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Grayson's face lights up with a wide grin. "Well, Tyley, it's a pleasure to meet you. And trust me, this is just the beginning."
three
Tyley
I should have walked away, but instead, the night unfolds before us as we continue to banter and flirt, one drink turning into two, turning into three. Grayson’s laughter is pleasant and surprisingly warm, and the way he leans in with the excuse of the music being too loud for me to hear what he has to say is starting to get to me.
“I like a girl who can challenge me, you know,” his voice is low and husky, and I know he’s doing it on purpose, prompting me to lean in closer still. This is a new trick, and this one is working, too. What’s wrong with me tonight? “You don’t fall for my usual lines. And you’re not star-struck. That’s rarer than you’d think.”
Those calloused fingers trace the rim of his glass again and again, and I can’t help but stare down at them, wondering once more what it would feel like to be touched softly and then harder if the mood calls for it.
“You’re not the first guy to try and sweep me off my feet. I’ve learned to see through the smoke and mirrors.”
We’re so close now that not only can I smell his cologne, a mixture of wood and musk that’s sure to stay in my nostrils long after he walks away, but I also feel the heat of his body. His body brushes against mine subtly, and getting lost in those blue orbs feels like a very real possibility.
“Trust me, Tyley, there’s more than smoke and mirrors behind my pickup lines.”
His stare grows hypnotic, or maybe I’m unable to resist this sensual pull he seems to have on me any longer.
“Tell me. Why did you pretend to be my date? Why not just send one of your goons to intervene? Or the manager? Or the cops?”
"Cops? Goons?" Grayson scoffs and shakes his head. "No, that would imply you're a damsel in distress. What you needed was a partner to back you up, not a knight to fight the dragon for you."
Well, fuck. I didn’t expect that answer, and if it isn’t the best pickup line I’ve heard in my life, I don’t know what is.
“Are you saying there’s more to you than meets the eye?”
“Always. The real question is: are you bold enough to peek into the looking glass?”
How did I end up here, pressed against the bathroom sink, my arms wrapped around Grayson's neck, his lips moving against mine? That's the question that floods my mind as his strong, calloused hands roam down my body.
I had known from the moment we met that there was a spark between us, but I never expected things to escalate so quickly.
The party is still going on outside, music blasting through the closed door, laughter and conversation echoing in the distance.
The bathroom is massive, with ample marble countertops and a glass that would give Grayson a great look at my backside if he bothered to open his eyes, but the space between us is nonexistent.
His body, towering and powerful, is pressed against me, and I'm perched at the edge of the vanity top, my legs spread open, allowing us to maintain this intimate connection. I can feel his hardness against me, locked away in his pants, but so close it's easy to imagine the possibilities.
"Mmmm," I hum against his lips, his mouth moving with reckless abandon, his every touch possessive. It's almost as if he's staking a claim over me, and it's so tempting to give in and allow him to.
"You're stunning," he grunts against my skin as he comes up for air, starting to pepper a trail of sensual kisses down my jaw, then my neck. His hands discover the swell of my breasts, and I let out a soft, longing moan as he begins to knead at them. “Fucking gorgeous.”
Grayson's touch is confident and experienced, and when he captures my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and pinches them playfully over my top, I'm tempted to rip his clothes off and embrace this burning desire.
My fingers begin to explore the shape of his body as well, temptation rising within me. His back is a roadmap of smooth, toned muscle, and I'm all too happy to travel along its ridges and valleys. The heat pooling between my legs becomes impossible to ignore, and it would be so easy to slide just an inch closer to him and search for that friction we both want so badly.
If his hands keep traveling south, if I begin to unbutton his shirt to discover every crook and cranny of his chiseled chest, there's no turning back. I'm going to fuck him right here in this bathroom.
The voice of reason still holds some strength, and it's urging me to be cautious and to remember how quickly my relationship with Adam deteriorated.
I push back against his chest, prompting Grayson to give me enough space to close my legs, pressing my knees together.
My breath comes out in shallow pants as I speak up. "Grayson, wait."
His grip on me loosens, and I have to avert my gaze to stop myself from getting lost in those icy blue eyes. It’s like he can stare right into my soul, and I don’t like it. Or maybe I like it a bit too much, and that’s a problem in and of itself. I feel exposed and vulnerable all at once, and how easy it would be to get lost in that mind space.
His brows are furrowed, but he doesn’t look nearly as frustrated as I feared he’d be at my sudden interruption. "What's wrong?"
