Mr. Wicked (Hooked)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jovana

I was still getting over the whirlwind of our third date when Grayson walked into the bar to begin date number four. The moment our eyes connected, I somehow scored a smile, and it brought me right back to the evening we’d spent together three nights ago.

Grayson had taken me to a concert at the Garden. Imagine Dragons was playing, and Grayson and his friends had reserved an entire box. Not only had I experienced the VIP-ness of his lifestyle, but I’d also met his best friends. I’d hung with them the entire night, and even befriended Drake, Easton’s girlfriend. They all knew about our situation, but never at any point did they make me feel like an outsider. They had been the warmest, most welcoming group.

During the small breaks between songs, I’d been so tempted to ask what they thought of our arrangement, to get a read on them individually. Especially since, every time Grayson touched me, I saw a smile come across one of their faces, and satisfaction in their eyes after Grayson and I would kiss.

Of course, our box had been extremely visible to the arena. There had been strategy behind every move we’d made.

Every kiss.

Touch.

Embrace.

We always acted as though there was a camera pointed at us.

At least that was what he was probably doing.

I didn’t have to act at all.

Maybe one day I’d get to ask his friends why they seemed so pleased with what they saw, or I’d take Drake out for lunch and attempt to get her to spill.

The concert just didn’t seem like the right time.

But the timing had been right for another Instagram tease. Although I’d shared plenty of live videos throughout the concert, before the show ended, I posted a photo on my main feed. A picture that Drake had taken of Grayson and me. We were standing in the front of the box, Grayson behind me, his hands on my navel, his face buried in my neck with a look of lust across my face.

The message couldn’t have been clearer.

Especially when I included the bomb emoji along with the caption: Radioactive.

The comments had been streaming in ever since.

At the end of the evening, Grayson had hired a driver to take us to my apartment after the show. As the SUV pulled up in front of my building, Grayson didn’t get out. He kept his hands completely to himself, unlike the last time we’d been together—something he hadn’t brought up all night. When the driver opened the back seat door, Grayson leaned across the center seat and kissed me. A kiss that was slower, thought out, even more intimate than he’d been giving me during the concert. His exhales were just starting to scorch my cheeks when he pulled away and wished me a good night. The driver closed the door the moment I stepped onto the sidewalk, and I’d walked into my building alone.

For date four, we decided it was time I spent the night at his condo. With three dates and no sleepover ... Sloane was going to start questioning if he’d turned into a prude.

We didn’t want that.

So I’d brought an overnight bag with me to work, and since I was only scheduled to be here until seven, we were going to go to his place, order takeout, and go to bed in separate rooms. At some point before we went to sleep, I was going to take a picture of us in his bed, and that was what I’d post in the morning.

In just twelve hours’ time, the identity of Mystery Man was going to be revealed.

Oh God.

But for now, my fake, delicious boyfriend was rounding the corner of the bar and had stopped directly in front of me. “Hey.” His hand went to my lower back, pulling me until my chest was pressed against him. “You smell—”

I tensed. “Like the nachos and french fries I’ve been serving and the rum and Coke that I spilled all over myself, I know.”

“I was going to say you smell incredible.”

A compliment.

Huh?

Who is he tonight?

“I don’t know how,” I replied. “But thank you.”

As for him, in the days since the concert, his beard had thickened a bit more, and I just wanted to run my hands through it, to feel the sensation of his rough whiskers, wishing they were scraping along the insides of my thighs. And as he stared at me, his eyes were deepening to a rich emerald rather than the light sea green they normally were, and I couldn’t help but wonder why.

Or why he had to be so handsome.

Or why I had to be so attracted to him.

“Are you ready to leave?”

I swallowed, searching for my voice. “I just have a few things I need to finish so the girls who close tonight aren’t swamped with duties. Why don’t you sit at the bar?” I nodded toward Sloane. “She owes you a dirty martini anyway, doesn’t she?”

His grip tightened. “I have to kiss you first ... just in case someone is watching.”

The way he was holding me would answer any question anyone would have.

But if he wanted to put his lips on me, I wasn’t complaining.

“I’m sure they’re watching, Grayson.” I winked. “Give them a show.”

His teeth scraped his bottom lip. “Are you doubting my abilities?”

I laughed. “No.”

“Because I’d say I put on quite the show at the concert.”

He’d kissed me more times than I could count in that box.

He’d grabbed my butt.

His hands had never been far from my body.

It was definitely a show.

“You were”—I sighed—“fine.”

“Just fine?” He huffed. “Man, you’re quick to dig.”

“You deserve it.”

“But I’m on my best behavior, Jovana.” He leaned his mouth toward mine, his hands circling my waist, teasing my stomach with his thumbs. With each swipe, he was triggering the tingles to explode in my body. “I don’t know how to be nicer than this. I even gave you a compliment.”

“Kiss me.” My voice was a whisper.

He dipped once again, his lips inches above mine. “Look who’s being controlling ...”

I was needy.

I was asking for what I wanted.

My insides were begging for pleasure.

This wasn’t about control.

This was about desire.

“Please,” I said softly.

He didn’t let a single beat pass before he cupped my face and pulled us together, our mouths melding. Our tongues touching. All I could feel, all I could smell ... was him.

Our kiss didn’t last long. I was at work, after all, but it was enough.

Enough to prove to anyone in this bar what we meant to each other.

Enough to make me breathless.

His eyes scanned mine the moment we separated, and he thumbed my gloss off his lip. “I’m going to go get that drink.”

I nodded.

And as his hand left me and he took a seat in front of Sloane, I hurried into the back, grabbing my pile of receipts to make sure all the tips were entered into the computer. I refilled the water glasses and checked the ice. I then cleaned up the soda station, and when I returned to the bar, Grayson was sipping one of Sloane’s famous martinis.

“Girl, you’re not going to believe this,” Sloane said as I reached her, wiping my hands on one of her rags. “Grayson talked to Nate, and he’s interested in hearing all my ideas. Nate wants me to set up a meeting where I can pitch him.”

“If he’s impressed with what she has to say,” Grayson cut in, “they’ll discuss owner financing.”

My fingers clamped Sloane’s arm. “Oh my God.”

Her eyes were so big and emotional, her voice just as excited as her expression when she said, “I know!” She glanced at Grayson. “I’m going to work on my ideas over the next couple of days, along with the business plan that we discussed.”

“Shoot it over to me when you’re done. I’ll review it and give you feedback.”

She glanced at me. “I’m obsessed with your man. I don’t even care how that sounds, it’s the truth.”

I pulled her into my arms and hugged her with all my strength. “I’m sooo happy for you right now. When I get back in the morning, I’ll help. I’ll type. Whatever you need me to do, we’ve got this.”

“Don’t rush back, it’s your first night together. But if you get home before I have to go to work, plan on giving me your full and undivided attention.”

I laughed. “You got it.” My arms dropped from her neck, and I stepped back, giving her the biggest smile.

“This martini ... shit, it’s the best I’ve ever had in my life.”

I looked at Grayson, who was scoring all the points tonight. “I told you, no one makes them like her.”

“There’s even ice crystals on the top. Damn.” He took the last sip and popped a blue cheese olive into his mouth.

She asked him, “Do you want a roadie?”

He nodded. “Hell yes.”

She laughed and looked at me. “I don’t even have to ask you. I already know your answer.”

As she began making our drinks, I said to Grayson, “I’m all ready to go.”

He nodded toward the small bag that hung on my shoulder. “That’s all you’re bringing?”

Since Sloane was listening, I giggled and replied, “I plan on sleeping naked. That certainly doesn’t require me to pack a lot.”

“Fuck me,” he moaned. He stood and took out his wallet. “What do I owe you, Sloane?”

“You’re kidding, right?” She placed two to-go cups on the bar top. “Just be good to my girl and you’ll never pay for anything while you’re here. But shhh”—she held her finger against her lips—“don’t tell Nate I said that. That’s not very entrepreneurial of me.”

“I won’t say a word.” Grayson smiled.

I grabbed both cups when she was done and met Grayson on the other side of the bar. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said to Sloane and waved.

“Have fun tonight, you two.”

I waited until we were outside before I said, “I can’t believe you talked to Nate for her. That was beyond sweet of you.” That wasn’t enough. I had to say more. I had to make him understand how big of a deal this was. “You have no idea how much that means to her ... and me. Thank you.”

He took the bag from my arm and held it while we walked, an act that completely took me off guard, but one that caused me to grin.

“You thought I was bullshitting when I first made her that offer?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“When it comes to business, I don’t fuck around, Jovana.”

“That only happens in your personal life, right?”

“Whoa, another dig.”

I supposed it was.

I didn’t mean for it to be. I just meant to point out the difference between his two sides.

“I’m sorry. That came out all wrong, but still, you didn’t deserve that.”

We said nothing for a few more steps until he broke the silence. “When she talked about buying the bar, I recognized her expression. It’s the same one Easton, Holden, and I had when we wanted to start the app and had no money to fund it. It’s the worst feeling. You don’t know what the fuck to do, you just know you want it and you’re helpless on how to make it happen.” He adjusted the strap on his arm, and we slowed at the crosswalk. “Every time I come here with my buddies, Sloane’s working. You know what that tells me?”

I looked up at him. “That she works her ass off?”

“Exactly.” He nodded. “She’ll make it one of the most successful bars in the Back Bay. And if you promote her, there’ll be a line out the door.”

I gently pushed his empty shoulder. “Is that another compliment?”

“I told you, I’m on my best behavior.”

But I didn’t understand why.

Whether he was nice or a raging dick, I still had to be here. I still had to go on dates with him.

I still had to stay the night at his condo.

That was all in the contract I’d signed.

I decided not to ask his motivation. It would be easier on my heart to just not know, but whatever was causing the change in his behavior, I dug it.

Less than a minute later, we reached his building and took the elevator up to his penthouse. The last time I was here, I’d been in only his kitchen, living room, and bedroom.

I hadn’t forgotten what any of those rooms looked like.

But this time, when we entered the foyer and walked into the massive open floor plan, I saw his home in a whole different way. The sun was setting, casting a light glow, and the floor-to-ceiling windows showed just how large and tall and spacious the space was. I didn’t know if he’d hired an interior designer, but whoever had picked out the furniture and artwork and decor had done an incredible job. His condo wasn’t just masculine; it was warm and inviting—the opposite of his normal personality.

“The guest room is this way,” he said.

The primary bedroom and massive en suite were on one side of the living room, but this was on the other, and there were a few doors in the hallway.

As we passed each one, he pointed and said, “Smaller of the three bedrooms. Guest bathroom. And now your room, which has its own en suite.”

I stalled next to him in the doorway. “Wow. This is bigger than my bedroom at my apartment.” The room was decorated in the same cool gray and black tones as the rest of the condo. A flat-screen hung on the wall. Art was above the bed. There was a chair in the corner and still plenty of area to set up a tripod and lighting.

He placed the bag on top of the beautiful light-wood dresser. “This is where you’ll stay when you move in. If you want to leave anything here after tonight, do it. It’s one less thing you’ll have to bring later.”

Why was it so hard to take a deep breath?

Was it the realization that I’d be spending every night under the same roof as him, only on the other side of his living room?

Or that this would be my room?

Or that this condo was about to be my new home?

Or that I wished I would be spending every night in his bedroom instead?

I felt his eyes on me as he said, “I’m required to make you feel comfortable while you’re here. If there’s anything you want to change or add or redecorate, I’ll make sure it gets done.”

I hadn’t missed the way he’d worded that statement.

The coldness behind it.

He was still on his best behavior. I was just reminded that he really didn’t want me here.

That once we hit the one-year mark, I’d be long gone.

“It’s perfect.” I turned toward him. “I don’t want to change a thing.” He stared at me silently, scanning my right eye and then my left. I needed a break. I needed to think. I needed to just be in a space where I didn’t smell him. “Do you mind if I take a shower? I can feel work all over me.”

“Yeah, sure. Room’s all yours.” He turned around and walked down the hallway.

I shut the door.

When that didn’t feel like enough, I locked it.

And when my feet felt too numb to move, I put my back against the wall and slid down until my butt hit the carpet.

I didn’t know why, but when I tried to take a deep breath, my throat felt even tighter than before.

“It smells incredible in here,” I said as my nose filled with the scent of pizza.

I was padding my way across the hardwood floor of the living room, my hair soaking my tank top, my skin slick from the lotion I’d just rubbed across it.

Grayson was sitting on the couch, his back to me, ESPN playing on the TV. At the sound of my voice, he looked over his shoulder, his stare tiptoeing down my body.

With each inch, I felt it grow more intensely.

Especially when it rose from my feet and froze on my chest.

“I only brought pj’s,” I told him. “Hopefully, you’re okay with that.”

As my breasts bounced a little with each step, my nipples hardened in response to his eyes, which still hadn’t moved.

But what did change was his expression.

He looked ferocious.

“Did you wear a bra to work?”

An odd question,I thought, as I came around the side of the couch and took a seat a few cushions down from him, noticing how delicious he looked in his gray sweatpants and T-shirt. “Yes.”

“Then did you just forget to put it back on?”

Now I knew where he was going with this conversation.

“No. I didn’t forget.”

“Rule number one”—he turned down the TV as though I couldn’t hear him over the commentators, but the balance of both volumes was just fine—“unless you’re agreeing to my proposition and you’re going to allow me to devour you on every surface of this condo, then you won’t be wearing these tiny, provocative outfits around my place when you live here. Understood?”

“Tiny?” I glanced down my body. I was in cotton athletic shorts that I’d rolled once so they sat lower on my waist and higher on my thighs. They weren’t like boy shorts. They covered me just fine. “And provocative?” I pinched the bottom of my tank and pulled it off my skin, the material snapping right back the moment I let go. This was a set I’d wear to the gym or out walking. It certainly wasn’t racy or extra sexy. “I would hardly use those words to describe this getup.” I winked. “But okay, I hear you.”

“Rule number two, you’ll wear a bra.”

I laughed—two was even more ridiculous than one. “Let me just state the obvious. They’re little, as you know. I don’t really need to wear a bra most of the time unless I want to make them look bigger, which I don’t. I’m fine with them just the way they are. Besides, you’ve already seen them, so I don’t really understand the point of that rule.”

“Do you want me to fuck you on this couch right now?”

Heat wafted across my body.

Of course I wanted him to.

But for now, I said, “You haven’t earned the right to fuck me.”

He glanced back at the TV. “Then abide by my rules. Got it?”

Nice Guy was gone.

Mr. Wicked had returned.

“Bra and snowsuit, check.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m glad we have that straight.” The side of his cheek flexed as he ground his jaws together. “As you probably guessed from the scent, I took the liberty of ordering us some pizza. It’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

My stomach growled at his offer. “Have you already eaten?”

“No.”

I wondered why he didn’t already have a plate. He must have been waiting for me.

“Would you like me to grab you some?” I pushed myself to the end of the couch.

His gaze slowly returned to me. “All right.”

“Why am I not surprised ... you like to be waited on, what a shocker.” I tried not to look at him when I walked by where he was sitting, but I could feel the heat from his glare, and when I glanced in his direction, his eyes didn’t meet mine.

Because his were on my chest.

And as I watched him, as I really took him in the same way he was observing me, I realized why he wanted me in a bra.

That man was turned on.

I had a feeling that he hadn’t joined me in the kitchen or offered to get me any pizza because he didn’t want me to see his hard-on.

I loved that thought.

It even made me smile.

Once I reached the kitchen, there were three pizza boxes on the island, a quantity I found odd given that there were only two of us. I lifted the lids, and inside were a plain cheese, a veggie, and a pepperoni.

Since the kitchen was completely open to the living room, I turned around to face him.

I was surprised that his stare hadn’t left me.

It was just lower now, like it had been on my ass while I was looking at the food.

But it was rising and finally locked with mine.

Still smiling, I asked, “Are you expecting more people?”

“No.”

“Do you just like a wide variety of toppings then?”

He lifted his beer, which had been sitting on a small end table beside him, and took a drink. “I didn’t know what kind of pizza you liked. I guessed it would be one of the three.”

“You could have asked.”

“Jovana”—he shook his head before taking another drink—“I’m not a fucking moron. I tried to ask you, but your bedroom door was locked.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah . . . oh.”

I glanced down at the open boxes. “Let me guess, pepperoni for you?”

“Veggie.”

I laughed. “Veggie?”

“Don’t sound surprised that I like vegetables on my pizza. There’s no better combo on a pie than mushrooms and onions. At least in my opinion.”

“I’m laughing because I agree. Nothing beats that combo, it’s my fave.” I went on the hunt for plates, checking the cabinets next to the fridge and sink, and when I finally found them, I grabbed two. “But I’m down for a slice of pepperoni here and there.” I placed two pieces on his plate, two on mine, and opened the fridge, scanning the doors until I found the section where he kept his dressing. His ranch came in a jar, so I searched the drawers until I located the silverware and scooped some of the dressing onto my plate. I grabbed a beer as well, along with some napkins, and returned to the couch.

As I handed him his pizza, he was eyeing mine and asked, “What’s the blob of white on your plate?”

“Ranch.”

“You put dressing on your pizza?”

“I dip my pizza in it, yes.”

“Who the fuck does that?”

“Ummm, me.” I laughed again, and when I chose seats, I picked a spot closer to him this time, so only a square cushion separated us. “Sloane’s family is originally from Upstate New York. Apparently, that’s what they do there. I don’t know, but she introduced me to it and now I’m hooked.” I picked up my pizza, dipped the side, and took a bite. “She uses blue cheese, but the smell makes me gaggy. I’m Team Ranch all the way.” I held my plate toward him. “Here, try it.”

“No.”

“Try it, Grayson.”

“Jesus,” he groaned. “But only because I don’t want to hear your fucking whining.” He ran the point of his slice through the pool of creamy dressing and took a large bite. “I don’t hate it, shockingly.”

I didn’t move my plate. “Try it again. It takes a few rounds before you’re sold.”

“You want me to double-dip?”

“We’ve kissed a million and one times. If you have cooties, you’ve already given them to me.”

Instead of commenting, he blew air through his nose, like a bull getting ready to charge. “The constant reminders, like this one, and the fact that I’ve seen your tits—not needed.”

“I just like to get on your nerves.”

“You’re succeeding.”

I winked. “I know.”

He dragged the pizza through my dressing and chewed off the soaked end. “I’m not going to knock it. I can see the appeal.”

“Do you want me to get you some ranch?”

He chuckled. “Nah, I’m good.”

I finished off the pepperoni slice and dug into the veggie. “Mmm. Delicious. Thank you for ordering this.”

He was quiet for a few moments, sucking the sauce off his fingers, and I handed him a napkin, forgetting that I still had both.

“What do you like to watch on TV?” he asked. “If it’s something I can stomach, I’ll change the channel.”

“Whatever is fine.” I shrugged. “I really don’t watch much TV. I don’t even have one in my room.”

“I noticed when I was in there. Why’s that?”

I wiped my mouth. “I never had one growing up, and I lived at home through most of college, except toward the very end when I moved in with Sloane, so I guess the lack of having one just carried forward.” I picked off a piece of the crust and popped it into my mouth. “I’ve always had a job, even in high school, making time such a hard thing for me. I’ve never had enough of it—I’m always rushing somewhere. When I do have a few free minutes, I read.”

“I worked through high school too.” He finally looked at me again. “You know, to help my dad out.”

He was opening a door and I didn’t want to let it slam. Although Grayson had revealed tiny pieces of himself, there was so much more I wanted to know.

I sucked in a deep breath. “Can I ask you a super-personal question?”

“Maybe.”

If I wasn’t about to go deep, I would have laughed. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s dead.”

It felt like he’d just dumped a wheelbarrow of bricks on my chest. “Grayson, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I stopped talking to her when I was ten. She died shortly after we opened Hooked.”

“Why?” I swallowed, my head shaking as I stared at him. “What happened between you two?”

He set his plate on his lap and lifted his beer, holding it against his chest. “I never talk about this shit. The people in my life know. They skate around it when my family situation gets brought up, but it’s been a long time since I’ve gone into depth.”

I kept my voice calm and gentle when I said, “Whether you like it or not, I’m a person in your life now.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to tell you anything.” He finally sipped from the bottle, guzzling what was left until he set the empty on the end table.

“No, you don’t.” I placed the half-eaten veggie slice on the plate and rubbed the grease from my fingers onto the napkin. “But I would love it if you would.”

He stared at me for what felt like hours until he broke eye contact and looked through the windows that were just to the side of me. “She took off when I was ten. She was done—being a wife and a mother. She wanted no part in either.”

My throat tightened, but I said nothing.

He didn’t need to be questioned. He just needed time to get it all out.

“I wrote her letters. I tried to get in contact with her. She didn’t want to be found, and she didn’t want to come back. But I was too young to understand that then.” He finally looked at me. “As I got older, I found out she had an affair. Fuck, she really had multiple affairs. She’d disappear for a couple of days; Dad would catch her with some dude and bring her back because he didn’t want to break up our family. He’d give me some wild excuse, telling me she went to a spa or a vacation with her girlfriends—things we couldn’t afford. I should have known that.” He wiped his mouth and threw the napkin on top of his half slice. “The last straw was when she cleaned out the bank account and stole all my baseball cards to pawn. That’s when Dad decided not to go look for her. He said she could destroy him all she wanted, but the moment she hurt me, that was it.” His chest rose but didn’t fall. “That was the last time I saw her.” He placed the plate on the table next to his empty beer. “She has a sister who my dad has somewhat kept in touch with, and a few months after we started Hooked, she showed up at my dad’s place with an urn of my mom’s ashes.”

“How did she die?”

He got up and went into the kitchen, getting himself another beer, which he carried to the couch. “She was living in New Mexico at the time with a bunch of dudes. I guess she dropped dead of a heart attack right in the middle of the living room. The guys wouldn’t pay to fly her body to Boston and my aunt didn’t have the cash, so my aunt had her cremated in Santa Fe, not even knowing if that was my mom’s wishes or not. She brought the ashes to my dad in case I would want them.”

There were so many parts of our past that were identical.

All except for this.

My heart was shattered for ten-year-old Grayson.

I had no idea if this was the reason why he was so antirelationship or why he proclaimed he’d be single for the rest of his life, but I had a feeling his mother had a lot to do with it.

Not just in the way she treated his father.

But in the way she abandoned Grayson.

If he didn’t settle down, he’d never have to worry about the woman leaving him. If he didn’t develop feelings, he’d never have to worry about getting his heart broken.

I hated this for him.

But I also hated this for me.

“Do you have the ashes?” I asked.

“Fuck no. I want nothing to do with her. I especially don’t want the remains of her.” He took a long drink, holding the beer in his mouth before he swallowed. “My father is my best friend. We agree on almost everything, but when he kept those ashes and couldn’t part with them, that’s where we differ. I can’t understand that after all the things she did to him, he couldn’t let go. That he has such a goddamn soft spot for that woman.”

I could hear the resentment.

How his father’s softness hadn’t been passed down to Grayson.

“Love never dies,” I whispered.

He looked at me as he said, “I wouldn’t know, and she’s why I never plan to know.”

Those words prickled my skin.

And once that phase ended, they stung.

And once that ran its course, they slapped.

Over and over.

I was right: she was the reason.

I supposed it made sense and maybe I would feel the same way if I were him.

Or maybe I’d want to find the opposite of what his parents had. I’d want to find my person, the one I could trust implicitly, who would become my forever, giving them every single part of me without any reservation.

After this conversation, I wished that over the last few dates and the time we’d spent together, I hadn’t thought that person could be Grayson.

That I wasn’t falling.

That I wasn’t thinking these twelve months were only the beginning instead of the end.

But I was.

I didn’t care that he was grumpy, growly, that he was impatient. Because underneath those sounds and layers was a guy who was completely and utterly wonderful. Who had the kindest, most giving heart.

Who owned my body and every physical sensation in ways that I’d never experienced.

But in thinking that, in dreaming, in mentally preparing for the future, all I was doing was setting myself up to become the one who would get wrecked.

It was that haunting realization that made me get up from the couch, stopping at the end table, where I said softly, “I know that wasn’t easy.” His hand was resting on the cushioned armrest, and I placed my fingers on top of his. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He said nothing, just stared at me.

Neither of us blinked.

Or moved.

The moment was building, I could feel it in every part of me.

The angst.

Emotion.

There was so much I wanted to say.

So much I wanted to do.

And just as I breathed, “Grayson,” he pulled his hand away and lifted the beer and began chugging it.

The moment was over.

I shoved every feeling down my throat and asked, “Are you done eating?”

When he nodded, I took my plate and his, along with our empty beers, into the kitchen. I dumped our half-eaten slices and napkins into the trash. The dishes went into the dishwasher, and the three pizza boxes in the fridge.

As I returned to the living room, Grayson was turning off the TV. Once the room was silenced, he stood.

“I’m going to bed,” he told me.

“We have to take the picture.”

“What picture?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, something I’d done more than once tonight. I didn’t know why, I just suddenly felt so naked. “The one we’re posting in the morning. You know, that tells everyone we’re together.”

“Right.”

“My phone’s in the bedroom. I’ll go grab it—”

“We have to do this now?”

I could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“Don’t be a dick, Grayson. It’s just a picture. It’ll take less than a minute and then I’ll leave and you can go to bed.”

He turned and walked toward his bedroom, roaring over his shoulder, “Hurry. Fuck.”

I sprinted toward my wing and got my phone from the nightstand. I tucked it under my fingers and rushed out into the hallway, across the living room, and entered his wing, halting at the entrance of his bedroom. From here, I could see into his closet, and he was in the middle of taking off his sweatpants.

I certainly didn’t want to get caught staring, so I went over to his bed and pulled back the covers and slid underneath. While I listened to him rustle around in his closet, I took my time checking out his bedroom, something I hadn’t done before.

The colors, the vibe, the mood—they were the embodiment of sex.

There was a fireplace directly across from the bed. Tiny lights in the ceiling above me that he’d dimmed to a light shadow. The artwork was abstract, but within the lines and dark hues were the visuals of a woman’s body.

The textures throughout the whole space were smooth, silky, even. And the entire room smelled like Grayson, a heaviness of citrus balanced with amber notes.

This wasn’t just his personal cave.

This was him—an equal combination of darkness and sexiness.

“That’s my side.”

The sound of his voice startled me, and I jolted up a few inches, sucking in the deepest breath. When I met his stare, it was as reprimanding as his words.

He wanted this over with.

He wanted me gone.

“Sorry.”

While I slid to the other side, I watched him walk to the bed. He had on only a pair of boxer briefs that fit snugly over his dick, a part of him that was complete perfection, but what the tight cotton didn’t cover was his incredible body. Cords of muscle rippled across his chest and down his etched abs, up his forearms and biceps, and crossed his shoulders. Small patches of dark hair the same color as his beard sprouted from some of those brawny sections, only adding to the power and strength that beamed from his body.

I knew this long before tonight, but something about this moment only reinforced how masculine Grayson was.

How the guys my age were still learning their rhythm, still finding their personalities, still building their bodies.

But not him.

This was a man full of experience and maturity.

And pain.

As he climbed into bed, I inhaled the deepness of his cologne, and I instantly felt the heat coming off his skin. And I sucked in another breath, waiting for him to get comfortable, then moved in next to him and held the phone in the air, directly above our faces.

“I’m going to take a few test pics first.”

He said nothing as I pressed my leg against his and leaned into the side of his chest, tilting our faces together. I basked in his presence, letting the emotions take over my expression, and snapped a handful of shots.

“These are ... ugh.” I showed him the screen, swiping through the ones I’d just taken.

“What the fuck’s wrong with them?”

“Everything.” I held the phone in the air again. “I need you to look happy, Grayson. Like you’re in love.” When he didn’t respond, I looked at him. “Please.”

“Love isn’t in my arsenal of emotions, Jovana. I told you, I don’t do love. Don’t be looking for it in these pictures because you won’t find it and you won’t find it in me. That’s why you shouldn’t fall for me.”

There was that reminder again.

The one I hated every time I heard it.

The one that reinforced that I’d be a broken, dismantled mess at the end of this.

But I couldn’t let him know that. I just had to keep going, so I said, “I know. I get it. But this isn’t about me falling in love with you. This is about the world falling in love with us. So shut up, smile, we’ll get the pic right, and then I can go to bed.”

His arm had been at his side, a position that came across cold and uncaring and extremely detached in the test shots. After a few seconds of grumbling, he wrapped it around me and pulled me closer. In this new position, my head lay halfway between his chest and shoulder, the blanket pulled high enough that my lack of a bra wasn’t revealed. He turned his face toward mine and I began to snap away, keeping my arm still, but moving my head just slightly, so there was a multitude of angles I could choose from.

“Jovana . . . I’m done.”

With his voice a full-blown growl, the phone almost dropped from my hand as I lowered my arm.

I quickly clicked on the photos, scrolling through the twenty or so I’d taken.

With the right filter and a tiny bit of Photoshopping, eliminating the furrow between his brows, I’d have something good enough to post.

“I need you in your bed. Now.”

His statement pierced my ears, stressing how close we still were.

As I turned toward him, holding the top of the blanket so I could lift it off me and get out, I paused. Something in his eyes wasn’t letting me go. It was pulling me toward him instead.

Holding me.

Begging for me.

Was that why he wanted me to leave? Because he was having a hard time controlling himself with me being so close, physically forcing himself not to pull me on top of him?

Was he feeling everything that was flowing through my body?

Did he—

“Jovana ...” His tone was different this time. Rather than being deep and gritty and demanding, it was almost needy.

He focused on my right eye and then my left, his grip tightening on my shoulder, his face moving toward mine.

Just when he was about an inch away, he hesitated.

And he stayed right there.

“Good night.”

His words echoed through me, reinforcing that whatever I thought, whatever I anticipated happening, wasn’t going to.

This was it—the finale.

He wanted me out.

Now.

“Good night,” I whispered.

I pulled myself out of his bed and walked toward my wing, shutting the door behind me, and switching off the light before I climbed into bed.

I edited the photo as best as I could, smoothing out the elevens between his brows, adding a warm, crispy filter, and cropping the picture in a way that emphasized how he was holding me.

I didn’t care what he said, I could see there was emotion in both of our faces.

That meant my followers would be able to see it too.

I uploaded the pic to Instagram and added the caption: Hooked him.

Instead of putting his name, I tagged him in the post and scheduled it to release at eight tomorrow morning. With my lack of makeup and messy, mostly dried hair, it would look like we’d just woken up together. That we were midcuddle when we decided to air our tea.

That we were just two people with very different pasts who had found each other on Hooked and had completely, utterly fallen for one another.