17. Not At All Conspicuous
17
Not At All Conspicuous
ALICE
Alessandra Hart: America’s New Sweetheart
Emerald Bay Titan Slaps Local Paper With Defamation Suit
An Exclusive Look at Emerald Bay’s Very Own Cinderella Story
From Honeymoon to Hot Seat: Greyson Hart Speaks Out Against False Allegations
“How’s it looking?”
God, just the sound of Greyson’s voice raked fingernails down my nervous system, not unlike the marks I’m sure his back bore after last night. A flush heating my neck and face, I looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe of my office, hands nonchalantly stuffed in his pockets, with the top of a vicious hickey peeking out from his crisp collar. I’d had to layer on cover-up like my life depended on it in an attempt to conceal the one hovering just above the neckline of my dress.
Fighting my smile was futile, so I bit my bottom lip as I focused on the screen in a pathetic attempt to center myself. “Still a little more print time than I was hoping, but we’re headed in the right direction, and public opinion weighs heavily in our favor.”
“Think I can do anything better?” he asked cockily, sauntering over until he could lean on the corner of my desk.
Smirking up at him, I said, “I think we could humanize you a bit, and they’d eat it up.”
The man actually wrinkled his nose like I waved something rancid below it. “What does that mean? I’m human.”
“No,” I argued, shaking my head. “You’re stunning. But you’re not human. Not to them. Hell, I worked twenty feet from your desk for two years, and I thought you were a robot.”
“I like to keep things professional.”
“I know.” Not that the same could be said for the two of us now.
“And private ,” he emphasized, looking at me with some mix of endearment and amusement.
“ I know ,” I repeated, leaning back in my chair to study him for a moment. “A little goes a long way, Grey. You’re set on not making appearances with the kids?”
“You know why that’s a terrible idea.”
Kind of . We hadn’t really gotten into the nitty gritty of it last night—just that he funded a mercenary group called Thunderstrike in an effort to fight modern slavery, freeing trafficking victims. Obsidian , the group Max had dug out of our system, was an insidious circle Marcom had been attempting to shut down for years.
Nonetheless, I nodded.
Their existence made them targets, whether or not he emphasized that. But I understood not wanting to illustrate the value they held to him if someone had traced his involvement.
Jax, who was currently filling his tumbler with crappy office coffee, was Greyson’s partner. Only, he didn’t have an injury keeping him from putting his boots to the ground when needed.
I have four people on the planet I actually trust. Three, if minors are eliminated.
All three of Greyson’s confidants stood in the same building, divided by glass walls and staircases.
I'm not going to lie; that was a kind of praise I wouldn’t be tossing aside anytime soon.
“So we start simpler. With us,” I supplied.
“I think you’ve done quite enough, Mrs. Hart.”
I shrugged, shaking my head as I glanced back over the software we used to gauge public opinion based on interactions. The algorithm was complicated, but the results were pretty easy. “Getting more involved with causes that mean something to us, you on a date night, slow down at the next gala and take the time to answer questions. These are easy things.”
“I loathe the media.”
“Yes, but we need them, Grey. We need them on our side for this.”
“I need you on my side for this.”
My cheeks split in a bashful smile as the heat intensified in them. “You have me.”
“Do I?” he asked simply, but the fire in those hazels told me we weren’t talking about the media anymore. I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my dress before meeting his gaze and nodding. “Come to lunch with me?”
“My pleasure,” I answered softly, noting that Jax was heading across the fishbowl for those twin stair sets. I gently shut my laptop as I found my feet.
“Was it?” he pressed.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “You know it was.”
“Then, why’d you leave?” he asked softly, eyes only for me. It was like the rest of the world ceased to exist beneath the heat of that stare.
“I may have panicked,” I confessed, looking at my feet, my bag on the floor. His warm hands came to both of my arms. I hadn’t even heard him close the distance, but suddenly Greyson was sucking the air from my tiny space, his frame inches from mine, forcing my eyes up to his.
“Panic begets panic. How do you think I felt waking up without you after… that ?”
Swallowing hard, I studied the undeniable sincerity in his eyes. “I’m sorry if I hurt you—” Warm lips swallowed my sentence a beat before his hands came to my face.
“Did I hurt you ?” he breathed against my mouth. When I shook my head, he jerked his chin up, lips tapping mine so, so briefly. Five orgasms, and I wasn’t done. Needed more of him— from him. “Do you…regret it? Me?” Another head shake, this time earning the softest brush of his lips. “Then next time you panic, do it with me. We can’t climb mountains on opposite peaks and expect this to work.”
“So there is a this ?”
“Unless I’m hallucinating.”
“Uh…am I interrupting something?” Jax asked as he knocked on the doorframe.
“No,” I blurted, but Greyson had other plans.
“Yeah, buddy, I got her for a while.”
“I’m sure you do,” Jax chuckled. “I’ll pick up lunch. What do you two lovebirds want?”
“Whatever sounds good to you,” Grey said simply, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do me a favor?”
“I’ll just add it to the list.” Jax’s sarcasm might very well be my favorite quality in the man.
“Good deal. Close the door on your way out.”
With a laugh, Jax did. To my surprise, he also hit the switch that deployed the electronic privacy screen across the glass of my office.
Gaping, I declared, “That’s not at all conspicuous.”
“My wife. My business,” Greyson stated simply.
“You really like saying that, don’t you?”
“I really do,” he agreed smugly before claiming my mouth in a bruising collision. Strobes of memory flashed through my mind—his face buried against my center, his hands gripping my hips as he took me from behind, the way he threw his head back as he came in my mouth. We had devoured each other for hours until we collapsed into sleep. Judging by the unforgiving crash of his lips on mine, he had every intention of tearing a sixth release from my exhausted body right here in the office.
Peeling away, I staggered back a step, trying to keep him at arm’s length as he stalked my movements. “ Stay ,” I barked, earning a laugh. “Talk. Words . Words are good.”
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked as his hand found mine, the other coming to grip my hip possessively. There was nothing hotter than being pursued by Greyson Hart, I decided. A freaking inferno had ignited in my office, threatening to sear the clothes right off my body.
“This. Us . Thunder—” his lips cut off my protest, and the next thing I knew, he’d lifted me onto my desk, a devilish glint in his eyes as he ran kisses down my neckline, savagely sucking at the spot above my collarbone.
“Words are overrated,” he purred against my skin. “But I have four to ask you.”
“Oh?” I squeaked.
“Go out with me? Please,” he added with a chuckle. “ Five . I had five, but you are unspeakably distracting.”
My gulp was humiliatingly audible. “Like, dinner and a movie?”
“I can do better than that,” he promised without hesitating.
“You want to… date me?”
“I want to do a lot of things to you, Belle. But now that you’re legally mine, I think dating is an acceptable place to start,” he said before returning to tasting every inch of my neck and collar.
“Grey, I…”
“Yes?” he breathed against my clavicle.
“About last night.”
“Please, baby, please don’t backpedal.”
“When I almost…”
Brows raised, he reared back to study my face before gently finishing my sentence. “Cried?”
“Yeah. I, um, that was intense for me.”
“Me too,” he agreed bluntly.
“Why do you…um. Why did you…” My eyes fell but only made it as far as his pecs, where they strained against the fabric of his fitted shirt, my fingers lifting to fiddle with a button. Some mindless carnal corner of my body wanted to tear it clean off, never mind the fact that my vagina was crying from its sudden overuse. Desperately, I tried to cling to the words I needed to say.
Why wasn’t I different? Why didn’t he trust me? Why couldn’t he finish with me?
But the more his hands roamed, the less coherent I became. “I know with other women you… Reggie .”
“I promise Reggie never crossed my mind, and neither did anyone else,” he swore, a seriousness in his eyes. “I can’t explain what this is, what we have, or if it’s going anywhere. For now, can we just see how this evolves? Because you were resplendent, Mrs. Hart. A fantasy I never dared to hope for.”
God, I loved the way he called me that. Loved the way he talked. Perhaps that fancy private school education was good for something after all.
The intensity in his gaze and the seriousness in his tone sent me babbling like an imbecile. “Thank you. You as well. I mean, you were beautiful. Are beautiful. Handsome .” The more idiotically I spluttered, the broader his cocky smile grew. I palmed my forehead as his hands slipped beneath my dress. The instant his blunt fingers found the wet spot on my panties, that grin turned wolfish.
“Bent over your desk.” He stroked up my aching center, pressing the fabric into my arousal. “Bent over my desk.” One finger hooked my panties aside, trapping the breath in my throat. I glanced over my shoulder, but the privacy screen kept us concealed. His free hand wrapped around my jaw, victory in his eyes when he brought me back to face him. “Pinned against that thick wood door.” One finger slid into my center, and my head fell back as pleasure captured me wholly. Greyson seized that opportunity to graze his teeth over my jugular before breathing, “On your knees, sucking me off in one of these damn office chairs.”
“What?” I breathed like some ditsy airhead, my hands coming to rake through his hair. Had he hit me over the head with a stupid stick? Anyone could walk through that door right now. We were in my office, not his . There was no invisible barrier of terrifying CEO rules forbidding intruders.
“I’m thinking of all the ways I pictured taking you and trying to decide what comes first. Do you have a preference, wife ?”
“Grey, someone could walk in.”
With that hesitation voiced, he scooped me off the desk and set me in said office chair before lowering himself onto all fours.
Greyson Hart.
Was on the floor.
Crawling between my thighs. In his outrageously expensive suit.
Dead. I was dead. This was the last fantasy my final electric impulses would gift me with before I met my maker.
Grey yanked my chair closer to the desk, where this madness would be at least somewhat concealed. With a devilish smile, he threw my leg over his shoulder. All the while, those smoldering hazels drilled into my face, savoring my speechless reaction.
“Still feel like talking, Mrs. Hart?” he asked as he hooked my panties aside with his thumb, lowering until he could breathe in my sex.
“Words are overrated,” I panted back, entirely mesmerized by the man below me, earning a satisfied hum of approval.
“Good girl.” In the next heartbeat, his lips found my clit, a finger plunged inside, and the world around us vanished in a swirl of pleasure.
Greyson
“And this will humanize me?” I asked Friday evening as Alice took a step back to admire her handiwork—her ridiculous handiwork.
“You never know; you might like it,” she said smugly, tilting her head to one side as she surveyed me.
“They’re jeans. It’s not rocket science.”
“You look good in denim,” she noted, motioning for me to turn around.
“Let’s go,” I complained, but she just widened her eyes pointedly. With a huff, I rotated, glaring down at the three-buttoned shirt she’d stuffed me into. My suspicion was her choice had more to do with how absurdly tight it was than humanizing me in the eyes of the public, especially as she ran her warm palms over the width of my chest. “I don’t see how this will help.”
“Girls love Henley shirts. Don’t try to make sense of it, just accept it.”
“I have a woman. I don’t need girl s to like my clothing.”
“You do if this summer press tour is going to work. You agreed to this,” she pointed out for the umpteenth time. Though our plan was working, rumors of foul play were still circulating frequently enough that Alice decided it was time to ramp it up.
“And a Henley, beach shoes, and eating out of a trailer will help?” I repeated as she rolled her eyes and sauntered away with a flip of her gorgeous hair. I was still in disbelief that I no longer had to hide what the sway of her hips did to me.
“It’s a taco truck, smart ass. And it looks delicious! ”
“It looks like a listeria outbreak waiting to happen,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Okay, drama queen. Don’t you ever get sick of tiny little portions for gigantic price tags?” she teased as she hooked her handbag over her shoulder. A new one for her birthday was inevitable, although how much she’d allow me to spend on her had yet to be determined.
I decided that the best part of having a driver was that it allowed Alice to straddle my lap in the back of the limo, rocking her hips under those flimsy sundresses she was so partial to.
The worst part of having a driver was inarguably the fact that my wife seemed to enjoy provoking a raging erection, only to flash a coy smile as she slipped off my lap and out of the car, leaving me stranded on the bench seat until it reduced to a respectable size.
Still at half mast, I sighed as I eased out into the summer heat, glaring at her where she had plunked down beside Max in the sand. My brother was already here as well—waving like an idiot—as was Leighton, who was playing an aggressive game of tag with my niece and nephew. To his giggling delight, she appeared to be using Beau like a tiny human shield.
I just reached the first line of sand when someone sidled up next to me. Turning, I found a blonde ponytail and a reserved smile. Stacy, our best ally in this mess, was watching them with a melancholic smile on her face. “Sure makes a pretty picture,” she said, lifting her camera to show me the back of it. Alice was sandwiched between Max and Ollie, and both the kids' faces split into open-mouthed giggles with Leighton on their tails. “Sure we can’t post these?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “You’re nearly as relentless as my wife. But, no. And you’ll never get a release signed for him, either,” I explained, tapping on Max on the screen.
“Mind if we join?”
I glanced up to find the source of that familiar voice was a very sweaty Paxton Rhodes, alongside Dallas, one of our best receivers. Both were shirtless, wearing basketball shorts and running shoes.
“Pax!” Alice yelped, sprinting for him. He chuckled as he caught her, but she wriggled free quickly, wrinkling her nose. “I love you, but you’re ripe .”
“It’s ninety degrees out, Menace,” he pointed out.
“Isn’t it the off-season?” she complained.
“Getting old, sis,” Paxton supplied. I was about to tell him that the owner of the team just loved to hear that when he added, “Gotta stay on top of my game. Can’t just bounce back like the young guys these days.”
“Good man,” I mumbled, grateful he took Ollie’s investment seriously. “Are tacos on the off-season plan?”
“One cheat day won’t kill us,” Dallas pushed, looking more eager than his new quarterback.
“Carb, protein, veggies, I think it counts,” Paxton said, grinning when his little sister beamed up at him. And just like that, our outing grew by two.
By the end of our meal, Stacy’s ‘paparazzi’ images were finally up to Alice’s standard—she’d cuffed my damn jeans and insisted on bare feet in the sand. Paxton had even been on board for a few beach football images because, naturally, Ollie just so happened to have one in his truck.
My reluctance gave way as Stacy flipped through her SD card on the back of the DSLR. I hated to admit it, but the media would eat this up. One big, happy, Emerald Bay family.
Drowsy from one too many tacos and hours in the sun, Alice laid her warm cheek on my shoulder the moment the car door closed behind us. Her happy little sigh had me relaxing into her, stroking lazy lines up her sun-kissed arm. A man could get used to this. This…community. The girl nestled into my side. I didn’t want to think too hard about how we’d gotten here or where it was going because that’s when the panic set in. But…for now, at least, she was mine.
I’d just closed my eyes, at peace with that reality, when she jackknifed upright with a yelp. “Arthur, pull over! Pull over!”
“What the hell!?” I barked as Arthur calmly said, “Yes, Mrs. Hart.”
“ Oh god, ohgodohgod, ” she breathed in a panic, brows pinched in the center.
“Alice. What’s going on.”
“I saw something!” she yelped, throwing herself out the car door onto the shoulder of the fucking highway.
“Jesus Christ,” I growled, lunging after her. “Alice! Get in the car! Have you lost your mind?”
Cars rushed by, honking angrily as their wakes shook the town car. Emergency blinkers or not, this felt like a terrible idea. Especially as she bolted down the shoulder in her sandals, dress flapping in the breeze.
“Baby!” I barked, finally catching up to her. She could fucking move when she was motivated.
“Please don’t be what I think you are. Please ,” she pled as she…bent down to a moving trash bag.
“What the fuck?” I barked, snatching her arm and pulling her back. Then, I heard the whimper, my heart aching as my eyes closed. Kneeling, I opened the bag and wanted to be sick. Humanity’s ability to discard life would forever rattle me to my core.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked like she was praying to be wrong as tears welled in her eyes. I wanted to say no but lifted the bag to move us back toward the car. “Greyson!” she barked. “Please tell me I’m wrong.”
Was bringing a trash bag puppy directly into my car a terrible idea? Probably. Was I about to do it anyway? Yep.
“Come on, Alice. We’ll check him out when we’re off the road.”
“Oh god, dammit,” she breathed, jamming her eyes closed before she rushed to stay by my side.
Door secured behind us, I opened the bag and, clenching my jaw so tight it could crack, fished out the surviving puppy.
His little cries would stick with me for the rest of my damn life.