I caught both of her wrists again, both of us wrestling, laughing, vying for the upper hand, until I rolled her on her back, leaned over her, and pinned both hands to the pillow above her head. I had expected her to surrender at that point and was surprised when she let her arms go slack. However, she’d fooled me into a false sense of security and changed her position.
Phoebe quickly reached up and pulled my neck toward her. She overstepped and bit it, sending unwelcomed shivers of delight through my body from my neck to my dick, making me instantly hard. When I looked down at her chest I noticed her nipples were hard and her breathing was ragged. My heart pounded with desire and lust, as my head fought for control over my weakening resolve. My conscience told me to back off, but I couldn’t. Not with the look she gave me, her huge, blue orbs staring up at me with take me written all over them.
Chapter 18
Refused ~ Phoebe
When Gray showed up like some hot knight in blue jeans, wearing my favorite brown leather jacket on him, my heart stuttered when I laid eyes on him. I hadn’t paid attention to the acts playing there and didn’t know CraVed were performing until Harry mentioned they were the second to last band playing on the same stage as they were. By then it was too late to do anything but face him.
Harry. Now he wasn’t just an asshole he was one and a half assholes. The first time I met him he had treated me like a princess. It was the reason I’d had no reservations when he’d invited me to the gig with him. But as soon as I stepped off the helicopter it was like someone flicked a switch and he became this pompous, entitled ass.
When Harry groped me in front of Gray, I was horrified, but I put on a front. After the way Gray had thrown me over in favor of Hettie, I figured what Harry did would infuriate him; and I was right.
In truth, I knew almost as soon as I’d arrived at the gig, I’d made a huge mistake going with Harry. When I saw Gray, I had been planning my exit. I just hadn’t figured out how to leave. There was no way I’d have asked Gray for his help, I didn’t want to lose face with him.
I never imagined how relieved I would feel that he cared enough to intervene to get me out of there, until he had. Glastonbury festival was in the middle of nowhere and with no transportation or access to anything without tickets. My escape felt impossible.
What I hadn’t expected was for Gray to treat me with kid gloves, and I was even more surprised to find myself back in his apartment. If someone had told me I’d end that day sitting in his apartment eating toast, wearing his threads, and sleeping in his bed, I’d have called a mental health team to come and get them. When I had gotten out of bed that morning Gray hadn’t even been on my radar at all.
But I was there. In his bed. Staring up into those sexy, amber eyes, that looked as intense as the whole situation between us felt. His firm grip on my wrists flooded me with warmth and reminded me of happier times. Sexy, sensual times when he’d pinned my wrists to the bed as he pushed his way inside me. The memory made the skin around my nipples contract hard.
My breath hitched as I struggled to find rhythm, and panted in huge ragged breaths, breathless from our playful tussle as I tried to anticipate which way Gray would go. He looked like a guy on the fence, a fence between bliss and horror. My instincts told me he wanted to deny himself. But my silent thought deafened me as I screamed for him not to resist.
We were in that space and time; the one where everything around us was suspended until a decision was made between one of us which brought us either pleasure or pain. Seconds later, Gray dropped his forehead to rest it against mine.
It was an intimate gesture he’d used many times before, and was usually accompanied by the delicious burn of his hard cock as it stretched my muscles inside. His body language felt strained, his arms stretched to full length and locked; they vibrated with his effort to restrain himself against what his body wanted. I could tell the last thing he wanted was to have found himself in that position.
I rolled my head back into the pillow, raising my chin and brought my mouth so close to his that his breath became the air that I breathed. “Please kiss me,” I begged, my voice quiet; just short of a whisper.
Eying me carefully, he did nothing for a moment then shook his head while it remained rested against my forehead. With a tortured expression he slid it down my face and buried it into my neck. “Not unless I can make it mean something.”
“I don’t understand.”
Staring intensely, I watched him struggle for words. This wasn’t the Gray I knew. It was only a kiss, and his frustrated, harsh rejection brought tears to my eyes. I swallowed back the lump that had crept up into my throat. He had never refused me before and it stung to think we had lost the ease we used to have around each other. I had never wanted him to reject me physically—ever.
“Don’t,” he said in a hoarse, frustrated tone as he released my wrists. “Pheebs, I don’t want to use you. I’m not going to do that to you.”
I brought my arms down and held him firmly by the waist preventing him from pulling away. “Please, Gray,” I pleaded since I felt he’d wanted the same thing. I’d never seen Gray look at me the way he was at that moment and it made my heart race faster. There was an internal struggle going on within him, something I had never seen before, and I wondered for a split second if he felt something for me.
What made it worse was he already knew how I felt about him; he knew I loved him. The attraction between us the first time we met had been instant lust, but he was with Lizzie, and Caleb was the reason I met Gray in the first place. When Lizzie got sick, I saw he needed someone to talk to, and pretty quickly we were hanging out all the time. Caleb was a one night stand as far as I was concerned. He wasn’t someone I was interested in after our initial ‘date night’, and I’d only agreed to go with him because Dana begged me.
However, what had started as a friendship between Gray and me progressed to our friends with benefits affair after Lizzie passed. We were both drunk the night when it happened, and I expected Gray to smile and brush me off afterward; that’s when I found out he had more class than that when it came to me.
Gray had kept me around and I had enjoyed my time with him. My feelings deepened quickly but I hid them well. It wasn’t like I had cultivated him or anything, manipulation is not my style. I had always felt the moment he became aware I felt more, he’d ditch me. Which was exactly what had happened.
The hesitancy in Gray’s look turned to desire and I thought he was going to kiss me, but he suddenly pulled away and rolled onto his side with his back to me. Throwing the covers back, he stepped onto the floor and I watched his glorious, muscular back and bare ass disappear into the bathroom.
I lay on my back and covered my eyes with my arm. I took a deep breath even though my lungs felt crushed in my chest and exhaled shakily. I cussed quietly for letting myself down. My instincts the night before were to part ways before I got drawn back to the pull I had struggled to detach myself from. I’d lost that particular battle when he’d looked at me with concern as he helped me into the helicopter.
I had a feeling one day I’d be in the same position with him again, and I had only half-heartedly tried to leave when we’d landed in London after the festival. I wasn’t strong enough to step away because I thought if I had I may never have seen him again. Therefore, instead of driving the wedge further between us, I did what my heart wanted and wiped out the past year where I’d missed every day with him, just to spend one night in his bed again.
Only one person had known my true feelings about Gray, Brody. I fell slightly in love with Gray from afar. It happened the first week I’d met him. I’d never been so attracted to a man in my life the way I was to him. In no time at all, I fell in love with all of him. Not just his looks but his compassion. Despite being an alpha rock star with an adoring following, he was humble. I fell for him for how he’d taken care of Lizzie in the hospital during those last two days of her life; watching him wash her, and his tirele
ss attention to her, in an effort to make her comfortable. I’d been there with him, as a friend…watching his pain while he comforted her.
A few weeks after Lizzie had died, Brody was at a loose end and turned up at Gray’s home. Gray had gone to pick up Lizzie’s ashes to scatter. I had offered to go with him but he had preferred to do it alone. Brody took the opportunity to warn me that Gray wasn’t a long-term prospect. That Lizzie had been the longest girl he’d ever had around. And I knew what he told me wasn’t anything I hadn’t worked out for myself already.
I appreciated Brody’s frank and open opinion, but when he’d mentioned he was debating whether to talk to Gray about me, I was terrified he would go through with it. If he did, I knew in my heart Gray would end it and I wasn’t ready to let him go. Brody was worried I’d get hurt, but his warning was much too late; I was already in over my head with Gray. I should have known at that point my days with Gray were officially numbered.
Gray snapped me out of my thoughts when he wandered back into the room with a towel slung low on his hips, his beautiful body half hidden because I had made him self-conscious. He’d never done that with me before. His eyes flitted in my direction, a dark scowl on his face as he walked purposefully to his closet. Pulling out an old pair of jeans from his shelf, I immediately noted they were my favorite ones he used to wear all the time when I was with him.
Rolling away from him, I dragged myself out of bed and, feeling embarrassed I made my way to the bedroom door. I had no idea what I was going to do other than put on the sweats and T-shirt he’d given me the night before. A fresh set of tears sprang into my eyes, I was not normally a needy person, but I wasn’t in control when it came to Gray.
I’m not sure how long I spent in his spare room, but I had managed to pull on the clothes from the night before then slipped back into the bed under the much thinner duvet. I cradled my knees to my chest in my arms and let the tears flow. A while later, I had stopped crying and I heard him leave his room for the kitchen. Minutes later I heard the faint noise of the electric kettle, the pressure building as the water came to the boil.
The smell of fresh toast wafted down the hall and despite my upset, my belly growled in protest. Embarrassed at practically begging him to kiss me, I stayed in the room not wanting to face what I knew was likely to be another rejection.
Gray was officially on my shit list. He had been the one insistent on me being here. He must at least have known the risk he took inviting me back because he knew how I felt about him.
A few minutes later, I sat up and stared at the open brick wall decorated with small, wooden block frames containing shiny scaled models of his favorite guitars within. I had been around bands enough to identify some, including his Gibson, Fender Stratocaster, Ibanez Radius, and Epiphone Supernova models. Those were at the center of the pieces like they took pride of place up there. Concentrating on those distracted me enough to reduce the immediate emotional anxiety I felt.
Minutes later I heard his wooden floorboards creak as footsteps came closer to my room. A soft knock wasn’t followed by him entering as I had expected so I called out, “Yeah?”
“Got some scrambled eggs and toast ready if you want to come and eat,” he said in a flat, apologetic tone. I waited to see if he’d say anything else, but after a moment’s hesitancy I heard him walk away. I wanted to scream.
Resigned to the fact I was only delaying the inevitable, I plucked up enough courage to leave the room, face Gray, and whatever came my way. Cracking open the bedroom door I could hear him talking from all the way down the hall. “Yeah, I brought her back here. No, I didn’t fuck her, Brody,” he said in a low frustrated tone.
My breath hitched when I heard I was the topic of conversation. I waited, eavesdropping to hear anything else I may learn about his feelings. My heart pounded in anticipation of finding a small glimmer of hope.
“I know…what do you take me for? All I wanted was to make sure she was safe. It was you that told me to go after her so don’t go busting my balls, man. I know how she feels. I woke up with her in my bed. You know how hard it was not to get inside her? Don’t fucking lecture me.”
When I changed position, the floor creaked and I almost died at the thought he’d know I’d been listening to his conversation.
“Gotta go, she’s coming,” he said. I made more noise walking toward the kitchen than necessary to let him know I was on my way and found him dishing out the scrambled eggs he’d made. A copious amount of toast was piled high on a plate in the middle of the table. When I saw two steaming hot cups of coffee still on the counter near the stove I moved straight for them. I was desperate to make things feel natural between us as I placed them beside each plate setting.
Gray looked up from the plate to me. He looked a little uncomfortable. He smirked and looked a little shy. It wasn’t a normal look on him.
Gesturing with his head at the plate, he nodded, “Now you know the full extent of my cooking abilities,” he said, and turned to place the egg pan back on the hot plate. Pulling out a chair he sat next to me and picked up his fork. Another awkward silence passed between us as I studied him stabbing at the scrambled eggs, shifting them around on his plate.
“Sorry about this morning, Pheebs,” he said in a soft, sad tone.
“Don’t. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have—”
Glancing up from his eggs he shook his head, looking me square in the eyes.
“No, you shouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to…you know? I’m done taking liberties with you. You deserve better. Better than me.”
It was my turn to poke my eggs around, unsure of what to say, how to behave, or if I was even supposed to respond at all. I picked up some toast and bit into it. “Mmm, delicious,” I groaned, licking the butter off my lips. A small trickle ran from the crust onto my index finger and in an unintended, provocative gesture I caught it on the tip of my tongue, licked it off then sucked my finger clean. Gray’s eyelids became heavy with lust, his pupils blown wide by what I’d done.
“Fuck, Pheebs,” he muttered, as his eyes focused on my lips and I realized my genuine appreciation of the warm bread had sounded erotic.
“I’m only eating, Gray. I wasn’t trying to attract your attention,” I said quickly. It wasn’t my intention to lead him on.
“I know…but still…” He protested and shifted in his seat. At that point in the conversation I felt I should go. We were behaving like strangers, too afraid to talk to one another, and we had nothing left to say to each other.
Chapter 19
Leaving ~ Phoebe
“I should get dressed,” I said, dropping my fork slowly to the plate. Pushing back the chair, I stood and carried my plate over to the dishwasher. “Is my outfit dry?” I expected Gray to say something like there’s no hurry, finish your food and the coffee you haven’t touched, but Gray didn’t respond with any of that.
“Sure, I took it out of the drier this morning. I hope it isn’t something that shrinks, I only know one program on the washer/dryer,” he said with a smile. It felt like the first real smile that day, one that wasn’t loaded with anything but truth.
“Thank you,” I replied and gave him a small smile in return. Reaching his utility room where the washer was, I took a deep breath, swallowing past the lump that had formed in my throat, the one warning me my tears were close behind it. I was determined not to cry. I told myself to concentrate on dressing, and getting the fuck out of his apartment. I even tried to fool myself that once I was in a cab I’d be able to put the previous twenty-four hours behind me.
Grabbing my outfit from the drier, I put it on there and then, pushed his clothes I’d been wearing into the machine and started the cycle. When I went back into the kitchen, Gray looked up from the coffee cup he was nursing and pushed his chair back.
“Okay, looks like I’m all set,” I informed him, and tried to keep my voice light. I turned into the hall to pick up my oversized bag wi
thout waiting for him to respond. I pulled my sweater over the flimsy outfit I’d been wearing to the gig and I was ready.
“Where will you go?”
My eyes flicked from the zipper on my bag to look at his face. “Does it matter?”
Gray inhaled deeply and heaved out a frustrated breath. “Sure, it does.”
“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. My sister’s place probably.” I looked at the ceiling, past his shoulder, and eventually at him. “Thanks for helping me yesterday, I appreciate it.” I faced away from him to turn the lock but I couldn’t open the door with one hand. Gray reached past me, his fingers landing over mine while his other hand reached out for the second lock which had to be turned with the one I was holding.
His warm, bare shoulder brushed against my cheek, our faces close because of what he was doing. A strained look passed between us as our bodies and eyes connected. It forced me to turn back and look at the lock again. When I heard a click as the lock became undone, I looked back to find his eyes were fixed on my face. I held my breath as he slowly glanced at my lips, noting his hesitation when he looked at my mouth, and a second later he met my gaze. His dark, serious expression looked pained.
“You should go, Pheebs,” he mumbled softly, his hoarse voice laced with regret. The sad tone in it made me stop. I had started to turn away but glanced back at him over my shoulder. Once again, I held his gaze longer than I would normally have. My heartbeat thumped as I thought this is it. The end. But even then, I willed him to take his next move. If I had thought with absolute certainty he wasn’t interested I’d have left at that very instant, but I had seen the evident longing in his eyes, and that made me wait it out.
Another uncomfortable pause made the air heavy between us. Inside I screamed silently for him to act, but when he moved I saw the turmoil as he struggled with his feelings; it was as if he was frustrated with what was going on inside his head. His hands balled into fists like it was his only defense not to touch me.
Notes On Love Page 18