by R.S. Grey
Yeah, that sounded pretty good.
“Here ya go,” Brooklyn said, holding out a small colorful drink for me. An orange slice was perched on the rim and when I took a sip to test it out, my tongue practically danced with excitement.
“This is amazing!” I said, clinking my glass with hers.
She laughed and started to head toward the guys. “It is, but it has a ton of alcohol in it, so be careful.”
We wove through the young Hollywood crowd with our drinks and I tried to stay as close to Brooklyn as possible. In the two minutes it took us to reach the guys, I saw three movie stars, two famous singers, and a notorious heiress who’d leaked her own sex tape not three weeks before. They all looked like they’d been partying for hours and it was hardly 6:00 pm. The life of the rich and famous.
“Cammie’s here!” Brooklyn called out as we joined the group.
“Finally!” Jason cheered, holding out his drink so that he and I could do a little cheers.
“Whattup, J-money,” I quipped.
“Not much C-money,” Jason joked back.
Brooklyn made a show of rolling her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “Can’t you guys go back to hating each other? The rapper names need to go.”
I winked at Jason. “She’s just jellin'.”
Grayson laughed and stepped forward, reaching a hand out as if to formally shake mine.
“Good to see you, Cameron,” he said with a wicked grin.
I took his hand and narrowed my eyes, trying to keep up with our act. Our hands bobbed up and down for much longer than necessary, but his hand was strong and I didn’t feel like pulling away.
“Seriously?! He still calls you Cameron? God Gray, you sound like a high school principal,” Brooklyn complained as she tried to pry apart our hands.
Great, now I'll have enough fantasy scenarios to last a lifetime.
“Maybe your sister likes how I act around her, Brooklyn,” Grayson quipped with enough hidden meaning to make me blush.
“Alright enough, you two,” I said, letting go of Grayson’s hand and glancing toward the fifth person in our group: the blonde man.
“Oh, sorry for that embarrassing introduction. I’m Cammie,” I said with a polite smile.
Jason reached a hand around the blonde guy’s shoulders and tugged him closer.
“Duh, why didn’t we introduce you guys first? You’re the reason we’re here in the first place!”
“Oh my gosh!” Brooklyn said. “We’re terrible at this.”
I frowned, confused. Terrible at what?
“Cammie, this is Stuart, my accountant,” Jason continued. “We invited him today so that you guys could meet.”
Oh, Jesus.
Combined, Brooklyn and Jason had the subtlety of a screeching banshee. They basically sounded like they were my pimps. I smiled awkwardly at Stuart and shook his hand quickly, realizing that I’d majorly messed up. I’d completely forgotten about asking Brooklyn to set me up with someone. I guess I thought she’d never actually get around to it.
Welp, she had gotten around to it and now I was in for the most awkward happy hour of my life. It almost sounded like the punch line of a bad joke: so my sister, her rockstar boyfriend, the boss I’m secretly sleeping with, and an accountant walk into a bar...
Oy vey. Fortunately, Stuart seemed equally annoyed with the way Jason had introduced him. He stepped forward and straightened his shoulders, trying to smooth out the awkward transition. All in all, he was pretty good looking. He had clean cut blonde hair, a strong jaw, and cute, black-framed glasses.
“As Jason said, I’m his accountant,” Stuart said with a proud smile as he assessed me, much the same way I’d just done to him.
Wow, an accountant. Be still my quivering loins…
“Cool. So you like numbers?” I asked, trying to make polite conversation.
Stuart smiled and adjusted his glasses, but before he could reply, Grayson cut in, “So Stu, do y—”
“Uh, I actually prefer Stuart,” he replied.
“Stuart.” Grayson punctuated the end of his name with a touch of annoyance. “Do you think you can handle a girl like Cammie?” He asked the question with an innocent smile as he tipped his drink in my direction. Both of his dimples were on display, which meant that poor Stuart basically didn’t even exist to me anymore.
“Grayson! Jeez, cool it. Nobody likes a cranky fifth wheel,” Brooklyn chimed in.
I suppressed a snort and Grayson held up his hands in protest. “It was a joke. I just happen to know firsthand that Cammie can be quite feisty when she wants to be.”
At once, Brooklyn, Stuart, and I replied.
“What?!” I asked.
“And how would you know?” Brooklyn glared.
Stuart smiled. “I’m sure I can manage.”
Jason cut the tension by passing us a round of shots, which I pretended to take, but instead placed on the table behind me. I needed to have all of my cylinders firing during this hangout if I hoped to make it through. Having Stuart, Grayson, and Brooklyn in one room was a recipe for disaster.
“So Grayson, how do you know Cammie?” Stuart said, inching toward me in a clearly territorial move. His hand fell against the table behind me, so he wasn’t exactly touching me, but the message was loud and clear.
“She’s a friend,” Grayson answered, taking a slow sip of his drink while his eyes locked with mine. A friend? I quirked an eyebrow and smiled, knowing he’d be able to tell what I was thinking.
“Also Cammie works at Grayson’s architecture firm,” Brooklyn clarified with a peculiar glare in Grayson’s direction.
He grinned. “That too.”
“Oh, really? I’d imagine it’s pretty awkward seeing your boss out at a bar,” Stuart said, turning to me for backup.
Grayson’s blue gaze focused on me. “Interesting. What about you, Cammie? Do you feel awkward with me here?”
I was going to slowly and torturously murder him later. Like kill him using finger nail clippers so that it took one hundred hours. He deserved it. Also, sorry for the imagery, that’s disgusting.
I shrugged. “I’ve been to worse happy hours.”
The group laughed good-naturedly and I thought for a second that the situation might work out… and then Stuart decided to ruin the moment. He turned toward me and stepped closer so that we were cut off from the rest of the group.
Oh no he didn’t.
“So tell me about yourself, Cammie,” he said with a gentle smile.
Was I supposed to list off my horoscope or something?
“Oh, um, well,” I kept on mumbling as I tried to peer around him and catch Grayson’s eye.
Stuart moved with me and blocked my path, obviously aware of what I was doing.
“Have you always lived in LA?” he asked, filling in the silence for me.
I sighed and took a sip of my drink. If he wanted to talk, I’d talk to him. It wouldn’t hurt to be nice. I answered Stuart with bland details as he asked me question after question. All the while, I also tried to hear what Jason was talking about with Grayson.
“Are you seeing anyone right now?” Jason asked.
ACCOUNTANT, PLEASE BE QUIET SO I CAN HEAR GRAYSON’S REPLY.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve just been—” I heard the first part of Grayson’s answer before Stuart’s voice cut in.
“I’ve just always had a knack for numbers,” Stuart said. “Ever since I was a kid. I remember doing the 'million dollar' project in school and using it to buy a fictional laundromat. I was the only one to spend the money on a business that would make money in return!”
Oh my god, so he's not just a boring adult, he's been boring since he was a kid.
I leaned closer to where Jason and Grayson were chatting, trying to hear their conversation.
“Did you hear about the match-up for Sunday’s game?” Grayson asked.
No. Noooooooo. I’d missed his answer. C’mon!
“That’s so great, Stuart,” Brooklyn said, cut
ting in before I made a complete fool of myself. “Cammie always had a knack for drawing. When she was little she’d carry around a sketchpad with her everywhere,” Brooklyn said, basically carrying the conversation for me.
“How neat. I always wish that I could draw, but I never learned how,” Stuart said, trying to catch my gaze. "Even my stick figures are terrible!"
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I didn’t want to talk to Stuart and who knew when I’d get another chance to be in a bar with Grayson. I excused myself for a bathroom break then sought out the first bartender I could find.
“Can I do the thing where I send a drink to a guy and you give him a napkin that has a sexy message on it?”
The bartender scanned me once, feet to chest.
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he said, taking a step closer.
I held up my hand. “Jeez, alright. My eyes are up here.”
He chuckled and pulled out a pad of paper. “Who do you want me to send a drink to?”
I pointed Grayson out for him and he nodded.
“And what drink?”
Oh damn, I’d forgotten to check what Grayson was drinking. Did it matter?
“Is there some kind of sexy drink you usually send?”
His laughed. “None that a guy would drink.”
I groaned. “Whatever, just give him a drink with this note. I don’t care what it is.” I took a pen out of my purse and jotted down the sexiest thing I could think of. Three simple words that hinted at so much more.
Come find me.
Chapter Twenty
I stood in a dark hallway of the bar waiting for Grayson. Black and gold filigreed paper masked the walls. Ornate gold light fixtures hung from the ceiling and five doors dotted the hallway, each leading into small private bathrooms. I blocked the last door at the end of the hallway. People trailed in and out of the other rooms, seemingly unconcerned with my presence. I watched two girls stumble out from behind a closed door, giggling and supporting one another as best as possible. One of them fell against the wall, her blonde hair spilling down around her face as her friend tried to keep her from slipping down onto the black marbled floor.
I was watching them when Grayson turned the corner and came into view at the end of the dark hallway. Dark sleek hair. Sharp, defined jaw. Straight nose, strong brows, and a predatory look aimed right at me.
I wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my skirt and then slid them up, crossing and uncrossing them for lack of a better pose. The lounge’s seductive music seemed to pick up, the beat of a kick drum matching each of Grayson’s steps as he approached me.
His narrowed eyes proved he was more than prepared to take me up on the challenge I’d penned for him. When he was a few feet away he pulled his hands out of his pockets and unbuttoned his suit jacket.
He passed by the drunk girls without so much as a side glance and then his gaze met mine. As he stepped closer, I realized the full extent of what I’d begun by sending him that note.
“Skipping out on your blind date already?” Grayson asked. At once he wrapped a hand around my neck and used his other to turn the door handle behind me so that we fell back into the small bathroom. “That's not very ladylike.”
We stumbled, entwined together. I closed the door behind us and he locked it.
Click.
The audible confirmation of what we were about to do.
He walked me back to the edge of the black sink and I glanced around the room. For a bathroom, it was covertly sexy. It’s like they wanted couples to sneak away into them. The black marble floor and decorative wallpaper continued into the room, but the lighting was even dimmer, casting a romantic yellow haze over the two of us.
We were right up against the sink when Grayson spun me around to face the mirror. I was sandwiched between the countertop and Grayson, and when I glanced up into the antique mirror, I caught sight of us together for the first time. Grayson was right: I didn't seem very ladylike. My dark brown hair fell around my shoulders. My blouse was pulled tight over my chest, revealing a sliver of my pink lacy bra. My eyeliner and mascara had smudged around my eyes, giving me a mysterious, dangerous glow. My darker side was showing.
Grayson’s height made it so the top of my head fell just beneath his chin.
“Do you realize how much of a tease you are? Walking around my office in outfits like this everyday?”
I managed to shake my head no, mesmerized by his words.
“Every time I see you, I want to spread your legs just like this.”
His left dress shoe hit my designer heel and then he kicked it out so that my knees buckled. His hand reached out to hold me up as I secured my footing with my feet spread much wider than they’d been just a second before.
I shot him an annoyed glance and he squeezed my hip as reassurance. The smirk he wore proved he enjoyed sweeping my feet out from under me, literally and figuratively.
“They’ll be able to hear us in the hallway,” he said, pushing my pencil skirt up around my hips.
I bit my lip and gripped the counter even tighter. I watched my knuckles turn white as he shimmied my panties down past my hips. I had to pull my feet back together so that the lace could slide down, but the second they were gone I moved back to how he’d placed me a moment before. The low groan he emitted told me I’d done the right thing.
A new, seductive song kicked on in the lounge as he unbuckled his belt.
I swallowed slowly, nerves starting to get the better of me as his palm slid up the back of my thigh. He left goose bumps as his touch trailed higher and I tried my hardest to watch it all happen in the mirror. It was hard, though, to confront your deepest desires head on. I’d never done anything like this with anyone, let alone with someone like Grayson.
“Can you see my hand in the mirror, Cammie?” he asked as he touched the center of my thighs.
The mirror cut off just a few inches above my hips so I pressed up onto my tiptoes and nodded.
I could see it all.
“Keeping watching,” he said as he brushed a finger over my skin.
My knees threatened to buckle.
The music grew louder.
My moans matched his.
I squeezed my eyes closed and he told me to open them, to watch.
My stomach pressed against cold marble.
His hands dug into my hips as he held me in place.
Someone rapped on the bathroom door, and we completely ignored them.
He pressed into me in one quick thrust and I nearly lost my footing.
He held onto me tighter, keeping me in place.
We moved with the music. My heart matched the beat.
I pushed my hips back to meet his and his eyes rolled closed.
When I cried out some time later, Grayson bit down on my earlobe and whispered, “I found you just like your note asked… but now I think I’ll keep you here all for myself.”
…
“Are you kidding me right now?! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!?” Brooklyn yelled.
I took a step back, holding my hands up in defense. If I hadn’t been two drinks in, I would have been looking for some kind of escape route. Alas, I had to face Brooklyn’s fury head on.
“You need to calm down. It is not that big of a deal,” I said—obviously the best thing to say to an angry person.
We’d gone back to Brooklyn’s apartment after happy hour. Jason had stepped out a few minutes earlier to get us ice cream, per my request, and some more wine, per Brooklyn’s request. We didn’t have long to talk before he returned, but she’d asked me where I’d gone in the middle of happy hour and I’d decided to tell her the truth.
Now I was regretting it.
“Not a big deal! Not a big deal? You’re sleeping with Grayson Cole. Grayson! In the middle of a bar bathroom.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you don’t stop yelling, I’m locking you in the bathroom until you calm down.”
She paced around the center of her kitchen island, osci
llating between calm and crazy. Every few seconds she’d reach for something on the counter—a knife, an empty bottle of wine, some chocolate—then stop mid-grab, realizing that none of those things would help our situation. Unless, of course, she wanted to stab me. Which would really put a damper on our sistership.
I met her halfway around her fifth lap of the kitchen island and gripped her shoulders so she couldn’t move.
“Okay.” I said, trying to meet her eye. “Okay. I’m really, really sorry. I really regret having sex with Grayson and will try and purge all of the sexy images from my mind.” By the end of my heartfelt apology, I had a dopy smile on my face.
She pointed at that smile and groaned. “You’re not sorry! Jeez, Cammie. That’s so reckless… and fine, yes, it’s actually quite hot, so I can’t really get mad at you about that, but still! I’m mad at you for ditching Stuart like that.”
"C'mon, did you hear him? His childhood dream was to own a laundromat for Christ's sake," I moaned.
“It doesn't matter, Cammie. You should have told me to cancel on Stuart or something.”
“I didn’t know you were even going to bring him! And don’t worry about him, he has that Clark Kent look. He’ll be fine. But dear god, he needs to get a new job. I’ve never met a sexy accountant. No one wants a guy to balance their budgets.”
The door opened at that moment and a smiling, naive Jason walked in holding two paper grocery bags.
“Cammie, they were out of that gelato stuff that you like, so I grabbed a bunch of other stuff,” he explained, dropping the bags onto the counter and rifling through the contents. He pulled out a pint of ice cream and held it up for my examination.
“Oh, that looks awes—”
“Cammie doesn’t deserve ice cream. She DEFINITELY doesn’t deserve Triple Chocolate Fudge ice cream,” Brooklyn interrupted with a snotty glance.
Jason frowned, slowly dropping the pint onto the counter.