, crossing the short distance of my room before plopping down on the bed next to me. She's dressed unusually in a black one piece thing that kind of looks like a leotard. It clings to her perfect figure in all the right places but it's not an outfit many would be brave enough to wear. It takes me a second to realize that she is probably heading to the theater.
“How are you?” She pulls her legs up onto the mattress.
“I'm good.”
“I'm worried about you.” She sighs, pulling her light brown hair into a loose pony tail behind her and securing it with a hair tie from her wrist. “I hate to bring up what yesterday was, but this is the first time since it happened that we haven't spent the day together. It's just not like you.”
“I know, Em, and as much as I love you, yesterday was something I needed to handle without you. I need to start learning to heal and breaking out of the routine that holds me captive,” I say, reaching out to give her hand an encouraging squeeze.
“I get it... But Grace, you've also been staying out a lot recently. Are you sure everything is okay? I mean, you don't come home from work some nights or when you do it's way past the time that a bar closes.”
Deciding I need to tell her something or she will never let this go, I opt for the lesser of two evils.
“Okay, so I have been keeping something from you. It's not a big deal, honest. I am working at a bar, that part is true. But I'm not actually working the bar, rather the stage.”
“You're a stripper!” The statement bursts out in complete disbelief hinted with a dose of panic.
“Oh god, no!” I shake my head adamantly. “I'm playing music. Four nights a week I get up on stage, just me and my guitar.” I see her visibly relax in front of me. Her full lips turning from an 'O' into a slight frown.
“Why wouldn't you tell me that, Grace? That's amazing. Why did you feel like you needed to keep this from me?” she questions, not trying to hide the hurt in her voice.
“I just didn't want anyone to know I’m playing. I was kind of embarrassed about it at first. I mean, I never really thought I was that good. But playing at Vitos has given me so much confidence,” I say, realizing my mistake immediately.
“Vitos? The little place down the street
?” she asks, her eyebrows shooting up. “It's kind of run down and scary, isn't it?”
“It's actually a really cool place,” I say, trying to cover the fact that I never intended to tell her where I'm playing. But now that it's out there, there's not much I can do about it, so I give her all the details about the bar and tell her a little more about Becca and Jake, including how Jake's aunt and uncle own the place.
By the time I’m finished, she seems more at ease, having blamed my late nights on staying over to work on some new music with Becca and Jake. While she seems to have bought my story, a small part of me feels like she suspects that there is more to it.
“I gotta get to work. If you’re free tomorrow night, Carver and I are hitting up Serenity.” She stands, making her way toward my bedroom door.
“Serenity? Isn't that place like impossible to get into?” I ask. I don't know much about New York in the way of the club scene, but Serenity I have most definitely heard of. It's advertised everywhere and from what I understand, one of the hardest clubs to get into, especially on a Saturday night.
“Carver's uncle knows the owner.” Her face lights up in excitement. “So you're coming, right?” She pouts out her lips in a pretty please face.
“I'll be there with bells on.” I give her a wide smile. She returns my smile then twists around and practically skips out of my room.
SERENITY is everything it is said to be and so much more. An enormous dance club with sparkling floors and glowing lights, filled with employees who are not only impossibly attractive but are also wonderfully attentive. Dressed in matching black suits, the females are more feminine, dipped low in the front to show off just enough cleavage to interest the male customers but not too much to be considered slutty.
The entire top floor is wrapped in circular shaped rooms that oversee the main dance floor. Each room alternates between a blue or red light which gives the upper floor of the establishment an almost glowing effect.
Carver managed to snag us one of the private rooms, but other than the first initial shots of the night, we have spent very little time in there. But after dancing to a good five songs in a row, I retreat back up to the comfort of our private bubble and collapse down on the circular red couch. Emma trails in behind me, tripping over the round white table in the middle of the room before plopping down next to me.
She grabs the champagne out of the ice bucket and quickly refills both of our glasses before handing one to me. “A toast,” she says, holding up her glass.
“Shouldn't we wait for Carver?” I ask, peering through the tinted glass wall before spotting him tangled up with a fiery red head on the dance floor.
“Hell no. This is a girls’ toast.” She follows my line of sight to where Carver and the girl are dancing. I don't know that I would even classify it as that. More like dry humping in a room full of people. “Besides, he looks perfectly happy to me.” She raises her glass again. “To you, Grace Morgan. For being my very best friend and allowing me to be yours. I love you. And to me. New York Theater, watch out!” she exclaims, clinking her glass with mine before draining the contents in one large gulp. I smile at my tipsy friend and then mirror her actions, pouring the champagne down my throat.
I’ve never been much of a drinker, but I swear, lately I feel like all I do is drink. I try to remind myself that I’m young and this is part of growing up but I can’t help but feel a little irresponsible.
Something starts vibrating and in my drunken haze it takes me a second to realize that it's my phone dancing on the table. I reach forward to retrieve it, taking extra precautions to make sure my girls don't spill out of the strapless black mini that Emma convinced me to wear. With my wide hips hitching the dress up further than it would if Emma were to wear it, the hem sits inches from my upper thigh.
I unlock my screen and immediately feel heat flush over my face at the sight of Zayne's name on the incoming message screen.
I miss you. Come over.
I avoid Emma's gaze and type a quick reply.
Wish I could. Out with Emma and Carver celebrating Emma getting cast.
His reply is almost instant.
Where?
“Who are you texting?” Emma asks just as I type in Serenity and hit send.
“No one.” I lock my phone and toss it back down on the table. She gives me a disbelieving look and then pins her brown eyes on me.
“Bullshit, Gracie! Look at you. You're blushing ten shades of red right now.” She gestures to my face. “Now tell me who the hell you're talking to!” she demands, her voice remaining light.
“Zayne.” His name slips from my lips without me really meaning to say it. Or maybe I did mean to. Maybe I’m sick of hiding my relationship, or whatever you want to call it, from my best friend. Maybe I need to fucking tell one person in this world what the hell is happening.
“What!” Her response is filled with disbelief and her eyes widen in shock as I nod my head. “You didn't. Did you? Oh my god, you did!” she squeals. “You slept with the god that is Zayne Evans and you didn't even tell me? What the fuck, Grace?” She stands, placing her hands roughly on her hips. “You officially suck as a best friend.” She takes two long strides toward the door before turning back around. “Oh fuck it. I have to know. Tell me everything,” she gushes, sliding back down into the booth next to me.
I proceed to tell her every single thing that has happened between me and Zayne, starting with the week at the lake house. While I know he doesn't want me to tell Emma, it feels really good to say it all aloud to someone other than myself. By the time I am finished, Emma seems more in shock than when I started.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, fanning herself. “I cannot believe you are hooking up with one of the sexiest men in all of New York. Hell, probably the world. Holy shit.” She repeats, shaking her head. “I need another drink.”
“Me too.” We look at each other for a long moment and then both start laughing.
Emma's anger over me not telling her fades away and is quickly replaced by absolute wonder and complete giddiness. We quickly make our way to the bar and do a double round of shots before heading back onto the dance floor.
The minute my feet fall into rhythm with the pounding music, the world around me falls away. My body moves on instinct and I close my eyes, feeling freer than I have in a very long time. Five years to be exact. I don't question it when in the middle of the third song, a pair of strong arms wrap around me from behind. It's not the first time someone has stepped in and started dancing with me tonight, so I don't really think too much of it. That is, until I catch his scent and I know without a doubt that the man's arms around me at the present moment are none other than Zayne's.
I whip around and squint through the tinted lights, trying to make out his face. “What are you doing here?” I blurt out, completely taken aback. I immediately start searching the floor for Emma and quickly catch sight of her, wrapped up in a guy who looks like he just stepped out of a Calvin Klein underwear catalog.
I take advantage of the opportunity to be close to Zayne. Wrapping my arms around the back of his neck, I pull his lips down to mine.
“I missed you,” he whispers against my mouth, his eyes searching mine. “I couldn't resist the urge to steal at least one dance with you.” He winks and then his mouth is on mine, hard and fierce. His tongue explores my mouth while his hand skates up the back of my thigh, coming to a rest just below my ass. “This dress is entirely too short,” he says, breaking away from my mouth. “But you look breathtaking in it.” He takes a step back to really get a good look at me before tugging me roughly back into his chest, just as Katy Perry's “Dark Horse” starts a slow sexy beat through the speakers surrounding the dance floor. Zayne drops his hands to my hips and starts moving his body against mine in time with the music.
I don't question it. Loving the way his body moves against mine, I immediately lose myself to the alcohol swimming through my veins and the fire burning through my body as his hands trail s
eductively down my back, his erection grinding into my lower belly. His body moves effortlessly against mine and while I think I’m a decent dancer, I have nothing on his flawless moves and the smooth way he works his body against mine.
As the song winds down to an end, Zayne drops his lips to mine once more before peeling our bodies apart.
“Satisfied?” I ask, referring to his previous comment about getting to dance with me at least once.
“Satisfied, yes. Desperate for more, fuck yes. But I have to go,” he whispers the last part against my lips before pushing them firmly to mine once more. I melt into his body but before I can even think about it, he pulls back and with one final look over my body, desire simmering in his eyes, he turns and walks away. I watch him disappear into the crowd seconds before Emma appears at my side.
“Shot?” she asks, smiling widely at me, clearly having no idea what just transpired.
“Shot,” I agree, letting her lead the way to the bar.
I SPEND MOST OF SUNDAY nursing a pretty bad hangover but luckily had recovered enough to get through my set at Vitos. I've had to tack on quite a few new songs to my set list now that I’m playing the whole four hour time frame, which after breaks equals to about three hours total.
Surprisingly, having a few drinks throughout the night, compliments of the bar, refreshed me and I finished with a bang. Wrapping up my set with “Poison and Wine” by The Civil Wars, Jake joining me for the duet.
Working as a singer definitely has its perks and being paid at the end of the month in cash is definitely a huge benefit. Having made a hundred dollars a night, four nights a week, for the last three weeks equals to a pretty nice chunk of change and I immediately decide that the first thing I’m going to do is pay Alec back.
Monday morning I make my way across the city to Fredrick Tower, the building that houses Zalec Developing. I think I laughed for a good ten minutes when Zayne told me the name that he and Alec had decided on for their company their freshman year of college. Apparently, they knew immediately that they wanted to go into business together.
The Way Back Page 13
