Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
GRAYSON
The moment Flic tightens around me, shuddering with her release, I nearly lose it. Every muscle in my body tenses, torn between chasing my own pleasure and drawing this out—making her feel every inch of me for as long as possible.
I choose the latter.
With a growl, I release her legs and pull her off the table, spinning her around and pressing her back against my chest. She’s breathless, but so fucking willing as I guide her forward, bending her over the table.
The sight of her like this—long legs spread, that perfect ass arched for me, nearly undoes me.
She’s so wet, so ready, and when I slide into her again, she cries out; her fingers drag against the green felt of the table.
I grip her hips, setting a brutal pace, driving into her hard enough that the table creaks beneath us.
One hand trails down her spine possessively before gripping her ass, fingers digging into soft flesh.
She whimpers, pushing back against me, taking everything I give her.
I lose myself in the rhythm, in the way her body clenches around me, in the sounds she makes—each one a fucking symphony.
My vision blurs at the edges, pleasure coiling hotter, until I can’t hold back anymore.
With a groan, I bury myself deep, spilling everything I have as my hips jerk uncontrollably.
I press my forehead between her shoulder blades, breathing hard, my body still thrumming.
She’s trembling beneath me, and I smooth a hand over her back.
“Flic,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade.
She turns her head just enough to glance back at me, eyes dark with satisfaction. “Yeah?”
I don’t answer. Not yet. Because right now, words don’t matter. The way she fits against me does. The way she sighs when I pull her up, turning her around and wrapping my arms around her waist, does.
Eventually, we pull slowly and reluctantly apart.
Flic slips back into her red lace panties and sweater, leaving her jeans on the floor and her bra off so her nipples pebble against the wool in the most enticing way.
I dispose of the condom and throw on my clothes and when I turn back to the bar, she’s sitting on one of the stools, long bare legs crossed, two glasses of bourbon in front of her.
She grins as I join her. “I don’t think I’m ever going to look at the pool table again without blushing.”
“Good,” I say, one hand resting on the smooth warm skin of her thigh, thumb stroking back and forth. The other on the glass.
“Are you going to think of me every time you’re in your bed in New York?”
I chuckle. “I’m never washing those covers again.”
Flic laughs. “I’m oddly happy to hear it, but also that’s kind of gross.” She raises her glass to mine. “To terrible decisions?”
Before I think, my hand is out, holding her wrist, stopping her from drinking on those words. “Nothing about what we just did or about us is terrible,” I say, holding her gaze so she knows I’m serious.
She raises an eyebrow. “Impossible, then?”
“Impossible to resist?”
She laughs again, but she takes a sip of bourbon. “You’re trouble, Ashborne. You know that, right?”
“Only for you,” I reply, pulling her onto my lap so her body is pressed to mine. “And I think you like it.”
“Maybe I do. But don’t let it go to your head.”
She’s close enough now that I can smell her—bourbon and that faint perfumed scent of warm spice that’s just her. “Too late.”
She brushes her lips to mine and we stay like that for a long time. Laughing. Flirting. Drinking. I’m just thinking to myself that I could stay here forever, when Flic covers her mouth and yawns. “It’s late,” she says, stretching her arms above her head. “I need my bed.”
I watch her, and something in me rails against the thought of being away from her again. “Can I come with you?” The words are out before I can overthink them.
She pauses, her gaze narrowing on me. “You want to come back to my tiny studio apartment with me?”
My hands cup her cheek. “I really do.”
“Fine,” she says carefully, fighting a smile. “But I warn you now, I have errands to run tomorrow morning.”
“Errands?” I repeat.
“You know—errands. Grocery shopping. A trip to the wholesaler for stock for the bar. And I want to get Izzy and the baby a gift.”
“OK,” I say easily. “Sounds good.”
She fixes her eyes on me. “What do you mean, ‘sounds good’?”
“I mean, I go grocery shopping,” I say. “Let’s do that.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Fine,” I admit. “I could go grocery shopping.”
“You want to spend the morning running errands with me?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more.” I pause, smirking. “OK, that’s a lie. I can think of something else I’d rather do more, but that involves you and me in your bed and definitely not running errands.”
“You really are impossible.”
“I’m taking that as a yes.”
Her smile falters just slightly. “You have too much work to do to hang out with me. What about the Stormhawks?”
I don’t hesitate. I pull my phone from my pocket, thumbs already moving.
GRAYSON: I’m taking tomorrow morning off. Don’t call me unless the stadium is on fire.
Donny’s reply comes almost instantly.
DONNY: Who is this? And why do you have my best friend’s phone?
I snort and slide the phone back into my pocket.
“And the East Harlem redevelopment?” Flic asks, watching me too closely now.
“Already handled.”
The truth is, I do have meetings. Calls. A father trying to get my attention. A dozen people waiting for decisions I have to make. And yet tomorrow all I want to do is spend the day with Flic. Running errands. Carrying grocery bags. Standing in a wholesaler aisle while she argues with a supplier.
Everything else can wait. The thought surprises me. What would it look like if I wasn’t always fixing, and saving, and building for everyone else? What if I lived for me? What if this was what I chose?
As Flic starts gathering her things, and I rinse out the last of the glasses behind the bar, it hits me that it isn’t just her I don’t want to part with.
It’s us. Whatever this is between us. For so long, I told myself that wanting something like this was a weakness.
A liability. Now it’s here. It’s mine. The word “impossible” hisses in the back of my mind.
The only thing that feels truly impossible right now is the idea that I’ll ever be able to walk away from this woman.