Chapter 4
GRAYSON
It feels like I’ve been in the bathroom for hours.
The reason for that is my demolished sense of time.
After spending so much of it with Jill today, I’m a frazzled mess of what I’ve come to recognize as yearning and desperate, stolen glances.
And if how I’m handling these few hours is any hint as to what I’m in for this weekend, I’m completely screwed.
She wasn’t in the shower for long, but after the first few minutes of standing alone in the hotel room, I ducked out and took a walk outside.
There wasn’t an inch of me that wasn’t hard with tension and the undeniable desire to join her.
It wasn’t until I was halfway down the street that I could finally take a breath that didn’t leave her scent clinging to my lungs.
By the time I got back to our room, she was already wrapped in one of the thick hotel robes and seated at the desk, applying cream to her cheeks.
Without a word, I slipped into the bathroom and cranked the shower hot enough to scald my skin.
Maybe a cold one would have been better, but the moment I had my throbbing cock in my hand, it didn’t matter.
No distance would have been able to settle me completely.
Walking eased some of my tension, but not all of it.
There was no way to get rid of the pain between my legs until I dealt with it the old-fashioned way.
So, beneath the terrible water pressure, I stared at the bottle of complimentary body wash and stroked myself until I was shooting thick ropes of cum into the drain.
Now, I’m hesitating to leave the room.
My clothes are still in my bag, and my bag is on the bed.
I grip the doorknob and twist it sharply. “Jill?”
“Yeah?” she calls back.
“Would you mind bringing me my bag?”
A beat of silence. “Uhhh . . . right now? I’m kinda mid-curl. I know you hate being late, but I’m definitely not going to be ready in time.”
Shit.
“Oh, never mind. I’ll handle it. Just focus on finishing.”
Through the foggy mirror, I scrape my fingers through my hair and try to settle the wet strands that are sticking straight up.
The tiny hotel towel I’ve tied around my waist is close to falling clean off.
It’s not meant for a person my size, but since it’s the only thing I have, it’ll have to be enough.
The alternative is walking out stark naked and hoping she doesn’t catch an outward glimpse of my semi-hard cock.
“I’m coming out to grab it,” I warn before giving the door a tug.
“Alright!”
Every single light is on in the room when I step out. The curtains are wide open, and I know without a doubt that if this towel slips, there won’t be any shielding myself in the shadows. She’ll get an eyeful of everything.
“The water pressure is pretty shitty, right? It took me way too long to get any sort of lather. I think that’s a generic hotel experience, though. For the amount they charge every night, you’d think—oh!”
I stop my silent movements. The towel is holding, but I know better than to try gaslighting myself into believing it does any good to hide my body.
This is . . . revealing. It doesn’t bother me to stand here nearly naked, but as I watch Jill twist in the deep chair and gulp, I worry she doesn’t feel the same.
Wincing, I say, “I should have thought to bring my bag with me. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry . . . for wearing a towel?”
My brows knit when I catch the slight shake of her shoulders. “It’s not appropriate.”
“We’re about to go downstairs and flaunt a fake relationship in front of my closest family members, Grayson. If you think this is inappropriate, then I worry you’re going to combust in a few minutes.”
“That’s different,” I argue weakly. We both know it isn’t.
“We haven’t even spoken about the rules for when we’re actually doing this thing.”
Jill slips two hands beneath her curled hair and fans it behind her shoulders.
My throat clogs as I watch her, enamoured by the fluidity in such a simple movement.
The chair slips backward, and then she’s twisting fully.
I drop a hand to fist the knot in my towel when she pulls a leg up, and that white robe slips open an inch, exposing the inner part of her thigh.
If she moved further, it would spread apart completely, and fuck—I’d see more than I know she’d want me to.
“What do you mean?” I ask tightly.
Snapping my eyes upward, I force myself to move. Only once I’m facing the bed do I lower my gaze. My fingers are shaking when I pull the zipper on my bag and search for my slacks. I need to do something—anything—to busy myself before I do something reckless.
“I mean, like intimacy. In order to pull this off, we need to convince the people who know me best that we’re in love.
We’ve got the stories and the facts nailed down, but my mother is a piranha.
She knows that I’m a touchy person when I’m dating someone.
If we walk into dinner without looking like we’ve been together for months, she’ll know. ”
My stomach flops. “You’re a touchy person?”
“Very. I like to be touched. PDA isn’t for everyone, but it’s for me. Dare I say it’s my love language.”
“How?”
“How what?”
I suck my teeth and risk a look over my shoulder. She’s staring at me with those round, brown eyes that never fail to strip my defenses.
“How do you like to be touched?” I ask, my voice low.
Fuck my life, I’m going to lose it.
Her throat jumps with a swallow. If it weren’t for the makeup she’s wearing, I’d bet her cheeks are pink. They probably feel warm, too.
“That’s a loaded question.”
“It’s something a boyfriend would know, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Discarding my bag, I turn to face her. Fuck this stupid towel and the erection that won’t disappear. I have an opening right now. A chance to try and show her that I can be more than just her boss and friend. More than a fake boyfriend, too. I’m not going to miss taking the shot.
Jill keeps her eyes above my waist. It grates on me that she isn’t feeling what I am, but I can’t resent her for it. I knew what I was getting into when I volunteered to help her with this. She doesn’t reciprocate my feelings. Not yet, at least.
“Come here,” I rasp.
Her thick lashes flutter slightly. “Come . . . over there?”
“Yes, Jill. You’re right. We need to work on intimacy.”
My cock swells further when she slowly gets to her feet. The robe is tied too loosely. One tug at the belt and it would fall open for me. I grit my teeth and tighten my hold on my towel.
With every step she takes toward me, the stronger her scent gets, and the harder it is to deny myself by not touching her.
I just need a tease. A stroke of her cheek or squeeze of her waist. I’ll take anything.
Just a second of her warmth beneath my fingertips would be enough to satiate me right now.
I choke on a moan when she answers my every prayer.
The first drag of her fingers up between my pecs has me panting.
My obvious reaction is embarrassing, but I don’t have a chance to let the mortification take root.
The knot at the front of her robe presses against my abs as she leans forward and takes my hand in hers, guiding it toward her body.
My palm wraps against her waist, and I hiss a breath, squeezing involuntarily.
Her exhale is softer than mine, but I cling to that reaction.
The beast that lives deep in my subconscious peeks out of his cave as he recognizes what’s happening.
It’s the gasp she releases when I use my hold on her to tug her harder against me that has my hidden dominance breaking free.
“Tell me what you like.” It’s the roughest sentence I’ve ever spoken to her.
Her eyelids fall to half-mast as she stares up at me and worries her lip. “This is good.”
“This?”
“Your hand there,” she clarifies.
“That’s it? There’s more, sweetheart. I want to hear you tell me everything.”
The hand she has on my shoulder tenses before slipping down.
Her nails prick at my muscled torso as she follows the hair between the ridges and to the grooved lines in my hips.
The faraway glaze slipping over her eyes does more for me than that exploratory touch does.
I roll my jaw and blow a breath out my nose.
“Do you want me to figure it out myself?” I ask gruffly, dipping my head to speak into her ear. “Is that why you’re so quiet, Jill? Am I allowed to explore you?”
There’s no mistaking her moan for anything but. No sigh or stuttered reply. That’s a fucking moan, and she has no idea the gift she’s just given me.
“Yes. I’ll . . .” she drawls, cutting herself off.
I let my teeth drag along the tip of her ear. “Finish your sentence.”
“I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”
Humming, I rub our temples together and cover the hand she has lingering at my hip.
Her thumb hasn’t stopped stroking the groove there this entire time.
It almost pains me to remove her touch and thread our fingers instead.
This is simple. It’s the easiest part of our entire charade and is what I’m going to do as many times as possible.
“Good?” I ask.
She nods and flips our hands so she can stare down at the back of mine. I let her look as long as she wants. Even without knowing the exact time, I know we’re late. Yet, as much as that grates on me, I can’t make myself cut this short. Not when I’m right here.
“Kissing,” I start, abandoning her waist to touch the soft skin at the collar of her robe. The flush that rises to meet my fingertips has blood rushing down to where my cock is trying to push through my towel. “Is that something you want to do?”
“It would be expected.”
“Do you want me to kiss you right now? For practice?”
She shifts closer somehow. I don’t know how it’s possible, but suddenly, I’m straining to keep from lifting my hand an inch to the right and cupping her throat. Her pulse has to be as fast as mine. Our bodies are flush, which means she has to be feeling the thick ridge of me beneath the towel.
Her eyes flare wide, soothing my suspicions. “Yes.”
It’s all I need to hear.
In a blink, I’ve given in to my impulses and wrapped my fingers around her throat.
It’s a soft hold, only a tease of what I really want to do but am not sure she’d enjoy.
She doesn’t rip herself away from me as I let my thumb dance over the side of her neck, so I continue.
Craning her head back, she keeps those pupil-swallowed brown eyes on me and lets me drag my lips from her ear to the deep cut of her cheekbone.
I’m unprepared for the way she turns her head and brings her lips to mine, taking the very thing I’ve been dreaming of giving her for years.