Page 8 of Property of Gray

“Shhh.” He grabs his crotch. “He can hear you. You’re going to hurt his feelings.”

“Hurting your dick’s feelings is the least of my worries.”

“What’s troubling that pretty head?”

“Nothing.” Everything. You. The fact that you almost kissed me and act like it never happened. I leave it all unsaid.

“Good. Now let’s go see a man about some meat.”

“Quit making it weird. While you do that, I’m going to grab some chips and extra condiments.”

“We don’t need condoms.”

“Is sex all you think about? I was talking about ketchup and mustard.”

“Only about ninety-five percent of the time.” He flashes his teeth at me.

“And that other five percent?”

“Riding.”

“Right,” I mutter. “Take this buggy. I have a feeling we’ll need a second one.”

“Behave, pipsqueak.” He flicks the center of my forehead.

“That hurt.” I rub my finger over the spot.

“Poor baby. Let me kiss it.” He dips his head and presses his lips to my skin. My heart leaps to my throat as all air leaves my lungs.

It’s not the first kiss from him I’ve dreamed about, but Braxton Gray’s lips are on me, and I’m not mad about it. Not one bit.

I go back to the front of the store, grabbing another buggy, and completing my shopping like I’m walking on a cloud. That is until I find Kaylene Smith rubbing all up on Gray. They dated briefly a few years ago. She’s a cut slut. She’ll fuck anyone as long as they have some status in the club, like being an officer. The minute he became VP, she was all up in his shit. He cheated, but so did she. They were toxic together. I also just happen to hate her. She dated my brother Dirty before Gray. She would fuck Woods if he’d have her. She’s been ran through.

“I had a good time last night, lover.” She pats his chest. “See you later.” She smirks at me as she saunters off.

I roll my eyes and quirk a brow at Gray.

“What?”

“Like I said.” I twirl my finger. “Your ween gets around.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.”

He’s not wrong, and he knows it. “I don’t do charity. I’m ready to go. Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, his voice laced with what sounds like irritation.

We check out then we get the bags into the back of my truck. “Want me to drop you back at your bike? I’m sure your girlfriend is waiting by the phone.”

“Later.” He smiles to himself like he’s privy to a joke only he knows the punchline to. “I’ll help you unload.” He snatches my keys. “I’m driving.”

“Whatever.” I’m not bothering to argue. I climb into the cab on the passenger side.

He gets into the driver’s side and starts adjusting the mirrors. It’s hard not to stare at him. The man looks good driving my classic Chevy.

The radio hums to life, playing some sad country song about first loves and heartaches. Gray takes a curve too fast and hard. I go sliding across the seat and grab his crotch by accident as all our groceries get beat around the back of the truck.

“Sorry.”