Chapter 8

8

GRAYSON

N ever in my life have I ever felt the connection I feel with Ainsley. She’s already broken down some of my barriers, and I have the feeling I’m going to let her knock down more. I had to get out of the bedroom before she tore down all of my defenses in one night. I wasn’t lying when I told her I’m not the guy who sleeps with girls on the first date. Hell, I’m not even the guy who brings girls home to my house this soon. Three days in, and this girl is under my skin, and hell if I don’t want her there.

I make myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, and while it brews, I pick up the clothes that are strewn around the kitchen. Raising Ainsley’s sweater to my face, I inhale deeply, relishing in the intoxicating scent of her. Once the coffee is ready, I take a seat at the island. The island that needs to be wiped down, but hell if I want to wash any part of Ainsley away.

After a little while, I hear her padding into the kitchen. She takes a seat next to me, grabs my cup and takes a sip. I glance her way, just to get a look at her. She’s still wearing my T-shirt and the sight of her alone is enough to make me smile.

Her lips turn up in a smile in return. “What?” she asks innocently.

“This is a good look for you. ”

“You should approve; you picked it out,” she retorts with a giggle. “But I really like it too.” She glances up at the clock on the microwave. “Is it really midnight?” she asks not believing the time. “Do you have anything sweet for a snack?”

Goading her, I tell her, “Check the pantry. I’m sure you can find something in there.”

Unfortunately, she doesn’t take the bait. “Oh, I’m all set with the pantry for a while.”

“I’m sure there’s ice cream in the freezer. Or you could make something.”

Her face lights up. “I make a mean brownie. Want to help?”

Suddenly, there’s nothing more than I want to do than bake with Ainsley, regardless of the late hour. “Yes. I’ll get the ingredients from the pantry. What do you need?”

“Some sort of pants or undergarments would be helpful,” she delivers in a monotone voice.

“Coming right up. Make yourself at home and get started.” I shoot off my stool and take the stairs two at a time to get to my bedroom. In my drawer, I pull out a pair of Steelers PJ bottoms as I smile to myself. I grab myself a pair of pants and throw a T-shirt over my head.

Walking downstairs, I have to control my laughter at the scene I can envision when I get back to the kitchen. Wiping away my smile, I arrive in the kitchen and halt dead in my tracks. Ainsley’s reaching for something on the top shelf of the cabinet. My shirt is riding up as she reaches up, showing off her bare ass in the process. What I wouldn’t give to put my mark on her and bite that ass.

I cough and clear my throat, alerting her to my presence. She turns around abruptly. “How long have you been standing there?” she asks, not even bothering to cover up. Her confidence is smoking hot.

“Just a few seconds. Here, I got you some pants.” I toss them over to her, trying as best as I can to contain my laughter.

She catches the pants and when she sees the symbols on them, she drops them as if they are on fire. “Hell no, Grayson. Nuh uh. Not happening.” She frowns and kicks the pants with her feet, trying to get them as far away from her as possible.

Her reaction is even better than I imagined it would be, but I’m not done yet. I step out from behind the counter, and when she sees that I have clothes on, she shrieks. Not because I’m wearing clothes, but because of what I’m wearing.

“You think you are so funny, don’t you? Asshole.” She turns away from me, anger clouding her features.

I sidle up behind her and throw my arms around her waist. “You want these?” I ask, pointing to my pants.

“You know I do.”

“What are you willing to do to get them?”

She maneuvers her body so that she’s facing me. “Anything. You. Want.” There’s a craziness in her emerald eyes. She places her hands on my shoulders, and my body warms with just her touch.

“Anything?” I raise my eyebrows at her.

“Yep.”

The words coming out of my mouth surprise even me, but once they are out there, I realize that I wouldn’t take anything back. “Spend the whole day with me tomorrow, including another sleepover.”

She pretends to think about it for a minute. “Deal. Now hand over the Eagles pants pronto.”

I take a few steps back, step out of the pants and hand them over to her. She quickly pulls them on, rolling them at the waist a few times so they don’t drag all over the floor. She walks over to the Steelers pants and kicks them in my direction, shuddering as she does so. Her animosity towards a pair of pants turns me on. I pull on the pants.

She hops up on the counter and drags me to her. I go willingly. “Don’t we have brownies to make?”

“In a minute.” She hushes me by placing her hand over my mouth. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she locks her gaze firmly on mine. In a more serious tone, she adds, “It’s so refreshing that you didn’t automatically ask for sex. I mean, I’m not saying sex would be a problem, but I like how whatever this is, it’s bigger than just sex for you. Because I feel the same way.” She lowers her voice. “You are overwhelming me, Grayson Abbott, in the best possible way.” She plants a slow kiss on my forehead. Before I have a chance to respond to her declaration, she gently pushes me out of the way, hops down off the counter, and announces, “I need flour and cocoa powder from the pantry. Thanks, dear.”

Shaking off the fact that she can switch topics so effortlessly, I go to the pantry and grab the items she requested, as I think to myself, I could get used to this.

A insley whips up a batch of brownies from scratch. While she measures and mixes, I watch her attentively from my perch on the island. I love how she’s so at ease in my kitchen. She quickly figures out where the measuring spoons and cups are and when she can’t find something, she doesn’t hesitate to ask. Even though I’m supposed to be helping, she’s taken control of most of it. It’s rare for me to sit back and watch someone else be the cook, especially in my kitchen; however, I find that I’m completely content in giving up the control and just watching her.

While the brownies cook, she sits close to me on the island, resting her legs on top of mine.

“A penny for your thoughts,” I ask her, pulling her out of her daze.

Looking over at me, she smiles. “Just thinking about what else I can make in this kitchen. Not tonight, of course, but some time in the future.” She leans her head on me, not quite reaching my shoulder.

Her comment catches me off guard at first, only because of the nature of the word “future.” I’d be lying if I said I didn’t already picture her making good use of the kitchen again sometime soon.

“That can certainly be arranged,” I tell her, wrapping my arm around her and bringing her in closer to me. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow? Well, later today I guess.”

She picks her head up off my chest and stares incredulously at me. “You mean, besides having sex in the pantry, right?” she asks, her tone of voice somewhere between serious and sarcastic.

“Of course.”

She shrugs and then lays her head back down on me. “Haven’t really given it much thought. We’ll need food, so I figure we can still do breakfast at the café.”

“Sure. Tell me what you would be doing if you hadn’t enmeshed me in your life with that kiss at the bar.”

“Let’s see. On Sundays, sometimes I go grocery shopping for the week or I clean my apartment. Other days I spend it at my parents’ house or with friends. There’s always TV and books and crossword puzzles, stuff to keep my mind stimulated, and grading papers or planning lessons is a given. My commonplace Sundays don’t usually consist of hanging out at the homes of hot men, just in case you were wondering.” She giggles.

I shudder at her last comment. I choose not to think about her spending time with any other men at this moment, hot or otherwise.

“What about you? How do you spend your Sundays?”

“I’m on the boat as much as the weather allows,” I answer, finding my hand entwined in her hair again. “I usually end up at Bella’s house for dinner, or she and Kylie come here. I’ve been known to sit on the couch and binge-watch Netflix on rainy days. I like to take the Mustang out for drives, too, especially in the fall weather. It’s my favorite time of year, especially in Maine.”

She’s quiet for a while, so I revel in the closeness and just listen to her breathe. She hops up off the counter when the timer goes off to signal the brownies are done. She carefully takes them out of the oven, placing them on the stovetop to cool. She resets the timer for ten minutes. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall, first door on the left,” I instruct. As she exits the kitchen, I watch as her hips sway back and forth and can’t help but notice the way my pants sit low on her waist. Even though they are rolled up, the bottoms drag on the floor.

Needing something to do, I start to wash the dishes she’s piled in the sink. Most of them go in the dishwasher, so it’s not all that difficult. With the water running, I don’t hear her return until she squeals. I fucking love that sound.

Shutting the water off, I turn on my heels to face her. She’s got her hand thrown over her chest and her eyes are lit up. “Be still my heart. A man who knows how to load a dishwasher. I bet you make your mother proud.”

My body tenses, but I let her comment slide for now. I turn back around to the last of the dishes. She comes up behind me, wraps her arms around my waist, and lays her head on my back. When she speaks, I feel the vibrations in my back but can barely make out the words she’s saying.

“I’m so glad I kissed you at the bar. This has been the best first date I’ve ever had.”

I shut off the water and close up the dishwasher; she somehow manages to keep her arms around me, but I feel her head lift off my back. I spin myself so that I’m facing her.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” It’s all I say because it’s extremely hard for me to capture my emotions of how I feel right now with words. Instead, I bring my forehead down to hers, finding her gaze. Her eyes reflect what I’m feeling; she gets my message loud and clear.

Once the brownies have cooled for a bit, she cuts us each a piece. I pour us a glass of milk and hand her two plates. She carries the brownies to the table, and I follow her lead.

I take a bite first. Damn, she was right. These are delicious! After inhaling the entire brownie, I tell her, “These are delicious.”

She beams. “Thanks. Everyone agrees,” she adds with a giggle. “You want another one?”

“No, I’m good.” Stifling a yawn, I get up and put the dishes in the sink. “Ready to hit the sack?”

She nods and goes to retrieve her bag from the mudroom. When she comes back, she’s the one yawning. “Damn, I’m tired. Hope you don’t snore. I need to sleep!”

“I don’t; do you?” I parrot her question back to her.

“Nope. Come on.” She leads the way upstairs, where she proceeds to quickly strip down and change into some skimpy shorts and a tank top. I notice she leaves the underwear off.

“Oh, Ainsley. This is your sleeping attire?” I ask her, as a small moan escapes my lips.

“Is there a problem with it?” She crooks her head and bats her eyes.

“Not at all,” I reply, turning around so she can’t see me adjusting myself.

She snorts. “Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that.” She goes into the bathroom for a few minutes, I assume to brush her teeth and do whatever else she needs to do. When she’s done, she comes over to the bed. “Which side do you sleep on?”

“The side closest to the bathroom.”

She crawls her way to the opposite side of the bed, settles on the pillows and brings the covers up so she’s partially covered. I hit the bathroom, and when I’m done, turn off all the lights before climbing in next to her.

Her breathing is labored, and she appears to already be asleep. Since she’s facing away from me, I slide in behind her and throw my arm over her. She doesn’t stir.

Closing my eyes, I whisper in her ear, “Is it too soon to think I could possibly love you?”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.