64. Now
SIXTY-FOUR
now
I wake up feeling like I’ve slept for a year.
Delicious heat radiates into my back, warming me from the nape of my neck to the backs of my thighs. When Grayson’s nose brushes over the place just below my hairline, I realize why.
The muscled arm hooked around my middle tightens, drawing me further into his hardness. I barely dare to breathe, afraid he’ll wake up and push me away like he did the night before. I work to keep my movements undetectable while I trace my fingertips up his forearm, lingering on the veins roped over his muscles .
Last weekend, I saw him shirtless in my bed. Touching him is different, though. His well-honed strength, his smooth tan skin… It all feels so wonderfully familiar wrapped around me.
He shifts, moving closer, pressing his groin into my backside. A muffled groan escapes him as his erection meets the curve of my butt.
Unable to help myself, I chuckle. Gray grunts, hugging me harder and turning his face into my hair. His cock only grows while he huddles closer. When he unwittingly starts to grind into me, I can’t contain my laughter any longer. His entire frame stiffens.
All at once, he rips himself away with an exasperated growl. “Damn it.”
Something about his sleepy embarrassment strikes me as hilarious. Giggles shake my body while I hide the lower half of my face inside his hoodie, doing my best not to snort.
Gray’s head snaps to the side. He frowns, flushing, but levity gilds the green of his irises. “You think this is funny?”
His stern tone only brings me to the edge of true hysterics. I roll onto my back as peals of laughter escape, echoing off his high, square ceiling.
Reluctant amusement pulls at his sculpted pout, tugging it into a half-grin. “You couldn’t have let me sleep for another five minutes?” he asks wryly. “I was almost done.”
His rueful joke delights me. Where is the wary businessman who tore my skirt and taunted me? The impassive, imposing titan of industry who walked away from me without a second look?
I sober at the memory. My arm stretches across the space between us, reaching for his cheek. As my fingers graze the square angle of his jaw, I open my mouth to apologize once again.
The glow in his gaze smolders, darkening. “Don’t,” he murmurs, suddenly serious. I flinch, but he snatches my hand and presses it back into his cheek.
“No, I mean, let’s not fight. Let’s just… Why don’t we just pretend nothing is wrong? For a little bit. This evening, at least. ”
Without waiting for a reply, he turns and kisses my palm tenderly, letting his mouth linger against my skin. “It’s probably dinnertime,” he says, taking a different tack. “What sounds good?”
My heart aches, wishing I could ask him for dessert before dinner. Since I can’t, I choose something I can eat without embarrassing myself or making a mess. “How about pizza? I have a coupon in my wallet if we order from the right place.”
Grayson slides into my side. His large hand floats up to hold my face. “A coupon, huh?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Well, we don’t have to use the coupon. I’m just saying ?—”
Gray’s lips interrupt me, slanting over mine in a slow, insistent kiss. I open for him without thought, forgetting all of the reasons why I ought to push him away.
He says he wants to pretend. And I’m too weak to resist such an enticing offer.
You’re safe here, with Gray , a small voice inside my heart tempts. Stay with him while you can .
A moan leaps up my throat as I surrender, hugging him closer. My hands skim down his naked back, re-learning the solid planes of his body, luxuriating in the warm softness of his hair. When my fingers tangle in it and pull, a soft sound rumbles through Grayson’s chest.
He breaks away far too soon, breathing hard. “I’m being forceful with you. I was too rough last night, too. I didn’t keep your boundaries in mind. When I woke up this morning, I hated myself for all the ways I could have scared you.”
Genuine remorse softens his features. I hold his face in my hands, debating how best to comfort him. “I’m a lot better now,” I venture. “I’ve been seeing a therapist for two years, and she’s helped me with a lot of my anxiety.”
Memories from my panic attack on Grayson’s office floor whirl through my mind. “Well,” I add, grimacing. “She tries to help, anyway. ”
But the truth is, last night was a rarity. Before Grayson Stryker reappeared in my world, I hadn’t dealt with a full-blown episode in months. The fact that he handled me so fiercely in his office and I didn’t get triggered is a testament to all of Dr. Laura’s hard work. And mine, too, I suppose.
His steady gaze doesn’t betray even a hint of disapproval. “I think that’s really brave.”
“Telling you?” I ask. “Or going in the first place?”
He stares for a long moment, eyes flickering. “Both.”
Before I reply, he lowers his face to mine, kissing me softly at first, then deeper. His tongue moves against mine with aching slowness, savoring me as if we have all the time in the world to stay in this one magic moment. I grip the broad blades of his shoulders, leveraging myself closer, surrendering.
His cock twitches against my hip. The sensation reminds me of his unconscious antics, and I smile against his mouth, breaking the seal of his lips.
Gray pulls back, regarding me with a heady mix of affection and accusation. One of his dark brows arches. “Something funny?”
“You are!” I tell him, grinning for what feels like the first time in ages. “You object to a coupon, but you’ll press that rod into my leg? Some gentleman.”
“ Rod ?” A chortle bursts out of him. Then another. And another. Until he throws his head back to laugh the same way I did.
I love the rich, masculine sound. The way his eyes squint, and the dazzling smile stretching his handsome features. It’s impossible to decide which I love more, really—his boyish grin or his intense gazes. Really, it doesn’t matter. He’s always the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
At that thought, a pang rebounds through my breast, leaving me winded. Grayson catches on to my mood, his face clouding over. The air between us changes, growing thick with some unnamed force. His emerald eyes flash .
“We’re playing with fire. I’m never going to be a gentleman if we stay in this bed,” he mumbles. In the next breath, he scoops me back up into his arms, pausing to snatch the sweatpants off the foot of the massive bed before charging out of the room. He drops them on top of me. “And you should probably put these on. I can feel how wet your panties are.”
I long to press my throbbing center against the forearm banded around it but ignore the urge. With a slight nod, I clutch the joggers. As soon as he places me on his sofa, I shimmy them on and roll the waistband.
Wanting to return us to our good spirits, I shoot his naked chest a pointed look. “And you should probably put on a shirt.”
With a huff, he goes back to his bedroom. A few moments later, he emerges in a pair of gray pajama bottoms and— dear Lord —my very favorite of his shirts. The muscle tank with torn armholes. The one that leaves the sides of his mouthwatering torso exposed.
“Better?” he smirks, casting me another arch look.
I narrow my eyes. “Oh, loads .”
My sarcasm earns another warm chuckle. A buzz of joy swarms in my chest. “I’m glad some sleep has you back to normal.”
I feel normal. More like myself than I have in ages. Not wanting to read into the reason why, I shrug and make one last jest. “Maybe it was the rod.”
Grayson and I banter and bicker as we order our pizza. In the end, he relents and lets me use my coupon, shaking his head all the while. During the thirty-minute wait for our delivery, he excuses himself to make a couple of hushed phone calls and sits at the desk in the farthest corner of the great room for ten minutes, tapping out a series of emails with remarkable efficiency.
I use the time to retrieve my now charged phone and send Maggie a message. It turns out to be earlier than we thought—just a bit before five—so I let her know not to expect me home until after dinnertime, possib ly later. She responds with a donkey and a question mark.
Setting the phone aside, I take a moment to look around. The penthouse is… spotless. And cold . White oak, gray furnishings, steel countertops. It reminds me of a hospital.
When Gray retrieves our food from the concierge and brings it to the island, I can’t resist teasing him. “So, what kinds of surgery do you do here?”
Unamused, he glowers at me. “It’s minimalist.”
“It’s an operating table,” I return, smoothing my hands over the cool metal counter.
He cracks a smile and a wince all at once. “I know it’s a bit stark. I designed it that way on purpose.”
My mind stutters to a halt. “ You designed this? The penthouse?”
Gray rips a bite off his first slice and shrugs. He keeps his gaze low as he admits, “The building, actually.”
I drop my piece of pizza without tasting it. My mouth hangs open. “The whole building? You did this one and the one I was in last night? Gray, that’s amazing!”
He rubs his hand over the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that makes my insides quiver every bit as much as the rueful look on his face. “Yeah, well. As you saw from the useless hallway I put outside the elevator for literally no reason—I’m not exactly a savant.”
I roll my eyes and reach across the stainless island, wrapping my hands over one of his. “Gray,” I say, waiting for him to meet my eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself. One tiny strip of hallway doesn’t undo everything you got right.”
I turn to the great room behind me, scanning for examples. “Look at the way you positioned this room! Look at this light at sunset! And the bedroom is so cool, too. Three walls of glass? It’s like a peninsula, only with light instead of water—the inverse of what you did with your office at Stryker they don’t even need art or décor.”
When I turn back, Grayson swallows hard, his eyes burning into my face. “Thanks, Ellie. That’s… Thank you. For saying that.”
I draw my hands back, suddenly feeling awkward. “You’re welcome.”
A poignant silence descends, banishing my appetite. I twist my fingers in the hem of his hoodie and speak through my teeth while I worry my lower lip. “Gray, I know we called a truce, but… I know you’re angry with me. So why did you bring me here? Why are you being so nice to me?”
His face stills. “Am I? I can’t tell anymore.” He sighs, shifting on his feet. “Everything inside me is so muddled. I can’t get a grip on how I’m supposed to handle this.”
“You must hate me,” I think out loud.
He doesn’t so much as flinch. “Sometimes, I think I do. But that’s more of a habit at this point. I spent a long time teaching myself to hate you for what you did. But when I’m alone with you… I know that was a lie. I’m starting to think I never truly hated you.”
A painful pulse of hope throbs through my chest. “Why not?”
He stares at me for so long, my cheeks start to flame. Finally, he drops his eyes to his plate. “I don’t think I ever quite convinced myself that you left for no reason,” he mutters. “I just… know you. Or, I knew you, I guess.”
It hurts that he has to make that distinction. “Do you want to know me now?”
Gray’s mouth lifts into a grim half-smile. “You don’t seem that much different, actually. You’re still appallingly beautiful. And funny. Considerate, hard-working, humble. Compassionate. Genuine. As far as I can tell, the only major change is your shoes.”
Another blush blazes over my face at his begrudging praise. “My shoes ? ”
He lifts his pizza to his mouth and looks away again. “Yeah. The clogs. I looked for them in your room and didn’t see them.”
Something about his admission warms me. “You liked those? Maggie always told me they were the most hideous shoes ever conceived. I suspect she burned them when we moved back in together.”
Finished with his first slice, Gray grabs a second. He seems to be working hard not to look directly at me. “So, when did you, uh, move back?”
My eyes go wide. I had no idea he knew that I had ever left the city. “I only went home for one semester,” I tell him. “I didn’t have anywhere to live in the city or any savings for a down payment. Student housing was full by the holidays. So I had to defer my courses.”
The naked pain in Gray’s eyes nearly undoes me. Especially when he smiles softly. “The prospect of living with me was that bad, huh?”
I thought his cold fury last night ruined me… This is a hundred times worse.
What can I say, though? Not much. Nothing about why I left that day or why I can’t explain… But I simply can’t bear to lie to him.
Instead, I settle for a different, somewhat-relevant truth.
“I tried to,” I whisper, hanging my head. “A couple of weeks after I left, on the date we were supposed to move in, I came back to the city and went to the apartment you rented, hoping you’d be there.”
My mind drifts back to that terrible day—the day I realized that he’d given up on me completely in just a matter of weeks. I already knew he didn’t want to talk to me when all of my messages and calls went unanswered… but when I saw that he’d relinquished our apartment to another couple rather than live somewhere I may be able to find him, I knew he’d decided he could never forgive me.
Grayson must round the island while I’m locked in my reverie because the next thing I know, his hands are on my shoulders, holding just a bit too hard. Turbulence roils in his eyes while they stare into mine.
“You went to that apartment?” he demands. “You showed up that day?”
It remains the single most desperate, selfish thing I’ve ever done. I nod as tears clog my throat.
“Yes,” I whisper, equally ashamed and relieved to finally tell someone. “I did.”
Before I can consider what I’ve just done, his lips seal over mine with surprising force. Groaning, he pins me to his chest, kissing me with frantic abandon.
Strong hands clutch at my waist, lifting me onto the cool metal island, pulling me as close as he can get while plunging his tongue into my mouth. He breaks away just as suddenly, panting as he moves to frame my face.
“ Why , Ella?” he asks, agonized. “ Why did you show up that day after ignoring me for weeks ? I must have called you a thousand times.”
His mouth crushes mine before I can answer. I let him kiss me, fisting my hands in his hair and wrapping my legs around his torso, holding on for dear life while he ravages me to his heart’s content. My lips start to feel bruised before he breaks off, moving to my neck, leaving a series of punishing bites in his wake.
“ I called you !” I cry, whimpering as he licks away the sting of his roughness. “So many times. I wrote messages…”
He snatches me back up against him, kissing me so hard it hurts. “No,” he growls, adamant. “I know that has to be a lie. If that is true, why did Maggie tell me you left the city for good? She told me you never wanted to see me again!”
My heart stops. “ Maggie ? You talked to Maggie? Back then?”
“You didn’t know ?” he roars. “I thought she would tell you right away. I thought you probably thanked her for telling me to fuck off and refusing to give me your address. ”
A dizzy rush of betrayed anger chokes me. My mind boggles, unable to imagine why my best friend would ever say such a thing.
“No!” I wail, stroking my fingers over his cheeks. “No. She never told me she talked to you, and I never told her I didn’t want to see you again. I just said we broke up! I didn’t—I couldn’t—She still doesn’t know?—”
When I can’t finish any of my thoughts, he groans, tormented. “Ella. You’re killing me. You mean, that whole time, you were… waiting for me? Trying to come back?”
One of those things is true. But I don’t have it in me to tell him that I can never truly “come back” to him the way I want to. I certainly can’t say so while he looks like his soul has just vacated his body.
“Yes,” I whisper, hoarse. Tears splatter down my face as I focus on the one vow I can honestly offer. “I never stopped waiting for you. For three years, there hasn’t been anyone else, Grayson. No one.”
Disbelief melds with his tortured expression. “Last night, when I kissed you, you almost seemed like you didn’t remember how,” he tells me, his voice low. “Are you saying you really haven’t been with any other men? Not even that guy from your office? He isn’t your boyfriend?”
I brush my fingers over his lips and stare hard into his eyes, not caring if he sees mine spill over. “No one, Gray. Only you. Just… you .”
His expression breaks. My name comes as a cracked whisper. “Ellie.”
“I meant what I wrote,” I vow. “I will always be yours. ”