Twelve
Trinity
I watch closely, marveling at Greyson’s cooking abilities as he takes six small lamb chops out of their marinade, stirs garlic mashed potatoes, and checks some kind of vegetables that are being roasted. “I’m impressed.”
He smiles. “I spent a lot of time when I was growing up in the kitchen at the vineyard’s Paradise Grill. But here I can’t take credit for anything other than the lamb chops. I went to the meat market and bought the mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and crème brulée for dessert.
“I’m even more impressed that you’re honest about that.” I grin at him.
“I wouldn’t want you to think I’m perfect at everything. I mean, we know I’m smart, a fantastic lover—”
I laugh. “You have a giant ego.”
“See? I’m not perfect.”
“And the jury’s still out on the lover thing. Don’t get me wrong, but it could be beginner’s luck that you did so well the first couple times. And that third time was a tossup.” I grin so he knows I’m teasing.
He shrugs casually. “I’m up for proving it over and over again.”
Feeling myself blush, I step away from the counter to admire the panoramic view through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It steals my breath. Black Bear Lake lies tranquil, its surface a glassy mirror reflecting the fiery hues of the setting sun. The Paradise suspension bridge arches gracefully over the water, an elegant silhouette against the crimson sky. On the lake, boats glide by, trailing water skiers and jet skis that dance on the waves like sprites at play.
“Wow,” I murmur.
Greyson glances over. “It never gets old,” he says.
With a nod, I turn back to the interior of his industrial chic space. Exposed-brick walls juxtapose with warm wood floors. It’s spacious, a testament to success and style, yet it’s the outdoors that truly captivates. Beyond the windows in the other direction I can see that half of the roof has been transformed into a park perched high above the world.
My surprise must be evident because Greyson chuckles softly. “Didn’t expect a small park on the fifth floor of the building?”
Shaking my head, I follow him out to where he’s fired up the grill on the terrace. “How long have you had this place?” I ask.
“About three years now,” he replies, placing the chops on the grill.
“That’s around the same time my parents moved in. They were one of the first to take residence once the building was finished.”
“Really? So was I.”
I’m intrigued by this connection. “What made you decide to live here?”
“My buddy from school was the developer for this building,” he says, a wistful note in his tone as he watches the flames lick the meat. “I needed to leave the guest house on the family vineyard. I wanted to give myself some distance so my father wouldn’t convince himself I went to medical school just to help run the vineyard.”
“Practicality meets opportunity,” I muse aloud, leaning against the railing.
“Indeed,” he agrees, offering me a sly smile. “I have a cab that’s probably breathed enough to drink, or I have a full bar.”
“The cab sounds good,” I say.
He springs into action to fill me a glass, and I follow him back inside.
“This is my favorite,” he says as he offers it to me.
I perch on a high stool at Greyson’s kitchen island and take an experimental sip.
“What do you think?” he calls as he returns outside to plate the lamb chops. When he brings them in, the scent wafts toward me, rich and savory, making my mouth water.
“It’s fantastic,” I tell him, raising my glass in salute.
We move over to the table, and he brings out the potatoes and vegetables. Everything looks so beautiful, and the breeze blows gently from outside. I’m glad someone cooks in this situation because it’s definitely not me.
We take our seats and toast to this bounty of food, and then Greyson urges me to dig in. “So, Trinity, tell me about your life in Vancouver,” he says after his first bite. “Where do you live?”
“North Van,” I reply, letting the familiarity of home wash over me for a moment. “Not too far from the hospital. On clear days, I walk to work. It’s nice, the way the morning air feels…brisk.”
He nods. “I went to medical school in Vancouver. North Van is a pretty hip spot. What do you do for fun? ”
I take a bite of the perfectly seared lamb before answering. “Fun? Well, I’m not exactly the life of the party. Dinner with friends, movies now and then. Occasionally we hit a club, but mostly, I’m focused on work.” I shrug, feeling suddenly dull.
“Work can be fulfilling. What drew you to hospital administration?” Greyson leans his elbow on the table.
“Initially, I wanted to be a doctor.” I twirl the stem of my wine glass. “But then I studied biology at McGill in Montreal and realized med school wasn’t for me. Nor was pharmaceutical sales.” A chuckle escapes me as I remember those days of uncertainty. “I didn’t know what to do with my biology degree, so I took a job at a hospital, just to get by, you know? Turned out, I loved it. Went on to get my MBA at UBC part-time while I was working. Now, I’m overseeing the implementation of province-wide electronic medical records.”
“Quite the journey,” he comments with an approving nod.
Our easy conversation continues, laughter mingling with the clinking of cutlery. He tells me some wild tales from the ED and paints a picture of life here in Paradise. As dinner winds down, Greyson’s gaze lingers on me, warm and inviting. “How long do you think you’ll be staying in Paradise?” he asks.
I lean back, considering. “Hard to say. I need to get my mom settled. She’s only going into assisted living temporarily. At least that’s my hope. So I want to stay close.” I glance at him, trying to read his thoughts. “For now, I can manage my job remotely. We’re almost through the toughest part of the project I’m working on.”
“Sounds like a lot to balance,” he says.
“It is,” I admit, grateful for his empathy. To think it’s been in there all this time, despite his anti-admin exterior. “I’ll have to go back to Vancouver for the next rollout. I’m not sure for how long. Maybe a few weeks, maybe longer. Depends on how things unfold with Mom.”
“Here’s hoping for smooth sailing, then,” he toasts, our glasses meeting with a soft chime .
“Cheers to that,” I echo, savoring the taste of the wine and the company.
Greyson reaches out, his fingertips grazing mine, sending a charge through my skin. “Did you enjoy our time together earlier?” he asks, his voice low and husky. “What did you say it was? A tossup?”
My lips curl into a smile. “Judging by the fact that I’m not wearing panties and brought along my silver bullet…” I lean in just enough to keep it intimate. “I’d say I enjoyed myself immensely.”
His grin widens. “It seems we have a lot in common,” he muses. “Here’s what I wanted to ask you about. Given that your stay here isn’t permanent, would you be interested in seeing each other regularly while you’re in town?”
The proposition thrills me. It’s just sex—exciting, uncomplicated, and exactly what I need right now. I nod. “Are you okay with casual monogamy?”
He nods. “That’s what I was thinking.” He pauses, his gaze appraising. “I don’t want to lead you on. I don’t do long-distance relationships, and I’m not leaving Paradise.”
I appreciate his candor. “No commitment, no love, the occasional date, and this lasts until I return to Vancouver or we decide we’re done?”
He smiles wide. “Yes. Great. We’re on the same page. Is there anything you don’t like?”
“Everything we’ve done so far has been…to my liking,” I reply.
Satisfied, he stands, walks over to my bag, and retrieves the small vibrator.
“Show me how you use this,” he commands gently, taking my hand.
My heart pounds in my chest as I rise. I’ve never performed for a man. But I suppose Greyson has seen all my crazy sex faces, so there isn’t much more that can embarrass me. With a surge of daring, I decide to embrace the moment, to throw caution to the wind.
“All right,” I say, my voice tinged with a nervous excitement. I take the vibrator from him. “Right here next to the porch?”
He looks around, and across the patio, we can see someone in the next building. “Maybe we take this back to my bedroom. In there, we can see out, but they can’t see in.”
My nipples pebble with anticipation as I follow him down the hall. In the bedroom, I perch on the edge of the bed, my heart racing as Greyson settles into a chair opposite me. I lift one leg onto the mattress, my knee bent, and lie back as I open myself to him—literally and figuratively. With deliberate slowness, I raise the hem of my sundress, revealing the slick heat of my arousal. A part of me balks at the vulnerability of this moment, the way I’m laying myself bare—not just physically, but emotionally. Trust doesn’t come easily to me, yet here I am, surrendering to his gaze, his presence, his request.
What scares me isn’t the act itself. It’s how much I want this. How much I want him . Wanting means risking, and risking means I could lose it all. Even with these guidelines we’ve agreed to, this is uncharted territory for me.
Greyson’s sharp intake of breath is audible, a sound that sends a thrill spiraling through me. My fingers trace the dampness at my core, a gentle exploration that has me biting my lip to stifle a whimper. I watch him, noting the unmistakable bulge rising in his pants, and it fuels my courage. It’s just sex , I remind myself. An indulgence between two consenting adults who happen to share a voracious appetite for pleasure.
The metallic chill of the bullet in my hand contrasts with the warmth pulsing from within as I switch it on. I run it across the fabric covering my breasts, watching as my nipples respond, puckering into tight buds. I close my eyes, allowing myself a moment of pure sensation, letting the vibration awaken every nerve ending it touches.
A soft moan escapes me as I guide the bullet downward, over my stomach, and then to the center of my need. The sensation is electric, a direct current straight to my pleasure centers. My body moves instinctively, hips tilting to meet the persistent buzz. This is for me , I think, even as I feel his gaze like a caress, hot and heavy, upon my skin.
My eyelids flutter open, and there he is—Greyson, bold and unashamed, his hand wrapped around his impressive length. He strokes himself in a rhythm that mirrors the pulse of my own desires, watching me intently. The sight sends a jolt of heat through me. “Do you like what you see?”
“Very much,” he replies. “Don’t stop.”
Emboldened by his words, I guide the silver bullet inside myself, where the slickness of my arousal makes it easy to slide deep. I move it in and out, setting a slow, deliberate pace that soon has me groaning with pleasure. I slip the strap of my dress off my shoulder, exposing more skin, and my fingers twist and pull at my nipple.
Our eyes lock, and his gaze amplifies each sensation, making my body sing with every touch. Then, craving more, I reach for the caramel in the bag he’s brought along with us to the bedroom. I drizzle the sticky sweetness over my breasts, watching as it trails down my skin.
“Would you mind licking the caramel off?” I challenge.
Without a word, Greyson drops to his knees between my legs, his eyes blazing with a hunger that matches my own. His mouth closes over one caramel-drenched nipple, and he sucks hard, drawing a sharp gasp from me. I arch into him, wanting, needing more, the silver bullet forgotten.
And he obliges, his tongue leaving a warm, wet path down my belly until he reaches my clit. There, he feasts with an intensity that sends me spiraling toward climax. My fingers grip the sheets, my back arches, and I’m lost in the sensations, crying out as waves of pleasure crash over me. In this moment, with Greyson’s name on my lips, I’m consumed by a bliss that obliterates everything else. It’s just us, the connection, the intimacy, and this shared dance of desire. Panting, I catch my breath and feel the sweet aftershocks of pleasure ripple through me.
Greyson’s voice pulls me from my daze. “Turn around,” he instructs. I swivel to face the full-length mirror that reflects our tangled forms, my skin still glistening with the remnants of fevered passion.
As he rolls on a condom, he mutters, “We need to talk about this, condoms…”
I watch him in the mirror. “I’m clean,” I assure him, catching my flushed cheeks in the reflection. “And I’m on birth control too.”
Without another word, he aligns himself behind me, and I brace against the force as he enters. A deep groan escapes my lips as I feel impossibly full, his presence engulfing me from the inside out. In the mirror, I watch him move—a powerful, rhythmic dance that has my breasts swaying with his every thrust. His hands weave into my hair, pulling slightly, tilting my head back to meet his gaze in the glass. The intensity in his eyes sends a thrill down my spine, amplifying the delirious sensation of being utterly possessed by this man.
His hand snakes around me, fingers finding my tender clit, and he pinches with a precision that catapults me over the edge. My second climax crashes over me, fierce and blinding, and I cry out, gripping the edges of the bed. As if my release triggers his own, Greyson follows, his body tensing as he spills himself into me with a series of guttural groans.
Afterward, we collapse on the bed, a tangle of exhausted limbs. Greyson’s chest rises and falls, his arm draped around my waist. “Your birth control—what are you on?” he asks after a moment.
“The shot,” I reply, tracing idle patterns on his forearm.
“I’ve never gone without a condom before,” he admits after a moment, almost to himself. “But with you…I want everything.” He pauses, his fingers tr ailing lightly over my side. “It’s strange how easy it feels. But easy doesn’t mean simple. I don’t do this—let people in. Not since…” He trails off, shaking his head as if to banish the thought.
His vulnerability hits me like a lightning bolt. It’s not just his words; it’s the way he says them, like he’s balancing on the edge of something.
“Me too,” I breathe.
I wait for his reply, but instead, as if the night’s escapades have sapped all his energy, Greyson’s breathing evens out, his hold on me loosening as he drifts into sleep. I lie there, still enveloped in the warmth of his embrace as my mind wanders over the contours of the evening—the thrill, the connection, the unabashed pleasure—and for now, I let myself sink into the quiet contentment of the moment.
I nestle into the crook of Greyson’s arm, the thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear a soothing lullaby. His chest is a broad expanse of warmth against my cheek, and I inhale deeply, taking in the scent of him. How can I not fall for this man who makes me feel such a whirlwind of emotions, who stirs up a storm within me and calms it all at once?
But I know the rules. We’d both set them, clear as crystal. Sex and the occasional date. No strings attached. Exclusivity. It’s for the best, isn’t it? Life is complicated enough without adding feelings to the mix. Yet, every time he looks at me, there’s a tenderness that feels entirely out of place in our arrangement. How can I keep the lines from blurring? When the time comes to walk away, will I be able to?
My life is hectic enough without the complexities of a full-blown relationship. And yet, there’s a whisper of longing that refuses to be stifled, a yearning for something more than fleeting passion and casual conversation over dinner. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Enjoy it. Just while it lasts.
For now, this moment is mine. Tomorrow can wait.
I close my eyes, the thoughts drifting away, carried off by the rhythmic cadence of Greyson’s breaths. I’m safe here, wrapped in his strong arms, cocooned in a haven of warmth and security. For now, that’s all I need, all I want.