Chapter 7
ROWAN
I picked up Grayson’s arm where he’d wrapped it around my waist, and slipped out of bed. Padding across the room to what I hoped was the bathroom, I pushed on the door.
Result. Found it.
On a bad day, it’d be just my luck to stumble into the closet, trip over a stray shoe, and knock myself out on the clothes rail.
I used the toilet and closed the lid to muffle the flushing sound. Planting my hands on either side of the sink, I checked out my reflection, searching for signs I’d changed. The same old me stared back, but while I might look the same on the outside, everything on the inside had shifted.
Grayson. I’d slept with Grayson. My boss, Grayson Brent. Not just once or twice, but three times.
Three.
And he’d given me six orgasms.
See, who needed a vibrator to get their kicks? Not me.
I wrapped my arms over my chest and hugged myself.
Not even in my wildest fantasies had I expected the night to end like this when Grayson picked me up from my apartment.
If I thought about all the wasted months, I could crack both our heads together.
I hadn’t shown my hand, too scared of cocking up and failing my probation—and he’d been too afraid of a sexual harassment lawsuit to make a move on me.
Pair of dickheads. That described us perfectly.
And then it hit me. Fuck. What if the change in our relationship status meant he didn’t want me working for him any longer?
I had to work. I needed the money. And I refused to scrounge off Grayson.
I paid my own way. My parents had drilled the importance of being financially independent into me, and I agreed with them wholeheartedly.
I’d seen too many of my friends rely on a man for money only to see their entire lives wrecked when the relationship ended and they found themselves homeless and penniless.
Maybe he could transfer me to another department? Or use his network to find me a new job. He had a lot of contacts. One of them had to have an opening for an assistant. Perhaps Sebastian Devereaux from ROGUES was hiring.
“Why are you talking to yourself?”
I clasped a hand to my chest, my heart thumping against my ribcage. I hadn’t even heard him get up. “Jesus, Grayson, you scared the hell out of me.”
He moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, nestling his chin on my shoulder. “Do you often talk out loud to yourself?”
“Sometimes, when I’m trying to figure things out.”
His hands crept up until they cupped my boobs. He rolled my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, and my stomach lurched. I groaned, twisting my head to steal a kiss.
“What are you figuring out?”
“If I still have a job.”
He spun me around so fast, I almost lost my balance. Only Grayson’s firm hands at my waist kept me upright.
“Why wouldn’t you have a job?”
“Well.” I shrugged and chewed the inside of my cheek, a habit I often turned to when I felt uncomfortable. “After this. You and me. I thought it might be… awkward to work together.”
Grayson’s lips curved in a crooked smile.
“I can think of at least ten benefits right off the bat to having you directly outside my office door.” He bent down and sucked on my bottom lip.
“And besides, you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.
If you think I’m losing a perfectly good assistant just because we’re fucking, you’re wrong. ”
I almost sagged in relief, but it was short-lived. “What will everyone say?”
Grayson snorted. “You think I care about idle office gossip?”
“I care,” I whispered.
Grayson lifted me onto the bathroom counter and eased my thighs apart. Dropping to his knees, he circled my clit with his tongue. “I already told you that you need to learn to care less. Now shut up, woman, and lie back. I have plans for you.”
I groaned, heat rushing through me. Burying my fingers in his thick hair, I held him right where I needed him. It took an embarrassingly short twenty seconds of tongue action before I came, his name spilling from my lips over and over.
When I opened my eyes, he already had a condom on. He lifted me off the counter and spun me around.
“Hold on, baby.”
Lifting my hips, he speared me in one smooth thrust. His hand cradled my throat, but when I closed my eyes, he bit my shoulder. “Eyes open. I want you to watch me fucking you.”
My skin flushed hot. I’d never watched myself have sex before. Our eyes locked in the mirror. Grayson didn’t break eye contact for a second. This was more than sex, more than fucking. It was a deep connection between two people who’d hidden from their attraction, but weren’t hiding any longer.
His fingers swirled over my clit, pinching and rubbing. I wasn’t sure I had another orgasm in me, but that familiar swell started in my stomach.
“Tel me you’re close,” Grayson muttered.
“I’m there.”
I shattered, my muscles rippling along his cock. Grayson thrust into me twice more, then stilled, bliss etched across his face. I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life. I was transfixed, unable to look away even if he’d asked me to.
He pulled out of me. I winced, sore after so much sex in a few short hours. Wouldn’t change a thing.
Not a single fucking thing.
* * *
The following morning, I awoke to the sound of the shower running.
I rolled over in bed and tucked the covers under my chin.
Grayson had the most comfortable bed. His mattress made me feel as if I was lying on the softest, fluffiest cloud, and returning to my lumpy old thing didn’t appeal.
I thought about jumping into the shower with Grayson, but I didn’t feel quite brave enough yet.
So much had changed so fast, and my brain was struggling to process it all.
Maybe next time.
Lying here on my own gave me far too much time to think, and the swirl of anxiety I’d felt last night made an unwelcome return.
Everyone at Grayson Enterprises knew I had the hots for Grayson.
Well, okay, maybe not everyone, but enough.
Mostly women, too. And one thing women loved was a good old gossip.
Except, when you were the subject, it wasn’t so much fun anymore.
Not that I planned to go bleating to the world and his wife that I’d spent the night in Grayson’s bed and, according to him, I’d spend plenty more nights here, too.
But office workers could sniff out a story better than most journalists.
I’d give it two days before I was the story.
I groaned. Whatever Grayson said, I might have to look for another job. It was okay for him, being the boss and all. No one dared giggle behind his back or make fun of him. But me? I was fair game.
Now if Claire was in my shoes, she’d waltz into the office swinging her handbag and announce to everyone that she could “barely walk straight”.
So many times over the course of our long friendship I’d wished I was more like her, but we were complete opposites.
It was one of the things that worked so well for us.
She was yin to my yang. I sighed. If it came down to it, I’d have to marshal my inner Claire and front it out.
“You’re talking to yourself again.”
I raised my eyes to find Grayson, a white towel hanging low on his hips and water trickling between his pecs, standing in the doorway to the bathroom.
He rubbed another towel over his wet hair, then tossed it behind him and strolled over to me.
As he approached, I reached out and tugged at the towel.
It unraveled easily, and I dropped it on the floor.
Hmm, maybe that bravery gene was rallying?
I propped myself up on one elbow. “Want to play hooky?”
His smile came slowly, and his eyes shimmered with devious intent. “I thought you’d never ask.”