Rm W/a Vu (31 page)

I laugh as she loosens her hold on me. “Yes, I suppose I could be.”

Greyston clears his throat, and I turn to him with a smirk, only to find him nervously running his hand through his dark hair. “Mom, can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Well, I wish you would,” she teases with a light laugh. Greyston pours one for her, and as she takes it, she turns to me. “Juliette, won’t you have a glass of wine with your mother and me?”

“Oh,” I say, looking at Greyston and then my father. “I would, but I’m not quite old enough yet. I’ll take a rain check, though? Perhaps I can cash it in in February?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jocelyn promises before turning to the guys. “Why don’t the three of you leave us women to chat?”

I’m suddenly nervous about this idea, and Greyston can tell. Problem is, the smile on his face tells me he doesn’t really think I’m in any real danger.

“Well, gentlemen,” Greyston says. “What do you say we grab a couple of beers and go throw the burgers on the grill?”

With the guys outside, I go about finishing up the salad while Mom and Jocelyn talk and share a little about themselves. When my mom mentions her bakery, I swear Jocelyn almost falls off her stool. “Oh, I absolutely love your carrot cake! I don’t know what you do to it, but I’ve never tasted better!”

Mom laughs modestly. “Why, thank you. I’d be happy to give you the recipe.” This news excites Jocelyn beyond belief.

When I finish the salad, I place it in the fridge and go to the sink to wash my hands. As I lather the soap, I glance up through the window at the exact moment Greyston does, and we lock eyes. Even without saying anything verbally, he speaks volumes with his eyes. Offering me a half-smirk, he arches a brow and tilts his head, almost as though he wants to know if I’m all right.

Offering him a curt nod, I smile and mouth, “We’re fine. You?”

He only shrugs in response before something gleams in his eyes, and he smirks almost wickedly. “I want to vacuum,” he mouths, and my eyebrows knit together in confusion.
Vacuum?
He looks like he’s fighting to contain his laughter, which only serves to make things worse.

Needing him to clarify, I move only my lips, over-annunciating each syllable. “You want to vacuum?”

Looking down at his burgers and laughing, he shakes his head and says, “No”.

Even more perplexed, I move my lips over and over again, trying to figure out what he means.
Vacuum…vacuum… No, not
vacuum
… I want to f…
“Oh!” I cry out loud, slapping my hands over my mouth and turning around to see that I’ve startled our mothers. “Sorry. The, uh, water was hot.”

They go back to their conversation about cheesecake or brisket or whatever, and I narrow my eyes, turning back toward Greyston. “You’re bad,” I tell him silently, making him laugh again as he flips the burgers.

“You want to bring me the cheese?” he asks, and I stand there for a minute, trying to decipher if he’s
actually
saying something else. When I’m sure he’s really asking for cheese, I grab it from the fridge and take it out to him.

Dad and Daniel are sitting at the patio table talking while Greyston grills our dinner. I sidle up to him, setting the cheese on the ledge next to the grill. “You’re terrible,” I tell him. “Who knew you had such a dirty mouth?”

He laughs again. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. If it’s any consolation, I really did say vacuum.” Leaning in, he brushes my hair off my neck and presses a kiss just below my ear before whispering, “And while I often wonder what it might be like to…” He pauses for a minute, exhaling a single laugh against my neck and making me shudder “…
fuck
you, know that I plan to worship every inch of you—for hours if at all possible—when we do finally take that step.”

Desire shoots through every cell in my body, igniting a spark that spreads warmth through my veins and over my skin. Before we get ourselves too worked up, I clear my throat and take a step back. “How much longer until dinner?”

“Not much. Why don’t you start bringing everything out to the table?”

When I head back inside and let our mothers know that dinner should be ready soon, they help me carry the food and flatware. We’ve just finished setting the table when Greyston brings the plate of burgers over, and we all take our seats.

Dinner looks and smells amazing, and it tastes even better. After everyone has had their fill, the men having decided on seconds, Greyston and I work together to clear the table while Jocelyn warms dessert in the oven and rejoins the others, leaving Greyston and I alone in the kitchen to do dishes.

“Your parents are great,” I tell him, putting a plate in the dishwasher.

Greyston laughs softly. “I told you they’d love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You were right… Wait a minute, you’re not one of those men who feel the need to flaunt the rare occasions that this happens, are you?” I tease.

His laughter grows as he closes the dishwasher and wraps his arms around me. “I assure you that it’s rare I’m
wrong
,” he quips, kissing the tip of my nose.

Just then, the oven timer chimes, so I reluctantly pull free of his arms. “Well, that was before you met me,” I remind him with a playful smirk. “Come on, let’s grab dessert and head back outside.”

I pull on the oven mitts and grab the pie, carrying it toward the patio door while Greyston opens the fridge. Curious, I turn to look, only to see him hold up a can of whipped cream, waggling his eyebrows devilishly.

Laughing, I shake my head and mumble, “Just terrible.”

He follows me out onto the patio. “Yeah, you’ve said that once or twice today.”

“And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

After dishing up, I grab the can of whipped cream and accidentally-on-purpose get some on my finger while applying it to my apple pie. The minute I lick it off, Greyston arches an eyebrow at me and brings his left hand under the table and settles it on my thigh—not in an inappropriate way; our parents are seated around us, remember. We’re not animals.

Usually.

He decides to keep his hand on my thigh while we eat, his thumb moving back and forth slowly, and I don’t mind the constant connection to him—even if it invites feelings that I’m going to have to force down until later.

“So, Juliette, what is it you’re studying?” Daniel asks.

I swallow the bite I’d just taken and smile. “Oh, I’d like to get a job in publishing, so right now I’m kind of majoring in a little bit of everything—primarily focusing on English and marketing.”

Daniel seems genuinely impressed, and we continue to talk about my schooling for a bit. Mom and Dad listen to me talk about school and my plans for the future, beaming proudly.

After dessert, we stay out on the patio and continue to get to know each other. It isn’t until my dad notices that it’s already nine o’clock that we decide to call it a night; we’d all been having such a good time that I hadn’t even realized how late it’d gotten.

Greyston and I walk our guests to the door and say goodnight, promising another dinner soon. Once they’ve climbed into their vehicles, Greyston closes the door and sets the alarm, and I head upstairs to change into my pajamas.

I’ve already traded my jeans for a pair of grey shorts, and am just removing my shirt to pull on a blue tank top when there’s a knock on my half-opened door. I turn around to see Greyston’s face through the opening, and I invite him in with a nod. He glances over my almost-naked torso appreciatively before perching himself on the edge of my bed. He pats the spot next to him, and I pull the top on before joining him, folding my right leg up under me.

He places a hand on my bare thigh, and a deep tingle starts in my belly and moves down to settle not too far from where it rests. I want to urge him to shift his hand inward, but I also like the idea of taking things slow. "Greyston," I whisper, my eyes dancing back and forth between his. "We can't." I can't even hear the conviction in my wavering voice, so it doesn't surprise me when his hand travels over and up a little until he's cupping my ass.

He exhales forcefully, his warm breath fanning across my cheek and neck. "I know, but it's just so difficult to keep my hands off of you," he admits, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine. He doesn't let the kiss get out of hand, pulling away just as my lips begin to part.

"So," I say hoarsely, licking my lips. "What should we do for the rest of tonight?"

With a confident smirk, Greyston says, “Why don’t we play a video game?”

"Um, I'm not very good at video games," I confess sheepishly.

Greyston laughs, taking me by the hand and leading me upstairs. "Works for me. I'm tired of losing."

"Oh, good," I tease. "I see we're going to keep this fair."

Greyston opens the door to the game room, and we step inside. I flop down on the leather couch and watch as Greyston opens the cabinet below the wall-mounted TV and starts reciting the names of his video games. I decide on the sports one because Greyston seems the most excited about it.

As he puts the game in the console, I cross my legs in front of me and settle back against the couch. Greyston sees this and eyes me curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to game," I tell him, holding out my hands. "Controller, please."

Greyston shakes his head, slaps his hands against mine, and clasps them before pulling me to my feet. "This game doesn't use controllers."

I'm not so in the dark that I don't know what this means, and I suddenly feel nervous. "I don't know about this."

"Come on," Greyston says, waving his hand at the TV, and I stifle a giggle at the sight. He moves through a variety of screens until we get to one where we select the game we want to play. "You pick."

"Oh, um…" I look at all of my options, finally settling on tennis. It's been years since I've played, but I feel I'm probably better at that than, say, skiing.

I have to admit, it's a lot of fun—even if I feel a little silly at first. Naturally, Greyston wins the first several games, but I'd like to think it has more to do with him trying to make me laugh on purpose with his over-exaggerated arm movements whenever he hits the ball.

An hour later, I'm feeling pretty worn out from both the game and the non-stop laughter. "Okay," I tell Greyston. "While you kicking my ass repeatedly has been wonderful, I'm wiped. What do you say we head to bed…that is, if you want to?"

Greyston smiles. "Of course I want to. I'll just tidy up in here, and I'll come say goodnight."

I pause in the doorway, biting my lower lip. “Or, you could join me?” I sound uncertain, and I know it’s because I’m not used to initiating stuff like this.

"Perfect," he quickly agrees, putting my mind at ease.

Back in my room, I turn down my comforter and crawl in to wait for Greyston. It's not long before he joins me, wearing flannel pants and a t-shirt and crawling into bed behind me. He wraps his arm around me and holds me close, his fingers working the hem of my shirt up so he can lightly trail them over the exposed flesh of my abdomen.

“So, Christmas is coming up,” he reminds me. “What do you want?”

I sigh when his finger tips tickle my ribs. “Honestly, I just want to hibernate. I want to relax and not have to worry about work or school.”

“That sounds nice. Does your family have any big traditions?”

“Not too bad. We fly my gran out and have an intimate family dinner. How about you?”

Greyston nods. “Yeah. Mom usually cooks, and we sit down, just the three of us. When I was younger, we used to vacation in the Canadian Rockies for a couple weeks. We’ve been too busy for that lately.” He sounds sad about this, so I snuggle in closer.

I yawn. “I wonder if our moms would agree to having a big Christmas here. That could be fun.”

“That would be pretty great,” he agrees. “Maybe we should invite them over to suggest it.”

I don’t mean to, but the yawn I’d been fighting breaks loose.

Greyston laughs, kissing the back of my neck, and he pulls my body closer to his as he whispers, "Sweet dreams, beautiful."

I hum contentedly. "Goodnight, Greyston.”

The way his strong arms are wrapped around me, holding me close, makes me feel safe and secure, and it's not long before I finally fall fast asleep.

Chapter 20

M
y phone buzzes from the counter while I finish sweeping up the kitchen floor. I rush to it, knowing that Greyston planned to let me know when his plane landed after a long three days away. It was scheduled to land about ten minutes ago, so I had a pretty good feeling this was him.