Chapter 36
SELENA
Grayson smiles against my lips before kissing me. The pressure of his mouth on mine is soft and almost sweet. At first.
We inch closer and my breath catches as our lips melt together with a growing need for more.
Grayson lifts me onto the edge of the pool table, sending numbered balls rolling around, then he stands between my legs.
One of his hands is at my waist, the other curls around the nape of my neck.
I don’t mean to moan into his mouth as he kisses me, but I do and something shifts.
His grip on my waist tightens, his other hand falls to the small of my back. When he deepens the kiss, our lips twist and tangle together in a desperate attempt to get even closer. It’s dizzying and electrifying.
That’s when I feel it. The hard mound in his jeans. It presses against the inside of my thighs and my cheeks flush with the shy realization of what’s happening. I find myself smiling.
“What’s so funny?” he asks between kisses.
Nothing’s funny. This is the least funny moment in all my life ever. But how do I explain to him that I’m just being a giddy dork? I can’t. So I fall back on what’s tried and true when it comes to Grayson Rhodes.
“It’s just annoying.”
“What is?” Kiss.
“You.”
“Me?” Kiss, kiss.
“Yeah, you,” I whimper when he leaves my lips to trail his lips along my jaw.
“What about me?” he murmurs, his tongue, hot and wet, swirls against my skin.
Warm shivers roll down my spine. I need a moment before I can reply. “You’re not supposed to be such a good kisser.”
He pauses to look me in the eye and gives me a lopsided smirk. “That’s not even my best quality.”
“Don’t do that,” I laugh and pull away to see all of him. When he’s not so guarded, when he allows it, his expression, his body language, they reveal so much.
“Don’t do what?” he murmurs.
“Be funny. And cute.”
“Cute?”
One dimple appears and I swear my heart skips a beat.
I shrug with forced nonchalance. “The amount of cute is so minuscule-y tiny, I’m not sure why I even brought it up.”
That makes no sense whatsoever.
Grayson chuckles, looking relaxed, looking like he’s actually enjoying being here with me. I’m not going to read into it. Much.
“Want to know what I find annoying?” he says, suddenly so serious that I know he’s going to say me.
“What would that be?” I ask, prepared for the inevitable answer.
“That it turns out you’re not that annoying.”
That’s not what I expected to hear from him. At all.
A strange wave of euphoria washes over me, leaving me confused. Grayson notices—he seems to notice everything—and now he leans back and searches my face.
“You sure about this, Alvarez?” he asks me and I appreciate him so much right now. He’s taking the time to confirm my consent and I know in this moment that I’m making the right choice.
“I’m sure,” I nod as I meet his eyes. He moves into my personal space again. “I want to do this,” I assure him. His lips are only a breath away. “I want to do this with you.”
Something flashes in his eyes before he presses his mouth to mine, kissing me again, gently, lazily, like we have all the time in the world. His hands slide into my hair, mine cling to his shirt, clutching the fabric in a tight fist.
I really want to touch him. His arms, his chest, all of him. But, I’m not sure if he would like that and I’m too nervous to find out.
“Ask me,” he pauses, breathing heavy.
How does he always know when there’s something I’m not saying?
Unsure what to admit, I lean back on the pool table. When I lick my lips, his eyes follow. I’m suddenly hyperaware of how close we are, of everywhere our bodies make contact. And I realize, if he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be. That thought is why I’m able to be honest.
“Okay, but don’t make fun of me,” I warn.
He doesn’t moved away, his hands remain on top of my thighs.
It kind of throws me, how he seems so comfortable with physical touch, that what I’m about to say will probably sound so dumb to him.
I swallow and give him as confident a smile as I can manage.
“I don’t know what to do. With my hands. ”
He doesn’t laugh at me or make a face. He simply asks, “What do you want to do?”
His voice is steady and deliciously low.
He uncrosses my arms, which I hadn’t realized I’d crossed, and takes my balled up fists to smooth them out.
His palms are rough, but warm and comforting.
Then, he cups my jaw so tenderly in his hands, he steals every thought from my mind.
That’s when I know I’m going to say things I shouldn’t.
“Can I touch you?” My voice is tiny. “I mean, is that okay?”
“It’s very much okay,” he smiles and two dimples assure me he’s being honest.
Grayson lifts my hands and places them flat on his chest. My throat goes dry. “I want you to touch me,” he rasps, guiding my hands down along his stomach, stopping before we reach his jeans. I feel warm all over.
I’m looking at my hands on his body, splayed across his abs, like I’ve done this before.
When I glance up to his face, the sheepish grin on his lips is so endearing, I smile at him without reservation.
Because if he can tell me what he wants, if he can be vulnerable, then I can too. At least, I can try.
“What if...what if you take your shirt off?” I add, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment and desire and curiosity. “To make it easier. For the touching.”
For the touching?!? What am I even saying?!
“Flustered looks good on you, Alvarez.”
“I’m not flustered,” I argue but I’m totally flustered.
He doesn’t challenge my boldface lie, but a knowing lopsided grin takes over his ridiculously pretty face, which might be just as bad. Probably worse.
Without another word, he reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion.
Oh.
Time slows at the sight before me. Grayson Rhodes stands tall, annoyingly handsome, and shirtless.
His jeans hang low on his hips, showcasing an enticing V that disappears into the top of his jeans.
That elusive Adonis belt has me biting my bottom lip absently.
Because the need to follow that path with my hands and my mouth is insane.
Clearing my throat, I let my eyes wander up to his broad chest and his sculpted arms before returning to appreciate those defined abdominals. I almost tell him that his never missing practice has definitely payed off.
“You look impressed, Alvarez.”
Busted. Again. This time I don’t lie.
“Maybe I am,” I shrug as I fight back a smile. “But maybe I’m not,” I fake-pout at him and a laugh rumbles from his chest.
Then we grow quiet. Real quiet. For a moment it’s just the two of us in the whole wide world. Just Grayson and me, a boy and a girl about to have sex. Butterflies swirl in my stomach as I watch him while he watches me.
When he takes the small step needed to close the distance between us, my heart thrums in anticipation. I’m the one who reaches for him first, ignoring the slight trembling of my hands.
His skin is hot, his muscles impressively hard.
Unlike before, I move with an obvious interest, which overshadows how nervous I feel.
I trace his imposing shoulders and the indentations forming his biceps, following the veins that snake down along his forearms. I can’t help wonder if all pitchers have arms like his.
I doubt it. I don’t think there’s anyone quite like him.
This whole time I’m touching his bare skin, he’s looking at me. And it’s the way he’s looking at me, with hunger in his lidded blue eyes, that emboldens me.
Biting back a smile, I continue my exploration, running my hands down the groves shaping his abdomen and he groans.
The sound riles up the butterflies in my stomach, but I don’t pull away.
My fingers go lower, sliding along his jeans and then.
..then, over his erection. When I hear his sharp intake of breath, immediately heat burns up the back of my neck to settle on my cheeks, announcing how embarrassed and inexperienced I am.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says, voice rough.
The intensity in his eyes, the way his hands are clenched tightly into fists at his sides, and the way his muscles are taut with tension, it gives him away too. He’s barely holding back.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” I giggle, “show me what you got—”
I don’t finish taunting him because Grayson pulls me against him, silencing any further teasing.
He captures my lips, devouring my mouth in another fiery kiss.
His hands roam my body, learning it, marking it.
He seems to be everywhere, touching all of me at once.
I melt into his embrace and lose myself in the taste of his mouth and the heat of his skin.
He holds me with a mix of tenderness and desperation. Like he can’t get enough, but is somehow taking his time for me. When he trails kisses down the column of my neck, I tilt my head back, giving him better access as he steals my breath away.
I’ve read enough romance books to have an idea how this is going to go. But even though I think I know what’s about to happen, I’m not prepared for the way I’m feeling.
There’s a growing need inside me. Desperate and reckless, wanting him. Wanting him to want me.
His hands coast down my back until they reach my butt. He squeezes, pulling me flush against him. Our bodies are so close that his erection presses into my stomach. He feels so big.
The sound that follows, a deep groan from his chest, sends a rush of desire through me. It’s unlike anything I’ve known before. It’s why I slide my arms around his shoulders to hold him, to be closer, to feel all of his body against mine.
“Anything you don’t like?” he asks, his warm breath fans out across my skin.
“Um…” I wrap my legs around his waist.
There’s a tiny smile curving his lips and a glint in his eyes. When he caresses my cheek again, my breath stutters.
I have take a second before I can admit, “I don’t know.”