Page 100 of PR Stunt

Grayson tilts his head, looking between me and the couch, before exhaling through his nose, amused. “And here I was, thinking you’d make me sleep outside.”

“Still toying with the idea.”

He chuckles, raking a hand through his hair before nodding.

A strange kind of tension settles in the air, stretching between us like an invisible thread. The reality of being here alone, in this suite, in this arrangement, sinks in.

I shift slightly, clearing my throat. “Well…” I hesitate. “Goodnight, then.”

“Sweet dreams, Charlie.”

I turn on my heel, making my way toward the bedroom, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

As soon as I shut the door behind me, I let out a breath and flop face-first onto the bed. The tension still lingers, wrapping around me—tight and suffocating, but not in a bad way. In a dangerously thrilling way. My heart is pounding, cheeks flushed, body still buzzing from the heat of his stare, the casual intimacy, the almosts. Juno was right. I’m in deep trouble. And the worst part?

I don’t even want to be saved.

Chapter 30

From behind the curtain of my bedroom window, I watch him. Outside, Grayson is bent over his surfboard, waxing it in smooth, easy strokes. His headphones are in, and he’s lost in whatever song is playing—softly singing along under his breath. The sound doesn’t reach me, but the way his lips move, relaxed and unguarded, makes my heart squeeze unexpectedly.

A loose muscle tank hangs over his frame, the armholes gaping enough to hint at the carved lines of his torso. His shorts sit low on his hips, and he’s barefoot, toes digging into the smooth tile as he shifts his stance. He looks…stripped. Unfiltered. Grayson in his element.

He’s mesmerizing. Then he glances up.

Shit. I jump back, but it’s too late. He’s seen me. I reach for the handle and slide the door open before I can think too much about it.

Grayson takes off his headphones, draping them around his neck. “Hey. Good morning.”

I swallow, heat licking at the back of my neck. “Morning.”

His gaze sweep over me, taking in the silk set I slept in. The loose, barely there straps. The way the morning air pebbles my skin. His jaw shifts, eyes darkening just slightly. My stomach tightens.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

“Great.”

“Good. You’ll need the energy today for surfing.”

Right. On the agenda today: Grayson teaching Charlie to surf. With notes of pick a populated area and make it cute.

“There’s coffee inside,” he says. “And breakfast.”

“Right. Great.” I step back, gripping the edge of the doorframe. “Enjoy your…whatever that is.”

His mouth curves. “I will.”

I hesitate for half a second and then tilt my head toward the door. “I’ll meet you at the beach.”

He looks like he might disagree but says, “See you there.”

I slip inside, shutting the door behind me. My stomach flips at the thought of surfing with Grayson in a few hours, and I bite my lip, shaking it off as I head to the bathroom. I get ready, putting on a black bikini set and denim shorts. I toss my belongings into my tote, and before heading out, I pluck my straw beach cowgirl hat from the shelf, adjusting it with a quick tilt of my head.

One last check of my phone.

Anna

Dinner pics were perfect. Keep it up.