Grayson (13 page)

“Yes. It’s been arranged. Things are coming along well at the house,”

He folded his hands on his desk, smiling. “Yes, Charles speaks highly of you. He said you’re doing a terrific job.”

“I’ve had a few issues…”

His thick brows shot up into his bald head. “Issues such as…?”

“Well, uh…” My gaze shifted back to the buildings. “Grayson Whitmore.”

He was quiet and I returned my gaze to his face after a few beats. He looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I know he’s been a problem before, but I assure you, he’s quite harmless. His bark is worse than his bite. I’ve known Grayson for a long time. We are—were good friends.”

“No, no,” I replied, shaking my head. “He’s been fine. Really.”

Jack’s forehead pleated. “Then I don’t understand. What’s the issue?”

“He’s quite worried about losing the house. I think maybe that’s why he’s been problematic in the past.”

He paused, scratching his jaw. “I know that Grayson is attached to the house. He grew up there. But his worries are unfounded. That’s not going to happen.”

“He believes it will.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “Grayson believes a lot of things that are not necessarily true.” He eased back in his chair, his eyes on my face. “How do you know this? What exactly is your relationship with Grayson Whitmore?”

My cheeks heated as I studied my fingers twiddling nervously on my lap. I could feel Jack’s assessing gaze on me. I knew that by coming here I’d open myself up to all types of scrutiny.

“We’ve become…friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yes.” I looked up. “We’ve become friends. I’ve been upstairs. We’ve talked.” I omitted the part about him not having anything to do with me recently.

“Is Charles aware of this
friendship
?”

I shook my head. “No. And Grayson and I would like to keep it that way. I hope you can honor that request.”

He studied me for a long moment and I wanted to squirm in my seat. I knew he had read between the lines.

“I see.”

“Grayson is a wonderful man! He’s funny, and protective, and gentle, and…” I trailed off when I saw a hint of humor in Jack’s eyes. I guess I’d been gushing like a love sick teen.

He cleared his throat and his face sobered. “You’ve been
upstairs
? You’ve
talked
?”

I nodded.

“Well, that’s amazing because Grayson doesn’t talk to
anyone
anymore. The last time I was in the house, he wouldn't even let me up. He’s a sick man, Ms. Roberts.”

“Yes. I know about his mental problems.”

He eyed me closely. “You know he’s a schizophrenic.”

I paused for a moment. “I know he’s an amazing
man
, with many wonderful qualities who happens to suffer from schizophrenia.”

That hint of humor returned to his brown eyes as he regarded me with a deliberate patience. I held his gaze, refusing to look away. I would not allow Grayson to be defined by his disorder. Although it infiltrated much of his life, he was so much more than a diagnosis.

“Grayson hasn’t been taking his medication.” I added, realizing that I’d adopted a defensive posture. I forced my shoulders to relax. Jack seemed to be a trustworthy man.

“Charles has informed me. It’s a shame, really. He’s brilliant.” Jack sighed and leaned forward on his desk. “I really shouldn’t be discussing this with you, but since you’ve become
friends
, I guess it’s okay. He’s been dealing with mild schizophrenia for much of his life. He does fine when he takes his medication. He’s changed over the past few years—not for the better.”

“Since his accident. Since his wife’s death.” I supplied, and he nodded.

“Yes. His mental status has deteriorated considerably. Charles tells me that he’s quite paranoid. He’s refused to get help. We’ve sent in social workers, psychiatrists, therapists, everyone we can think of. He’s run them all off and refuses evaluation.”

I frowned. “He’s really not that bad. He’s pretty high functioning.”

Jack smiled. “Well, maybe you bring out a better side of him.”

I blushed. “Like I said, he’s just worried about losing the house. I don’t think he trusts anyone.”

“Well, you can assure him that it’s not going to happen. The house is his. It’s in his name only. It’s his right to stay there as long as he wants to. No one can take it away from him. You can assure him of that. Charles wants to clean it up for him and do the necessary repairs. It’s a hazard for him to live there in its present condition.” 

I smiled, standing. “Thank you for your time. I will let him know that. One last question. Do you know who Peter is?”

Jack sighed heavily and a shadow crossed his face. “Peter Whitmore was Grayson’s father. Unfortunately, he was severely schizophrenic. He committed suicide in the house when Grayson was a young man. Grayson was the one who discovered his body.” Jack shook his head gravely. “Grayson locked himself in the house with his father. When the authorities finally got in, I heard that it took several people to pry Grayson from his father’s dead body. It’s tragic, really. That might be why he feels so connected to the house. Even though he’s traveled all over the world, he’s never actually lived anywhere else.”

I could feel the color drain from my face as I nodded and turned to leave. My entire body was numb from his words, from imagining what Grayson must have endured.

“Ms. Roberts?”

I turned back to face him.

“From what little the professionals were able to assess, they’ve assured us that Grayson is not a danger to himself or others.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t want to get between any
friendships
he’s developed, God knows that the man’s been through enough. But I don’t know what you’re expecting from this. I wouldn’t want you to delude yourself.”

He left the statement hanging and I felt the poignant words echo in my heart because I’d wondered the same thing time and time again. A heaviness settled in my chest and I wanted to burst from the accumulating grief. I supposed he was also worried that I might be some money grubbing harlot. I stared back at Jack.

“We’re just friends, Mr. Collins. I just want his friendship.”

Right now I was willing to settle for anything. I just wanted Grayson to be okay.

By Thursday, I’d resorted to stationing myself on the patch of grass in front of the house and throwing small pebbles at the windows on the second floor. I was pathetic. I know. But I couldn’t give up on Grayson. My heart wouldn’t let me.

Throwing the stones had been a desperate act of trying to reach out to him, a way of hopefully getting his attention. It always seemed to work in the movies.
He was supposed to come out and one of us was expected to launch into a love song, or recite a sonnet or some shit… anything…
I just needed relief from my grim    despondency.

My emotions had been so frayed, and my heart so heavy, that I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I’d even started eating all of Jenny’s preservative filled, heart-attack-in-a-can goods. SPAM was now my comfort food.

Now, here I stood on the lawn with the sun beating down on me. I was missing most of my shots because I have the worse aim ever. In fact, I found myself dodging the stones as they came flying back down at me. It was only after I’d finally given up that I realized I might have done more harm than good. Who knew what Grayson would make of the noise. I’d witnessed what had happened with the tree branch. I could have just sent him into a delusional crisis.
Good going, Angie! You always knew how to drive a man crazy!

I scoffed at myself and brushed off my hands as I reentered the house. I’d seen signs throughout the week that Grayson had been in the kitchen. It seemed he was carrying on as usual. I thought about my meeting with Jack as I packed up to leave for the night. It did seem that Grayson’s fear of losing the house was irrational, a product of his paranoia and delusions about Charles.

Why Charles was the catalyst of the erroneous perception, I didn’t know. Perhaps there’d been some conflict between them in the past. Although I didn’t like him, Charles only seemed to have his father’s best interest in mind. He clearly wanted the house repaired and was concerned about its deterioration.

Jack had been unequivocal about Grayson’s legal right to stay in the house as long as he wanted. If only I could get Grayson to believe that. If only I could get him to start taking his meds again. If only I could get him to let me help.

Friday, I woke up pissed. I was hopping mad. I’d had sex with this man, and now he was ignoring me. Again. I didn’t exist to him. For him, our time together had been a meaningless excursion in physical pleasure. Well, I was
done
.

I’d never worked so hard for a ‘non relationship’ in my life. Hell, I’d never worked so hard for an
actual
relationship before. I was tired of feeling so miserable, tired of crying myself to sleep every night. It was spring break. I should be having fun and enjoying my reprieve from school. Instead, I’d been forlorn and heartbroken the entire week, feeling like a hollow shell. I showered and shampooed my hair, singing the tune of “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair”. My anger was empowering. I got dressed and went to the house, resolute and feeling good about my decision, about the new and improved me.

There was coffee waiting for me on the table when I arrived and I almost burst into tears, but I immediately stemmed the flow. I’d promised myself no more tears. I stared at the cup as if it was the devil’s brew and completely ignored it. I was tempted to try the door for the hundredth time, but would not allow myself to fall off of the ‘I’m okay without Grayson’ wagon. I was done with this craziness.

I turned away from the table to get started with my chores, and Grayson was standing not ten feet away from me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I sucked in a shocked breath and forced my feet to stay rooted. Grayson looked so damn good with his hair combed back that my body almost burst into flame. It wanted to explode and implode at the same time from the heat of my torrid emotions. A small sound eked from my throat, hitting a dead end on my tongue. I just stood there, frozen, staring at the man who’d ruled my every thought for the past week.

His square jaw was freshly shaven and his blue eyes were bottomless, soulfully soft and hypnotically compelling. I almost got lost looking into them. He was wearing a worn T-shirt, but it fit him perfectly, stretching across his broad chest. The sleeves ended in the middle of defined biceps, flaunting a physique I would always find impressive. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a pair of very ripped jeans that were accidentally fashionable and sexy as hell. I shook with the need to run to him, but I was determined to stay strong. A brick. Concrete.
Clean hair, remember?

He looked at me sheepishly and his thick lashes lowered. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Sorry? That was all he could say to me? After everything we’d been through. After I almost lost my mind with worry for him?
I forced a deep, steadying breath.

Okay, just shrug and tell him it’s no big deal, that the sex had been just okay, then walk past him and toss your hair in his direction so he can smell how man-free it is.

The empowering tune started playing in my head as I continued my internal pep talk.
You don’t need the cray-cray, girl! Remember? He’s coo coo for cocoa puffs! A few fries short of a Happy Meal. Knitting with only one needle. Just ignore him like he’s done to you all freaking week!

Ugh!
I flew at him like a wild cat, angry, hurt, and shrieking about all the ways he’d wronged me. I punched his chest over and over, then the stupid tears started flowing in tidal waves.
God, I needed therapy to help me deal with this crazy man!
And the worse part of it was that he just stood there and took it, looking at me as if I had every right to vent my ire on him.

“You are making me
nuts!
” I yelled, delivering another jab to his chest. “And you don’t even fucking care!”

My angry words finally provoked a reaction. His stoic expression morphed quickly to anger. He grabbed my wrists mid-punch and held them securely.

“That’s not true, Angie. I do care!” he yelled back.

“You keep shutting me out!”

“I have to.”

“No, you crazy son-of-a-bitch! You just don’t give a shit!” I realized then I was more angry with myself than with him. After all, I’d pursued him relentlessly. I’d seduced him. It wasn’t his fault that I’d made assumptions or unwittingly harbored emotional expectations. He’d warned me repeatedly. He’d tried to keep me away, to remain distant.
Why should he give a shit about me?

I was also stinging from the undisciplined flight my thoughts had taken. It had been wrong to call him names and to issue callous aspersions about his mental illness, but in my anger I’d slipped into endorsing the social stigmas I’d always abhorred. That guilt too was flaying me.

I tried to tug my wrists from his grasp. I was quiet now, sulky and despondent. Ashamed. My ravaged heart burned from his rejection and the knowledge that I’d brought this on myself. Grayson wouldn’t release his hold, and that ignited more fire inside me.

“Let me go!” I growled through clenched teeth.

“No, Angie. I can't seem to,” he said softly, snaking one arm around my waist and jerking me against his body.

“Let me go!” I screeched, finding his nearness unbearable. It only served to revive my longing, to fan the flames in my heart I needed to douse.

“I can’t seem to let you go, Angie.” He breathed roughly as his lips crashed down on mine, hard and insistent.

I twisted away and he followed, seizing my lips again. The hand around my waist moved down and his palm cupped my ass and pulled me tight against him. My mind registered somewhere that his cock was rock hard, and that information must have been classified as ‘needs to be addressed’ because my traitorous body stopped struggling and started obeying the movements of his cajoling fingers.

My hips arched, pressing my abdomen into his straining erection. I moaned against his mouth. Whether it was in passion or in protest, I didn’t know. I just knew this was what I desperately needed, what I craved. I swallowed his tongue and shoved mine deep into his mouth, then gripped his hair hard with my fists and devoured him. I commandeered his face, kissing and biting and licking. I was insane with my need for Grayson, with my anger for Grayson, with my weakness for Grayson.

Perhaps I was afraid that he’d vanish, that he’d sequester himself upstairs again and I’d be robbed of him. I’d missed him so much it hurt like fucking hell. He moaned and kissed me back as ardently as I kissed him, sinking his teeth into my bottom lip until it hurt, then soothing it with a vibrating suck.

He pulled off my shirt and yanked my bra down, baring my breasts so that they spilled over the top of the elastic like two ripe melons. Bending low, he sucked one nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue like a tornado while it was nestled inside his hot mouth.

I shouted when pleasure stampeded down my spine and took a direct route to my already leaking pussy. My fingers and toes tingled with every strong suction of his lips on my hard nipples. He moved from one breast to the other, tonguing the rigid peaks. Then he buried his face between the full mounds and inhaled deeply. A low groan rumbled from his throat like an approaching locomotive. The sound accelerated in depth until it raced through my chest and reached down to curl my toes.

I grabbed for his pants, trying to release the stubborn button. His cock was hard and eager, the pink swollen head sticking up out of his waistband. The sight of it made my pussy clench with need, but the desire to have him on my tongue was overwhelming. I wanted to feel the heavy weight in my mouth, taste his sweet essence on my tongue and down my throat.

I pulled out of his arms and swooped down while rucking up his shirt. I drew the thick head between my lips, sucking eagerly on the portion escaping his waistband.

“
Ohhh, yeah!
” Grayson hissed above me, rolling his hips as I swirled my tongue around the slippery pink tip. My taste buds exploded with his deliciously salty taste as he dumped a few drops of precum onto my tongue. I worked on his button, but the waistband was pulled taut from the tension of his cock and the damned button needed slack to open. Greedy for him, I wrenched the fabric down, exposing another thick inch and gobbling what I could into my mouth. I used my tongue as a whip against the swollen head, loving the velvety skin gliding against my tongue.

“
Mmm…ohhh, shit!
” Grayson almost doubled over, going up on tiptoes as his large body shook. His hands flew to my head, gripping my hair and pulling my hungry lips away from his cock. “You’re fucking killing me, Angie!”

I looked up into his eyes and they burned with a raw passion that was almost intimidating. He slashed his lips over mine and kissed me savagely, then took my hand. “Come,”

I followed on legs that felt as unsteady as a newborn foal’s. I loved his intensity. My whole body was weak, and yet as explosive as dynamite. The rub of my jeans against my swollen lips was causing tiny explosions inside me. I thought he was leading me upstairs, and was surprised when he stopped at the table in my oasis. His lips pulled firm as he opened my jeans and jerked them and my underwear down my hips. I stepped out of them, my breath raking quickly past my lips. Impatient, I reached for his pants, but he captured my wrists and locked them with one hand behind my back. He leaned into me, his eyes glowing pure lapis. I was enthralled.

“I’m too worked up for you to touch me,” he breathed, feathering his lips against mine. “I’ve missed you. I’ve been dreaming of fucking you all week, and I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve jerked off with you in my head.”

I was surprised by the confession. I’d been sure he hadn’t given me one thought over the past week. I was more surprised when he turned me abruptly so that my back faced him. Then he bent my upper body over the small table. Startled, I held on, curling my fingers around the smooth wooden edges. My breasts mashed against the cool wood, still spilling over the top of my bra.
Oh my God!
I gulped. I was a little afraid of the unknown, but trembling with the anticipation of it. I was exposed and raw with volcanic emotions.

He used his knee to widen my stance and I inhaled a sharp breath as cool air tickled the damp folds of my naked pussy. I closed my eyes and waited, my channel clenching rhythmically, weeping so much I could feel moisture running down the inside of my thighs. My nipples poked into the cool tabletop and I pressed in harder to soothe the ache throbbing in my breasts.
Fuck! What was he waiting for?
I had only a tenuous grip on my sanity. I was out of my mind with need. He was so quiet that I wondered vaguely if he was staring, intimately studying my shape and form. I was too aroused to be embarrassed.

Just when I thought I would die from wanting him, I felt his tongue sluice one long delicious lick through my wet flesh.

“
Holy fucking shit!
” I gasped. I gripped the table so hard I was afraid my bones would snap. I had no time to recover before he did it again, and my knees buckled from the sizzling pleasure.

A shock of sensual delight buzzed through every nerve ending, and I felt another gush of liquid trickle from inside me. Grayson hummed and moaned as he lapped it up, and it felt as if his entire face had rooted between my legs and into my flesh. The bridge of his nose drove against my sensitized folds while his tongue snaked lower to unearth my clit and flick the nub to a tormented point.

My cheek mashed against the table as I held on, my voice disappearing into the room every time I screamed out in pleasure. He circled his arms around my upper thighs and pulled me back onto his face, using the tip of his tongue to dance figure eights through my soaked pussy. I panted roughly, my body starting to shake uncontrollably. He concentrated the pressure each time he hit my straining clit, swishing and thrusting his wonderfully dynamic tongue. It hurled me right off the cliff into an excruciatingly intense orgasm.

“
Grrrraaaayysonnnn!
” I shuddered over and over again, my lungs struggling with the effort to take a normal breath.

“You tasted so fucking delicious.” Grayson’s sexy voice penetrated my sensuous haze, keeping me grounded as my body flew apart then landed safely in his arms.

I felt his lips on my naked back as he moved up to hold me. He unsnapped my bra and marched a line of soft kisses down my spine. I made an attempt to push up, but the pressure of his palm against my back kept me in place.

“Stay,” he whispered, and I could hear desire soaked in his voice.

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I had the strength to get up. My body was still humming from my orgasm and lax from the endorphins swimming through my blood stream. I heard a soft swoosh and realized that Grayson had removed his jeans. Desire punched through me as I imagined how hard and swollen his gorgeous cock must be. Instinctively, I arched my hips, sticking out my ass. I groaned when his fingers stroked along my entrance and dip inside. I shivered, and he startled me when he spanked my aching folds with three sharp smacks. I cried out, stinging arousal twitching my flesh. The smooth head of his cock pushed between my labia, sliding up and down my wet slit. I sighed with the new sensation. My quivering walls clamped down hard, needing him to fill me.

My eyes flew open and I gasped when he did it again. I could hardly think to get my words out.

“Con…con…dom.”

“I know,” he breathed hard. “I just want to feel you on my cock. I want your delicious cream all over my dick.”

Oh, God!
I didn’t have a chance when he was talking to me like that. One thing that really got me off was dirty talk. He bumped my clit and I sucked in a wisp of air. I heard his choppy breaths above me growing more erratic.

“Jacket?” he asked.

“What?”

“Condom.”

“Oh. Backpack. Front pocket.”

“Don’t move.”

Was he fucking kidding me?
I wasn’t going anywhere!

I heard him behind me again, felt his palms slowly caressing my back and the globes of my ass. “My beautiful Angie,” he whispered.

My body was shaking now with anticipation, and I braced myself. He plowed into me with one deep, unapologetically powerful thrust.

Oh, God! He felt amazing!

I swallowed hard, almost biting through my lip at the exquisite pleasure of him stretching and filling me.

“
Fuuuckkk!
” he hissed, doubling over, his naked chest against my back. “Feels so good.”

He stayed buried deep for a few seconds and I knew he was trying to gather control. I could feel how far gone he was by the fine tremors of his hands on my hips and the raw edginess in his voice. I bumped my hips back, needing him to move, and he issued a guttural moan that sounded like it crawled out of his belly.