He snorted, and the look on his face told me he was surprised by his own reaction. But then he just looked confused. It was stupid cute. “Really?”
“Well, I don’t know!”
“You’re the first person I’ve had sex with in at least a few years.”
“Get out,” I said, utterly skeptical.
“You have to understand something,” he began, scratching nervously at his stubble. “I don’t spend time with people. And I certainly don’t sleep over. Being with you”—he paused as he struggled with the words—“is the most interaction I’ve had with another person in a very long time. I don’t … I just don’t. I can’t.”
“That makes no sense,” I thought aloud and Grey laughed.
“I know.” His eyes looked sad. “When I slept here the other night, it was really unusual for me. Let’s just put it that way.”
I frowned. “Okay, so you’re a loner?”
His lips tilted in lazy amusement. “To put it mildly.”
“I find that hard to believe.” I narrowed my eyes.
His eyes danced as he held my gaze. “No, you don’t.”
“I do,” I said, unintentionally pouting. “I see more than you think.”
At that, he blanched and swallowed. Then, he moved me off his lap and stood. “Listen, I’m heading back to my hotel—”
“Why? I thought we were hanging out today? And doing, you know … stuff.” I sounded and felt needy. And I didn’t like that at all. Despite my previews, I couldn’t anticipate his reactions. And that was making me antsy.
He pulled me to my feet and held me at my waist. “I need a change of clothes at the very least.”
“I like you naked,” I blurted.
“That might be problematic if we leave the apartment.”
I shrugged and ended up snickering.
He grinned. “You know, you never did kiss me.”
“Do you want me to?” Hope bloomed in my stomach, and the discomfort of how I awoke dissolved in the sunlight.
“As if I could resist.”
As Grey was a head taller than me, I pushed up on my toes while grabbing his shoulders to steady myself. With one hand on his cheek, I swam in his deep blue eyes for a moment before pressing my lips to his. Chaste, soft, reverent.
I was warm again.
Chapter Twenty
Grey
Normal
Lucie forced some coffee on me before I left, though I managed to get out of partaking in the charred bagel she toasted for me. Something, or me being me, made her twitchy. I felt bad about falling asleep on the couch, but she said she understood. It was probably the worst idea to believe that.
I decided to walk back to the hotel. Movement always gave me space to think. Despite my doubts that I could make a go at an actual relationship, I had no illusions about Lucie’s pull on me. I should absolutely walk away, but the craziest part of this whole thing was that every fiber of my being did not want to, even though I wasn’t one hundred percent sure she didn’t have a screw loose.
I wanted this, her, everything she offered. I just didn’t know how to accept it. So I had to make some sort of move instead of waiting for her to give me directions. What would normal people do?
I passed a restaurant with a group of tables outside. One was occupied by a young couple, grinning and leaning toward each other like magnets.
Seems too simple.
After I got back to the hotel, I showered and changed. I pulled out my computer to check the results of some feelers I’d sent out on Reese, but nothing but a negative had come back. I could do some on-the-ground scouting. Or I could ask the bewitching redhead on my mind on a date.
It went against how I conducted my life in the past decade in every way, but part of me was delusional enough to think she was right. That we had some kind of future worth pursuing.
Re-securing my room, I went down to the lobby. I nabbed a high-back chair against the window and facing the room and sat down to call Lucie.
“Hello?” she answered, a trace of doubt to her tone.
“Hi, angel.”
“Grey!” Her doubt vanished but mine flared. “I was wondering when you’d call.”
“How are you?” I could feel her smile through the phone.
“Hmm, sunny with a chance of you,” she said with a snort.
I laughed. “Okay, so … listen.”
“I’m listening, Mr. Serious—should I sit down?”
“That’s up to you, smartass,” I said, surprised to enjoy the banter. “I had something to ask you.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, definitely intrigued. “Please proceed.”
“I was thinking. Maybe we…” I paused, feeling so damn inept I could have sworn I was fifteen again.
“Go on,” she urged. Her voice was sweet, excited even.
“Would you like me to take you on a date?” The question came out fast, premature ejaculation fast. That never happened to me before.
Her end of the phone remained silent for a beat, but I didn’t have time to sweat it.
Lucie giggled.
That was good, right?
“I don’t really know what that is,” she replied, still laughing.
“Me neither,” I said, joining her. It felt normal. Or what I guessed normal was. “I mean, in principle, I get it.”
“How about this,” she said, sounding a lot more confident than I felt. “We’ll go get coffee and a snack at my favorite café. It’s a few blocks from my apartment and I can meet you there?”
I tried to bite the smile off my lips from the inside, but it didn’t work. My toothy grin attracted the responding smile of a woman crossing through the room, who winked. I was so unused to being noticed, I nearly dropped the phone.
“Grey?”
I cleared my throat and turned toward the lobby’s main window. “I may not know a lot about what a date really is, but I think I’m supposed to pick you up.”
The girlish giggle was back. “If you insist.”
“Twenty minutes?” I asked, only partially concerned with the freakish flutter in my stomach.
“A girl needs time to primp,” she scoffed. “Give me two hours.”
“Uhh …”
“I’m totally kidding,” she said under a laugh. When she continued, her voice was soft but strong. “I’m ready now, so whenever you get here, I’m yours.”
Her insinuation was solemn and hit me like a truck to the face. I was both amused at her choice of words and preemptively guilty. A deep breath helped a bit, but a nagging feeling told me I wouldn’t be calm until I held her again.
Totally. Fucked.
“I’m on my way.”
~
When Lucie danced down her front steps and stopped in front of me, I was forced to take a moment. She was transcendent. This beautiful woman was giddy. To see me.
“Hi.” The word was plump with anticipation.
Nerves bunched together in my throat and made it hard to swallow. We’re just going for coffee, for fuck’s sake. I shook it off as best I could and said the first thing that popped into my head. “Oh, hi,” I said, finally.
Idiot.
I attempted to save myself. “You are gorgeous. Do you know that?”
As she bit her lips together I ducked in to kiss them. She grabbed me in a hug and jumped to wrap her legs around me. In a skirt. I laughed and held her. She hopped down and smoothed her skirt, grinning.
“Let’s go, handsome,” she said with a wink and linked her arm in mine.
As we walked the short distance, I caught myself checking around corners, watching shady spaces, listening behind us. When it was just me, I didn’t notice, but right now my senses were vigilant. Heightened paranoia was a shitty third wheel.
Lucie was, as far as I could tell, oblivious to my divided attention. She chattered about how she loved the neighborhood and how fascinating the history of it was. Then she mentioned how she wanted to meet more of her neighbors.
“Maybe the grouchy old lady
who swears like a sailor and doesn’t like anyone but me,” she said as I forced my full focus back to her. “I’ll make up stories about my life—completely insane, impossible stories, and she’ll claim she hates them but doesn’t.” She screwed up her face and strung a slew of filthy insults together.
I stopped and laughed, relieved to be distracted from myself. “Best friends forever, I’m sure.”
“Ooh!” She jumped up and down once. “Or a shut-in hermit who only opens the door on Thursdays at two forty-nine in the afternoon for me to deliver my homemade shortbread cookies.”
“You bake?”
“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright and gleeful.
I lifted my eyebrows as we approached the door to the café. “Well,” I said on an unintentionally forceful exhale. “Good luck with that.”
“Why do you say it like that?” she asked.
“Like what?” I opened the door and held it.
She dropped her arm from mine. “Like you won’t be here.”
I stared at her. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
She tossed me a half smile with uneven eyebrows and went inside. The barista up front greeted Lucie warmly, welcoming her back. As Lucie introduced me, I quickly scanned the place. Side hall to the back, emergency exit only. One kitchen entrance. Two separate customers at single tables.
We ordered a couple of coffees and Lucie picked out a chocolate croissant. She led me to a set of overstuffed chairs, where I steered her away from the chair facing front before she could sit down. She looked at me strangely but didn’t argue.
“I love this place,” she said before sipping her iced caramel latte.
I nodded. “It’s a great spot.”
“I came here my first day alone in the apartment, and right away I felt normal, if just for a second. You know? Like this is what I do on my off days; I sit with my coffee and read at the café. It was a nice feeling.”
“That’s really rare,” I said. “Finding a place that speaks to you where you belong. It’s a gift.”
A couple of teenagers came through the door, drawing my attention too easily. They spoke as if everyone wanted to know about the text so-and-so got from what’s his face. I watched them for a moment and scanned the rest of the café.
“Grey?”
I snapped my eyes back to her. “Yeah?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Sorry.” I frowned.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine.” I smiled, too forced. Her forehead creased, and I dropped it. I was really cocking it up on this whole date thing. “I’m sorry, I suck at this.”
Her eyes widened and she snickered. “It’s not like I have dates to compare it to,” she said. “Though I’m fairly certain I was not the prom queen.”
“What does that matter now? I’m still a shitty date.”
She dropped her head to one side and gave me a look. “We’ve been here twenty minutes, and we’re both on a dating-for-dummies level. How about we give ourselves a break?”
I picked up my cup. “If you say so, your majesty.”
Lucie’s laugh soothed the nerves I didn’t realize were fraying. Despite the low-key atmosphere, I was working overtime to relax. My instincts had me watching the door and checking behind me at regular intervals. My leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since we sat down.
She started asking about me, but I limited the answers to my premilitary days. I tried to think of a way to turn the inquisition to her, but given her lack of past, I clammed up. All my responses were short and clipped. Then she asked about where I lived now.
“I travel a lot.”
“Right, but where do you have all your stuff?” She licked her fingers when she finished the last bite of the croissant.
Storage lockers. Hiding places.
“Um, I don’t really keep a place?”
Again, the adorable confusion. “You’re homeless?”
I turned to watch a busboy go into the kitchen. “Not really,” I said, distracted. “I’m just moving all the time.”
“Why?”
Muscles contracted in my legs, tension knotting fibers together too tightly. I exhaled audibly. “Work.”
“Oh, okay, right. You said you were here for work,” she said, contrite. She sipped her coffee. “What is it you actually do?”
I froze. I wasn’t ready for the actual confession, but I didn’t want to lie to her. “I … freelance.”
“Doing what, though?”
My mind spun. “Uh, classified operations consulting.”
She stared at me blankly.
I smiled weakly. “Can’t really elaborate—part of the job.”
Douchebag.
“Okay.” She sounded frustrated, but thankfully changed the topic. “Well, tell me something else. What’s your favorite spot in New York?”
“Anywhere but.” The words were out before I heard them, my eyes on walkabout by the door and windows. It was silent too long, which brought my gaze back to her. Her face fell with disappointment. My stomach dropped into my feet.
She stood. “You know what? We can go.”
“Lucie—”
“I just need to freshen up first,” she said before hurrying down the side hall toward the bathrooms.
Brilliant fuckup. More like “Dating for Assholes” or “How Not to Do Everything.” I looked around to find the barista looking at me with something akin to disgust. Unsettled, I got up to follow Lucie and apologize. I couldn’t let our “date” end like this.
I knocked and pulled on the handle. It came open and Lucie gasped, staring at me in the mirror. One eye’s mascara was smeared down her cheek.
Fucking shit.
“Oh! You know,” she snapped over her shoulder, “what if I was peeing? I mean, give me a minute, huh?” She turned back toward the mirror and swiped under her eyes.
A quick glance around had me stupefied and slightly disturbed. I let the door close behind me as I stood mouth agape. “This bathroom is insanely clean. Like, crazy spotless clean.”
“Yeah, the owner is code-red OCD about it. It’s probably cleaner than the kitchen.”
I found her eyes in the mirror and was gutted by the hurt I saw there. I exhaled and it was loud, the full force of my screw-up kicking me in the gut.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, my voice pleading. “I don’t just suck at dates, I suck at being human.” This was the horrible goddamn truth.
She shook her head. “No, you don’t. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I promised you a date and I delivered the shittiest on record.”
Her smile was a relief, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I took a step toward her. “I know I was distracted, but it was no reflection on you, I promise.”
“Why are you so distracted?” She avoided making eye contact.
I swallowed. “Whenever I’m in public like this, I’m alone. Wanting to be with you in any way is new for me,” I tried to explain. “Socializing is not something I do.”
She didn’t respond.
Unnerved by silence, I added, “Not well, anyway. Not anymore.”
Finally, she nodded, still avoiding me. “I think my expectations are just too high. I see the good things to come, but don’t account for the imperfections.”
“Don’t make excuses for me,” I said.
“I’m sorry.”
“And let’s stop apologizing,” I begged, chuckling. “It’s getting a little too Oprah in here.”
“What’s Oprah?”
“I—” I tilted my head. “Seriously?”
Her open, guileless expression was the definition of beauty, and I didn’t know it at the time, but I fell even harder. And then I laughed harder than I’d laughed in a decade.
“What?” she asked, clueless but happier.
I walked up and pressed my chest to her back. My palms skimmed around her sides, rubbing back and forth over her belly. She pushed back into me, humming as she settled her hands on mine.
She makes me stupid.
“How can you be real?” I asked, kissing her temple.
“I asked myself the same question about you four or five million times,” she mumbled, cozy in my arms. “Then you showed up. Get over it.”
“I don’t think I ever will.”
“Then just enjoy it,” she said, her voice lower. She was feeling the same. My fingers tickled the skin beneath the hem of her shirt. “Please.”
I looked at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were half-lidded and her chest was rising quicker. My hand drifted lower, disappearing below the waistband of her skirt. The need for her crashed into me so hard, I forgot where we were. Maybe it was the crazy up and down of her highs followed by inevitable lows via my fuckups, but I didn’t care. Not right now.
She wove her fingers into my hair, fastening them to my head. I traced her neckline with my tongue and then my lips, stopping to suck on the skin at the bend. Her other hand gripped mine, her nails digging into my knuckles and dragging them into her silky briefs. I reached her wet sex and slipped a finger inside her. Lucie tugged on my hair.
“More.”
I added a second finger. Her voice cracked and bounced into a high-pitched cry. She writhed, creating friction and movement where I wasn’t giving it. I kissed my way up to her ear and planted my lips behind it once before sucking her earlobe in my mouth, hard.
Lucie panted, her hands tugging on my hair. I was painfully hard, my dick trying to carve its way through the confines of my jeans. Her whine climbed in volume, chasing her release. I felt a surge of pride, hunger. I wanted nothing more than to own everything about her, including her orgasms.
“Do you want to come on my fingers or with me inside you?” I growled into her ear as we locked eyes in the mirror.
She moaned, loud, and right then I realized I hadn’t even locked the door. Given the level of noise we were making, I doubted anyone would try to come in. Regardless, I wasn’t going to stop.
She pinched her eyes shut and begged, “Oh, God, Grey. Inside me. Please!”
I pushed her forward over the sink and pulled her hips back. Her hands gripped the sides of the basin, her knuckles white as her volume increased. I reached under her skirt and pulled her underwear. My fingers ripped through the fabric at the side, but I got them low enough.
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