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"This, all of this. I'm not the kind of girl who has sex in a public bathroom with a stranger. A stranger well known for his sexual conquests, to boot."
"We can go to my place," he suggests, but I huff, making it clear that’s not going to happen without needing to utter a single word. He takes the hint. "Or we can just get out of here and get a drink. Give this some time."
The fact that Grayson isn’t getting mad, or worse, is a relief, but that only means he's a half-decent human being and not some kind of horny monster. Kudos to him, but not to me.
"Thank you, but I think I better head home. It's late, and if I have any more drinks, I'm going to make bad decisions."
With a sigh, he grabs me by the hips and lifts me off the countertop. It's like I weigh nothing at all to him. My heart beats faster, drumming away as I wonder what the hell he’s doing. Is he going to gentlemanly help me onto my feet or force me into one of the stalls? No, I don’t see that hard edge in his eyes, and his touch is far too gentle.
A moment later, he sets me down on the floor and motions toward the door, opening it for me.
"After you.”
“What a gentleman.” I tease, apparently unable to help myself. There’s something about Grayson that keeps me hooked, even when I keep trying to resist that ever-growing desire.
“What can I say? My mother raised a good guy," he quips with a smirk, those eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. “I still think you should stick around a bit longer, drink or no drink."
"Yeah, I don't think so."
I try to sound final, but there's a smile dancing on my lips that refuses to go away. The noise and energy of the party hits me like a wave as Grayson follows behind me, his presence magnetic. We weave through the crowd, and before I know it, he’s in front of me, moving with an agility I wouldn’t expect from a guy his size.
"So, since I managed to get your name, does that mean I get your number as well?"
Oh, smooth move, Grayson. I can't help but chuckle at his persistence.
"Nice try, but not tonight. Maybe if we cross paths again and you manage to prove you're more than just a playboy fighter, you might earn that as well."
He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my words. I'm baiting him again, aren't I? "You're testing me, huh? Alright, Tyley Evans. Consider the challenge accepted."
With a small wave, I walk away toward the exit. Is a part of me dying to turn around and beckon him to follow me? Hell yes. Am I going to do it? Not if I manage to get some cold night air into me before temptation grows too powerful to resist.
“Get yourself together,” I whisper to myself as I make my way through the half-empty parking lot. “The last thing you need is to start dating another fighter.”
What I need is a cold shower and a good night's sleep, and before long, I will have forgotten all about my encounter with three-time champion and all-around playboy Grayson Walker. Won’t I?
four
Grayson
I groan as the morning's light floods my bedroom, forcing me out of my slumber and into the harsh reality of a hangover.
"What the hell?"
I raise an arm to cover my eyes from the sudden brightness. My head is pounding, my mouth is dry, and I can taste the remnants of whiskey and cigars. Rolling over, I dip my head against the pillow, determined to go back to sleep, but whoever woke me up this rudely isn't having any of it.
"Come on, Grayson, rise and shine already; we have business to discuss."
Fuck! It's Tate, my manager, and there's an edge to his voice. He's probably here to chew me out for last night's fight. A decade or so ago, it was part of an MMA fighter's job to be an asshole in and out of the cage. Now we have to consider all different angles, and I've already pushed my luck when it comes to demographics we didn't even think about back then.
I play out what our conversation will be like in my head before rolling out of bed:
"What the hell were you thinking? I swear, you’re a magnet for trouble."
Instead, as I rise from the bed and turn to face Tate, I see that his expression is not one of anger or disappointment but rather one of excitement. His eyes are shining with an eagerness that piques my curiosity.
"What's got you so fired up, Tate?" I ask, trying to shake off the remnants of my hangover.
"Grayson, my man, you're all over the tabloids! And let me tell you, the ladies are eating it up.”
