“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling her body sag. She pulls back and wipes her tears. “I’m going to go lie down. Maybe we can make some popcorn and watch a movie later?”
“I’d like that.”
I get up and make my way towards my room. After seeing my face in the mirror I decide a hot shower is in order. When the water cascades over my skin I finally allow myself to cry. I hate feeling so weak. I’ve been through worse than this and my overpowering need to cry is a mystery. I’m tired of crying. I’ve been doing too much of that in the past few weeks.
When I make it to my bed I collapse into the comfort and safety of it. Sleep engulfs me and my dreams run rampant with images of last night. Only I’m not scared. Because in my dreams Grayson is showering me with sweet kisses and freely succumbs to what he feels for me. What we feel for each other.
** ** ** ** **
By mid-week my frustration levels are through the roof. Uncle Alex has me escorted everywhere by one of his football players. Rumors about Luke are circulating, some worse than others, but my name isn’t mentioned. I can’t figure out whether my irritation is a result of being escorted all the time or because the only person who hasn’t escorted me yet is Grayson. I haven’t seen him and he hasn’t made any effort to see me. I want to get to the bottom of it because this back-and-forth is driving me crazy, not to mention consuming my every thought. If I’m being honest with myself, I want him to talk to me first. I don’t want to be the one to grovel.
Maybe things are better off this way.
Oh who am I kidding?
I want him.
But I guess he doesn’t feel the same way.
It’s just after eight pm and I’ve spent my afternoon distracting myself with studying. My course load isn’t too heavy but I still want to perform well academically in all my classes.
I get in the shower and the heat from the water infuses with my rigid muscles, releasing all the pent up tension from the last few days. For a few short minutes my mind is blank and I revel in the sense of calm it brings.
A commotion coming from outside my room captures my attention. It sounds like Demi is arguing with someone. Probably Tommy. They’ve been having problems ever since she moved in with me. I suspect it has something to do with Brody; their feelings for each other are becoming more and more obvious. I’ve been meaning to bring it up with Demi but the time hasn’t been right. Part of me is hoping she’ll trust me enough to bring it up on her own.
The sound of my bedroom door hitting the wall makes me jump and I’m immediately pulled out of the sanctity of the calm surrounding me. The bathroom door soon swings open, violently ricocheting off the adjoining wall. The sight in front of me causes my muscles to tense, the earlier feeling of relaxation disappearing like the steam that escapes through the now open door.
Grayson is standing in my doorway looking as hot as the fiery depths of hell. His dark wash jeans hug his lean hips and his black button up shirt clings to his broad, muscular chest. He looks angry. Flustered.
“Grayson, you can’t just barge in like that!” Demi yells from outside the bathroom.
Grayson shuts the door in her face and stalks towards the shower. I’m momentarily captivated by the way he walks. His stride is strong and oozes a confidence easily mistaken for arrogance. He walks with the kind of prowess that isn’t customary for someone his age. It’s primal, and such a turn on. The sight of him stalking me like prey has a heady effect on my body.
He opens my shower door and it takes me a split second to remember I’m completely naked. Enough sense returns for me to open my mouth. “Grayson, what are you doing? You can’t be in here!”
He doesn’t respond but his actions speak volumes. He steps into the shower, allowing the door to swing closed, encasing us in the small space. The water drenches his clothes, yet he shows no sign of concern for that. His eyes are dilated, leaving only a thin circle of Jade surrounding his pupils. I hold my breath when his hand cups the side of my face. The current that I felt the first time we met comes to life and thrums between our bodies.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. My voice comes out breathy and lacks any kind of strength.
“I needed to see you.” His voice is husky and low. Too sexy a combination for the precarious position I’m in – naked and wet. In a shower. With Grayson.
“And you couldn’t wait for me to be done? You had to storm into my bathroom like a...like a…caveman!”
“It couldn’t wait,” he whispers. His eyes haven’t left mine but the shallow rise and fall of his chest tells me he isn’t unaffected.
“What couldn’t wait?” I do little to hide the annoyance in my voice. I was never good at riddles and I don’t like playing games, especially when I’m inappropriately dressed. Or in this particular case, not dressed at all.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I should’ve come to see you after you got back from the hospital but I…I…” The water cascades down his face and the urge to lick the droplets off his luscious lips is marginally eclipsed by his intrusion.
“Are you kidding me right now Grayson? You’re standing in my damn shower telling me you’re sorry?” I shake my head.
“It couldn’t wait.” At least he has the decency to look embarrassed.
“Yeah, you said that already.”
“I’m a little distracted.” He looks down and gives my body a slow, excruciating perusal. I squirm, feeling my cheeks flush. Instinctively my arms cross over my bare breasts. There’s nothing more I can do to cover my other girly bits so he better get an eye full while he has the chance. I’m silently grateful for my stellar grooming habits – who knew being freshly waxed down south would prove to be advantageous, even as a single girl.
“You definitely got the better end of the deal because you have clothes on.”
He smirks. “We can change that.”
For a moment I consider it. I’ve been dreaming about his naked chest and that sexy nipple ring since our encounter in the locker room.
“That is a terrible idea. I think you should leave.”
His smirk drops. He looks hurt.
“So that’s it?” he asks. “You’re not going to hear me out?”
It’s his turn to squirm and as much I want to stand here and make him suffer, I know we need to talk. Just not here. And preferably not naked.
“Wait for me in my room. I’d like to at least be semi-covered when we talk.”
His shoulders visibly relax and he leaves, grabbing a towel for himself. I take the chance to admire his backside while he walks out and like he knows I’m staring he turns back to look at me, that smirk reappearing before he closes the door.
Bastard.
I lean against the shower wall and still my heartbeat. It took some serious self-restraint not to grab him.
I turn the water off, hop out and wrap a fluffy white towel around myself. When I walk into my bedroom Graysons’ shirtless back is to me and he’s busy drying himself.
This should be interesting.
“So,” I say, deciding not to waste any time. “What is it that you wanted to talk about.”
He spins around and drops the towel on the floor. He doesn’t make a move and neither do I. The atmosphere changes quickly, becoming thick with energy and sexual tension.