CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Riley — 18 years old
I don’t know why I’m here.
I should have stayed home, should have refused coming when my mother forced me to dress up for the Christmas charity gala.
But I’m incapable of denying my parents anything. They say walk; I walk. They say smile; I smile. They say jump; I jump. Even if it’s jumping to my own demise.
As long as I’m under their roof, I have no choice. I can’t make any decisions for myself.
And somehow, I have a feeling that even when it’s time for me to leave — they will still try to control my life. When the time comes, my father will choose the perfect, rich husband for me, someone who is useful to him and his selfish ambitions.
I will become the trophy wife that my mother is.
Last year, I had a fever and couldn’t attend. My sickness was a blessing in disguise. While my parents attended the gala, Lila came to keep me company. She made sure I ate the soup her grandmother made and that I took my medication on time. Then she tucked me in and waited until I had fallen asleep before leaving.
The year before that, at the Christmas gala — well, I don’t want to think about that night.
The night of my ruination.
The night that left scars on my soul.
But this is the first time I’m making a ‘public’ appearance since that night. Exactly two years ago. My father is expecting me to clean up my reputation tonight.
I need to look beautiful, calm, poised and sophisticated. Smile at everyone. Laugh softly. Speak with elegance.
My mother called in a whole professional team to get me ready for tonight. She had chosen a light blue, silk gown and silver heels for me. My makeup and hair were done professionally. I even have pearls in my hair.
“You’re giving off Cinderella vibes,” the makeup artists had gushed earlier. “Flawless, I tell you. Everyone’s eyes will be on you tonight. You will be the center of attention.”
But this is no fairy tale.
And I don’t want to be the center of attention.
Except, I have to be.
Because my father says so.
Prim, proper and poised.
I made sure not to eat anything before coming here tonight. If my stomach is empty, I won’t be puking on my father’s polished shoes. The horror of that night still makes me sick when I think of it . And I think of it often.
Till this day, it haunts me. I still get disturbing, vivid nightmares from that night.
I can feel their eyes on, the heat of their stares burning through my gown. Everyone is openly staring and judging and they’ve already found me lacking.
I’m standing tall, but it’s not enough for them.
A pretty smile is plastered on my face, but that’s not enough either.
The humiliation from two years ago is still fresh in their mind, and nothing I do will ever be enough. So, it seems tonight is already a fiasco before it even begins.
My anxiety rears its ugly head, and I feel my stomach recoil. I hate the crowd, I hate people staring. It makes me want to dig a hole and bury myself there, where no one else can find me. Where they can’t see me or judge me.
There’s a dull pain starting in the back of my skull, and my head pounds with tension. Cold spider-like fingers race up and down my spine and I fight back a shiver. I hate this feeling.
Anxiety can be debilitating, and I hate that I’m constantly put into situations that worsen it.
I feel myself spiraling into self-doubt. Suddenly overly conscious about my looks — my weight, my face, my hair. Do I look fat in the gown? I should have weighed myself this morning, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I know my self-control is slipping.
I haven’t stepped on the scale for more than six months.
The last time I did, I had watched the red numbers in numbed horror. I almost fell back into old habits. Almost. It was hard to step away from the scale and to force myself in bed. Instead of going downstairs to raid the kitchen and come back to purge it all out.
The urge to binge-eat, and to purge afterward — it still breathes inside me, like poison in my veins. The urges haven’t completely disappeared. Rehab didn’t fix me or cure me. But my urges are dormant, silent for a while now, and I want to keep it that way.
From the corner of my eye, I see my father speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Hale. I caught sight of Grayson earlier, but I was swept away by my mother before I could go to him.
After an hour of introductions, fake smiles and formal chatting, I’m about to lose my sanity if I stay here a minute longer. My gaze sweeps across the ballroom, searching for Grayson’s tall frame. But he’s nowhere to be found.
Since the night of Halloween and the brief moment I spent in Grayson’s arms — things changed between us. It has subtly evolved into something…more.
That night, after Colton left me with a storm of emotions coursing through me, I found safety in Grayson’s arm. He was warm , and everything I needed in that moment.
His breathing calmed me.
His touch soothed me.
There was a tranquility in his dark gaze that made me feel seen and protected.
The first time I realized that something had changed between us was when I found a yellow lily in my locker. It was the Monday after that night.
And since then, there’s always a flower waiting for me every morning.
On Fridays, there are three yellow lilies. The first time it happened, it came with a note that said: One for Saturday and one for Sunday.
I never asked Grayson if it’s him and he never explicitly confessed that the flowers were coming from him either. We never spoke of it.
The yellow lilies were his quiet gifts to me.
I can’t help but wonder what the meaning behind all this is. His flowers and his silence about them. What does this mean for us ?
Is he trying to tell me something…and I’m too stupid to figure it out?
Or is Grayson just being sweet ?
Does he see the brokenness of my soul and he’s taking pity on me? Is sympathy the driving force behind his silent affections?
Because if that’s the truth, then I don’t want it. I would rather not have anything from Grayson, if his attention comes with pity. I have so many questions, yet no answers.
Grayson is an enigma. He’s mysteriously complicated. I know so little about him, and that makes me more curious.
I crave to know the real man behind the silence.
And, somehow, he has become a dangerous obsession of mine.
Just like he loved watching me, I studied Grayson closely. But still — he’s a mystery.
I couldn’t let go of this infatuation.
I quietly slide away from my mother’s side, and move across the ballroom, looking for him. When I don’t find him anywhere in the cluster of guests, I step away from the ballroom.
If there’s something I know about Grayson, it’s that he likes his space, and he likes tranquility. So I think I know where to find him.
I lift the hem of my gown and slowly make my way to the greenhouse.
The self-sustaining greenhouse is humongous, spanning over an acre of land. The dome roof is made of expensive glass, and there are more than two-hundred plant species. The place smells of earth and rain and the sweet fragrance of flowers.
I move between the green lush trees and inside…I find who I am looking for.
Grayson stands in front of the custom-granite fountain, his back to me. He has both of his hands behind him, his feet slightly apart as he takes in the view in front of him.
A shuddering breath rattles from my chest.
I’ve never seen him in a suit before. He’s so tall, so big — he fills out the expensive suit with his hard muscles. The black fabric molds to his body quite nicely and there’s the fluttering in my stomach again.
“I know you’re there.”
My lips part with a silent gasp at his deep, resonating voice.
“How did you know?” I walk closer, until I’m standing by his side. Even with my heels, there’s a few inches of height difference between us.
“I had a feeling you’d seek me out.” He makes a deep, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “That place is suffocating . I know you hate it as much as me.”
I blow the loose tendrils of my hair away from my eyes. “Wanna run away with me?” I’m only half-teasing.
Grayson slowly tilts his head, almost like he’s actually considering my offer. “Now that would cause a scandal. You’re trouble, Goldilocks.”
I raise an eyebrow, a grin appearing on my lips. “It’ll give them something else to talk about. They will start wondering what we’re doing together .”
I don’t realize my words sound suggestive until they are out of my mouth and his dark eyes flashe with heat. My cheeks grow hot and I try to ignore the flush that goes through my body. I take a step forward, away from him and sit on the edge of the fountain. My gown pools around my feet and I tuck my hands on my lap. “I want to ask you something.”
Grayson shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he towers over me. “Yeah? What is it?”
I swallow nervously. His gaze is too intense, too probing. “The lilies…why do you leave them for me every morning?”
“Sometimes even surrounded by people, we are lonely,” Grayson tells me, his voice softening. “I see it in your eyes. The lilies are to remind you that you’re…not so alone. But I’m doing it for myself too.”
“I think…” I pause when my voice cracks. “I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Grayson is quiet again, and when I can’t hold his gaze any longer, I look down at my pink nails. “What do you mean, you’re doing it for yourself too?”
He shifts on his feet. “I’ve been looking for a new purpose for a long time and I found it.”
“A purpose? What purpose?” I blink up at him, confused.
I watch his throat move as he swallows. “ You. ”
My heart slams against my rib cage.
I am his purpose…?
Speechless, I gape at him. “I don’t need you to fix me,” I sputter, trying to make sense of his words. Grayson confuses me, making a sea of mixed emotions course through me.
He moves closer, until his legs touch my knees. I feel the heat of him through our clothes. From my sitting position, I have to crane my neck to look at him. My pulse flutters like crazy when he reaches out, the backs of his fingers tenderly brushing against my cheek.
“I’m not trying to fix you.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I want to fix myself , so I can hold you and protect what could be us .”
What could be…us?
He thinks there’s an us.
God, is this a confession from Grayson?
I blink up at him again, and a grin plays across his lips. He’s so handsome when he smiles like this. What is he doing to me? Oh, my heart.
My lungs squeeze, and I’m suddenly dizzy. From his closeness and his warmth. His sweet, addictive words. His tender touch.
He’s saying everything I want to hear. All the right words. But—
If I give him my heart, I give him the power to break me.
I know Grayson is not Jasper. Yet his affections still scare me. He’s too close, he smells so good — Oh God, I need some space to think.
Nervously, I go to stand up. Only for my heels to catch the hem of my gown, and then I’m tipping backward. My balance is unsteady, and I let out a shocked yelp, panic welling up inside me as my calves hit the stoned fountain. Grayson surges forward, his arm curling around my waist, but it’s not enough to keep our feet steady on the ground.
“Fuck,” Grayson swears under his breath when we stumble together.
My fingers grip his strong biceps as we both topple over.
Right into the fountain.
Stupid Riley , I berate myself in my head. Look what you’ve done now.
My whole body sinks into the sharp cold water and it’s like a shock to my senses. I don’t even notice Grayson pulling us both up. I rise up to my feet, sputtering and shivering from the cold. Helpless embarrassment courses through me, and I can’t even look at Grayson’s face.
My fingers clench the fabric of my dress, my nails digging into my thighs. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’re a disaster, Riley. That’s all you’ll ever be.
Nothing good ever comes from me.
He’s still holding my elbow, as we both stand in the fountain. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” he asks, concerned.
I shake my head mutely. But I wish I actually did hit my head and pass out, hopefully forgetting this ever happened. How much more clumsy can I be?
We’re both soaked. My pretty silk gown is wet, the fabric plastered to my body like a second skin— ruined. His expensive suit is ruined too. My hair is drenched, the carefully styled curls are stuck to my face. I must look like a drowned rat.
An utter disaster to a moment that was going so well.
I ruin everything I touch…
Grayson cups my cheek, tilting my head up to look at him. “I’ll get you home, okay?”
“What?”
“We can’t go back to the ballroom, looking like this.” There’s tenderness in his gaze, a look I’m seeing for the very first time. My heart stutters . “We’ll sneak out and I’ll drive you home.”
“You should stay away from me, Grayson,” I whisper, tears burning the back of my eyes. “I can’t ever do anything right. I’ll ruin you.” I ruin everything I touch…
He cups my face between his hands, his thumbs brushing across my cheeks. “You’re a wild fire, Riley. You think you’re burning everything around you, but in reality, you’re burning yourself . You’ve burned your own heart.”
My lips part in a silent gasp. Grayson bends his head, bringing our faces closer. His eyes are dark, the intensity in them makes my stomach do a crazy flip. “You can’t ruin me, Goldilocks. I’m already ruined. You can’t burn me. I’m already lying in my own ashes.”
My whole body is shivering, the coldness of water seeping through my bones. But surprisingly, his hands…his touch…is warm. I don’t know how that’s possible, since we both fell into the water. I am filled with the urge to sink into his arms, to melt in his embrace, to let his warmth steal the coldness of my soul.
Grayson steps out of the fountain first. His suit is soaked and disheveled, but he doesn’t look any less handsome. His tanned skin glistens with droplets of water and I have the sudden urge to lick them. Thud.
He stretches his hand out for me, and I take it.
Thud.
His fingers curl around my hand protectively as he helps me out of the fountain. I am unsteady on my heels, but Grayson keeps me anchored to him. “Let’s get out of here?”
Thud
“Okay,” I agree breathlessly.
Grayson leads me out of the greenhouse. I sneak a quick glance at our surroundings, making sure no one sees us making our escape, especially in our drenched clothing. Our current state is quite questionable, and if anyone does happen to see us, it will require a lot of explainingto my father and his uncle.
And the worst thing? I’ll be the center of another scandal. Only this time, I’ll be taking Grayson down with me. That’s the last thing I want to do.
He deserves better than my disastrous self.
We successfully make it outside, without anyone interrupting our escape. The cold December breeze has my teeth chattering, and I wrap my arms around my waist. My wet gown is starting to turn into an icicle around my body.
Grayson digs his hand into his pocket, taking his car keys out. “W-wait. My dress is wet,” I tell him, my lips numb from the cold. I can barely speak. “I don’t want to ruin y-your c-car seat.”
Grayson doesn’t seem to be listening to me. He unlocks his car and opens the passenger door. My protest dies on my lips when his hands curl around my hips and he easily hoists me into his vehicle, as if I weigh nothing.
Did he just manhandle me?
I blink as he closes the door and jogs around to the other side of the car. He gets into the driver’s side and starts the engine. A few seconds later, a blast of heat fills the car and I practically whimper in response.
I melt into the leather seat as the numbness slowly fades from my chilly bones. Okay, I guess I don’t mind Grayson manhandling me.
The car ride to my house is quiet. I study Grayson’s profile, my gaze lingering longer on his full lips. For a brief moment, I envision him kissing me. His full lips on mine, tasting and kissing me in the ways I crave to be touched.
The images of us kissing turns into more. His body over mine, his hands touching and teasing me, his lips exploring my sensitive skin. I squeeze my thighs together when my imagination sends tingles shooting through my veins. My core pulses, and my whole body flushes at my dirty thoughts.
Oh God, what’s wrong with me?
When he pulls into my driveaway, I don’t get out of the car right away. Indecisiveness claws at me. I don’t want us to go our separate ways like this.
If I go inside my house now, and he leaves…the night comes to end, just like that. This moment between us, whatever is, will come to an end. The thought of it leaves a hollow feeling inside me, an emptiness that I despise.
What about his confession?
What about the things I want to say to him?
What about the unsaid words between us?
I don’t want this moment to end and for him to leave just like that. I want more of Grayson. I want to learn his secrets, to know his deepest desires; I want to see if my gut feeling is right about him, about us.
“Why don’t you come inside?” I ask him, biting on my lip at the bold proposition. “I can put your clothes in the dryer. It won’t even take an hour. Because the longer you stay in that wet suit, the quicker you’ll catch a cold.”
Grayson is thoughtful. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Yes, damn you. Why does he have to be such a perfect fucking gentleman? It only makes me want him more. His sweetness, his tenderness, his warmth — I want more of all of it. I want everything.
Because that’s exactly what I’ve been yearning for…
I’m only just now realizing it.
My life has been hollow, for what feels like an eternity of coldness. I’ve somehow become detached from emotions, from the idea of love, of wanting someone. Of what it’s like to desire and to be desired. Somewhere along the line, I lost my passion for life.
I’ve lost the meaning of what it means to live. And Grayson, he ignites something in me. An inferno of emotions I can’t possibly describe.
The way he makes me feel? That’s what I’ve been yearning for, what my heart’s been longing to have.
“You said you’ll help me find the gift of my patience.” I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palm. Anxiety makes my chest heavy and my breathing comes out in short, frantic pants. What if he refuses my proposition? Because if he does…I might just actually dig a hole and bury myself in it. Forever. “I’m just giving you a chance to be helpful, since that’s what you promised.”
As his response, he opens his door and steps out of the car first. He then rounds it and comes over to my side, opening my door for me. He stretches his arm out, giving me his hand to take. Ever the gentleman.
I take his hand, and he helps me out of the door. My gown, heavy and still wet, pools at my feet as I put in the password for the automatic gates. It creaks open, and I lead him through the opening. The spacious front lawn is neatly kept, with the grass freshly cut. A dust of snow covers the pine trees, giving it the best wintry look. We rarely ever get a white Christmas. It snows on average only two days in December in New York, and we were lucky this morning to get some heavy flurries as the temperature starts dropping even more.
I lift the hem of my gown, my heels clicking against the stony path to the door. The house is quiet and dark when I unlock it, and we walk inside. Miss Miller, our housekeeper, already left for the night. This means, it’s only Grayson and me, in this big house. Alone.
Just the two of us.
Oh… oh.
Why didn’t I think about that before inviting him in?
Or maybe I did subconsciously think about it…and I wanted to invite him in anyway?
“Can you give me your shirt?” I ask him, gnawing on my lip. “I’ll put it in the dryer for you before we go upstairs. We can’t put your pants and suit jacket in the dryer, but we’ll figure something else out for them.”
Grayson nods, shrugging his suit jacket off. I take it from him, my eyes sweeping over the top half of his body. His white shirt is wet and almost transparent, plastered against his tanned skin. My throat suddenly feels. He loosens his tie around his neck before slowly unbuttoning his shirt. I watch as he peels the wet fabric from his body and hands it to me.
Grayson stands before me, bare chested and my heart thuds. I drink him in, his strong pecs and his brown nipples. He’s got a bit of hair on his chest and along his navel, going down— oh.
The pulsing between my thighs is back again, with an urgent ferocity.
“I’ll just—” My voice comes out as a husky croak, and I clear my throat. “I’ll put your shirt in the dryer.”
And then I’m practically sprinting away from him. Grayson is tall and handsome— but I wasn’t expecting him to look this hot. A clothed Grayson is charming. Shirtless Grayson? He’s unbelievably tempting.
I shove his shirt into the empty dryer and start the timer, before closing the door to the laundry room behind me. I walk back to the main corridor to find Grayson still standing where I left him. “My room is upstairs,” I tell him, and then grimace because that sounds a bit too suggestive. “I mean, we can wait there. I’ll get you a towel too.”
He tugs his lower lip between his teeth and the fluttering butterflies move from my stomach to my heart. “Are you nervous, Goldilocks?”
I squint up at him, trying to appear as if his mere presence isn’t affecting me. “Nope. Why would I be?”
Grayson reaches out, his fingers sliding along my bare arm. There’s a teasing glint in his dark eyes. “You’ve shivering, and it’s not because of the cold or your wet dress.” He gives me a lopsided smirk. “And you appear flushed. Lies get you in trouble, Miss Johnson.”
Oh dear Lord…he’s flirting.
I don’t know where the boldness comes from, but I lean into him. I might not have too much experience with flirting, but I can tease too. My hand presses against his strong chest. His breath rattles at my touch. “Your heart is beating fast. Are you worried I might take advantage of this situation? I mean… you’re the one currently in the state of undress right now.”
His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “Towel,” he grunts. “I need a towel, please.”
I can’t hide the smirk on my face. Spinning on my heels, I walk up the stairs and Grayson follows me into my bedroom. I turn on the light and grab a fresh towel from my closet. “You can use my bathroom. Take your time.”
“I’ll only be a few minutes.” He takes the towel from me and walks to my adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind him. A minute later, I hear the shower turn on.
This means, I have about five minutes to turn myself from looking like a drowned rat into something more…pleasant looking.
I grab another towel and lock myself inside my walk-in closet. I peel the wet gown off me and quickly dry my body before putting on a pair of ripped jeans and a white tank top. I could have chosen a dress, but I’m going for a more casual look. Anyway, he’s already seen me soaked. There can’t be anything more embarrassing than that.
After I’m dressed, I leave the closet and make my way to my vanity table. I’m blow drying my hair when Grayson walks out of my bathroom.
My jaw gapes open at the sight of him in nothing but a white towel.
Oh… oh…OH!
My mouth waters, and I am utterly speechless. He stands there, in the middle of my room, and suddenly, the place feels small with his imposing presence.
I place my blow dryer down and take two steps back, before settling on the edge of my bed. His gaze slides over me and my skin is full of goosebumps at his attention. “I guess…we have about an hour to kill,” he says cautiously. “What do you have in mind?”
“We can talk?” I suggest.
“Oh?” He quirks a single eyebrow. Grayson moves toward me and takes a seat on my bed, keeping a small distance between our bodies. The mattress dips under his weight and his tall frame seems to tower over me, even with both of us sitting down. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me one thing that makes you angry.”
“Hmm. Arrogance. You?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Traitors. What scares you?”
“Feeling powerless.” He swallows, with a heart wrenching expression on his face. “I’ve been there before, the first time they took Naomi away from me. The way she was gripping onto my shirt, crying and refusing to let go. She didn’t understand what was happening, why she was getting separated from her big brother. That scares me. The feeling of being completely powerless. I couldn’t protect her from that pain.”
I reach toward him, curling my fingers around his hand. “You were just a child yourself, Grayson. You didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t your fault.”
Grayson smiles tightly. “Tell that to the fifteen-year-old boy who is still angry at the unfairness of it all. What scares you ?”
I blink. I wasn’t expecting him to ask me the same question and now that he did, I don’t know how to answer it. What scares me? I’ve never thought about it.
I don’t know…
I’m scared of spiders and anything that crawls or slithers.
I’m scared of the ocean, of the unknown that lives in the deep water.
I’m scared of…
“Thunderstorms,” I tell him, shakily.
Because I’ve never had anyone hold me during them. Because I’ve always been alone, hiding under my blankets in the dark, listening to the thunder as it tears through the darkening skies, the heavy wind shaking my windows, the rain slamming against the roof.
I remember five-year-old Riley — her first hurricane.
Running to her parents’ bedroom, knocking on their door, sobbing in fear. The door opened and she fell into her mother’s arms, silently asking for comfort.
Only for her to put five-year-old Riley back into her room, locking the door behind her. So that she wouldn’t be able to disturb them again.
I am scared of being…alone. In the dark.
But I don’t tell Grayson that.
I lean toward him, blinking in surprise when I catch a whiff of my favorite soap. “You kinda smell like me,” I tease, changing the subject.
Grayson makes a fake exasperated sound in the back of his throat. “You have a lot of girly stuff,” he explains, raking his fingers through his still wet hair. “I used the vanilla soap instead.”
“You call me Goldilocks…maybe I should call you Vanilla Boy.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Vanilla Boy,” I mouth teasingly.
I don’t know where this side of Riley is coming from, the one who sneaked a boy into her bedroom, and is teasing him so freely. But there’s something about Grayson that makes me comfortable around him.
Almost like a gut instinct that tells me I can trust him.
“Vanilla Boy sounds so…plain and vanilla-y,” Grayson complains grumpily.
“Are you saying you’re not a vanilla lover?” My cheeks heat with a blush when I realize what I just said. And that’s where you shut up, Riley.
His eyes narrow on me. “You don’t know what type of lover I am, Riley,” Grayson rasps, his voice deeper, taking on a huskier undertone.
I shift closer to him, until our knees are touching and our bare arms brush against each other. “What if I want to find out?” I whisper, slightly breathy.
Our gazes lock together.
His chest rattles with a hitched breath.
My pulse speeds up.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
And then we’re both moving at the same time. Almost like there’s an invisible string tugging us together. An undeniable force.
I lean into him, my hands landing on his wide, muscular chest. My breath catches in my throat as his fingers curl under my chin, tilting my head up. I squeeze my thighs together, desire pooling in the pit of my stomach at the intensity of his dark gaze.
Grayson very gently lowers his mouth to mine.
A barely audible gasp escapes me.
The moment our lips touch, so softly, so tenderly…a featherlight touch, it feels like thousands of butterflies have erupted in my stomach and my whole body comes alive.
Grayson doesn’t kiss me like Colton did. With lust and frustration, brutal and savage.
No, he kisses me like I am made of glass. Like I am something special, someone to be treasured. His lips are experienced, but tentative. Slow. Taking his sweet time learning the curves of my mouth. His thumbs brush across my cheeks, his kisses deepening. My heart pounds as he teases me with his tongue, licking the seams of my lips, gently demanding entry.
My lips part, and then his tongue invades my mouth, tasting me. “Riley,” Grayson groans into my lips , and I’m dizzy, breathless, moaning into his kiss that soon turns desperate.
My arms curl around his neck, and I tug him closer to me. Until our chests are touching and his erratic heartbeat echoes against mine. When his mouth slides away, kissing the corner of my lips, I suck in a shuddering breath.
He captures my lips again, but this time with a brief kiss, before he’s already pulling away. “Riley, what are you doing to me?” he rasps, his breath fanning against my cheek.
Our foreheads touch, and I lick my tingling lips, wanting to taste the sweet remnants of Grayson. “What are you doing to me?” I breathe, repeating his own words.
He rubs his thumb over my swollen lips before finally pulling away. My eyes sweep over his bare chest before flickering to his lap—
Oh.
Wow…
I wasn’t expecting that.
Grayson is sporting a massive erection under his towel. My jaw gapes open, and he lets out a choked sound once he realizes where my attention has gone..
He drags my pillow over his lap, covering his erection. “It’s a bodily reaction, I can’t really help it. You’re fucking beautiful and your lips taste like goddamn sweet honey,” he explains in his gravelly voice. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. I can go to the bathroom and— never mind. You’re smirking, Riley.”
Grayson is flustered and I don’t know why, but that makes me want to tease him even more. He’s not shy, but there’s something about the flustered look he’s giving me that has me feeling things I’ve never felt before.
Wanted.
Desired.
Seen.
“Now at least I know you find me attractive.”
He scowls. “I’ve always found you attractive. You’re fucking beautiful, Riley. I’d be a stupid man not to find you attractive.”
My whole body flushes at the praise. I’ve been told I am beautiful by many people, but this is the first time I’ve heard a man say it with such reverence.
“Well, you’re kinda aloof and hard to read.” I raise an eyebrow. “I can never tell what you’re thinking, and your words always end up puzzling me.”
His eyes narrow on me. “What did this kiss mean to you?” he abruptly asks.
I inhale sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve done casual relationships before,” he tells me slowly. “I’ve had sex. I’ve kissed girls…but this is not it. You’re not a casual kiss or a fling, Goldilocks. I need to know we’re on the same page. So, what did this kiss mean to you?”
The pitter-patter of my heart doesn’t cease. It’s like a booming drum in my ears; it’s so loud, I wonder if Grayson can hear it too.“This is the first time I’ve been kissed so sweetly,” I finally confess to him. “What does that mean for us ?”
“It means that…I want you, and you want me. Our feelings are complicated, if you ask me — even I can’t explain these emotions. But we can make it simple, Riley. If you want to. We can figure it out together.”
My heart thuds . “Okay.”
“Okay?” He tilts his head in question.
I slowly grin. “We have an hour to figure it out.”