Mr. Wicked (Hooked)

CHAPTER TEN

Jovana

Date two was coming to a close, and my heart was pounding even harder than when Grayson had driven me home from the sushi restaurant, where I’d eaten the best food of my entire life. Tonight had been Italian, and I’d never had pasta like that before. We’d eaten at a place in the North End that had a line out the door. Grayson took me straight inside, bypassing at least ten people standing in the rain. He smiled at the hostess, who greeted him by name, and we were seated at a table by the window, one reserved just for him even though the restaurant didn’t take reservations.

I was learning what power looked like in all forms.

Grayson’s was certainly impressive.

So was the way he kissed me, which happened seconds before he reached into the bread basket for a halved baguette. Soon after we finished our first glass of wine, his lips found mine again, and I could taste the burgundy on his tongue. The third time took place when we stood from the table to exit the restaurant. His arms briefly wrapped around me, and our bodies pressed together even after his mouth left mine.

He wanted us to be seen.

He’d accomplished that during both outings.

He wanted our dates to leave a lasting impression. If the other diners at these restaurants weren’t convinced, then they just didn’t believe in love. From the outside looking in, there may as well have been a camera in our faces and a script memorized in our heads.

We were that freaking good.

At least for me, that was because on the inside, every bit that was coming out was real. The tidbits of myself I revealed during conversation, the expression when I looked at him, the passion I put behind my kissing—that was my honest, raw emotion. Would I be able to be physical with him without falling harder? Could I give him my body without my heart?

Could I be intimate without being consumed by love?

I didn’t have that answer yet.

All I knew was that every time I thought of the way this would end, the impending divorce in twelve months’ time, my heart ached.

It didn’t matter how shitty he acted, how difficult he could be, or how many times he deserved to be called a dick.

I wanted him.

I was deeply, endlessly attracted to him.

And I felt myself falling even more every time I was with him.

But could I change a man who didn’t want or believe in us?

So far, I hadn’t.

Now, as he wove through the city traffic on his way to Somerville, there was something I needed to discuss with him.

Something I was extremely nervous to do, but given that the timeline to our engagement was so short, this had to be done.

“Grayson ...” I took a breath and looked across the dark space toward the driver’s side, the headlights of the approaching car shining over the top of his face. “I want to put out a teaser on Instagram.”

When he glanced at me, the light across his eyes had faded, leaving me with a glare that I felt through my entire body. “What does that mean?”

It meant that, after I posted, everything would change.

My content would have a whole new feel—my followers would be rooting for us. I wouldn’t just be targeting my typical demographic; I would have an entirely new one. One that was only there to watch a love story unfold.

One that didn’t technically exist, at least according to him.

The moment the car idled, I lifted his hand off the gearshift and placed it on my thigh. “It means, I want to take a photo of you doing this”—I tapped the back of his hand—“and post it to my Instagram feed.”

“Jesus.”

I wasn’t entirely surprised by his response, but I was still taken aback by it.

“Isn’t that why we’re doing this? So the world sees you’re a changed man? Or however Laura would word it.”

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s the problem? You’ve now kissed me inside two of Boston’s most popular restaurants and everyone and their mother watched you do it. Suddenly, you’re all bothered that I’m going to post a photo of your hand?”

“I’m not bothered, Jovana. I just said Jesus. Calm down.”

Except he was bothered.

And he was deflecting.

Maybe he didn’t pay attention to me, but I listened, I watched, and I was learning him fast.

What I realized in that moment was that the weight of my post was really hitting him. It wasn’t that his hand was going to appear on my social media. It was that this was really happening, that he was going against everything he believed in.

That we were soon going to be social media official.

“Don’t worry.” I sighed. “I’m not going to tag you. I’m just taunting my viewers, building the suspense so when it’s time to reveal the identity of this mystery man, they’ll go nuts.”

And they would—both positively and negatively.

Everyone had something to say about everything nowadays. Some commented with the sweetest emojis. Some, like the keyboard warriors, would tear me apart, their words not only jarring but scarring.

When they found out the mystery man was Grayson Tanner, I suspected those keyboard warriors would remind me that he’d had a giant orgy with six women on a yacht. That he had a reputation for being Boston’s Biggest Bachelor and he’d never settle down, even with me. That I was just after his money and his clout.

And when the divorce came, I could only imagine what they would say then.

The thought made me sick to my stomach.

“Is that what you’re calling me? Mystery Man?”

I took out my phone and aimed it above his hand. “Or Dick. I’m happy to use that. Just tell me which you prefer.”

His head shook while he hissed out several beats of air.

I smiled even though he probably couldn’t see it. “Don’t move.” I pointed the phone at various angles, taking enough shots that I’d have plenty of options. “I’m good. You can have your hand back.”

I expected him to immediately leave my thigh. He needed his hand to shift, after all, so even if he wanted to keep it there, he couldn’t.

What I didn’t expect was for him to not be in a hurry, to hold me for a count of three, to squeeze before he pulled away, the heat from his palm building to the point of sweat.

Normally, I’d have a sassy comment that I’d shoot off in his direction.

But I said nothing, scrolling through the library of photos, trying to get my mind off the way he’d just made me feel, how my skin instantly missed him now that he was gone. Each picture showed his rolled-up sleeve, the pattern on the cuff of his shirt, the dark hair that peeked out on his forearm. And just enough of my lap so that the viewers could tell I was showing them my thigh and the important placement of his hand.

I chose the best one and added my usual set of filters.

Cropped.

I then created a post, typing the following: Him.

I debated over an emoji and went with the red heart.

Oh God.

I filled my lungs, holding the air in as I clicked the button to share the pic. “Done.” I exhaled.

His stare made me take another breath. “It’s posted?”

“Yep.”

“Are people responding already?”

My notifications were exploding, box after box appearing on my screen, an equal rotation of likes and comments. “Oh yeah. They’re freaking out aaand ...” I halted as I came across the first bit of nastiness, a woman telling me that my dress was far too short, and it was no wonder I’d landed a man. “Man, people can be ugly. I can’t read any more.”

“What did they say?”

“It was about me. Not you.”

“Do you normally get a lot of hate?”

“I get a lot of everything. It comes with the territory.” I slipped my phone back into my clutch.

“You should probably send the post to Laura.” He turned at the light. “I’m sure she’s keeping a folder on everything that’s aired and she’ll want—”

“Laura’s one of my followers. I guarantee she set up notifications and just got alerted that I posted.”

He chuckled. “Of course she is.”

“You should be, too, you know.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t sound convinced. “And why’s that?”

“Because it’ll look awfully strange if we’re in a relationship and I post pictures of us and someone clicks on your profile, checks your followers, and sees that you’re not following me.”

“Who the fuck would waste their time doing that?”

“Half the women in this world. You’d be surprised at what they do and the kind of information they want to find out.”

“Jesus.”

There was that word again, his tone telling me how bothered he was by this.

“I’m following you,” I admitted.

Unless he had all his notifications turned off, he would have been alerted that on the date I’d signed the contract, I’d followed him on Instagram. That seemed like the only account he had, since I couldn’t find him on TikTok or Faceframe.

His jaw clenched, like he was grinding his teeth. “Are you telling me I have to follow you back?”

“You say that like it’s a death sentence.” The man couldn’t help himself. He had to make every situation so painfully challenging. “But yes, that’s what I’m telling you.” And the way I was about to shift the conversation, giving him another order, was going to turn him even grumpier. “What are you doing after you drop me off?”

“I’m meeting the guys at a strip club. Why?”

I had nothing against strip clubs.

I’d been to a few myself.

But everything about what he’d just said annoyed the hell out of me. From the pleasure in his voice to the instant reply to the thought of him getting a lap dance.

“Seriously?” I groaned. “And Laura approved that? What happens if one of the strippers snaps a pic of you and it goes viral—”

“I was joking, Jovana.” He slowed for the stop sign and turned toward me. “But I’m glad you’re so concerned with what the fuck I do.” His eyes were on me again, and this time I felt them straight through my chest. “For the record, my actions don’t warrant a lecture from you. You’re not my mother and I’m a grown-ass man. If I want to go to a strip club, I will.”

My blood was boiling.

“I’m sacrificing a year of my life to help you rebuild your name and your company’s number of memberships. I don’t care how much you’re paying me—this is about you, not me. So, no, you’re not going to risk this by getting caught at a strip club where the media will go bananas if they get their hands on a shot of you. This isn’t the time to be rebellious or an asshole, asshole.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But you know what you will do? You’ll come up to my apartment instead of just dropping me off, and you’ll properly meet my roommate, Sloane.”

He moved his hand to the top of the steering wheel and shifted into first, the car moving forward. “And here I thought you were going to take me upstairs and give me your pussy.”

“That’s the last thing you’ll ever get from me.”

He released a blow of air. “I assume the introduction is an order too?”

Satisfied, I let my arms drop. “In a major way.”

“You’ve turned into quite the alpha, haven’t you, Jovana?”

“Someone needs to keep your ass in check despite how grown you think you are.”

“Jesus.”

Third time.

But this time, I’d won.

He pulled into a spot beside my building and parked, the engine purring just before he turned it off.

Before he opened his door, I said, “Remember, this mission is to show Sloane how obsessed you are with me. From the moment we get out of this car, I need you to be Team Jovana. Got it?”

“As opposed to?”

“The dick you’ve been for most of the night.”

That was a slight lie.

He’d been charming at the restaurant.

And irresistible.

And ridiculously sexy as he flirted with me from the other side of the small table, our knees touching every time I recrossed my legs.

But there was no way I would ever say any of that to him.

“Come on, let’s go inside so we can get this over with,” I told him, opening my door and meeting him on the sidewalk.

Like the two previous times we’d walked in and out of restaurants, I figured his hand would press against my lower back to lead me inside. But as I took my first step toward the front of my building, his fingers linked with mine.

The gesture caught me off guard, and I found myself drawing in as much air as I could hold and not releasing it.

This was a different kind of power.

It was filled with lust.

Emotion.

A need that pulsed and radiated through my entire body.

When we got to the entrance, his hand dropped from mine to let me dig inside my clutch, searching for my set of keys. Once I found them, I waved the fob against the reader, and he opened the door for me. His hand then returned to mine, and we headed for the elevator.

“Top floor,” he said the moment I pressed the button. “Does that mean you have a penthouse?”

I laughed. His comment was actually hysterical. “Absolutely. Wait until you see it, it’s huge. Four beds, four bathrooms. We have the biggest unit in the building. It even comes with a butler who wakes us up with smoothies every morning and irons our sheets.”

“Maybe I need to fire my housekeeper. Sounds like she’s slacking compared to yours.”

I shook my head. “You probably would too.”

“Nah.” He smiled. “I don’t like smoothies.”

“Who doesn’t like a smoothie?”

“It does nothing for me. I need substance, like the smooth lips of a pussy or some scrambled eggs.”

“I just gagged.”

He moved closer, using his height and the broadness of his chest to back me up against the side wall. “No, what you did was remember the way I licked yours and instantly got wet.”

“You’re far too full of yourself.”

I was beyond grateful that the elevator arrived before he was able to reply, and I stepped around him and moved us through the opening and down the hall, using my key to get us inside my apartment.

“Hey, hey,” I called out to Sloane.

My plan all along had been to bring him upstairs, so before I left for my date, I’d already given Sloane the heads-up. This way, she’d be prepared and already wearing a bra, unlike the half-naked attire she usually lounged around in.

“Wine’s in the fridge,” she called out from the living room. “Bring me a refill, will ya?”

“I’ve got you,” I replied.

As I made my way into the kitchen, Grayson stood near the sink, leaning against the counter. “It’s good to see someone has the power to boss you around.” He wasn’t any louder than a whisper, so Sloane wouldn’t hear.

I rolled my eyes at him and grabbed the bottle from the fridge. “Want a drink?” I scanned the shelves. “I have an IPA. Two summer lagers. And white wine.”

“The IPA.”

I glanced past the door of the fridge to look at him. “And if I told you that’s the one I wanted?”

“You think that would change my decision?”

“You’re such a gentleman.” I grabbed the summer lager for myself, handing him the IPA. With the wine tucked under my arm, I said, “Follow me,” and brought him into the living room.

Sloane was lounging across her favorite part of the couch, her feet extended over the ottoman, her socks pulled high to her knees. She wore her hair in a messy bun and hadn’t bothered to put in her contacts, her thick black lenses sitting midway on her nose.

“Sloane,” I said, stopping in front of the ottoman, where I handed her the wine, “I want you to officially meet Grayson.”

For as grumpy as he was, she was equally as cunty. That was one of the things I loved most about her.

I couldn’t wait to hear how this conversation was going to go down. If he thought I was snarky, he was meeting his toughest match.

But at the same time, I wanted this to go smoothly.

I wanted her to believe I cared about him.

I wanted her to see what I saw in him.

She poured the rest of the white into her glass and set the bottle on the floor, looking up just as Grayson’s hand left my lower back to extend toward her.

“Sloane,” he said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yeah?” She held the glass against her chest and shook his fingers. “Tell me something you’ve learned about me.”

Oh, she was good.

Without pause, Grayson replied, “I hear you make a hell of a martini. Extra filthy. Just the way I like it.”

I’d told him that over dinner tonight.

I couldn’t believe he’d listened.

Most of the time when I was talking, unless the topic bordered on dirty, I was never positive I had his full attention. I just figured my words went in one ear and straight out the other.

But he’d heard me this evening. He’d processed.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Sloane looked at me, her eyes smiling even though her grin didn’t reach her lips. “I’ll make you one the next time you’re at the bar.”

“I look forward to it.” He released her hand. “But should I ask you the same question?” He paused. “What have you learned about me?”

“You can,” she responded.

“All right then,” he started. “Tell me.”

He was so incredibly charming in the way he spoke, how his stare stayed directly on her.

Nothing and no one made Sloane uncomfortable, but I noticed how she didn’t remain still. She tucked her legs underneath her as we took a seat on the other side of the couch.

“Let’s see ...” She sipped her wine. “I know there were other men on the yacht with you. You’re not as raunchy as everyone thinks.” She winked at him. “I know you’re one successful businessman. And I know that when my girl returns home from your dates, she has this wicked smile on her face.” She nodded toward me. “The one she has on now. You may not know that smile, Grayson, but I do. She doesn’t wear it often, so you must be doing something right.”

“Hmm,”he huffed.

I felt his eyes on me, but I didn’t look at him.

I wished Sloane hadn’t said that.

I liked that she’d noticed, but I didn’t want him to know that he made me feel that way.

“Jovana tells me you want to buy the bar?” he said to her.

I gasped inwardly when his hand landed on my thigh, rubbing the inside and outside of my knee. He was definitely playing the part. Sitting close. Appearing attentive and present. Loving, even.

All of it was causing my skin to heat up.

I was sure he felt it.

And I was sure he was loving that he had this effect on me.

“I do,” she replied.

Another topic we’d discussed over pasta was Sloane’s desire to buy the bar and for my influence to make it the most popular place in the Back Bay.

“Except it’s not for sale,” she said. “I’ve been working on the owner and he’s starting to open up to the idea a little. I’m not sure how I would get financing unless he gave me a loan, but my plan is to keep hounding him until he agrees.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Grayson said.

She sat up taller, her feet moving to the floor. “You know Nate?”

“That’s why my friends and I go there so often, aside from the fact that it’s close to where we all live. We went to college with Cousins.”

When I’d been online stalking Grayson, Google had told me he was thirty years old, and Nate Cousins looked to be the same age. Rumor was, Nate had bought the bar several years back and immediately hired a general manager to run it. Nate apparently had no interest in being a part of the day-to-day. He’d made no effort to market the place or expand the menu. He just had so much money, he wanted to add a bar to his portfolio.

“And what would you say to him?” Sloane questioned.

“That I have a party who’s interested in buying with the possibility of owner financing.”

She stared at him in awe. “It’s that easy?”

“Of course.” He sat with his legs open, the beer resting between them. “He’s a businessman, just like myself. We like options. We also like to be presented with ways we can make money.” His hand moved toward my hip, his eyes locking with mine for a single smoldering second before they returned to Sloane. “He’ll profit off the sale, and if he’s the one to hold the note, he’s going to make plenty off the interest. Cousins has several other businesses that are more of a main focus to him.”

“How much pull do you have with him?” Her body now faced us. “I mean, is this something that could actually happen?”

Grayson smiled.

Power was his love language.

She couldn’t have asked a better question.

“I have a stronger chance of persuading him than you do.”

Sloane drank half of her glass. “This could really be an option.” She wasn’t looking for an answer; she was saying the words out loud, like she couldn’t believe them.

“Put together a business plan. If Cousins wants to move forward, that’s the first thing he’s going to ask for. It needs to be impressive, especially if he’s going to finance the deal.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, slipping a business card from one of the folds. He held it out to her. “If you want me to look it over, I’m happy to.”

She took the business card from his hand, reading the information printed on it. “You really don’t mind?”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have offered if I did.”

She balanced the card between her pointer finger and thumb. “Wow.” She swallowed. “Thank you.”

He was so good when he wanted to be, and there was no doubt he’d won her over.

The only way to reward him for that was to let him leave. I was sure he was dying to. But before he went, it was only appropriate to show him around first. That was what any girlfriend would do the first time her boyfriend visited her apartment.

“Should I give you a tour?” I asked him.

“I would love one.” His voice was deep, gritty.

It vibrated through my chest and down my navel toward that throbbing spot between my legs.

Why did he have so much control over me?

How could I make it stop?

“Come on.” I pushed myself up from the couch, his hand dropping from my leg but pressing against my back as soon as we stood. That placement was somehow easier, less intimate. I cleared my throat and pointed toward the area where we’d stopped first when we came in. “The kitchen you’ve seen.” I circled my hand in the air. “Living room, obviously.” I gave Sloane a smile as I passed her on the couch and brought Grayson down the short hallway where the two bedrooms and bathroom were located. I flipped on the light and stalled in the closest doorway. “This is my room.”

Instead of just peeking inside, he walked in, looking at the artwork on the walls, the pictures I had framed on my dresser. His hand skimmed across a few leaves of my Swiss cheese plant, and he moved on to the books piled on my nightstand. Once he conquered the full perimeter, he returned to where I was standing.

“What you were expecting?” I asked him.

I kept my voice down even though the TV was on in the living room, preventing Sloane from hearing me.

But before I’d asked that question, something had entered my mind. For someone who resented me, who wanted nothing to do with me aside from a signed contract and public outings, I found it extremely interesting that he took so much time exploring my small space. Why he hadn’t just glanced in from the doorway, since that would have been far less personal.

“You want the truth. I was expecting more girlie.” He broke eye contact to look around the room again. But his feet didn’t move, they stayed put. Just close enough that I could smell his cologne, a distance that was making it hard to breathe. “This room isn’t that.”

“You mean like pink walls and a furry white desk chair and a diamond chandelier?” I laughed. “No, it’s not that. That’s not me.”

“What’s you, Jovana?”

That question hit differently.

It was like he was trying to see all the way down to my core.

“I like a space that’s light on color, easy on the eyes, where I’m inspired by my mind and the brands I’m working with.” I nodded toward the corner where my tripod and lighting were placed. “That’s where I do most of my filming. It’s important to me that my followers feel a warm, inviting atmosphere when they watch my videos or look at my photos. I don’t want the space to compete with what I’m trying to endorse.”

“Your face does that.”

My brows couldn’t climb any higher. “Excuse me?”

“You’re fucking gorgeous. No one is looking at the product, Jovana. They’re looking at you.”

His compliment hit the top of my head and swished all the way to my toes.

Where is this niceness coming from?

“That’s why you’re good at your job,” he continued. “You have a face everyone wants to stare at.” He took a step closer and gave me his profile, his focus back on the room. “You’ve really thought about this. You’ve put time into it, haven’t you?”

“I take my job as seriously as you take yours. It means everything to me. So, yes, I’ve thought about it. I’ve tested backgrounds and filters. I’ve worn different types of clothing to see what viewers connect to best. I change up the way I word my posts to gauge interaction. Nothing is random. It’s all there because I’m either seeing if it works or I know it’ll work.”

“What about that dress?” Desire filled his gaze. “Would you wear that to film?”

I laughed. “No.”

“And why not?”

I looked down my body. Even though I was covered, I felt naked. The dress was skintight and matched my eyes—the reason I’d bought it. It started just below my throat, the sleeveless bodice ending far above my knees. The material wasn’t ribbed; there wasn’t even bunching. The way it held me was all the design this dress needed.

“It’s just too much,” I replied, our eyes now locked.

“Too sexy, you mean.”

I nodded.

“And seductive.”

“Yes,” I whispered, and that was as loud as I could speak.

“And so fucking enticing.” His hand left his pocket, and he reached forward, cupping my waist.

His touch felt hotter than when he’d gripped my leg on the couch.

There was need in his palm.

Longing in his fingers.

“Do you know how many times I’ve tasted your lips tonight?”

Three.

I didn’t even have to think.

“Yes,” I replied.

“And do you know what that has done to me?”

“Grayson . . .”

He stepped forward again, his other hand raising and landing on the wall behind me. Our bodies were close, only breaths apart.

“You’ve been teasing me all fucking night, Jovana. Every time you bit your lip. Every time you tempted me with your eyes. Even when you put my hand on your thigh.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“No?” He leaned his head down. “Then what were you doing?”

I took a deep breath. “Acting the part, like I agreed to do.”

“Sure. We’ll go with that.” His hand slowly rose, halting at the very middle of my torso. “But I know something.”

“And that is?”

“How badly you want me right now.” His face dipped to my neck, his lips hovering above it. “I know how much it turned you on when I touched you on the couch and when I offered to help your friend. And when you watched me walk around your room. I felt it in your body then, and I feel it now.” His lips moved lower, now at the base of my collarbone. “When you’re lying in bed tonight, you’re going to smell me in the air of your bedroom.”

I tried to settle my thoughts.

The tingles that were spreading through my body.

But I couldn’t.

His words were making them hum.

His touch was making those hums turn to screams.

“Sounds like that’s what you want,” I said softly.

When he lifted his head, I couldn’t handle the way he looked at me.

The hunger. The tameless, feral eyes that stared back.

“Have you made me hard tonight ... yes. More times than I can count.”

Because there was another layer to this arrangement, the one he’d brought up during our last date, when he offered to keep me satisfied as long as there were no strings attached.

At the time, I hadn’t responded.

I didn’t know if I could handle it.

I still didn’t know.

I just knew I wanted this man.

“Are you asking me if I’ve thought about your proposition? If I can be with you intimately and not grow feelings?”

Or more feelings, but I certainly wasn’t going to say that.

His hand lifted again, this time just below the wire of my bra. “Yes.”

Somehow, we were closer.

His other hand was lower on the wall, creating a cage.

Of Grayson.

“I just want to make you come.” His lips were now on my ear. This time, they were touching the shell, his exhales like waves of pleasure that were spreading straight to my nipples. “Not with my cock. I want to give you my fingers, so when I go to bed tonight, I can hold them near my face and smell you.”

Oh God.

My body was lit in a way that I couldn’t extinguish.

There was a fire, and it was spreading.

“Are you going to tell me you don’t want that?” He breathed against me, waiting a few seconds before he said, “Don’t lie to me, Jovana.”

I couldn’t deny what he already felt.

There was no question, I wanted this man.

I wanted him to take me to a place where all I felt was him.

I wanted him to make every sound of lust pour from my mouth.

I wasn’t going to answer his first question. At least not yet. Because it didn’t matter what happened between us tonight—my feelings wouldn’t change.

They were already there.

And they would still be there whether he got me off or not.

I also wouldn’t think of the repercussions of this.

Or of tomorrow.

All I would think of was right now.

His fingers.

How badly I needed to be touched, since the last time that had happened, it had been him.

He’d given me the most mind-blowing orgasm.

Over.

And over.

And I wanted another right now.

“It’s what I want.”

A growl vibrated from his lips. “I thought so.”

Before I could take a breath, before I could even take account of what was happening, he lowered his hand to the bottom of my dress, going far beneath it.

Until I felt the brush of his fingertips.

“Oh fuck,” I hissed, the back of my head pushing against the wall.

“You’re not wearing any panties.”

“Surprise.”

“You’re saying your pussy has been bare and uncovered all night? What about the night we went for sushi?”

“Yes. Then too.”

“Jovana,” he roared against my lips. “You’re one dangerous fucking woman, you know that?”

I didn’t reply.

I was too swept up.

Because he was moving his fingers higher, teasing between my legs, climbing until he reached that sensitive spot at the very top.

Once he hit it, giving me the friction I craved, I was gone.

“Fuck me,” he moaned. “You’re dripping.”

Thoughts were hard to form, but there was one thing I did know.

My door was open.

I was standing just to the side of the doorway.

At any point, Sloane could leave the living room and come down the hallway to use the bathroom. She’d reach my room first and she’d see.

“Let me close the door—”

“No. You’re leaving it open.”

“But—”

“You’re just going to have to be quiet and”—his lips were on my ear—“quick.”

He was evil.

And he was even controlling this—the environment, the way I came.

The speed.

Location.

But I couldn’t fight it.

I didn’t even want to.

He was rubbing my clit and I was doing all I could to hold on, my fingers suddenly digging into his shoulders, my legs spreading on their own.

My back grinding against the wall behind me.

“If I knew you were this wet, I would have fingered you over dinner and eaten you instead of that fucking pasta.”

I could no longer concentrate on his words.

I heard them.

They hit my ears.

His breath traveled through my body.

But I couldn’t respond.

The only noises I could make were tiny moans.

Especially as his thumb stayed on my clit and his hand turned, so his pointer and middle finger were rubbing my entrance. Dragging the wetness around in a circle.

I swallowed.

My mouth dry and scratchy.

“Grayson . . .”

“I know. I can feel how much you want it. I’ve been fucking dreaming about how tight you are.” His lips were now in front of mine. “I remember. I haven’t been able to forget.”

And just like that, he was sliding into me.

“Goddamn it, Jovana.” He rested his forehead against mine while he matched my sounds. “I can even hear how wet you are.”

He wasn’t going slow.

He wasn’t savoring the moment.

He was pushing his thumb against my clit, moving back and forth, like he was swiping the screen of his phone, and at the same time two of his fingers plunged in and out of me.

“I can feel you getting close.”

My fingers tightened on his shoulders, holding him as though I were about to fall.

But he wouldn’t let me.

Neither would this wall.

They were both holding me, sandwiching me.

“Fuuuck,”I cried, losing air.

Along with my ability to hold off this orgasm.

Things were building.

Rising.

It had been too long since I’d felt anything like this, and he was far too good.

Too consuming.

Too powerful.

“That’s it,” he whispered across my lips. “You’re giving me exactly what I want.”

He pinched my nipple.

Since I was staring into his eyes, I knew he was using his free hand and not his teeth.

“I didn’t even have to order you to come.” His voice quieted, his hands doing all the talking. “I can feel it ... and there it is.”

He was reading my body.

And he was dead-on because the surge was coming on fast, strong, whipping through me with such a force. I couldn’t even distinguish the waves. They were just pounding all at once.

“Ah! Fuck!” I sucked in a breath and released it. “Grayson!”

He didn’t stop.

He went faster.

Harder.

Owning me, dragging out each sensation.

Every drop of wetness.

And I clung to him, giving him all my weight, my moans, my air until there was nothing left.

Just silence.

And breathlessness.

He pulled his hand out from under my dress and it immediately went to his mouth. Our eyes locked while he sucked me off his skin. “Delicious,” he growled, his tongue lapping his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers.

If I weren’t so wound up, I would feel the heaviness of the guilt.

Possibly even regret.

But I was far too high to even consider those thoughts yet.

His wet hand moved to my face, and he pointed it up toward his. “I should go.”

“Yes.”

“You need to walk me out and kiss me at the door.”

Sloane.

The role.

How ironic that he was the one telling me that.

“Right,” I told him.

While he continued to stare at me, his expression began to change out of nowhere.

His breathing sped up.

His lips parted, hissing, “Fuck, that was hot,” just before they hardened. His jaw flexed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed, like he was forcing the emotion down his throat. “But I can’t ignore the fact that you never answered my question. If you can be intimate and not grow feelings for me.” He looked past my eyes, and I swear he was searching straight into my soul. “That’s why I feel the need to remind you that we’re not going to turn out like one of those books”—he pointed at my nightstand—“with a happy ending or any shit like that. Don’t let your romantic heart make tonight more than it is. This was just me fingering you. My proposition is and will always be no strings attached. That’s not going to change.”

“Right,” I repeated.

Which was as bitter a word as fine, but I’d chosen to go with the prior.

The latter sounded more like I was in agreement.

And I wasn’t.

Because I wasn’t sure if I could stop my heart from growing feelings since I already had them.

Maybe I could hide them from him?

Maybe I could set them aside in hopes that by being intimate, his would start to grow?

“I also don’t need to remind you how badly I don’t want to be tied down and how I don’t want a fucking wife ... do I?”

Where had this come from?

I thought we’d just shared something amazingly sexy, his walls finally coming down, but I was wrong.

Unless there was another side to this.

That he was deflecting because he couldn’t deal with how he was feeling.

That he didn’t want to admit it.

And that he was shocked at how badly he wanted me.

At least if it was the latter, I had hope. But how long would this continue? Would he ever let me in?

I had no idea.

All I knew was that he was an asshole.

The man who had come into my apartment and volunteered to help Sloane and toured my bedroom and appeared remotely interested in me—that man was gone.

Vanished.

And in his place was the side of him I despised.

He used a nasty attitude so no one could penetrate his exterior; he spit venom so no one would even get close enough to try.

I knew his type.

I wasn’t an idiot. I could put two and two together.

The thing was, I also knew a hint of softness existed within him, like when I’d opened up about my family and the way the girls had treated me in high school, and he’d told me I was worthy. He could have torn me down. He could have come back with something sarcastic, like usual.

But he didn’t.

He tried to build me up.

But that was only half of it. The other half were the quiet moments. The ones where his eyes did all the talking, like when we were in the hallway at the bar, the night before the meeting with Laura. When he was deep in conversation with Sloane at our apartment and stole glances at me. During our dates at the restaurants, when there was a stillness between us and he appeared so content, so glued to my gaze, that he did nothing to break it.

Those were the instances where I’d peeked below his shield, and I’d seen hints of what he was capable of.

He wouldn’t want to hear that, to know I’d figured him out.

So instead I voiced, “I don’t need the reminder. I know how badly you want my pussy—your hard-on gave that away—and just how badly you don’t want my heart.” My voice was as edged as I could make it.

We’d have the no-strings-attached talk at another time.

When I could properly think of the right approach and when I wasn’t coming down from the orgasm he’d just given me.

“I’m glad we have that straightened out.”

He moved into the doorway, where he took several deep breaths before he held out his hand. When I didn’t immediately grab it, he roared, “Don’t make me walk myself out. We both know that won’t look good.”

Bitterness was boiling through my body.

I hated that I had to act like nothing was bothering me so I could convince Sloane I was enamored with this man.

That he’d made me come so easily.

That I wanted him to make me come again.

And again.

That we were back to square one of Grayson being a complete dick.

I linked my fingers with his and joined him in the hallway, passing Sloane with an extra-wide grin on my face as we made our way to the front. I opened the door, and he released my hand, turning toward me after he made his way through.

“Good night, baby.” He held the back of my neck and swept his mouth across mine, holding us together, breathing me in.

I didn’t fight.

I didn’t pull away.

Not with Sloane watching.

But when the kiss ended and he stalled for just a second before walking away, I noticed something.

Something that gave me a moment of pause.

Something I was having a hard time processing.

His smile.