The Perfect Stroke (11 page)

“Tell me again why we have to get up from here?” I whine, curling under the covers. It’s been two days… two glorious days since I let Gray back in my bed. Two days in which we’ve been
boinking
like rabbits. My body is sore in the most delicious places. I’m fast becoming addicted to having him around, which is probably bad. It’s also why I’m whining about not wanting to get out of bed.

“Because you are having lunch with your friend today and I have that meeting with Riverton.”

“That name isn’t allowed in my bed,” I grumble, running my hand from the top of his chest down his stomach, loving the heated skin and soft masculine feel of him.
All man.
That’s who Grayson Lucas is, and what a man. I feel every feminine thing in me stretch and purr just looking at that smile on his beautiful face.

“Will you tell me the history between you and… the ones who shall not be named?” He grins. I want to keep the happy in the room, but I swear, one thought of Cammie and her father nearly sucks it all out. It’s not Gray’s fault. He has no idea the can of worms that are the Rivertons.
I wish I didn’t.

“That’s a long, horrid story, one that would ruin my good after-sex mood.”

“Humor me,” he says, pulling me into his warm body. I drape my leg over him, his heated skin feeling as if it’s branding my leg. I feel his fingers sifting through my curls, and my eyes close.
This
. Just like this, being here with Gray, is as close as I’ve ever come to perfect. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to talk. All I want is to lie here and soak up this feeling and hold it close so that I can remember it years from now.

“Believe it or not, there was once a time when Cammie and I were good friends.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. You two are way too different.”

“Well, it was the second grade,” I correct, and he laughs.

“Now that makes sense.”

“Yeah we were friends up until the fifth grade.”

“What happened in the fifth grade?” Gray asks, sounding distracted.

I look up and can see him from my peripheral vision playing with my hair, combing through it and then bending down. A second later, I feel a light kiss on the top of my head. I close my eyes and savor that feeling. I’m going to be honest. Banger was an amazing man, but he wasn’t very demonstrative. In fact, I can’t really remember getting kisses or hugs growing up. Heaven knows my mother wasn’t one to do that. Banger… well, I always knew he loved me. That was never a question, but he wasn’t really the hugging or kissing type. The closest he came was hugging me and slapping me on the back when I rebuilt my first engine and it purred like a kitten when he tried it out. He half hugged me and half gave me an approving slap and told me he was proud of me. I felt like I hung the moon. So, Gray doing this now feels… strange and good. Very good.
Too
good.

“You with me?” he prompts me when I get lost in my thoughts.

“Cammie’s mother learned of our friendship.”

“And?”

“And that was it. Her daughter couldn’t fraternize with someone below their standing in the neighborhood.”

“What a bitch. I’m suddenly glad that’s one Riverton I haven’t met.”

“Yeah, Cammie’s parents divorced a while back. Davina moved to Paris with some shipping tycoon. She didn’t want Cammie.”

“Shit, that’s rough.”

“Yeah. Some mothers shouldn’t have kids,” I agree, but I’m thinking completely about my own mother.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I shrug off his concern, feeling my face heat. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I especially don’t want them to know how much my mother’s actions hurt me.

“Anyway, once Cammie realized she shouldn’t be seen with someone who was
beneath
her, that pretty much ended our friendship.”

“That’s it? I could have sworn there was more animosity than that between the two of you.”

“Well, add in high school, us liking some of the same boys, years of resentment and a few other spices, and you have a recipe for disaster.”

“Women are just too fucking complicated.”

“This is why I prefer to hang around men.”

“Well, that’s one thing I can be glad of,” he says, pulling me on the bed until he has me pinned on the mattress and he’s leaning over me. “Being a man, I can tell you, Cooper, that I’m glad you prefer hanging around me too,” he whispers, bending down and placing a small kiss on my chin and then slowly moving along the main bone in my jawline. He’s cupping my face with his hands, his thumb brushing against my skin, and he’s holding me so gently I could get lost in the needs he’s awakening inside of me.

“Well, I aim to please.”

“Show me,” he says, sucking gently on my neck and nibbling there. I’m trying to concentrate on what he’s saying, but the desire and heat he’s stoking inside of me almost makes it impossible.

“Show you what?” I gasp just as I feel one of his hands move between my legs.

“How much you want to please me.”

“We’ll be late,” I tell him, but not really giving a damn. I’m sure he can tell by the way I spread my legs to allow him easier access.

“I don’t really give a fuck,” he says just as I feel his fingers slide into my pussy.

“In that case,” I gasp as he thrusts his fingers hard and deep inside my walls.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me, Gray. Oh god, fuck me and don’t stop.”

“I got you,” he whispers against my lips, driving his fingers in again just as his tongue thrusts into my mouth. “I got you,” he says again, and he does. I’m addicted to this man. It’s never happened before, but it’s too late to stop it now. I let myself get lost in the sensations he’s creating in my body and try to ignore the fear—at least for now.

“You’re late,” Miranda grumbles as I walk through the diner to the back booth—the same booth Miranda claims every freaking time we eat here. She demands we sit at the back of the room, and she always faces the doors. She’s got more than a few issues. She’s also the one friend besides Jackson that I allow in my life, so I put up with the quirks. God knows I have more than enough of my own.

“I had sex,” I tell her, smiling sweetly and grabbing a menu. “Have you already ordered? I’m starving.”

“Wait… you had sex? You’re smiling and you’re starving? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend who is always grouchy, says men aren’t worth the trouble, and who eats like a horse but usually not until the afternoon so she can wake up?”

“Hmmm… Yes, I had sex, and it was awesome sex, so of course I’m smiling. It’s almost noon, so I’m awake enough and I’m starving because having sex on the regular is exhausting. I need food to keep up my stamina.”

“I’ve entered some kind of alternate universe, haven’t I? That’s the only explanation. Oh, and I think I hate you in this universe, too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the beauty of our relationship is: we both bitch and quarrel about men and go long periods without sex and can whine about how lacking our vibrators are.”

“What can I get you girls?” the waitress asks, interrupting us. Miranda orders a chicken salad and an iced tea. Usually I would order the same, but today I really am hungry.

“I’ll have the turkey club, no mayo, and an order of fries, and a tea to drink too, please?”

The waitress leaves, and I catch Miranda staring at me with her mouth open. My best friend since sixth grade, Miranda Kerr is everything I’m not. She’s tiny, small-breasted, and so pretty it hurts. She’s got dark black hair and shining blue eyes that look almost lavender in color. She wears glasses in the newest, trendiest frames and has plump to-die-for lips smothered in dark red lipstick. We don’t match at all—the grease monkey tomboy and the book nerd, girly-girl—but somehow we click on every front. I trust her with my life. She’s as loyal as they come.

“I think I could hate you,” she huffs.

“You can’t. You love me. Besides, you have Kurt, right?”

“Wrong. I kicked him to the curb.”

“What? Why? I thought you two were getting along great?”

“I thought we were, too, and then I discovered he was getting along just as well with a girl in Harvest Corners,” she says, naming a small town two counties over.

“That asshole.”

“Amen to that.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were gone to Lexington for the weekend. I didn’t want to bother you, and I’ve been so busy with training that I hadn’t been able to check in with you until now. Though, it sounds like I should have. So tell me all about your new boy toy! And leave
nothing
out.”

“There’s not a lot to tell. I met him in Lexington, and we—”

“You’re kidding me? You are on friendship probation! You should have told me that you met someone!”

“Well, at the time I didn’t think it’d be anything past the weekend…”

“The weekend?”

I feel the blush hit my face before I can stop it, and I shrug. “Yeah, well…”

“How have we lost touch this much?”

“You’ve been busy, Mer. I have, too. It happens.”

“Yeah, well, we need to put the kibosh on that right now.”

“Hey, it’s not completely my fault. Kurt didn’t exactly give you spare time to—”

“You’re right. Let’s not talk about that douchebag anymore. That’s over and done. D. O. N. E.”

“Douche canoe is more like it.”

“Girl, you ain’t lying.”

“So tell me more about Mr. Curl-My-Toes-For-The-Weekend and how it’s still going on! Was it that good?”

“Umm, it was better than good.”

“Better? You’re saying on a scale of one to ten, he’s a…?”

“Off the charts.”

“Holy
fluck
,” she whispers the fake curse word in awe.

“I know,” I agree, and in my whole life, it’s probably as close as I’ve come to sounding like a giddy teen discussing prom.

“You told him where you lived?” she asks, and again I feel the telltale heat spread on my face. What is up with that? I’m not a blusher! Then again, I’m not the kind of woman who discusses boys at a crowded diner either.

“Well, no. That was by accident?”

“Accident? He’s not a stalker, is he? Did he follow you and find you? Oh my God, C! You have to be careful. This is the kind of shit they make TV movies about!”

“He didn’t follow me home. At least, not on purpose. His car broke down while he was in town for business. He had no idea that I was here.”

“I don’t know, C. That sounds kind of fishy to me.”

“Well, it’s not. He had no idea it was me. In fact, he was kind of a jerk until he figured it out.”

“A jerk?”

“He’s kind of…” I sigh. I don’t really want to talk about this part even though I know that I need to, at least with Mer. Besides, if there’s one thing that worries me the most about Gray—other than the fact that he’s not going to be around for a very long time—it’s that he has money. He has lots of money. He deals with people who have money. He deals with people I can’t stand. He deals with people who would rather see me dead than draw another breath.

Okay. So there’s lots of things that worry me about Gray. They all stem around his money, though.

“Earth to C! Hello, can you hear me?” Mer asks, waving her hand in my face like an idiot.

“Stop that.” I knock her hand out of the way. “He has money, Mer.”

“So? That’s good, honey. Geez, you had me thinking that he had herpes or something.”

“You don’t get it. He’s here on business.”

“C, I hate to break it to you, but not everyone in the world holds down a job that keeps them in one place. This is good. That means he can come visit you when he’s on the road, and…”

“He’s here on business to meet with David Riverton.”

“Flucking hell.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know what a butt-munch the man is?”

“Probably not, but then again, Gray has money. I imagine good old Dave is much nicer to him than he has ever been to me.”

“That wouldn’t be hard to do. I’m sorry, C.”

“It can’t be helped.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“Well, this guy works with Riverton, and yet you’re not kicking him to the curb. You get major props, lady. He’s either special to you or he’s got one hell of a…”

Even before she finishes the sentence, I know what she’s going to say. I squirm in my chair because I might have sounded giddy, but I don’t do this female sharing thing easily—even with Mer.

“Oh. My. God,” she says. I’m looking down at my shoes, and even though I know I’m in trouble, I’m still surprised when she continues. “Claudia Cooper! You got a hold of the holy grail.”

I look up, side-eyeing everyone around us to see if they are paying attention to Mer. Thankfully, they don’t seem to be. “Mer!” I grumble.

“You did, didn’t you? You hooker!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, almost afraid of what she’ll say next.

“The three-peater.”

“The what?” I ask, having no idea what she’s talking about. Though he usually does give me three orgasms before he’s done—
that
I’m not going to discuss with her at the diner.

“Here ya go, ladies,” the waitress says, thankfully interrupting our conversation. We spend the next few minutes arranging our food, and just when I think we’ve finished this whole conversation, Mer starts back up.