Rm W/a Vu (32 page)

Excited, I tap out a quick message. Thanks to a surge of adrenaline, my hands are shaking so hard that I have to keep retyping a few words in order for the message to be legible. My thumbs are so damn uncooperative.

I sit on one of the stools at the island and pull my feet onto the seat, wrapping my arms around my legs and resting my chin on my knees as Greyston and I text back and forth for the next hour. I’m so freaking excited for him to be home. I only wish we had the day to ourselves; our paintball game was scheduled for this afternoon, so we wouldn’t be alone until dinner.

Thankfully, I took the night off so we can spend that time together doing whatever we want.

A positively wicked idea strikes me unexpectedly, so I spring off the chair and fly up the stairs to my room. I quickly shed my shirt and pull the blanket of my freshly made bed back before climbing under the sheet. I run my fingers through my hair, and then I hold my camera up, holding the edge of the sheet in a way that barely covers my naked chest and shows a lot of my upper leg.

Happy with the photo, I attach it to a message:

Giddy with excitement, I cross my legs and watch my phone for his response. I wait, growing impatient with every second that ticks by, anticipating that damn ellipsis bubble that shows me he’s responding. It doesn’t come, so I decide to call him instead.

The call connects on the first ring, but I don’t wait for him to say anything. “Did you get my picture?”

He laughs softly. “Indeed I did. Kind of unfair to send me something like that when I’m still well over an hour from seeing you, don’t you think?”

Stifling a giggle, I hum, trying to sound sultry. “Nah. I don’t think so. I was just giving you a tiny preview of what awaits when you get here.”

I think I hear him groan. “Please don’t let that be a joke.”

This time I can’t hold back my laugh. “Well, yeah, it was, but now…”

“I think it’s official. I’ve corrupted you.”

“Not at all. You’ve just liberated a part of me that’s been suppressed.” I sigh softly. “And I don’t know about you, but I kind of like it.”

“Oh, I definitely like it,” he explains. There’s a pause, and then Greyston comes back on the line, the mood shifting from playful to business. “Xander just showed up. I’ll be home within the hour, though. You get everything set up?”

“I did. I was able to reserve the court for two.” Excitement zips through my veins; I haven’t been paintballing in ages, and I can’t wait to get in the arena and have fun with Greyston and our friends.

“Perfect.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t good, and I don’t think he really realizes the situation he could find himself in. “When I was asking Dad for the number, I think he was a little sad he couldn’t come. But he’s got to go to work.”

Greyston laughs. “Well, I think that having one trained marksman in the game is more than enough, thank you very much.” I can tell he’s only joking, but I smile, knowing he’s not too far off the mark.

I don’t tell him this, though, not wanting to worry him; it has been ages since I’ve been, so there’s a good chance I’m a little rusty. “Ha ha. It’s not like he trained me to be some kind of sleeper agent. He only wanted me to be able to take care of myself.”

“I’m just saying, if we had him along, none of us would stand a chance against the two of you.”

I decide to amp up the playful banter, maybe even stir up a little of Greyston’s competitive spirit. “And you think you stand a chance with just me?” It’s only a flash, but I sense his apprehension over the phone. “Well,” I continue, “I guess we’ll find out later.”

He’s trying to mask it, but I hear the uncertainty in his voice. “You don’t scare me.”

The right corner of my mouth twists up into a smirk as I hum. “You probably shouldn’t have said that.”

He laughs again. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Happy to hear this, I release a sigh. “All right. I lo—” I stop myself, having almost dropped a bomb on him without even realizing I might feel this way. I try to laugh it off. “See you soon.”

With the countdown officially on, I hop out of bed, get dressed, fix the blankets, and then try to decide what to do. Daphne will be here around one, so I’ve definitely got some time to kill. Remembering I have a little bit of homework I could get a head start on, I sweep my hair up onto the top of my head haphazardly, and then grab my books from my room. I don’t feel like being cooped up in the house for the next hour, so I take my books out to the pool, and sit in one of the lounge chairs that’s bathed in sunlight.

It’s difficult to focus at first, but soon I’m wrapped up in my report, and time flies by. I get stuck toward the end of the assignment, tapping the eraser of my pencil against my textbook in hopes of knocking loose my block. I let my eyes drift out to the desert, and then I get the distinct feeling that I’m being watched.

Slowly, I turn around, almost certain I know whom it is. He’s still in the house, just behind the sliding patio window. I want to act cool, but my attempt is futile; I drop my books on the ground, my assignment momentarily forgotten, and I rush toward him. He opens the door and steps through, meeting me on the patio and pulling me into his arms. He peppers my cheek, jaw, and eventually lips with kisses, and I laugh.

“Why didn’t you call?” I inquire, his lips moving down my neck.

I feel his lips curl into a smile against my shoulder. “I think a better question is why aren’t
you
waiting for me upstairs?”

Feigning innocence, I glance up to the sky. “I didn’t want you to think I’ve become predictable.”

My response makes him laugh. “Juliette, you’re far from predictable. In fact, you’ve done nothing but surprise me from the day we met.”

“Again with the flattery,” I tease, my fingers lightly grazing the back of his neck and making him shiver. I giggle. “Ticklish?”

“Is this really a game you wish to instigate?” he challenges, his right eyebrow arching.

I smirk, feeling the air between us shift. “Maybe… Unless there’s something a little more…
gratifying
that you can think of.”

His expression seems contemplative, his right hand drifting down my body and over my ass until he grips my thigh and pulls it up around his hip. Feeling unbalanced, I lift the other leg, hooking my ankles together behind his back. “I think a
little
might be undershooting just how gratified you’re about to be,” he tells me.

“Careful. You don’t want to oversell yourself or anything,” I shoot back, my voice low and airy.

“Sultry
and
funny…a dangerous combination, Miss Foster.” His hands squeeze my ass, pulling me against him. I release a whimper as his lips find mine.

I weave my fingers into his hair, holding him close while my lips part and the kiss deepens. The passion between us escalates quickly, and I don’t want it to stop this time; I’m ready…
we’re
ready. I pull back slightly, locking eyes with Greyston. “Let’s go upstairs.”

His arms loosen around me, allowing me to slide to the floor slowly. Our eyes stay fixed on each other, the passion in the air between us thick. Greyston locks the patio door when we finally turn away from one another, and we head upstairs.

Excited to be together again, I pull Greyston into his room. I don’t know what exactly is going to happen, but the possibilities are endless. I stop beside his bed and lift my arms above my head. He wastes no time asking questions, instead understanding my silent request by slowly pulling my shirt up my arms. The speed he’s chosen is torture, but soon my shirt is nothing but a heap on the floor, and his eyes travel down to my waist.

I remove Greyston’s shirt and let it join mine. Without warning, Greyston grabs me and tosses me down onto his bed. I cry out, bouncing lightly on the mattress, some of my hair falling out of my ponytail and into my face.

Instead of joining me, he stares, his hands slowly working his belt free, then the button on his jeans. My pulse thickens before settling between my legs, and I press my knees together in an effort to quell it until he joins me. He slips his jeans off, pulling his feet from them, and then wraps his hands around my ankle and coaxes me toward the edge of the bed. I bite back a shameless moan when his hands travel up my legs, his thumbs tracing the seam of my inner thighs and pressing at the apex and teasing me further.

I watch his eyes, letting my gaze fall down to his hands as he flicks the button loose, and I whimper when he slides the zipper down at a ridiculously slow pace. It’s maddening. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lower abdomen, right above the waist of my panties, and I tremble under the sensation.

His lips curl up into a smirk against my skin, and he loops his fingers behind my jeans, easing them down over my hips.

Finally!
I find myself cheering silently, lifting my ass off the bed to help make this process a little quicker. They join our growing pile of clothes, taking a lamp down with them. He doesn’t seem to notice, and I forget rather quickly with his hands on me.

“Greyston,” I whisper again.

I can’t stop my hips from undulating beneath him as he presses soft and firm kisses to my abdomen, trailing his tongue from one hipbone to the other. The passion builds, making it hard to breathe, and Greyston’s lips are hot against my skin. I look down nervously when his hands slip back up my thighs and freeze.

His blue eyes burn into mine, and then he lowers his face, his lips—then tongue—grazing the skin of my inner thigh and slowly moving north. I gasp the second I realize his intention, his tongue barely touching the juncture between my thighs, and I press my foot against his chest roughly, pushing him away.

“W-wait.” I prop myself up on my elbows and look at him, panic rising until it eclipses my pleasure. “I don’t… That’s…
No
.”

He looks perplexed. “No? Why Not?”

When he makes no indication of moving, I drop my foot, averting my gaze. “I-I guess it kind of…I don’t know. I don’t really like it.”

He sits back on his heels, staring. “What the hell do you mean you don’t
like
it?”

I only shrug. “I just don’t. It felt…weird and rushed in the past, I guess.”