Grey: The Infatuation (Spectrum Series Book 2)
Page 24
“So…you would have said yes?” He turns to me, and I look into his deep eyes and slowly nod. His eyebrows shoot up, and he faces the hardwood floor. “Wow.”
“I know.” I fall back onto the bed, covering my eyes. “I am such an idiot. I’m sorry,” I groan. He pulls me back up, furrows his brows, and licks his lips in thought.
“You would have said yes?” he asks again, and I squint my eyes, confused.
“Yes…”
He clicks his tongue and nods. “Wow.”
I roll my eyes and grind my fist into my palm. “Can we not do this? I’m already mortified. I’ll be scarred for the rest of my days,” I say dramatically and throw my arms in the air. He laughs, and I blush as he brings my arms down and faces me.
“You would have said…yes.” He sounds like a broken record.
“What are you getting at here?” I ask, and he shrugs with a smirk, but it isn’t teasing.
“I love you, you know that, right?” he asks, and I nod for the hundredth time tonight. “But…I don’t think I’d ever propose to you.” That stings. A lot.
“Oh, o-okay,” I say weakly, tears brimming my eyes.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. The thing is…” He cups my face and takes in a deep breath. I watch with curious eyes. “I don’t ever want to get married.”
My stomach drops.
“What? Why not?” I pull away from him, and he huffs.
“I just don’t think it’d be for me, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.” Okay, I’m getting mad. Calm down, Liv. Don’t make a fight—this night was going perfectly. Don’t mess it up now. “Sorry if I’m getting upset…but…why?”
He shrugs and runs his hands through his hair. “It’s just not on my mind, nor will it ever be.” I’m shocked, but at the same time, I kind of expected it. He’s more focused on his fighting career, and he doesn’t seem to be the type to settle down, as horrible and judgmental as that sounds. A piece of me feels broken now. Like, I expected us to be more. Even though this is more than I could possibly dream of. I love him…and I just thought it’d be a nice option to have with him, to take that next step.
“But this morning you joked about it when you called me your ‘future wife,’” I point out.
“I was kidding, going along with your little diary…I’m sorry if I led you on that way.” He rubs the back of his neck.
What an asshole.
“What…what about kids?” I ask him, bracing myself for his answer.
“No.” He shakes his head, and I nod mine. “I’m sorry…do you…do you still want to be with me?” His voice is broken, but he tries to play it off by clearing his throat and shrugging. I see it. The preparing heartbreak forming behind these big, black eyes. But I don’t want his heart to break. I’m fine with mine cracking a little bit. I’ll live. But I never want the same to happen to him. Plus, I love him more than anything. So why would I leave him when he makes me so happy?
“Yes, of course, I do,” I say and break into a smile, wrapping my arms around him. He sighs in relief and pecks my arm. I smile wider.
“That’s amazing.” He smiles and smashes his lips into mine. I stiffen for a bit, kind of hurt he wouldn’t ask me if I wanted marriage or kids. Because I do. I really, really, really do. “I love you,” he whispers as he lays me back onto the bed and kisses my neck, softly gliding his hand up my thigh, bunching his shirt around my hips. I force on a smile and play with the ends of his hair.
“I love you too, Grey,” I say breathlessly, my throat constricting.
I want to stay in the moment and enjoy the way he strips me of my undergarments and enjoy the feeling of him inside me, thrusting into and out of me, licking and marking and kissing me…but I can’t. Because I can’t get his words out of my brain.
I don’t ever want to get married…I don’t ever want to get married…I don’t ever want to get married…I don’t ever want to get married…I don’t ever want to get married…
Can I really be with him without making that big commitment? I’ve always wanted to get married and have kids…but now there’s a chance that won’t happen. I know now that I don’t want anyone else but Grey. He is my other half now…but my other half doesn’t want anything true and permanent with me. And I can’t help but wonder: Is he worth giving up what I’ve always pictured for myself?
I know the answer to that: Yes.
And that just makes the sorrow rip through me ten times worse.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next morning, I slip out of Grey’s arms and hop into the shower. It’s six-thirty, meaning he’ll be out like a light for the next three hours. I got up this early because I have a doctor’s appointment before classes. As I shower, I am plagued with last night. Grey’s revelations about his lack of plans to get married or even have kids. It only bothered me because, well, I was raised with the idea that I was supposed to get married and settle down with a nice guy who bore charming smiles and worked at his respectable career. That isn’t Grey in the slightest, but he’s more than that. Better, even. And to know that I can’t have that…hurts.
I’m not saying I can’t can’t, because I can perfectly find a man who can give me what I want. Thing is, I wouldn’t love him. Or any cardigan-wearing boy my mother forces onto me. They aren’t what I want or need. They’d just be cardboard people with no way of making me feel the way Grey does. I don’t want that. I want him. All of him. Every dark, scorched part of him. I don’t care if he holds back from me, if we fight like dogs; I don’t even care if he makes me want to pull my hair out—all that matters is that he’s in my life.
But my love for him doesn’t erase the question burning through my mind: Can I truly give up what I wanted ever since I was little? I won’t be able to try on wedding dresses with my mother and grandmother—as much as I assume my mother will be critical over every dress. I wouldn’t care, because whatever I chose, he would see and probably cry, and I know I would too. I won’t be able to feel the first kick of my child in my stomach or celebrate his or her first birthday. I won’t be able to do any of that if I choose him. I would be choosing him over the plans I always believed would come true.
When I find my fingertips wrinkled like raisins, I turn off the faucet and get out. I’ve just been standing in there thinking for so long. I don’t want to think anymore. I need to distract myself or I will drive myself crazy. I take my pills and brush my teeth before attaching my hair dryer in an outlet. I try my hardest not to think and, with the loud dryer, I succeed.
Feeling something out of whack in my lower region after I’m done drying my hair, I rush into the bedroom, find him asleep, and rush back into the bathroom with a pad and a pair of underwear. My damn period’s started. And, of course, during the week I’ll be spending with Grey. You could not be any more of a burden!
Walking back into his bedroom, I almost have a heart attack. He’s on the bed reading from my notebook. I thought I packed that deep inside my duffel bag! He went through my stuff? Yet he gets angry when I so happen to pick up his phone. How hypocritical can he be?
“What are you doing?” I walk over to him.
He flicks his eyes over the marble notebook, and I freeze, standing on the bed on my knees, awaiting his reaction. It is silent for a long while; all I can hear clearly is my heart as it spins around my chest like a rotating coin. And I am just waiting to see which side he lands on.
“Dear Diary,” he reads, and I flush, my heart doing a double take. “I truly believe I have found the one. The one everyone is so desperate to find. I never expected to fall in love with this man, but once I had figured I did—I knew that, from then on, my life would never be the same—”
“I think that’s enough, don’t you?” I rip the notebook out of his hands and ignore his hearty laughs as I scramble off the bed and walk over to my duffel bag. I stuff the notebook inside.
“Oh, come on,” he teases. “Don’t be mad I found your chick journal. I actually fin
d it cute you write about your feelings.” I glance over my shoulder and roll my eyes at his posture; he’s on the bed, leaning on his elbows with his bare feet kicking back and forth in the air. “I never knew I was the one.” He gasps.
“I hate you,” I tell him with a smile tugging at my lips. I turn away from him but catch a glimpse of a smile from him.
“No, you don’t,” he gloats. “In fact, you love me. So much that you’ll let me paint even more kisses on your soft skin. There are loads more positions we haven’t tried yet, you know.” I look over my shoulder again and can’t help the laughter slipping out of my mouth.
He’s leaning on his elbows, on his side, waggling his eyebrows as he rubs the empty spot before him. It takes everything in me not to take him up on that suggestive offer of his or not stare at his hard-on through his thin boxers.
“We don’t need to do it every chance we get,” I tell him matter-of-factly as I step into a pair of jeans. He’s silent, so I face him and he’s biting his lip and pumping his eyebrows suggestively. I laugh and cover my chest. “Did you not hear me?”
“Yeah, but—” He cocks a questioning brow. “Why not?”
I roll my eyes at his greedy sex drive and clip on a plain black bra. “Because our relationship shouldn’t just be based on sex.” I pick out a baby-blue cashmere sweater and a pair of blue skinny jeans. I turn around and jump back in surprise. He’s standing in front of me, and he tips my head back and runs his rough thumb across my lips while he slides his tongue across his. Oh God. “Don’t do that,” I warn with a shaky voice.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Our relationship is not based on sex, princesa. I knew I loved you before I even touched you. That’s how I know it’s love, actually. I desired to kiss you, yes, but I also craved to see you, in the purest ways, even with your clothes on rather than off…though I can’t lie when I say I did imagine them cluttered around the room.”
Oh…that is so heart-melting. But what do I say to that?
“Same,” I croak like the fool I am.
He smiles, and those little dimples come out to play. “You are such a dork.” He leans down to kiss me, but I hold up my hand.
“I can’t do whatever is running through that perverted mind of yours,” I say, and he reluctantly lets go with a pout.
“You didn’t say that last night,” he retorts.
As I pull on the sweater, I say, mumbled through the fabric cocooning me, “That was last night. This is today. Two totally separate days.” When my head peeks through the hole, he’s leaning against his dresser, eyeing me with an intense gaze. I bite my lip and drag my hair out of the sweater. “It’s okay every other day, but not consecutively. Doesn’t Rico have mercy?” I tease him and gently tap his cheek. He grabs my wrist, and I laugh.
“No, actually, he doesn’t,” he says. “He’s taken a liking to you. You should feel very honored.”
I stifle a laugh and wrench my hand from him with a shrug. “Well, then that’s too bad. Plus, I couldn’t even if I wanted to…” I trail off and look away from him as I run a brush through my curls.
“Why—oh!” he exclaims and pins me with an arrogant smile. “Oh…you’re on your little lady trip to blood island down there, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” I whine, and he tickles me. “Stop it!” I jump away from him and point the hairbrush at him like I could actually hurt him with it. Ignoring it like I held nothing at all, he picks me up, and I squeal. I fall back onto the bed and hold in my breath as he pins my hands above my head.
“Aunt Flo’s hitting you pretty hard?” he jokes. I flush the brightest red possible. I love his humor, but not when it’s directed at me or my…menstruation.
“I have a doctor’s appointment—and you’re making me late,” I try to reason with him as I glance at the clock over my shoulder.
But he doesn’t care.
“Flo sure wasn’t late at all, I assume.” He raises his eyebrows with a goofy lips-closed smile.
“Grey,” I warn him, but for the life of me, I can’t hold back the tickled smile.
“I’ll stop if you stop,” he offers.
“You are so stupid,” I mumble and shake my head.
“Stupid in love with you,” he says seductively with a raspy voice. He leans down and nips teasingly at my collarbone. I snort in laughter and yank my hands from his grasp and cup his face. I lean up and bare my teeth at him playfully.
“I am on my period. Now please stop with the menstruation jokes.”
His lips conform into a smirk. “Got it,” he says, but not before cheekily adding, “I’ll leave you and your little bloody troopers alone.”
I push off of him, and he laughs irritatingly. I stand from the bed and walk over to the duffel bag. I put on socks and a pair of light gray Toms. I frown when I look at the clock on the nightstand. I’m going to be ten minutes late if I don’t leave now.
“Mind taking me to the doctor’s?” I ask as I turn around to find him already dressed.
“What doctor are you seeing?” he questions as he grabs his phone and follows me out of the room.
“The gynecologist.”
“You mean, like, the pussy doctor?”
We enter the elevator, and I chuckle with a nod and a shrug.
“Something like that.”
“Good. Get on birth control.”
I gasp and nudge him. “Demanding much?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Condoms keep me from feeling all of you,” he so shamelessly says.
I just roll my eyes at him and let out a sigh.
He nods and looks deep in thought before he glowers at me. “Is it…a male doctor?” The tightening of his jaw makes me bellow in laughter.
“Yes,” I answer him.
He snaps his head to me, and I raise a questioning brow. “How is that allowed? That shouldn’t be.”
“It’s his job, Grey.”
“Some job, he gets to touch pussies all day,” he scoffs, and I roll my eyes.
“It’s a routine thing. It’ll only last a couple of minutes. I promise, if he tries anything, I’ll call for you. All right?” I bargain with him, but he just scoffs again.
“Feeling you around down there isn’t him trying anything?”
“Grey…” I narrow my eyes, and he huffs.
“Fine, but don’t be surprised if I burst in and stick his head up another lady’s—”
“You can stop right there—I get it.” He smiles, and I laugh again, and when the elevator comes to a stop at the ground level, I grab his hand and drag him out. “Come on, Mr. Jealousy.”
***
“Grey, stop…if you don’t stop—” I slap his thigh, but he just laughs it off and continues to peck my neck. I would love his kisses if we weren’t in a busy waiting room. I’m no lover of PDA, so I’m sure these people are pretty disgusted by us right now. I’ve realized that he can be very childish when waiting. It’s like he’s the one seeing the doctor, not me. As much as I love him, he needs to stop.
“Olivia Westerfield?” A nurse standing at the door to the exam rooms calls my name, and I jump to my feet.
“I won’t be long,” I tell Grey as I make my way across the waiting room to the nurse.
“I’m right behind you,” he calls out.
I look over my shoulder and shake my head. “No, you aren’t. Stay here.”
“Remember the pills!” he shouts, and nearly everyone looks at me.
I cover my face, mortified. “Grey!”
His laughter is the last thing I hear before the wooden door is shut after I step through. He can be so…ugh! sometimes.
I enter the doctor’s office, and a nurse by the name of Shelley takes my weight and height. It lasts for about ten minutes before she brings me to the exam room. There, she questions me about meds, which I’m not taking, and why I’m here. After I answer all of her questions, she asks me to undress and sets out a gown for my regular check-up. She leaves, and I quickly get dressed in the thin gown.
“Hello, Ms. Westerfield,” the young doctor says with a charming smile and an outstretched hand. He is fairly attractive: golden waves of jelled hair, metallic gray eyes, and sharp bone structures. I am suddenly very relieved Grey didn’t insist on following me in here, because this guy’s looks alone and the fact that he’s about to go between my legs would push a button that unleashes a darker side of him.
“Hello, Dr. Jacobs.” I give him an equally warm smile. We curtly shake hands, and then I step back and rub my sweaty palms on my jeans.
“I see you’ve already changed,” he observes me with a nod. “Good. This’ll go quick and easy.”
I nod with a strained smile and take it. I walk into the bathroom and quickly change. I fold my clothes and place them on a rack for when the session is over. I come back into the room in the gown and a pair of socks. He’s writing something down, and I patiently wait, unsure of what to do. When he notices me, he stops and peers up at me through his glasses.
“Let’s start with some questions,” he says.
He asks a few basics, like about my family’s health, information about my periods, medical conditions, and many more. I’m hesitant to speak about everything, but I know I have to tell him. Plus his assuring and smooth voice really helps.
“Have you had sexual intercourse?” I think it’s his last question.
I crane my head down and pause before nodding. “Yes, why?”
“I need to know for the pelvic examination,” he explains.
Oh…okay, that’s the part I zone out.