by S. R. Watson
“You wanted to talk, so talk,” I say with more bravado than I feel. I hope the slight tremble in my knees doesn’t give me away. He backs off reluctantly and heads to the sofa.
“I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your text the other night. I was questioning if I wanted to get involved with you since our situation is so delicate. I wasn’t sure I should get involved with someone who would be reckless and possibly out us.” He lets out a deep breath. “I want to give our arrangement a chance. You’re on my mind constantly and now that I’ve had a taste of you ... literally, I want more.” His eyes darken with lust and I can clearly see the path his thoughts have taken.
I can see his point and he had a right to be concerned. What if my drunken recklessness had exposed us? Still he has more explaining to do. “What about Vanessa? As long as we are seeing each other, I won’t share you.”
“I didn’t run back to Vanessa if that is what you think. She’s a friend and needed a place to stay.”
“Are you kidding me? She just bought a million dollar condo. She didn’t need a place to stay. I’m quite sure she could have afforded a hotel room until she closed on her place.”
“I agree, but she wanted to stay with me and I let her only because she’s a friend. I’m hardly there anyway; I have another home outside the city limits. I stay at the penthouse when I have classes to teach since it’s closer to the university.”
“So there’s nothing going on between you and Vanessa? She is your ex and I would have to be naive to not think the temptation isn’t there—especially since she came to the door wearing a T-shirt and panties.”
“It’s complicated. I can see how it may look, but I promise I’m not sleeping with her. She sleeps in the guest bedroom. I don’t share my bed, remember?” He sees my scowl and revises his statement for clarification. “I’m not having sex with her. If it will make you feel any better, I’ll stay at my other home while she’s at the penthouse. Besides, I’ll be with you every weekend at our place.” He smiles.
I’m reluctant, but I want to give this arrangement a chance too. “So when do we start this arrangement?” I have my doubts, but I’ll let this play out for now.
“Oh, thank God,” he admonishes. A smile creeps upon his beautiful lips. He breathes a sigh of relief as he grabs my hand. “Let’s plan for this Friday. I’ll send a driver to pick you up.”
“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say. I hope I made the right decision. I hope that I’m not setting myself up for more heartache.
Without warning, Grayson pulls me into a kiss so passionate I feel like the ground is falling away under my feet. He releases my lips with a final peck to my cheek before heading out the door. I think my heart is in trouble. It’s hard to say no to him—to stay upset with him. I crave his touch and his approving smile. I’m afraid that he’ll sneak past my defenses and make me fall for him.
JORDAN IS DUE back today and I’m glad. I miss her like crazy, not to mention she’s the cook for us. Funny how ironic that is, since she’s the one who grew up with cooks, nannies, and housekeepers. Yet I’m the one that has the homemaker skills of a gnat. I’m restless so I spend the day alternating between studying and fantasizing about Grayson. The time finally comes to pick Jordan up from the airport.
“Shivy,” she squeals upon seeing me. You would think that we haven’t seen each other in months rather than a mere weekend.
“My stomach misses you, roomie,” I chortle.
“Only your stomach?”
“Okay. I miss you too.”
“So did Grayson finally call?”
I tell her about the entire weekend including finding out Vanessa was living with him. “He says they’re not together and they’re not having sex.”
Jordan arches her eyebrow in my direction. “Be careful. I bet she wants him back. She didn’t have to stay at his place. She has a motive.”
“I agree. At least he has another home. He said he wouldn’t stay at the penthouse until she left.” Jordan still looks unsure but lets it go. She smiles when she sees I have chosen to pick her up in her baby. “You want to drive?”
“No. I know you like driving Ivory whenever you get the chance.” Only Jordan would name her car Ivory. We get in after she puts her luggage in the trunk and I put the top down.
AS I WALK into class, I am surprised to find Liam sitting in the chair next to where I usually sit. The same as the first day of class. I’m tempted to find somewhere else to sit to avoid the awkwardness, but I decide against it. This is the start of us being civil toward each other. I glance to the back of the room and find Heather sitting with Melissa. The dark circles and puffiness under her eyes hints that she isn’t in agreement with Liam’s seating arrangement. One word. Karma. I take a seat and begin pulling out my laptop to take notes.
“Hey.” That’s the only greeting he offers. He rubs the front of his jeans to rid the sweat from his palms.
“Hey,” I reply. So much for this not being awkward. Conversation was much easier with alcohol on board. Luckily we’re both saved from the forced conversation when Grayson comes in and begins the lecture. His eyes lock with mine briefly and in their depth is hardness. He turns to face the whiteboard to write the page numbers for today’s lesson and when he faces forward again, the look is gone. He proceeds with the lecture without another glance my way. When class ends, I purposefully take my time putting my things away for two reasons. One: to avoid leaving with Liam and two: for an opportunity to speak with Grayson. I want to explain there’s nothing going on between Liam and me. Once the room clears, I head to his desk where he’s gathering his things.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. He stiffens at my question.
“I don’t know. You tell me.” His glacial stare is cold, enough to cut me to the core. He looks around the room to ensure we’re alone before continuing. “Are you back with Liam?”
“No. He apologized Saturday for how he ended things and just wants us to be friends.” I leave out the fact that he wants me back and said he was going to work to earn my trust again.
“What do you want?”
“Look, Professor Michaels ... ”
He cuts me off. “Grayson.”
“What?”
“If we are going to be fucking then I think you should leave out the professor bit. It’s weird,” he explains. “Except during class or in the presence of other students.”
He is so crass. “Okay, Grayson, I don’t want Liam back. He and I can never be more than friends. I’m moving on.”
“Hmm. Does he know that?” The coldness of his stare has melted and in its place is unadulterated heat.
“I told him as much.” I swallow. His boring stare is igniting a fire down below.
A cocky grin emerges as he quirks an eyebrow at me. “You are wet for me,” he accuses. It is not a question.
“What? No,” I lie.
“You must never lie to me, Siobhan. I can smell your desire.” He inches closer so his breath caresses my ear. “If I were to put my hand inside your panties right now, I would find them soaked for me.”
A gasp slips my lips. “I ... I ... ” I stutter. I’m speechless.
“I think you better go,” he offers. “Before I’m tempted to take you right here and we both get caught.”
“Right.” I rush out the door, but I can hear him chuckling behind me. I’m so turned on right now and he knows it. I don’t understand how he can turn me on with a look. His close proximity and lethal good looks is enough to turn me into a stuttering idiot apparently. I will be the epitome of cool next time. Yeah right.
When I get home, Jordan is preparing lasagna. I tell her about Liam sitting next to me in class and Grayson’s reaction.
“To hell with that asshat. He had his chance. I wouldn’t even be his friend.” To say that Jordan is still bitter toward Liam would be an understatement.
“We’re miles away from being buddy-buddy and hanging out. I accepted his apology, but I’m still moving on.”
“I have a few cute bra and panty sets. You forget who my best friend slash roommate is? Queen of fashion extraordinaire,” I joke.
“I’m not talking about the stuff Liam has had the pleasure to see you in. I’m talking racy, make-him-drop-to-his-knees-in-lust lingerie. Lingerie that is for his eyes only.” Jordan gives me her signature mischievous smile that she uses when she is about to try and convince me of something. “I’m thinking Agent Provocateur.”
“I am not spending that much on lingerie,” I squeal. “It’s not going to stay on that long anyway.”
“I was planning to go there on Thursday to pick up something sexy for Trevor this weekend.” She blushes. “I think we’re going to finally have sex and I want the night to be special. Come with me. You may even find something that’s not outrageously priced.”
“So you two haven’t had sex yet? I guess I just assumed you did since you have stayed the night with him twice.”
“I didn’t want to come off as too easy. We just kissed and fooled around a little.” She arches her eyebrow at me. “Besides, you know I would’ve been dying to share the details. I wouldn’t hold out on you. Now just promise me, you’ll think about getting something too.”
I save most of the money my mom sends me and rarely splurge. I guess if I were planning to, this would be the occasion. “We’ll see. I can’t promise you that I’ll buy anything, but I’ll go with you.” Jordan’s face lights up at the prospect. “Besides, I want to help you pick something amazing for Trevor.”
WE ARE WALKING around Agent Provocateur and I’m sure my face is aflame. Some of the garments leave nothing to the imagination. I never knew scraps of material could cost so much. I let a baby-doll nightgown’s satin silkiness run through my fingers. The quality is luxurious. I pull out the price tag that has managed to slip inside the garment and almost choke on the obsceneness.
“What is wrong with you?” Jordan asks while peering over my shoulder.
I hold out the baby-doll dress to her in sheer disbelief. “This is almost six hundred dollars.”
“It is handcrafted French ... ”
“Jordan, I don’t care. It’s too much and I’m not going to put a dent in my savings for a guy that probably won’t even appreciate the French whatever you call it,” I huff. “He just wants to have sex.”
“Fine. Let’s get out of here.” Her words are clipped and her tone is gruff. She doesn’t look my way as she heads toward the front entrance.
“I can’t believe you’re upset that I can’t afford to spend that kind of money on a damn nightgown. I’m not you, Jordan. Six hundred dollars is a drop in the bucket for you from a never-ending supply source.” A tear slips down my cheek. I hate fighting with my best friend. “Consider the number of hours my mom had to work to make that amount of money. Maybe you should just stick to shopping with Bailey and your other rich friends.” I pick up my pace before the dam of tears stinging my eyes breaks.
“Oh God, Shiv. I am such an ass,” she cries. “Please forgive me. That was insensitive of me. I only got upset because I like for you to have nice things and you refuse to let me help you pay for it.”
“I’m not a charity case and I don’t want any handouts.” Jordan and I rarely fight, but when we do, it’s because of this. She wants me to accept her giving me things I can’t afford. She doesn’t understand my constant refusal.
“I know and I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t be mad me,” she sniffles. “I may hang with Bailey and the other girls occasionally, but you’re my best friend. Don’t ever think otherwise. You know money doesn’t define our friendship. I just like sharing with you. It’s what friends do. I respect your feelings and I’ll try harder in the future not to cross that line.”
I stop and hug her to let her know she’s forgiven. “Come on. Let’s find a Victoria’s Secret around here.”
She gives me a huge enigmatic smile and, just like that, we’re okay again.
I PULL UP to the Four Seasons and a lump forms in my throat. I’m really going through with this. Grayson changed the hotel we would stay at for the ease of my commute since I changed my mind and insisted on driving myself. Having to valet my crappy car again gives me reason to reconsider his offer for a car service. I send him a text to let him know that I’m here and he instructs me to stop by the concierge desk and give them my name. There I find an envelope with my name on it. Enclosed is a room key card to his presidential suite east located on the sixteenth floor. When I arrive he’s waiting in the black marbled foyer. He lightly presses his hand to my lower back, ushering me toward the balcony. The living area is contemporary with modern furnishings that complement the space well. My eyes are drawn to the baby grand piano that separates the dining area and the cozy living room. There are two balconies that extend from these areas and I can’t wait to take in the view. Stepping out onto the living room balcony, my breath hitches at the scene before me.
The skyline is enchanting. There are actually six balconies in total extending from various rooms, each showcasing views of Beverly Hills and Bel Air. The sunset’s orange glow acts as the backdrop for the city at my feet. Grayson watches me with a devious grin as I partake in a visual indulgence.
“I take it you approve,” he says teasingly.
“Grayson, this place is beyond gorgeous, but do we need this much space?”
He lets his hand slide down the length of my tresses before giving it a slight yank, exposing my neck. I’m glad I chose to wear it down. “I plan to have you in every square inch of this place. I’m tempted to start with this bistro table,” he growls. “However, I guess the proper thing to do is let you eat before I ravish your body. Are you hungry?”
I’m too nervous to eat. How in the heck am I supposed to eat after a statement like that? But I need to stall. “Sure. I could eat.”
On the table is a bottle of white wine chilling on ice and two glasses. He pours us each a glass and hands one to me. “I’ll grab a menu from Culina. The wine will help you relax.”
I take a seat and sip on my wine. My knees bounce in anticipation of our night to come. I am so out of my league with this man. The comments Melissa made at the restaurant replay in my mind and I begin to doubt if I can please such an alpha male if I fell so short with Liam. I take a gulp of my wine in an effort to welcome my alter ego to join the party. The crisp taste is refreshing, balancing fruity and tart in exquisite deliciousness.
Grayson reappears with a menu and refills my glass. “I’m glad to see you like the wine choice.”
“I am not a wine connoisseur, but this is amazing. What’s the name of it?” I take another sip, slowly this time. I don’t want to get too tipsy.
“It is a 2008 Domaine de la Romanee Conti Montrachet. It’s one of my favorite French wines. There is a wine storage here that holds seventy bottles. I have stocked it with a few different reds and whites that you may want to try later.”
I don’t know why I even bother inquiring about the name. I’m sure I couldn’t afford to buy a bottle on my own. He hands me the menu and I see that Culina’s is Italian, my favorite. “What would you recommend?”
“This is my first time staying here so I’ve never tried anything from Culina’s. I have, however, had Branzino before at another Italian restaurant so that’s what I’m going with.”
Looking at the menu, I see that Branzino is Mediterranean sea bass with tomatoes, capers, and lemon. “Well then, I’ll have the same.”
While he’s away ordering our dinner, I finish the rest of my wine. I give myself a mental pep talk that I can do this. It is time that he becomes my reality, not just a fantasy. I can finally get a taste of this sex god and everything he has to offer. My nervousness begins to fade somewhat and I’m looking forward to what the night holds. I’m pulled from my reverie when Grayson steps onto the ba
lcony with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Come,” he says simply before heading back into the living area. I follow him and find that he has taken a seat on the sofa with a remote in his hand. I attempt to sit next to him, but he puts out his hand to guide me to stand in front of him instead.
“What are you doing?” I ask. He clicks the remote and sound floods the room. Bass and seductive lyrics fill the air. “What is this?”
“It’s a song by Jeremih – Shlohmo Remix, Fuck You All The Time. Now strip.” He smiles. His music choice surprises me. I don’t take him for a rap type of guy.
“W-w-what?” I stutter. He wants me to give him a strip tease. I don’t have that much wine in my system.
“You heard me. Surely you can appreciate the symbolism. I want you to strip and bare yourself to me. Strip away all your inhibitions because tonight there will be no room for shyness. Give it to me. Give me your fear.” He quirks an eyebrow at me and uses his finger to make a twirling motion to instruct me to turn around. “Now strip.”
I hesitate only a second before turning my back to him. I can do this. I’m not the sexually inept woman that Liam made me out to be. I can be sexy and daring. Slowly I let my hips sway to the beat as the female voice sings about sex.
I CAN FEEL Grayson’s eyes on my butt so I unbutton my jeans and ease them halfway down my hips. I hear his breath hitch, fueling my confidence. I slip my heels off so I can peel my jeans down in the most seductive way possible. I turn to face him before pulling my tank over my head. I’m left standing in my lacy black bra and thong that I purchased from Victoria’s Secret yesterday. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable. I straddle his muscular thighs and begin undoing the buttons on his shirt. He helps me by completely removing it. God, his bare chest is amazing. I leave the tie and begin working on his slacks. He is looking up at me with unadulterated lust, but when he uses his ivy hat to conceal what my striptease is doing to him, it turns me on. He’s hiding his eyes now, but I know he’s just as aroused as I am. I manage to loosen his belt and get the button undone before he stops me. He palms my butt and I feel his hardness pressing against me. I begin a slow grind against his manhood and I’m rewarded with a hiss. He unfastens my bra and I immediately cup my breasts as the straps slides down my arms.