by Sara Ney
She runs a hand down a front pleat and sighs. “Well, I’m hoping to get a few good pictures taken so I can snap them to Mason. Who is, by the way, totally pissed off at Cal for bailing on their game. Or match. Or whatever they call it.”
“What’s he been saying?”
Melody smoothes a hand over her sleek chignon. “That Cal is pussy whipped.”
I try to hide a smile behind my long braid, but the dark plum lipstick gives away my pleased smirk.
“I see that smile, Greyson Keller! Brat.” She lets out a wistful sigh. “It’s so romantic. He’s going to end up on the bench, but Mason says he doesn’t even give a shit.”
My eyes widen, riveted.
“Yup. Benched. For three games or something like that.”
“What else did this endless wealth of knowledge tell you?”
“That he’s making a huge sacrifice for someone who hasn’t even, uh…”
“Hasn’t even… what?”
“You’re seriously going to make me say it?”
“I don’t even know what it is!” I laugh.
“Ugh, fine. He said that Cal is making a huge sacrifice for a guy who hasn’t even fucked you yet and doesn’t even know if the pussy is worth the price tag.”
“What?” I’m convinced my eyes bug out of my head. “He said that to you? What a pig!”
Melody blushes. “Yeah, it was harsh, but all his teammates are seriously pissed. It’s blowing up on him; I mean, he’s their Captain. Plus Cal didn’t tell the guys until after he’d told their coach—who, by the way, was furious. That being said, I’m glad.”
Melody walks over and grabs one of my nude colored high heels out of the shoebox, unbuckles it, and squats down so I can slide my foot in. She glances up as she fits the leather ankle strap through the gold clasp. “For the record, it’s about time you found a guy with balls big enough to go after what he wants. He basically gave his entire team the proverbial middle finger so he could be with you tonight.”
I get warm and tingly all over.
“Anyway, I wish I could be here when he picks you up, but I better skedaddle if I’m going to get the shit done on that list you made me so you could meet Cal here instead of at the hotel. You owe me big time for this, you know. Oh, shoot, I almost forgot. Hand me your overnight bag. I’ll take it now so you don’t look awkward hauling it out in your fancy dress. Not classy.”
“Not classy,” I agree, and I wheel the small lavender carry-on suitcase over to the door.
She grabs it, leans to peck me on the cheek, and starts back towards the door. I call her back. “Hey, Mel?”
Turning, she regards me. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Cal: Just about to leave. I’ll see you in an hour. Sooner if I push the gas.
Grey: Don’t do that! Be safe. Two hands on the wheel. Melody and Jemma are picking up my slack, so there’s no rush.
Cal: Alright. Be there in an hour.
Grey: I can’t wait to see you.
Cal: Me either.
Calvin
I pull at my necktie as I take the steps to Grey’s front door, tugging it back and forth to tighten the knot I’d loosened on the way over so I could breathe.
It’s a white silk tie with white embroidered flowers, a tie my sister picked out when I told her what I was doing, and who I was doing it with. It’s also the color of Greyson’s dress.
Maybe the guys are right; I am fucking pussy whipped.
But I swear, when Grey finally opens that door, I don’t give one shit what anyone says. They can bench me or filet me alive or kick me off the team, for all the fucks I care.
Because Greyson is stunning.
And the look she’s giving me right now has me standing twenty feet tall.
Greyson
For a moment, we just stare at one another.
It’s me who moves first, opening the door wide enough for Cal to step through, up into the living room.
He looks so handsome. Black pleated dress pants, crisp black shirt, tailored black jacket, and a glaringly white embroidered tie that matches my dress perfectly.
I want to touch him.
“Jesus, babe, let me look at you,” he says with a strained voice, stepping farther into the room. “You are so beautiful.”
“I feel beautiful.” I give a pleased little twirl, and my skirt flares up around my hips. His eyes go to my bare legs, and I bite back a smile as I say, “I need a hug or something.”
Or something.
Cal smiles, shrugs off his suit coat, lays it neatly over a kitchen chair, and wraps his arms around my waist after I step into his outstretched arms. I lean into the embrace¸ mindful not to get makeup on his shirt.
My lips graze his jaw, tattooing his skin with plum lip prints, and I draw back, fingering his tie. It matches my dress.
I gasp with delight. “Wherever did you find this?”
“Tabitha.” He rolls his eyes. “She literally lost her shit when I asked for her help. It made her whole year. But then my mom got all weird because I didn’t call her first. It was a whole thing I’d rather not talk about,” he jokes. “Tabitha had it rush shipped to school. She can’t believe I’m going to a sorority formal and wants to meet the girl putting up with my bullshit for an entire night—her words, not mine.”
“Well, thank your sister for me because you look… Is it possible that you got more handsome since the last time I saw you? How am I going to keep my hands to myself?”
“You don’t have to keep your hands to yourself,” he jokes.
“Okay. I won’t.”
“In that case, I guess I’ll have to send my sister a bouquet to thank her for making me irresistible.”
“Maybe you should.”
We stare at each other until I’m itching to run my fingers down his chest. Instead, I flex them and state the obvious. “We should go. Melody is covering for me, and I can’t leave her hanging or she’ll kill me. I promised I’d be there by five thirty.”
Calvin
When she’s not leaning in to hug or shake someone’s hand, Greyson’s arm is looped through mine, her hand clasping my tricep as we stand at the head of a receiving line, enthusiastically greeting the Gala’s arriving guests: sorority alumnae, her sorority sisters, and their dates.
I cannot stop giving her sidelong glances, for she is truly a vision.
It’s over an hour before we’re “alone” and Greyson can take a break from her hostess duties. I set my beer glass on a nearby table, and we wordlessly move out onto the hardwood dance floor. I pull her in close, and her fingers snake under my suit jacket, clasping at the small of my back.
I want to kiss her so badly right now, but it’s not the time or place. I settle for resting my lips on her neck, just below the white flower she has pinned there, running my hands up and down her spine.
We dance like this through one song, then another. I’ve never been more grateful to hear a bunch of cheesy slow songs in my life.
Because somehow… we just fit.
And fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing.
Greyson
At this point, I don’t even think we’re moving. Cal’s nose is buried in my hair, his fingers are stroking my back, and when the chords from the next slow ballad begin, I don’t even care that I have responsibilities to see to.
Just one more song, and I’ll go pull the silent auction bid cards.
One more.
Or two. I can afford two more songs.
My hands find their way up the front of his shirt, resisting the urge to pop open the row of black onyx buttons one at a time. Those same hands wrap around his neck, resting there so my delicate fingers can rake through the curly hair just above his starched black collar.
Cal kisses my temple and tightens his hold, his hot breath on my neck throughout the song.
I continue stroking his hair. He rubs my back in a light caress.
I’m sure we look ridiculous just s
tanding here, barely dancing, but I still feel like I’m floating on air.
“I don’t know if I mentioned it¸ but thank you for coming tonight,” I aimlessly twirl a piece of his hair around my finger.
His voice is a hum next to my ear. “You’ve only mentioned it four or five times. But for the record, there’s no other place I’d rather be.”
I whisper against his skin. “I won’t ever take you for granted, Cal. I know the sacrifice you made to be here tonight.”
“I know.”
I arch back and cock my head at him. “Is your sister horrified you’re at a sorority formal?”
His mouth curls up into a smirk. “I wouldn’t say horrified; I’d call it shocked. I mean, I’m not really the type to, you know…”
I nod. “I know.” We sway to the music, and his hands rest on my hips. “Speaking of types, what is yours?”
“Oh, gee, let me think,” he laughs. “Blonde hair, hazel eyes, infectious smile…”
I nuzzle our noses.
Sick, I know.
“You think I have an infectious smile?” I smile at him.
“And kissable lips.”
“Ooh! Now that I like the sound of.” I release my fingers from his silky mop of hair, trail them over his shoulders and down over his firm pecs, and give them a squeeze. He puckers his lips, and I touch my trout pout to his—briefly, so I don’t smear my lipstick.
Cal rolls his head to the side and groans. Loudly. “I want to, ugh. So bad.”
Laughing, I press my lips to his for another quick kiss. “Want to what?”
“Never mind. I’ll sound like a dog in heat if I say it.”
My heartbeat quickens. “Say it anyway,” I plead.
He hesitates. “I want to stick my fucking tongue down your throat.”
“I want that too,” I murmur, leaning in to flick his ear with my tongue. “I want to lick you from head to toe.”
“Fuck. Um, okay. You win.” He gives a strangled laugh and buries his face in my neck. “I cannot believe you just said that.”
“Why?”
“Because. You look so sweet. And you’re classy.”
“Hmm,” I hum in his ear as we sway, enjoying the power of my femininity when his whole body stiffens at the simplest inflection of my tone. “Well, you know what they say about the classy ones.”
“No.” His voice squeaks slightly. “What do they say?”
I raise one eyebrow suggestively.
His head shoots up, eyebrows in his hairline. “My dick is so hard right now.” He groans. “Shit. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”
“Hard? Ya think? It’s been digging into my thigh this entire time. Trust me, it’s taking every last effort for me not to grind on it.”
“Jesus, Grey!” Our bodies are flush, and Cal is pushing his hips into me slightly. Not enough to be obvious to an onlooker, but enough that I notice. “I’m trying really, really hard to be polite.”
“Polite boys deserve a reward.” My warm breath flirts with his square jawline, his dark blonde hair tickling my nose. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
He gives his head a jerky shake. “No. What does that mean?” The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs up and down when he swallows.
“Thompson, it means you’re getting lucky tonight.”
“Um… You were seriously steaming up the dance floor. For a fake boyfriend, it sure did look real.” Melody sidles up to me by the cake table, whispering around a stack of dessert plates and nodding politely at each passing guest. “Jeez, sexual tension much?”
“Tell me about it. And I don’t think there’s anything fake about it anymore,” I whisper back, smiling broadly at a new member of our sisterhood when she comes up for a slice of the marble cake Mel and I are cutting.
We make small talk with her and serve several more pieces of cake before we’re able to speak alone again. “Grey, you two look like you’re…” She hesitates, and the cake knife she’s wielding pauses mid-slice. “You know—in lurve.”
I consider this, glance across the room where Cal stands with a group of some older gentleman—alumnae dates and husbands—gesturing wildly and causing everyone to die laughing uproarishly.
I wonder what’s so funny.
He raises a drink to his lips just then and glances over, watching me above the rim of his glass. I blush furiously before looking away.
A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Oh God, I’m actually jealous that I’m stuck on the opposite side of the room serving stupid, dumb cake.
“Geez Grey, look at you, all flustered and adorkable.”
“I can’t help it. He makes me positively giddy. I’m head over heels.”
“Yeah, I can tell. And I think the feeling is mutual. That boy hasn’t stopped watching you all night. But I mean—who could blame him. You’re clearly the babeliest babe in the room.” The cake knife is thrust my way. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“Yes you are, but I’ll permit it.”
“What are your plans for later? You check in to your room yet?”
“Yeah, Cal took care of it while I was helping Carly and Jemma with raffle tickets.”
“Nervous?”
“No. We’ve been building to this point for over seven weeks. Seven. I want to kick everyone out and drag him upstairs, caveman style. Like, by his beautiful hairs.” I sigh wistfully and hand her a stack of napkins. “Lick.”
Melody covers her laugh with a cake plate. “Oh gawd, if only he knew how dirty your mind was, he wouldn’t be so content chatting it up over there with Stella’s husband Ryan.”
“Well, he kind of does know. I may have whispered some naughty, dirty things to him while we were dancing.”
“Such as…?”
“Such as, ‘I want to lick you from head to toe.’ I think he almost wet himself.”
“Why are you let loose to roam around in public?”
“It’s not like I say things like that to just anyone. Besides, I just wanted to see the look on his face. It’s totally different.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Keller. Now keep handing me plates.”
Calvin
By midnight, we begin making our way back to our room. It’s late, but my body crackles with electricity, buzzing with seven weeks’ worth of anticipation. A burst of pure adrenaline zips through my body, fueled by Greyson’s words as they play on a loop through my mind.
It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…
Arms wrapped around each other’s waists, we walk side-by-side in companionable silence and pent-up sexual tension to our hotel suite, taking the elevator to the eighth floor from the Grand Ballroom.
Grey relaxes against me as we watch the numbers climb from one floor to the next.
The elevator dings, having reached its destination, and we step out, make a right turn, and quickly arrive at our door. Grey rests her back against the wall, watching as I dig the room key out of my suit coat and slide the keycard through the card reader.
She leans forward as I turn the doorknob, and I pause, pressing against her gently for a quick kiss. The door eases open, and she sweeps inside, reaching up to pull the flower clip out of her hair and laying it on the dresser. Next to the dresser is the suitcase I placed there earlier.
“I should probably get out of this dress before taking my make-up off,” she says from the other side of the room, clicking on a lamp.
My nerve endings strum high on vibrate.
It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…
“Help with my buttons?” Grey turns towards me, presenting her back, holding her lustrous blonde hair aside, and glancing at me over her shoulder.
It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…
; In two long strides, I’m reaching for the pearl buttons at the top of her dress, the gentle illusion collar at the nape of her neck a stark distinction to my large, battered calloused hands, and I briefly pause to regard the juxtaposition of them against her dress.
One by one, I pluck the buttons free, and when I’m done, I splay my hands over her smooth back, running them up her spine before brushing her hair aside and pressing my mouth against her skin. Pushing the sleeves of the sheer fabric down her arms, my lips kiss a trail down the tantalizing column of her neck.
Grey shivers, lolling her head to the side with a loud, labored moan as her dress lands in a pile of crinoline and lace at her feet. I take her hand, and she steps out of it, leaving it in a lacy puddle.
Her hazy eyes watch me intensely as I kneel and bend her knee. Unbuckling the straps of her sexy nude heels, I slip them off one at a time, then run my hands up her smooth leg, planting a kiss on the inside of her arched thigh.
I trace a path of kisses up her leg, running my hands up her lean torso. She’s standing in only a white pair of lacy underwear and a strapless white bra; one that pushes her sexy tits together until they threaten to spill over the edge of the cups.
It pains me, but I stand, releasing her so she can use the bathroom.
She cups my chin in her palm. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Not in a million fucking years.”
This earns me another kiss, and a second later I get to watch her retreating, toned ass sashaying towards the bathroom.
Sexy as hell.
Biting back a groan, I set to removing my own shoes, followed by my socks, tie, and belt, draping them over the single chair in the room. I untuck my black dress shirt, plucking the buttons opens and letting it hang open.
I heft Greyson’s small suitcase up onto the dresser so she won’t have to struggle with it later, before removing the cell phone from my pocket and checking it for messages.