Who The Hell Are You? (Morally Grey Love Club #1)

1. Chapter 1

Blood rushes through my veins. My skin prickling with heat and her teeth gently nibble on my ear, tongue grazing my lobe.

A thousand eyes watch me practically bursting into flame.

Ok, maybe not a thousand, but it feels like every patron in the bar is witness to the way my entire body seizes.

My girl is sitting in my lap and apparently is the only person here oblivious to my second hand embarrassment.

Can you get second hand embarrassment at yourself?

My brain has officially left the building.

I don't even know what my problem is, but something about shamelessly kissing in public makes me shiver.

What if my mum walked in? I mean, she lives in Scotland and wouldn't be here; in a dive bar situated in the heart of the historical Yorkshire city I attend university at.

My brain is not thinking about that as she grinds on me.

I'm not even hard, probably because my body thinks it’s going into shock.

Showing physical affection–hell, feeling any sort of connection to someone else, has always taken time for me.

Longer than what potentially would count as normal…

She nips at my neck again and I finally snap out of it, softly lifting her by the waist and planting her onto the worn wooden bench next to me.

“Grace, we’re in public.”

“So what? No one's watching.” Leaning into my side, our fingers entwine and she presses her lips to mine. My cheeks flame. Why am I like this? Grace says she thinks the way I blush is cute, but I’m definitely punching so I fully expect her to drop me any day now.

I've been waiting months actually, ever since she swung by to watch the end of my rugby match and all the guys on the team laid eyes on the babe I must have bribed to be my girlfriend.

I'm a boy from the middle of nowhere; she's the definition of an upper class girl from London.

We're worlds apart, passing ships whilst away from home.

I know she'll wake up soon and realise I'm not included in her vision board of the future.

Bringing our joint hands to my mouth, I lean back and press a quick kiss to the back of her hand.

“I'm just–you know I don't–” I clear my throat and try to tamper down my nerves. I’m always so nervous around her.

“I'm just not into PDA.” I don't tell her it makes my skin crawl because if it hurts her feelings, I'd feel so guilty.

“You’re just shy Casper, it's normal to kiss and hold hands around people.” She gives me an encouraging smile and I give her a warm one back, because there's no point in me trying to form words when they always come out jumbled.

Grace always describes me as shy when she introduces me, but around others I'm far from it.

I just can't articulate my words. My two best friends Harris and Emery both say that maybe it's because I like her so much?

They've been in more relationships than I have, so in good faith, I’m sure I'll become more comfortable soon.

Hopefully. When were alone everything is a little easier, I do like Grace, but I never feel fully myself.

Feeling like I’ve disappointed her a little, I drop a quick kiss on her nose next. “I'll get us another round. Wine?”

Her blue eyes twinkle as she nods, colour shadowed by the low bar light, and a loose blonde curl falling out of her hair grip.

I tuck it behind her ear as I leave the table.

Thankfully she seemed happy when I suggested this bar for a drink after we both got out of classes, it's my favourite hole in the wall type of place, the bartender Jemmy surprisingly happy to host our rugby lot. We might all be big lads and there’s lots of beefcake muscle, but we have a kinship in heavy coverage tattoos and a love for rock music.

We're cool in her books, so with a salute, Jemmy grabs me a bottle from the fridge and starts pouring a house wine, whilst I lean and we chat about the open mic night coming up in a few weeks time.

A new group enters the bar and makes a beeline for the table I just left.

Grace leaps up from the bench and hugs one of the girls that breaks off from them.

A guy does too and he walks up to the pair whilst digging through his backpack, smiling down at my girl as he hands over a book.

He's fully prepared for autumn already, burnt toned flannel, beany hat and yellow stitched boots.

He looks fucking cool, but I don't feel any sense of threat, he's more excited over the book he's gifting her than wanting to make a move.

Paying for the drinks, I make my way back to the table and her two friends look at me before quickly saying goodbye.

I hear Jemmy's snort from across the bar. “Good one. Stop scaring off my customers, you brute.”

I twist and flash her a devilish smile, arm holding my bottled beer rising to flex my muscles, a gesture that's so not me but there lies the humour.

I suddenly feel hot again and lower it. What if her friends actually think I'm just some dumb numpty who plays sports? They haven’t actually left the bar, just slipped away into another booth.

I don't want to show Grace up, so I drop the joke and just raise my eyebrows at Jemmy in an oh well gesture.

She's already flicking through the book when I slip back onto the bench, sliding her wine slowly towards her and leaning my arm across the back of the rest behind her head.

“A gift?” I ask, tipping my beer to the novel, momentarily terrified that it might be her birthday.

She ignores the question, instead asking her own, twirling a strand of hair from her ponytail. “If I wanted to re-enact something from one of my books, would you be up for it?”

I chuckle, knowing she reads romance heavy on the spicy side.

She’d read one out loud to me before whilst I blushed the entire time.

“Sounds kinky, what with masks and stuff?” I ask, shrugging because hell–I'm privileged that she lets me see her naked, so if she wants to get off that way, I'm nothing but a simple man for her pleasure.

Her eyes go wide and for once a blush stains her cheeks, only enhancing my panic that I've said the wrong thing.

“Is that not what you meant?” My voice is a small squeak and I sip my beer to stop any more embarrassing noises escaping.

“I meant light spanking Casper or a little breath play–but a mask? That would be so fun.”

The air leaves my lungs too fast and burns in my throat as I try not to spit my beer on her.

“It would?” I squeak again, clearing my throat because seriously, I don't know how she puts up with my awkwardness.

“Aye, I can do anything. What? No, I mean–I’m just one man Grace.

I can't do anything, but if you want me to wear a mask and break into your house, I'm your guy.”

My cheeks are searing hot as she holds in a giggle and turns fully to face me.

“Break into my house? What books do you think I read?”

Ah shit. “Erm, spicy ones?” I say, waving my empty hand in the air, not even sure if that's a genre of book.

“Casper, do you think I'm some charlatan?” Do I think she's a what?

Shaking my head frantically, I start to choke on words, nothing coming out right when she suddenly laughs, smacks my arm and drinks her wine like I wasn't close to having an aneurysm.

“I'm kidding, but I don't read much dark romance. That would be so hot though, reckon you could pull it off?”

“Reckon I could…?” I ask, feeling like someone just pushed me onto the waltzers and told me it was going to spin left, but the ride turned right at double the speed.

“Break into my room? I'd warn my housemates what we were planning, so they don't call the police, but it could be a total surprise when you actually do it.” she says, sipping on her wine like we're not discussing extraordinary activities in a public space.

I sip my beer thinking how to reply, but if this would make her happy, I could try it right?

I’d broken into Emery’s house with my best friends when his arsehole parents kicked him out, and that was surrounded by Scottish wilderness, miles from my own house.

His dad owned a shotgun, so maybe it would be much easier sneaking into her student digs.

She only lived with two other girls from her lit course.

Taking her hand, I kiss her knuckles like I had before and give her a comforting smile.

“Sure, anything for you.” I say, happy at the glee that sparkles in her expression as she claps her hands together.

I sip my beer and let our joined hands rest in my lap, convinced that I'll for sure feel more comfortable about things like this in time.