9. Grae
Grae
I can’t lose her again. I won’t. Now I just need to figure out how to keep her. The sun is rising, and she’s still out cold. She makes tiny snores and twitches in her sleep.
Step one: go above and beyond. But be careful not to love bomb her. She won’t trust it, and she’ll be as good as gone. But I need to make her feel cared for.
I spend a few minutes on my phone, getting everything she’s going to need to make it a good day before she awakens. But once everything is in motion, I roll over and start kissing her shoulder to wake her up.
She moans like a kitten making biscuits, then then shoots up so fast she almost clocks me in the chin. “Shit! What time is it?”
“Almost eight.” She throws off the sheets, but I wrap my arms around her and yank her back into bed. I say, “No.” She blinks at me a few times, like she doesn’t understand. I smirk because I’m not surprised. “You don’t hear the word ‘No’ often, do you?”
“It’s a word I use, but most people aren’t stupid enough to say it to my face.”
Ok I need a new tactic. “Just wait a second and listen.”
“Literally my least favorite things.” She pouts, so pull out an oldie but a goodie I used to do when we were younger—I roll on top of her and remind her of her options.
“One, you can throw on that evening gown and do a walk of shame through the lobby of this very exclusive hotel. Or two, you can take a shower, and when you come out, I’ll have breakfast and clean clothes for you.”
She huffs and rolls her head side to side. “Fine, I’ll shower,” she says with hesitation.
“But there’s a catch.” I wait for her to finish expressing all her frustration with glares and eye rolls. “You need to give me your number, and you can’t ghost or block me for a month.”
“I knew you were going to pull this shit.”
“For clothes, food and a shower, a month is all I ask.” I stop then bury my lips onto her neck, tickling her, “Or I can steal your David Bowie dog underwear.”
She glowers at me, “I can’t do a month.” She tries to shove me off her, but I go no bones and crush her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“You’re choice, Adams.”
She huffs, “It’s King.”
“Huh?”
“Alana King. Not Kinsley Adams, ok?” Wow, she had the balls to make fun of my new name, and yet she used her middle name. Talk about a lack of creativity.
“Two weeks,” she says annoyed. “I can give you two weeks.”
“Deal.” I roll off her to grab my phone.
Begrudgingly, she snatches it out of my hand and types in her number.
She grumbles something I can’t hear under her breath, maybe even in another language.
Then kisses me on the cheek before leaving the bed.
I lay there until I hear the shower going and then check the app for our food and clothes.
It’s in the hotel, awesome. My phone rings.
Maybe it’s Alana asking me to join her in the shower.
“Why the hell didn’t you check in this morning?” Darren yells. I pull the speaker away from my ear and walk into the living room.
“I’m at a hotel. I didn’t get The Knights of the Night script, but I got something way better.”
“A lightsaber?”
“No, a very special date.”
“Shit. You never do one-night stands.” The panic in his voice is almost palpable.
“Stay there. I’ll get you an NDA and a new SIM card.
” He’s right, I don’t do one-night stands or random hook ups, and I have a huge stack of blank NDAs at home.
For a millisecond I think maybe I should have her fill one out.
But she’s had enough ammo for years to ruin me, and she hasn’t.
“No.” I whisper into the phone. “I found her. Pen Girl. My high school girlfriend.”
“Wait, Pen Girl is the high school girlfriend?”
I nicknamed Alana Pen Girl a while ago. Back when we were dating, she had a rider added into my contracts—for every week I was on the top 200 chart, I would get a box of pens. Long story short, I’ve been getting a pallet of pens dropped off at my house in L.A. for years.
Pen Girl, because her name hurt too much to say.
“Yeah, she’s taking a shower, so please don’t show up and make it weird. Give me an hour.”
He hesitates, then groans, “Fine. But you need to stay in the hotel until I get there. Do you need clothes?” My suit pants are in a pile next to the couch, not exactly my typical attire but I’m more concerned about her than me.
“Yes please,” I say, feeling like a kid asking someone to get the cookies off the top shelf of the pantry. Darren huffs and says, “Stay there. I’ll give you an hour, and then you’re telling me everything!”
The shower turns off, and I tell him I need to go. As soon as I hang up there’s a knock at the door. Her breakfast and clothes, perfect. She comes out with damp hair and a terry cloth bathrobe hugging her body. Her skin was still pink from the hot water. She looks at the table and back at me.
“There’s only one meal.”
“It’s for you.”
“You’re not eating?”
I flash her a grin. “Oh, I’m gonna eat, but I want you to be the only thing I taste all morning.”
She side-eyes me and pushes her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve got a friend whose husband goes down on her whenever she eats cake.” Well, that wasn’t my plan, but I can pivot.
She sits on the edge of the couch and sips her coffee.
The plate of French toast and berries is still warm, but she reaches for the chocolate donut because that’s always been her go to.
I, however, sink to the floor, spreading her legs wide and flipping the bathrobe open.
I press gentle kisses on her thigh while she eats.
The smell of her mixing with breakfast is glorious.
When I reach her center and give her one exploratory lick, she shudders.
“I’m not drinking my coffee while that’s going on, don’t want to burn you.”
“Much appreciated,” I say and return to enjoying her body.
My tongue, lips and finger all work together until that soft slickness tightens. Her moans make every lick that much better. When she digs her hand into my scalp, the pain sharpens my actions. Her breathing switches to panting and her cries are getting louder. She’s close.
“Maybe I’ll stop for now. Leave you wanting more.” I lift my head up between her legs and her expression softens. Not to the lust filled desire, but something else. I can’t place it.
“I’d be impressed if you did.”
My chest tightens, and I can hear my heartbeat rattling in my ears.
She’s going to leave again. This is what I can give her.
This is what she asked for. Without leaving her completely satisfied, she’ll think I’m a loser.
That I’m worthless. Another reminder that no one will love me, unless I can make them come.
“Go ahead, Grae.” Her fingers leave my scalp and brush down my cheek. Her voice is soft and gentle. “Finish the job.”
She pulls me out of my spiral with that single phrase, and I close my lips around her clit as my fingers start pumping deeper. “Jesus fucking Christ and Odin too!” she cries out as her body quakes and shivers. Mission accomplished: she’s invoked deities.
Once she settles, she scoots over to the arm rest and pats her thighs.
I join her on the couch, resting my head on her lap and my legs hang over the other armrest. Her fingers make circles in my hair, and the anxiety shrinks back down to its natural state of high alert.
I close my eyes as she goes back to eating breakfast.
“Did any of your partners ever figure out that your self-worth and mental health are directly tied to your need to prove your good in bed?”
“No.” My face burns as I sit with the words and recall my partners in various forms of afterglow. She was the only one, and at a damn young age too. I’ve gotten in fights with partners about this very thing, and it’s ruined a few relationships.
“Did you ever tell anyone about your brother?” Shame hits me like a gut punch.
“No.”
Amanda, CJ, Lena, even Darren doesn’t know.
I had an older brother who died when I was twelve.
They don’t understand why I turn into a moody asshole around that time of year.
They just accept it as reality. And they certainly don’t know that my brother left me a box of adult educational videos with the note, ‘You’re a weird little guy, if you can’t get them off then they’re not going to stay.
’ Those were the last words from my brother and best friend.
“This was my chance to be a new person.”
“Grae might be an upgrade, but he’s still running off Davin’s base code.
” She strokes my cheek and grazes her fingers across my lips.
“More refined, but the bugs are now features.” Her face has a line or two that wasn’t there when she was in high school, and her eyes have that haunted expression that comes from seeing some shit.
“Is the same thing true about Kinsley and Alana?”
She does a half shrug, and says, “I’d like to think that Alana is a slightly more refined version of Kinsley, but all the coding is the same.
” She’s quiet. “But just because I’d like to think it doesn’t mean it’s true.
” When she finishes her breakfast, she nudges me to get up.
I watch her dress with the clothes I bought her.
I’m still in my boxers while she’s got armor on.
She faces me and the tiniest smile darts across her lips. “I see how hard you worked. And in case no one says it to you today, I’m proud of you.” My throat tightens, and I have to fight for my next breath.
“Thank you.”
She picks up her dress from the floor. I should’ve hung it last night. “I’m gonna steal the garment bag in the closet, ok?” She points over her shoulder to the bedroom.
“Of course.” I stand and lean on the doorframe as she wrestles the dress into the bag. Without looking at me, she says, “I like all the new ink.”
My chest and arm are almost completely covered now. Whenever I get a new idea, and Lukas has some time, I try to schedule a session.
“Thanks, my tattoo artist is awesome. He’s like the luckiest guy in the world, has an awesome girlfriend and two house cows.” He also solicited me for a threesome with the aforementioned girlfriend, but I turned him down. Information I don’t think is relevant at this moment.
Alana successfully zips the bag and turns to me. She’s studying me again, her gaze dances up and down my body, and she moves forward like she’s deciding. “Say it again.” Shit we talked a lot, and I think she can tell I’m struggling. “What you said to me when you first saw me last night.”
I step forward and put both hands on her cheeks.
“I am so sorry.” I press my lips to her forehead, “That I ever made you feel less than the incredible woman you are.” I lift her chin, and she shuts her eyes for a beat and opens them again.
“I am the man I am today, because you were the only one who saw what I could be.” I lean in and brush my lips against hers, “Thank you and I am so sorry.”
I was going for a soft tender moment, but instead she crashes her whole body into mine. She’s wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me like the last twelve years never happened.
When she pulls back, her hands rest on my neck, thumb tracing my chin.
This was her spot, no one else could ever touch me like that.
I used to flinch and push CJ away when he tried, and the one time Amanda did it, I almost vomited in her Louis Vuitton bag.
This part of my body was reserved for Kinsley, left vacant for over a decade and now she’s back, and her touch feels like home.
“You taste like me.” She grins, and I put my hand over hers.
“You taste like French toast and coffee.” I shouldn’t push it, but I bent the no-kissing rule, and she blew it up beyond recognition. “Sorry for the kiss.” I’m not at all.
Then she smirks and repeats the same thing she said to me after our first kiss years ago.
“It was a perfect moment. I’d be insulted if you didn’t.
” Alana grabs her bag, “I should get going, some of us have jobs.” She winks and breaks away, walking back into the living room area and sliding on her shoes.
I walk her to the door, she stops and puts her hand on my chest, “You get two weeks Davin Graeloche, that’s all, don’t do something stupid like catch feelings. ”
“Understood.”
She closes the door behind her, and when she’s got to be halfway down the hall, I jump up and down, fling my arms around and gyrate my hips. “Fuck yeah!”