15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
“W here to, Mr. Prescott?” his driver asked from the front seat.
I didn’t know how long we’d been sitting there in silence, but it must’ve been longer than I’d realized.
“MJ?” Grey asked.
“Oh. Um, I’m in the apartment building just across the street from The Wharf.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The “ma’am” felt a little much, but who was I to argue.
“What does the J stand for?” Grey’s seemingly interested comment caught me off guard. He appeared to be playing the part of a guy who gave a fuck about what my initials stood for, but at least this conversation was taking my mind off the fact that I was in a car.
“Jean. It’s Miller Jean,” I said, playing into it. “After my grandmother, but I’ve always just been MJ. My best friend started calling me that after we decided Miller was too much of a last name, and it just sort of stuck.”
“MJ…” He paused. “I like it.” His hand shifted, landing on his upper thigh. “So, MJ, why is it that you asked me to come with you?” The silence was loud, but his voice quickly filled the void. “Not that I’m complaining, trust me. But the way I remember it, you were the one who so abruptly stopped us earlier.”
His comment was so straightforward, something I wasn’t used to with him. We’d shared stolen glances, comments with hidden meanings, and even a kiss filled with so much tension I thought I might explode, but we had yet to talk about any of it.
While I tried to decide what I was going to say, I focused on the closeness of our bodies. His left leg was barely touching my right and feeling him that close again sent my thoughts wandering to places they shouldn’t.
Oof. MJ. Focus.
“Do you want me to be honest?” My head shifted to look at him as my heartbeat shimmied in my throat, thankful for the darkness of the back seat and the security blanket it provided.
“You’ve been honest since the moment I met you, why would you stop now?”
I’d decided back at Grey’s house that I needed to quit talking about getting out of my rut and start actually getting out of it. Things wouldn’t change unless I changed them, and while in the big scheme of things that seemed daunting, having a little fling with Grey seemed like a doable start. And dare I say fun. Everything was temporary with him. He was here for a few months, gone for the rest.
“I decided to say fuck it and have myself a little summer fun, let loose, and I thought I’d start with you.”
His gaze traveled to me, but I couldn’t make out his expression. I’d hoped my comment wasn’t too much, even though he’d told me to be honest.
But now, the silence was deafening.
Then, just when I was sure I’d made this awkward, I sensed his weight shift next to me.
His presence crept closer as he leaned into the space between my jaw and collarbone, his head almost touching me. The scruff on his face tickled my cheek, instantly transmitting electricity to every inch of my body, and his mouth moved a mere breath from my ear. “I’ll be the most fun you’ve ever had,” he whispered.
Without hesitation, my hand jumped from my leg to his in an instant, my fingertips clenching his thigh while goosebumps erupted in anticipation.
The driver cleared his throat. “Mr. Prescott, we’ve arrived,” he said before stepping out of the SUV.
Within seconds, the door was opening and Grey was making his way out of the car too, but not before taking my hand and pulling me out with him. “Thanks, Daniel.”
“Of course, sir. Would you like me to wait down here for you?”
“No, he won’t need a ride home tonight,” I jumped in.
Grey’s eyes flashed to mine, a devilish grin aimed in my direction. “I guess I’ll be staying the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He tipped his hat and chuckled. “Have fun.”
We made our way up the stairs, hand in hand, Grey following closely behind me. I fumbled for my keys, unlocking my door and eagerly tossing my stuff onto the counter. I didn’t want to wait any longer.
For a split second, I thought about what this would look like in the morning, but I quickly pushed the thought aside. I was on a high, and I was going to ride this one out for as long as I could because I wanted Grey Prescott, and I wanted him now.
As he stood in the doorway of my apartment, I couldn’t help but admire him. He was tall, strong, and so damn charismatic. His lush brown hair tousled just perfectly. The white collared shirt that lay underneath his jacket was unbuttoned enough for me to get a taste, but not enough for me to feel satisfied
I could’ve stared at him all night, except that wouldn’t have been any fun, and I was desperate for fun.
“That dress needs to come off… immediately,” he demanded.
And clearly so was he.
He stripped off his jacket, the light linen material of his shirt revealing the muscles in his arms. By this point, I really just needed to touch him, so I obliged his request.
I slowly maneuvered my arms as elegantly as possible, but before I was able to get myself free, Grey had removed the distance between us and was standing in front of me.
In one fell swoop, he’d turned me around and pulled my back against his chest, his breath hot on the nape of my neck. “Let me.”
His fingertips edged up and down my arms, igniting little fires everywhere they went, until my dress fell to the floor.
My body relaxed. Completely. I tossed my head back into his chest.
His lips just barely connected with my skin, leaving little kisses all down my neck and onto my shoulder, and the tiniest gasp escaped my mouth.
“My turn,” I said, twirling back to face him.
It wasn’t until I saw the look on his face that I remembered I’d skipped the bra and panties tonight. The way his expression heightened as he drank up my naked body, like he was trying to hold himself back, made me feel sexy. Empowered even. I wanted to blame the martinis for this ridiculous amount of confidence, but that would be a lie. It wasn’t the martinis that made me feel this way; it was him.
Slowly my fingers went to work. Each button revealed a little more than the one before it. And with every button, I lost a little more self-control. The desire in my belly was running rampant and the eye contact itself was enough to have me start begging. He tossed the white shirt on the back of my barstool behind us, the dim light in my apartment shadowing most of his upper body, but my god, the part that was visible was mouthwatering. Subconsciously, I nibbled on my lower lip.
As he edged closer to me, the rest of his body was highlighted in the moonlight that shone through the window. My eyes were immediately drawn to his chest and the prominent scar that perforated his flawless skin. I was intrigued, but I was more interested in trying to figure out how to get his hands on me as fast as possible.
I unbuttoned his khaki pants, inching toward his zipper without ever breaking our gaze, fully aware he was growing harder with each second.
“Are you having any fun yet?” I teased.
He raised an eyebrow, stopping my hands from unzipping his pants the rest of the way. “My fun hasn’t even begun. Once I start, you’re never going to want me to stop. That, I’ll make sure of.”
“Is that so? And where is it that you’re going to start?”
Without hesitation, he said, “First, I’ll let myself get lost in that body of yours. My eyes are begging to admire every inch of you with no distractions.” His voice was steady and methodical, so much so that my heartbeat slowly began to mimic the rhythm of his voice.
As he closed the little bit of space that separated us, he went on. “Then, I’ll touch you. Giving my fingertips—”
The word fingertips left his mouth, and simultaneously I felt his touch on my collarbone. I released a deep breath.
“—permission to explore everywhere.”
We were breaths apart at this point, his soft mouth pressed into my ear. Chills covered my entire body by the sheer presence of this man so close to my naked body.
“I’ll take my hands on a tour of you, starting here…” His left hand danced around my boob before firmly grasping it. The eagerness sent my body into pure ecstasy, and I shuttered my eyes closed as a soft moan left the back of my throat.
“Then I’ll slowly make my way somewhere else…” He trailed off, but only for a second before he picked up where he left off. “Somewhere more deserving.” His hot breath went missing, forcing me to open my eyes before he dragged his tongue across his perfectly plump lips.
I knew what he was referring to, but I wanted to feel it. This man was doing his damn best to work me up, and I was here for it. This was top-notch foreplay.
“Uh huh. Where?” I panted.
His right hand stayed put at his side while his left began making its way down my body. Tracing the outline of my body, he moved slowly. I arched my back, hoping to find more contact, because the fire that flickered from his fingertips was addicting.
“Am I getting closer?” he asked. But just when I thought he was going to give me exactly what I wanted, he paused and took a small step backward. My body did its best not to lose contact with his hands, but I stopped myself before I lost my balance, hastily putting myself back together before he noticed.
“Not even a little.” I smirked.
If he was going to play the game, then so was I.
Strolling toward the kitchen, I stopped just short of the wicker barstool that sat underneath the kitchen island. Grey’s shirt effortlessly hung on the back, and I shrugged it over my naked body and sauntered to the kitchen.
When I turned around, I was more than pleased with what I saw—his mouth slightly ajar, his gaze following my every movement. Moving toward the wine bottle that was perched on my counter, I pulled a glass from the cabinet.
“Would you like a glass, Mr. Prescott?”
A slight sense of astonishment decorated his face, but it wasn’t long before it washed away and was replaced with that all too familiar grimace of his. The same one I’d quickly found myself yearning for.
“I’d love one, Ms. Morgan,” he said as he moved into the kitchen, leaning against the pantry door right next to me.
His bare upper body was within my reach, but I refrained from following through with my inner dialogue. I grabbed another wineglass out of the cabinet, along with a corkscrew. I managed to gracefully open the bottle and poured the cherry-colored liquid into both glasses.
Turning in his direction, I handed him one glass and took the other into my hand. “Here you go,” I said as I tipped the glass in his direction.
We both knew the end goal here. What in the hell were we waiting for?
I sipped a little wine from my glass, in every attempt to not be the one that was going to give in first. I pulled it away from my mouth a little too soon, feeling wine trickle down the side of my mouth. I attempted to wipe it before he could notice, but I was too late.