by Nikki Ashton
Grantley shrugged. “Maybe, but the concierge told me there’s a club not far from here that is full of local TV celebrities. If I’ve learned anything from this business, it’s that celebrities will go out of their way to ignore another celebrity.”
I thought about it for a nanosecond and nodded my head. “Let’s go.”
“I hope you have your dancing shoes on, pretty girl, because we’re not stopping until we drop.”
“One thing I need to ask,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“What am I going to wear in bed?”
Grantley moaned quietly and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. When his eyes landed on mine, his were full of desire.
“I’d say me,” he said with a smirk. “But I’m guessing that’s a poor joke, so I’ll say I have plenty of t-shirts that you can wear.”
I nodded but deep down was thinking, yeah I’d be up for wearing Grantley James, and maybe I should just sod the consequences. After all, wasn’t that why I’d packed a spare pair of knickers in my handbag?
Grantley
The music was loud, the drinks flowing, and Phoebe was dancing like no one was watching her. She wasn’t the best dancer, but the joy it gave her was evident as she bounced around, singing along to every song. I’d tried to keep up with her but after almost two hours, I needed a break, so I was watching her from our private booth.
God love Marcia, I’d texted her that we were going to the club, and despite the hour and that she’d left the restaurant in a less than stellar mood, she’d called on ahead for us. We were guided to our table by a hostess in a tight black skirt and crisp white blouse, who then advised me that our bill had been paid for by my agent.
You see, the woman did love me after all.
As the song changed, Phoebe whooped with excitement and came running to me.
“Grantley come and dance. It’s a remix of Freedom by Wham.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I reached up and pushed sticky hair from her sweaty face.
“Wham! George Michael?”
“Oh yeah, I know who he is.”
“This is Wham, so come on. Dance.”
She grabbed hold of my hand and dragged me up onto the dancefloor, holding my hands as she jumped around like Tigger. Her elation was infectious and I found myself singing along to the chorus, which I had to say weren’t George’s best lyrics. As Freedom finally flowed into some dance tune, I pulled Phoebe against me and kissed her hard. I kissed her as though I’d never get to kiss her again. I kissed her with a need I’d never felt before. But as my hands moved to her ass, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
If this was someone recognizing me and wanting a damn selfie with me, I would not be happy. I ignored the tapping for a little while, but it was insistent. Groaning, I pulled my lips from Phoebe’s and looked over my shoulder. A tall guy with a shaved head, wearing a collared shirt and vest, was looking at me with raised brows.
“Yeah?” I asked, tucking Phoebe under my arm.
“No petting on the dancefloor,” he shouted loudly into my ear, making it buzz. “If you want to do that go get a room.”
“You’re kidding right?”
He shook his head and silently thumbed in the direction of the exit.
“Okay, okay. No petting on the dancefloor.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
As he strutted away, Phoebe started to giggle.
“I’ve never been told off in a nightclub before.”
“Certainly not for petting.” I shook my head and taking Phoebe by the hand, dragged her back to our booth. “Maybe it’s time for a break anyway.”
We flopped down onto the leather seat, with Phoebe snuggling up to my side. I kissed the side of her dance sweaty head and took a drink from my beer bottle.
“You had a good time?” I asked her.
Phoebe grinned, lifting her own bottle of beer. “The best. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Marcia. She’s paying.”
“You see, I told you she was sweet.”
“Well I’m not so sure about that.”
I dropped a kiss to her lips that tasted of beer and sat back in the booth. Stretching my arm around the back, I drew circles on Phoebe’s shoulder with my thumb. Her black and white stripe dress was sleeveless and showed off her tanned, toned arms, as well as those spectacular legs of hers, and I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been snapped up before now.
“When was your last relationship?” I asked.
Phoebe looked at me quizzically. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason, just interested.”
“You sure?” She half turned in her seat, and put her bottle down on the table. “It’s a bit out of the blue, you asking.”
I shrugged. “I guess I’m curious why you don’t already have a guy.”
“I suppose it’s because I’m not the relationship sort of girl.”
“I don’t for one minute think you’re a one night stand sort of girl either.” I thought about what she’d said, about not being ready for the next step, even if she slept in my bed.
“I’m not. I suppose you could say I’m the cautious sort of girl. After what happened to Beth, I don’t want to find myself in the same position.”
I ran my fingers through her hair and studied her pretty face wondering how this thing between us had happened. I’d thought she was a pain in the ass at first, but within days she had me bewitched, yet she hadn’t even tried to.
“Not all men are like your sister’s douche of an ex, you know.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But she was devastated, Grantley. She was absolutely heart-broken and if it hadn’t been for the boys, I dread to think what she would have done.”
Phoebe’s eyes filled with tears and the very real fear of what Beth might have done was evident in the way she pulled in a shuddering breath.
“I’ll try not to hurt you,” I whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth.
“The fact you said that actually makes me feel a little hopeful.” She gave me a small smile and then looked out toward the dancefloor. “You didn’t say you wouldn’t hurt me, but you’d try not to.”
“Because I will – try not to, I mean.”
She turned back to me, her eyes soft and warm. “Which is more damn honest than saying you won’t.”
Phoebe’s warm lips landed on mine, and stayed there for a few seconds before she slowly pulled away.
“I need the loo,” she announced.
“Okay. Nice to know.”
We both laughed as Phoebe pushed back along the seat to the edge of the booth.
“Won’t be long.”
As she walked away, I watched her carefully. There was no strut or hair flicking to attract attention, she was just Phoebe. She had no hidden agenda, as far as I could see, and she was the most open person I’d ever known. I’d known her for a few weeks and yet I felt like I could trust her implicitly and I knew that I didn’t want to let her go – definitely not in a month’s time, and maybe not ever.
Phoebe
I woke up with a large hand splayed across my stomach, something hard pressing into the crack of my bum, and Grantley James snoring softly in my ear, and it was the best feeling ever.
We’d had an amazing time in the club, dancing until the soles of my feet burned and laughing until my sides ached. Grantley had been right, no one gave us a second glance – well they did, but didn’t approach us, or take sneaky photographs on their phones, thinking we wouldn’t notice the flash going off. We were left alone to have a great time, apart from the bouncer who scolded us for kissing on the dancefloor. I’d thought he was going to make us leave, but thankfully he didn’t, because that would have just been a sour end to a great couple of hours. I couldn’t say we’d had a great evening up to that point, because dinner had been pretty awful. Although, it was much easier once Sue-Ann was asleep. The club made up for everything though.
Once we got back to the hotel, it was almost three in the morning and we were both exhausted. Barney was sleeping soundly on his back, with one of his huge arms lying over his face. He’d left a small side light on, so Grantley turned it off as we tiptoed towards the bedroom. The sound of snoring was coming from Sue-Ann’s room. It was a deep, alcohol induced, throaty snore, so it was unlikely even a brass band marching through the suite would wake her.
“Both the kids are fast asleep, that’s good,” Grantley joked, as we entered his room.
After turning on a bedside lamp, Grantley found me a t-shirt to wear and told me he’d got housekeeping to leave a few things I might need in the bathroom. When I went in I was surprised to see face wipes, a toothbrush, deodorant, some hair-ties and a pale blue gift bag.
I peeked inside to see three tissue paper wrapped parcels. I pulled them out and unwrapped each one. There was a pair of jeans, in my size, a gorgeous black lace top, in my size, and a couple of pairs of knickers, also in my size. My heart jumped as I looked at everything on the counter. How had Grantley managed to get them all for me and how the hell did he know my size? But even if he’d got the wrong sizes, I’d have been impressed at the sheer effort that he’d made.
Once I’d removed my make-up, cleaned my teeth, slipped on his t-shirt, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, I went back into the bedroom. I almost gasped when I was met with a half-naked Grantley. He was wearing only his black boxer briefs and had his back to me, standing by the dresser as he unbuckled his watch. His back was broad and toned, and every muscle moved with languorous fluidity. He was a beautiful sight and I wondered whether sleeping in the same bed as him was foolish. I’d asked him to keep his hands above my waist, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do the same.
“Hey,” I said, softly. “I found the gifts.”
Grantley turned around and gifted me again, this time with a gorgeous smile. “I knew you’d need stuff for tomorrow. Is it all okay?”
I nodded. “Perfect, but you really didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t want you to feel awkward in the morning,” he replied, taking a step towards me. “We know that nothing is going to happen, but you walking out of here in the dress you wore tonight may give others the wrong impression.”
I almost ran and climbed him like a baby chimpanzee. His thoughtfulness amazing me.
“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” I said, trying to keep the breathiness out of my voice.
He grinned and looked down at my legs, which were bare up to the top half of my thighs. “To be honest, I wish I’d just let you wear that shirt and forget about the jeans. It looks pretty hot on you.”
I giggled and pulled at the hem. “I’m not sure I would dare walk out in public with this on.”
“Well that’s good, because I wouldn’t have wanted to share that view with anyone.”
“So which side?” I asked, nodding at the bed.
Grantley shrugged. “I tend to starfish, so you’d best pick.”
Nervously, I edged to the right hand side of the bed and drew back the duvet. “You sure?”
“About you sleeping in my bed, or about you sleeping on that side?”
I licked my dry lips and took a deep breath. Suddenly, with the buzz of the alcohol wearing off, I wondered whether this was a good idea. We definitely weren’t going to have sex, but this – sleeping next to each other, in very little clothing – seemed just as intimate. Lots of people had sex, but often that didn’t include sleeping in each other’s arms afterwards. We were going to do this because it was what we wanted. Grantley could just as easily sleep on the sofa, but I didn’t want him to and he didn’t want to either, despite me telling him I wasn’t ready for the next step. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Or maybe he was playing me, thinking he’d change my mind once we were in bed. I had no idea, but I wasn’t going to think about that.
“Phoebe,” Grantley whispered. “I can just as easily grab the other couch, I’d be cool with that.”
“No,” I said, straightening my back. “I’d like you to stay, as long as you know there will only be sleeping.”
“No kissing?” he asked, a smile on his upturned lips.
“Maybe some kissing.”
Grantley laughed and then nodded to the bed. “Get in pretty girl.”
His voice was soft and gentle and I instinctively knew he wasn’t playing me. I might get burned by this man one day, but for now he wanted us.
At first, Grantley kept his distance from me, and all I could feel was his breath on my neck. My body was full of tension as I tried not to stray onto his side of the bed and touch him. As he moved slightly, the mattress moved and because I was so close to the edge, I almost toppled out.
“Ooh, shit.”
“You okay?” Grantley asked.
“I nearly fell out of bed.”
I inched back a little more, stopping as soon as I sensed Grantley’s body was close. Holding onto the edge of the mattress, I snuggled down, only to have an arm wrap around my body and drag me backwards.
“I won’t bite, Phoebes,” Grantley chuckled as he pulled me against his chest. “I told you, I’m a clinger.”
With one arm wrapped around me, he placed his other on the pillow above my head.
“Better?” he asked, placing a kiss on the back of my head.
God, yes. It felt amazing to be in his hold.
“Much,” I replied, on a yawn.
“Good, now sleep well, pretty girl.”
“Night, Grantley.”
He gave me a squeeze and another kiss, this time on my neck, and I felt my body relax into sleep. The next thing I knew I was waking up with Grantley’s hand and boner, reminding me that we were in bed together. He’d been the perfect gent all night, his hand had stayed on my waist, never straying lower or higher, so I couldn’t complain about the python being woken up.
I turned slowly, so as not to wake him and looked at his handsome face. He looked peaceful and stress free and I was glad that sleep took him away from his insidious mother in the next room. We’d obviously slept well, because I’d woken in pretty much the same position that I’d fallen asleep in.
Grantley made a little sigh and blew air through his lips and then started his quiet snores once more. Craning my neck, I could just about see the digital clock on Grantley’s side of the bed – blimey, Grantley’s side; that made us sound like a real couple – as I processed that thought, I noticed that it was almost nine-thirty. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept that late. Even if I wasn’t working, the boys and their noise usually woke me pretty early.
Stealthily, I lifted Grantley’s arm and slipped from under him and out of the bed. As my feet touched the thick, plush carpet, I held my breath, hoping that he continued to sleep. It wasn’t that I wanted to sneak away, he simply looked peaceful and must have needed it as he was still sleeping so soundly.
Slowly opening the bedroom door, I heard voices in the suite and wondered whether I should dress first, but when Grantley turned over and hugged my pillow to him, my resolve to let him continue sleeping hardened.
I padded down the short hall, past the open door of Sue-Ann’s room, and into the main suite. Barney was sitting on the sofa, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, drinking from a mug, while Sue-Ann stood in front of him, one hand on her hip, and pointing a finger at Barney.
“You need to tell him. You’re his friend.”
Barney raised an eyebrow above the mug which was paused at his mouth, evidently waiting for her to finish.
“He needs to be careful, he’s a star.”
Something inside, told me that Sue-Ann was talking about me. She wanted Barney to tell Grantley to be wary of me.
“Morning,” I said, as brightly as I could.
Both heads swivelled towards me; Barney’s with a smile and Sue-Ann’s with a scowl.
“Hey there, Phoebe,” Barney replied, putting down his mug. “You want coffee?”
I glanced at Gra
ntley’s mother and knew most definitely that she had been talking about me. There was pure hatred on her face as her eyes took in my bare legs and body covered with what was obviously her son’s t-shirt.
“I can make it,” I said, turning towards the kitchen area. “I know how to use the machine.”
“I bet you do,” Sue-Ann spat out. “Got those pretty little feet of yours firmly under the table, haven’t you?”
I looked down at my feet with the bright pink toenails, which Sue-Ann was pointing at. I loved the colour and was a little bit put out she didn’t feel the same way.
“Sue-Ann,” Barney warned. “Leave her alone because you know what will happen if Grantley finds out how you’ve been speaking to her.”
“Oh yeah, I know,” she cried, turning back to Barney. “He’ll take her side over his own mother because she’s got her claws into him.”
“It’s not like that,” I ventured. “Grantley and I-.”
“Grantley and you what?” she snapped. “You’re a money grabbing little whore who’s getting into his pants because of how much money he’s got.”
“Now wait a minute.” I strode forward and it was my turn to point. “Don’t you dare call me that. You don’t even know me, you’ve no idea what my feelings are about Grantley.”
“Oh I think I do missy. You see the dollar signs while you’re throwing yourself at him.” She curled her lip and shook her head. “Like I said, a damn whore.”
Her words were like a slap across the face, just like Declan’s had been. She’d called me the same thing that he had. Was that really how people saw me, just because there was a mutual attraction between me and a film star? I’d be attracted to him if he was a refuse collector or a teacher – being a film star wasn’t what defined him and she was underestimating him if that was what she thought.
“Don’t judge me by your own shortfalls. I am not that person.”
“What the fuck. Barney,” she bellowed. “Are you going to let her speak to me like that?”
Barney sighed wearily and stood up.
“She called me a damn whore and you’re just going to let her.”