Grayson and I share a quick glance.
“She is,” he confirms, slipping his arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to my temple.
“You weresoamazing in that video from the Philly show,” the other girl gushes. “Your voices sounded so good together. I can’t wait to find someone who looks at me the way Grayson looks at you.”
I don’t even have to ask what she means, because I already know. It’s Grayson’syou completely own melook.
After a few photos, hugs, and more squealing, the girls run off before one of them comes back as if she forgot something important.
“I know I’m asking a lot,” she huffs, a little out of breath. “But my dad owns a little club on Folly Beach. Would you be interested in playing an acoustic set there, like, tonight? It’ll be totally low-key, Ipromise.”
Grayson looks to me for approval; I shrug and nod.
“We’re in,” he beams, making what seems like the girl’s entire year.
They exchange a few details about a time and place before we’re alone again.
“You’re famous now, too,” Grayson says, his eyes flicking over me. “How does it feel?”
“Insane,” I admit. “But if I’m going to burn it all down, I’d rather do it with you.”
He steps closer, that devilish gleam in his eye. “We’re just getting started, beautiful.”
There’s something about the way his words hit me that makes me feel it in my bones.
We walk a little further down the pier and find a food truck, stopping for a drink before wandering towards the marina where the crowds thin and the noise fades into the background. There’s a spot tucked behind an old warehouse—quiet, secluded, and shaded. Grayson pulls me towards it with his eyes glowing. “Gray…” I warn, reading the look of desire that’s all over his face—all heat and no fucks given.
“What?” he asks innocently as he pushes me hungrily against the sun-warmed brick wall. “Just want to be alone with my girl.”
His hands wander from my waist back to the hem of my denim skirt that barely covers my ass like he’s seconds away from pushing all boundaries. His fingers trail down the back of my thighs until they find the hem of my skirt again, slipping them under it. I gasp as his palms land on my bare skin.
“No pantiesagain?” he murmurs, fire igniting in his eyes. “You really want to test my patience, don’t you?”
I know exactly what my lack of underwear does to him. I’m a little obsessed with the possessive, slightly feral side of him that appears every time he finds out I neglect to wear any.
“You didn’t give me time to put them on,” I tease, already a little breathless.
Then he kisses me—deep, hot, and reckless—and the world melts away. The rough heat of the brick presses into the backs of my thighs as my skirt rides higher. His lips steal every rational thought from my brain, and when he slides one leg between mine, the friction makes me dizzy.
I don’t stop him. I can’t.
“I could fuck you right here,” he growls against my mouth. “Fast. Hard. With my hand over your mouth so no one hears.”
My breath hitches hard.
“You’d let me, too,” he continues, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re so needy for me right now, you wouldn’t care who saw.”
His fingers ghost across my folds, drawing slow, deliberate pressure over the ache between my legs.
“Grayson,” I whisper as a shiver rolls down my spine.
I arch into his hand, but he doesn’t move. He just smiles against my skin like he knows what I need—and wants me to beg him for it.
“Remember earlier when you said I started it?” he murmurs breathily in my ear. “Pretty sure this is where I’ll finish it.”
“Here?” I manage, lightheaded as his fingers keep teasing me. “Why do we always get like this in public?”
“Maybe it’s because we live in a tin can with six other people and this is more private than that will ever be,” he smirks—then his voice drops. “Or maybe it’s because I can’t keep my fucking hands off of you. Because since the dressing room and afterwards in the hotel, I want you all the damn time and it’s ruining me.”
