Greyson

by Cassie Verano

  I watched as he stood on wobbly legs, ankles buckling inwards. I pressed a hand to my lips to cover the smirk. When those grey eyes strayed to mine, I saw nothing but confidence despite the way his sexy body was betraying him.

  Reaching out a hand, I said, “Come on.”

  I was surprised when he grasped mine and held it tight, a warm smile showing on his lips and his eyes sparkling. I imagined this was something he looked forward to despite the concerns he held. We took a few tentative steps forward until he had his balance.

  “Are you good, Greyson?”

  He glanced at me with a smile. “Yes, let’s do this,” he stated before we took that first step onto the skating rink.

  Ciara’s One, Two Step, was blaring from the speakers, and instantaneously my shoulders started shaking, hips popping, and booty bouncing. I couldn’t help it, music was in my blood. The beat caused me to speed up, and I let go of Greyson’s hand so that he could get into his own groove and feel the beat, also.

  But when I looked up at Greyson, I saw a slight twinge in his face, which switched to panic. Greyson’s arms began flailing, and his uncoordinated ankles and feet, sent him careening past me in a blur of speed. I sped ahead to catch up to him, reaching my arms out to grasp his hand. But I was too late.

  Greyson went flat on his behind, his olive-colored skin turning red, and those large grey eyes widened.

  I slowed up and kneeled in front of him. “Greyson, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I asked, grabbing his hands to see if any damage was done.

  Unexpected laughter spewed forth from him in a deep rumble. It sounded so good, and it was contagious as the laughter bubbled up within me and spilled forth. We sat there laughing hysterically and uncontrollably for a couple of minutes before containing our emotions. Tears spilled over my eyelids because I was used to seeing this in the movies, but not real life.

  “Are you okay?” I asked again.

  Nodding his head, he said, “I will be. Feeling a bit foolish right now, but I’ll get over that, too.”

  “Why’re you feeling foolish? Accidents happen, and maybe I pushed too fast,” I said.

  He pushed himself off his butt and onto his knees, facing me.

  “Nobody wants to look like an ass in front of a beautiful girl. I used to be cool, but maybe I’m getting too old for that, as well,” he concluded, with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

  I was stuck. Greyson considered me “beautiful?” That left me speechless for a moment, then I considered his next words.

  “You’re not old, Greyson. You’ve gotta be what thirty-one?”

  “Thirty-six,” he replied with a slight lift of his eyebrow and a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Okay, well, you’re a great-looking thirty-six. And I think you’re pretty cool, too,” I shared shyly.

  Those words seem to bring a pause to our conversation as his eyes perused my face. I wondered what he was contemplating but did not have to wait long to find out.

  “Would you think I were still cool if I did this?” he asked, grasping my chin with his thumb and forefinger and lowering his lips to mine.

  I held my breath for a moment, wondering if this were about to happen for real? Then I felt the warmth of his breath, and my heartbeat sped up, and his eyes pinned me in place. That sharp gaze darkened, and his soft lips brushed against mine briefly before he pulled back and stared into my eyes.

  I don’t know what he saw there, but I know that I did not decline the permission he was seeking. Instead, I drew closer, inviting him to sample what I had to offer. And he did.

  It was not crowded at the skating rink at that time of day, but it would not have mattered if it were. We were in a world of our own. This was a first for me, strangely enough, though I had desired to taste him, I wondered if it would be different than kissing a black man.

  His tongue was soft and tasted like the jolly ranchers he had been popping all day. A sweet mixture of apple, watermelon, cherry, and blue raspberry. Greyson took his time with the kiss as if he wanted it to linger, and the delicious way he tasted, I was in no rush either.

  I rubbed my hands against his face, enjoying the soft hairs of his beard that had grown in. Surprisingly, it was not prickly, though it appeared that way.

  I tamped down the desire to touch him, to feel the hardness of his chest and abs. That might lead to something else I don’t think either of us was ready for. With that thought popping into my mind, I pushed away, breaking our kiss.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, in a husky voice.

  I licked my lips, relishing the taste of him on them. “There’s no need, I wanted that as much as you obviously did.”

  “So, why stop?”

  “We’re business partners. I wasn’t...I was just trying...look, you’ve seemed distant lately. And taking you to the skating rink was a way to help you loosen up like you were when we first met. I don’t know what’s happened lately, but you’ve changed,” I shared, hoping he would confide in me.

  Sighing, he looked around the skating rink and ran his hand across the stubble on his jaw. Smooth. I wanted to reach out and stroke it again, but then that would be refuting the purpose of my argument I was lying on the table.

  “I haven’t changed. There’s just been a lot on my mind, and I’ve been trying to sort some things out.” He stood up and pulled me up with him, just hard enough to pull me against his chest, but not to cause any harm. My body was flush against his, and I felt every hard plane and every bulging muscle. I mean every single muscle.

  For a moment, I almost fell victim to those soul-searching eyes once more. To fight my desires, I had to place some distance between us, and I started skating. I did not look back to see if he had regained his groove, I just danced, and moved with the flow of the beat, as the song neared completion. By the time the song ended, I had just regained my stride and made it around the rink.

  Greyson was not where I had left him. Not that I was surprised, but where was he? I got my answer no sooner than I felt a bump that bent me forward. Strong hands gripped my waist, straightening me upright. I felt his hard erection pressed against my behind, and my body’s natural reaction was to grow moist.

  I almost leaped out of his arms as I spun around. My eyes rushed up to his, cheeks growing warm from the way my body had responded to his and the way he watched me now.

  “What’s going on, Greyson?”

  “We’re reacting to the attraction we have to one another. There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults following their feelings, Nicole.”

  “Except that the two consenting adults have a project they need to work on together. And professionalism dictates we remain just that, business constituents.”

  He licked his lips and drew closer to me.

  “Except in my world, we dictate our rules. I’m the boss, and you’re the boss, we have no one to answer to but ourselves.”

  “Greyson, we have to answer to ourselves, but what if this doesn’t work out the way we plan? You can’t risk putting this project on the line, and I won’t risk my business.” He had to understand that it was a non-negotiable for me.

  “Isn’t life all about risks, though?” he pressed.

  I scoffed. I couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. There were often arrogant tendencies that peeked its ugly head out, that the “hood” in me wanted to check.

  “Not when it comes to paying my bills and taking care of myself. With all due respect, Greyson, my parents didn’t come from a lineage of wealth. My father, Eddie Cabot, is a social worker supervisor for Chatham county, and my mom, Angie, is a gifted physics teacher at Savannah Arts Academy. I’m proud of them, my background, and where I come from. No silver spoons were being handed out where I come from, and there definitely wasn’t one in my mouth. My big brother, Zion, and little sister, Madison, and I have had to work hard to accomplish what we have in life. We had the support of our parents, but each of us had to gain a scholarship to pay our way through college. Zion had a basketball scho
larship that allowed him to gain his degree in economics, becoming a personal financial advisor, with Edge Capital LLC in Atlanta. My little sister, Madison, or Mady, as we call her, is a ballerina with Complexions Contemporary Ballet in New York City. That came with hard work, and my parents investing all their savings into her dance education, later supported by myself and my brother. And you know my story. So, tell me again why I would risk it all?”

  He looked at me and said, “I’m not asking you to risk anything, Nicole. I am asking you to be open to us getting to know one another. I would never do anything to jeopardize your company. If things do not work out between us, I won’t hold that against you. This contract you’ve signed for my project will be honored regardless. And I meant what I said when I started this project with you. I will send business your way when this project concludes. I’m a man of my word, Nicole, and I never back down.”

  I wanted to believe his words, but I had worked hard to get to where I was. Relationships had never been a priority in my life because I had goals that I wanted to accomplish. Relationships took too much away from that, and I was a woman who wanted to be accomplished before meeting the love of my life. Women always pose the question, what is a man bringing to the table. Well, I felt it was only fair that a man should be able to expect the same from a woman. When I settled down with someone, I would have something valuable to offer on every level.

  “Then, there should be no problem with us keeping this strictly business then, should there?”

  His controlled breathing, the shuttering of those silver-blue eyes behind a mask of peace, told me that he did not agree with my decision. Yet, he had no choice.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he said, “No, there won’t. I apologize for overstepping my bounds.” Then he turned away from me and skated off somewhat awkwardly.

  CHAPTER 7 – GREYSON

  It bothered me that I had made my move too fast. A woman like Nicole was someone you proceeded cautiously with, but I had not played my cards right. That kiss between us was everything I hoped it would be and more. I’m a confident man, but I’m not arrogant.

  I would not presume she wanted me the way I wanted her. But her response to my kiss confirmed that she did have feelings towards me. There was sexual energy that hummed between us whenever we were in each other’s vicinity. While I understood her points about keeping things professional, and my father would agree with her, I could not ignore the desire I had for her.

  Yet, I promised that I would not jeopardize this project or make this job hard for her. I was surprised when I showed up at the boutique hotel two days later to find a thick dark-skinned woman with dreads, matching fabrics and paint colors up against one another.

  Old school R&B poured from a phone plugged into the wall. She was humming the Temptations’ My Girl when I stepped into the room.

  I looked around for a second, hoping I would spot Nicole, but no such luck. Turning back towards the mystery woman with yellow leggings and wide grey circles up and down her leggings that matched her grey t-shirt, I said, “Excuse me.”

  She jumped, dropping the fabric swatch in her hands and kicking a bucket of unopened paint onto the floor. I rushed to her side and picked the bucket up, turning it upright. Slowly I stood, not wanting to startle her any further.

  “Oh, my goodness! You scared the shit outta me!” Her hand rested on her chest, and her deep inhalations and exhalations were proof that I had done just that.

  Scratching the back of my head, I tried to push back my laughter because I did not want to offend her. “I’m sorry, I was just looking for Nicole.”

  Her eyes dawned in recognition. “Ohhh, you’re Greyson,” she said, moving a long-curved nail to the corner of her full, purple-tinted lips. Nodding her head, she said, “Yes, I see it now.”

  I knew she was talking about my eyes that she was currently staring directly into.

  “Yes, I am. And you are?”

  A big toothy smile took over her round, cute face. “I’m Jocelyn Cove, the other half of Cabot and Cove. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Greyson,” she said, extending a friendly hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jocelyn. But Nicole is she—”

  “She had a meeting with a vendor for the bedroom furniture today, and it conflicted with the time she needed to be here. This was the only time he could meet, though, so I volunteered to take her place here. We’re narrowing down fabric swatches in the color scheme of our paint choices.”

  “I thought the furniture was custom,” I stated, realizing maybe I had not been as involved in the process as I originally thought. Maybe I needed to pay closer attention to what Nicole was doing than I had.

  “It is custom,” Jocelyn spoke up, wearing a patient smile. I’m sure she probably had to do this with plenty of clients. “We have a selection of dyes we can choose from to have the customized furniture in the color of our choosing. The color scheme that flows with your style and your decision.”

  “Sure. I understand. What I don’t understand is why Nicole did not call me to cancel, or tell me that she wouldn’t be able to make it?”

  “I am her partner. In the original contract, it is stated that either of us would be on-site, depending on availability. She is the lead on this project, but once a conflict arises, we have to work through it as a team. That’s how it is managed on all projects, whether I am the lead, or she is. I would be more than happy to call and ask her to return, and we can reschedule the meeting another day when the vendor can meet. I will meet with the vendor instead, if it conflicts with anything else, she has scheduled with you.”

  I felt checked. There was no other way to say it other than that. This little thick, barely five-foot woman with crazy burnt orange dreads had successfully put me in my place.

  I smiled. “No, Ms. Jocelyn, your services are more than sufficient. I apologize for giving you the impression that you aren’t. However, as the owner of this project, I think I deserve the respect of knowing when changes will be implemented. I expected to see Ms. Cabot today because there were some details that I needed to go over with her. Just a few...loose strings we had been discussing.”

  I almost said “personal,” but I did not want to open that can of worms. Besides, that had nothing to do with anyone except Nicole and me.

  A smirk on her lips told me that maybe she knew more than I thought she did.

  “Okay, I can respect that. I will pass along the message.”

  “You do that, Ms. Jocelyn. I’ll head back downstairs where my presence is needed. It seems you have everything under control here,” I replied honestly.

  Turning to walk out the door, I stopped at the threshold when she called my name.

  “Greyson.”

  “Yes?”

  “I just want to thank you for giving Nicole and me this opportunity. You may prefer to work with her, but I’m every bit the professional that she is. We won’t let you down. If anything, she’s working hard to impress you.”

  I smirked. “She’s trying to impress me?”

  “Yes, she is. Your business reputation proceeds you, and it’s an honor to be able to work with the Black family in any capacity.”

  I smiled and said, “Thank you,” before walking out the door.

  Despite what Jocelyn said, I knew better. I had to find a way to get Nicole to stop running from me. There had to be a way I could penetrate that wall and see what was on the other side.

  I recalled the way her soft hips felt in my hands when I pulled her close. I remember the plushness of her hips, and those soft breasts against the rock hardness of my chest, as they threatened to spill out of what I suspected was a double D cup.

  Her body felt as if it molded perfectly with mine. As if it were made for mine. She was far different than any of the model-thin types I usually preferred. Their body types were reminiscent of my ex-wife Heather. They had always been the ones that I preferred, ash-blonde, strawberry-blonde, platinum-blonde, and blue or green eyes. They often were five-seven to
five-eleven, with long tanned legs. Botox-injected lips to give them the full sensation that Nicole had been blessed with naturally.

  Nicole was full of curves, thickness, and plump in places I never knew I desired. Our kiss was passionate, from the way she hesitantly opened her mouth, as though she were seeking something. And then it blossomed as she opened, allowing me to savor the mint-coated tongue she offered in all its sweetness. The warmth of her mouth invited me in, creating a haven of comfort. As though I had found my home and no longer needed to search any further.

  But something had frightened her. She had broken the connection we had and backed off. But I know what I felt. I felt a woman who was attracted to me and wanted me in the ways that I wanted her. What I felt in that kiss was not something manufactured for the moment, but it was an outward expression of what had been manifesting between us since our very first phone call.

  There was a connection between Nicole and I that could not be denied. I wasn’t an easy man to sway. My ex-wife and I had been divorced for three years, and she was not above contacting me for another night of sex, or to support her extensive shopping habits and her new, but growing drug addiction. Because of my experiences with her, I had sworn off relationships. I was content with settling for sex in exchange for a few well-paid dates, or just a one-night stand looking for the same thing I was.

  Nicole was not a random factor like that. And I knew it. She was the type of woman you had a relationship with, not just a one-night stand or someone you could swoon with a few expensive dates. But I couldn’t get a foot in the door with the way she was avoiding me. Phone calls went unreturned or manifested in the forms of text messages. Now she was not showing up at the site, all to avoid me.

  I knew that’s what it was. We had not had a chance to deal with our first kiss. I say “first,” because I was determined it would not be our last. There was no way that I could let that be our last. She was too sweet of a treat for a man to pass on. Somewhat shy, but passionate about life, she was that spark I seemed to have been missing all these years. And I wanted more of her.