13. Clementine
CHAPTER 13
Clementine
M y dad’s trial had been the most painful month of my life.
It seemed like every day there was some new, horrible indignity that I had to sit through with dry eyes, looking like I didn’t give a shit or everyone would know how badly my heart had been shattered.
So it was extremely satisfying to see that cocky asshole responsible for my humiliation get humbled as his cum sprayed all over his hand and pants.
However, he was being harder to dislodge than I expected.
Grayson had apologized profusely for jacking off in the living room.
“If you think I am flattered by your inability to control your penis, you are very mistaken,” I said severely.
“I am so sorry,” Grayson said again, his face looking strained and white. “I’ve never done anything like that in my life.”
“Then why did you do it here?” I asked as he scrubbed the floor and table on his hands and knees.
“Just—I just could not control myself. I felt like I was going to come in my pants anyways, so I didn’t want to make a mess. I know it sounds ridiculous.”
“Well,” I said, my heart pumping with hope that this would be what drove him away, “in future perhaps you should avoid looking at me if you can’t control yourself.”
But this Grayson refused to do. “I can’t help looking at you,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Boy, if I didn’t know better, I’d be flattered by the intensity in blue eyes. Luckily I knew better, though.
I was pleased when the doorbell rang. Maybe seeing that I was in a happy relationship would discourage Grayson.
My boyfriend’s name was Liam Gallagher, and he was the opposite of that rat fink Grayson Bentley in every way, a lanky laid-back man with light brown waves, a broad easy grin, and a big laugh.
Grayson was a train-sized asshole with a crew cut who barely grinned, let alone laughed.
I was so much better off now.
Liam bent to kiss me hello as he always did, and I made sure to lean into it, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, teasing him with my tongue so he’d kiss me hard back.
Grayson looked like he wanted to vomit or throttle Liam, while my boyfriend seemed totally impervious as he went to put his beer in the cold fridge.
“There is no way you are seriously about that gurgling dickhead,” he said incredulously.
I enjoyed the grim set look to Grayson’s jaw.
“If you don’t like who I invite over, you’re free to go,” I reminded him.
“I’m not leaving you,” he reminded me.
What the fuck. What was it going to take?
Liam was a local musician, very sweet and easygoing.
“And who is this?” he asked, sticking his hand out to Grayson as he came back in the room.
Liam was not the jealous type, unlike my ex, who looked sick with envy, and he had a friendly interest in the news that there was an FBI agent living in-house.
“FBI, eh?” he asked. “Nice to meet you, man. Damn, what a kick to get free protection, baby! And is this the first time you two have met?
Grayson’s eyes sharpened as he glared at me.
“You haven’t told him you have an ex-husband?” he asked me sternly.
“I don’t have an ex-husband,” I shot back. “The wedding was fake, remember? It wasn’t legal.”
“Seems like the kind of thing you should disclose in a serious relationship,” Grayson countered, like he had scored a point.
“Liam, this is the FBI agent who stalked me for two years and is back to stalking me now,” I said in a tight voice.
That should shut Grayson up.
“Shhiiiittt,” Liam said in his leisurely way. “It’s like a fucking Lifetime movie, babe.”
Grayson’s face looked like chipped granite, and I could feel him fighting to keep his eyebrows down from his hairline.
“Ah well, no hard feelings,” Liam continued cheerfully.
Plenty of hard feelings , I thought angrily, but didn’t say anything, biting back the retort that he didn’t get it.
Liam was just like that. A real freewheeling sweetheart.
Sometimes too much of a freewheeler. We’d been dating for over two years now, after meeting at one of the first plays I had been involved in, with no indication he had any interest in getting married and having kids. He was perfectly happy still to live in his tiny apartment above the coffee shop, playing Friday night concerts here and sometimes with his band the Friskitones in the city.
My tentative attempts to bring up babies had been rather vaguely brushed past.
Still, he was a good boyfriend. Kind and attentive, supportive and uncomplicated.
Exactly what I needed after Grayson’s shattering betrayal.
For a few years after the trial, I didn’t think I was going to make it, living in leaky basement apartments and delivering pizzas in the shitty part of town. I’d almost been robbed twice, was sick of the smell of pizza, but I finished my graduate costume design project, and miraculously it was good enough to get noticed by the big city theaters.
But I didn’t want to live in the big city. First of all, it was way too goddamn close to the courthouse I’d gone to every single day of Dad’s trial. I didn’t want to see the reminder of Grayson’s betrayal every day for work.
So I moved to a small town on the outskirts of the city, only going in to watch the plays that starred my designs and visit my dad in prison.
And, now that I was successful, suddenly Grayson was back and acting like he was sorry.
I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted him out of here, because the stern frown on his face was way too familiar. Grayson had almost always been remote, cool, and in control. I had only seen a flash of emotion from him a few times. Once we had gone to a museum and I had been in raptures over one of the dresses that had been in one of the original silent films. The curator had been thrilled to have such an appreciative customer, touching my elbow gently as he directed me to look at the pearl-lined hem.
Grayson’s frown and the warning he bit out at the poor curator for touching me had startled and thrilled me.
I did not want to feel that same thrill again.
“Why don’t you cook burgers for us?” I asked Liam, heading outside to the backyard grill, Grayson following behind.
“Oh really? Wow! You never want me to cook!” Liam said enthusiastically.
No tasty meals for Grayson tonight.
With a roguish grin, Liam chucked the burgers on the grill.
I saw Grayson wince.
Mr. Perfect was always incredibly anal and psychotically neat and tidy about everything, including grilling.
“Feel free to go eat elsewhere,” I said. “Or, really, go anywhere else that ends with me never seeing your face again.”
“Ah, it’s OK if he stays,” Liam said cheerfully, closing the grill at a temperature I knew would make those burgers overdone as shit.
“Thank you,” Grayson said. “How could I refuse such a kind invitation, Clementine?”
I gritted my teeth and tossed my head, turning deliberately away.
But not before I saw him begin to take off his tie out of the corner of my eye.
Fuck.
I looked away, but I didn’t want to look TOO far away, like I was affected by him or something.
But I had always loved watching him get undressed.
Grayson did everything deliberately. He’d undo his tie with those strong fingers, then wrap it carefully in a neat coil, or hang it from his tie rack. The top one or two buttons of his collared shirt would be undone, giving me a peek of his strong throat.
Then he’d move to his cufflinks, taking them out one by one with strong, tanned fingers, making my pussy clench and my thighs get wet, because I knew he’d be the same in bed. Slow, deliberate, building me up with unhurried strokes.
I did not want to remember that . Or how I had always felt this euphoric, stomach-churning mix of heady pleasure in his arms and fear.
Fear that I loved him too much.
Fear that he didn’t love me enough.
Fear that I wasn’t enough for him.
I resolutely shoved all those feelings aside and smiled at Liam.
“Can’t wait for those burgers,” I said, setting condiments and paper plates at the outdoor table.
After the very well-done and squeaky burgers, which Grayson ate with such a perfectly polite neutral expression on his face that I wanted to scream, Liam asked what my plans were for the night.
“Early bedtime,” I said, holding Grayson’s eyes, daring him to object.
“Let’s watch a movie,” he countered. “I’ll make popcorn.”
“No way,” I said, getting up to clear the table, “I just can’t wait to get into bed with Liam.”