AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I turn up to look at Grey whose eyes drop to my smiling lips.
“Ready?” he asks in a tone that makes me feel like he’s my boss. He’s gonna have to cut that out, for starters, I decide as I nod before following him back through the restaurant, aware of the water from this thick ridiculously healthy-looking hair seeping in splotches through that pastel-blue T-shirt of his that caresses thick, lean muscles…
Indie…
I’m starting to wonder whether it’s a massage I need or an ice-cold shower.
As we get near the kitchen, a waiter hands him two small brown bags with the fries in them and in exchange, Greyson hands him a bill I don’t see the color of. “Keep the change.”
“Aw, thanks. You sure?”
Grey smiles at him as we walk out and I brace myself for seeing the ungodly assholes from before—the ones that informed me I had one hole for each of their dicks.
I didn’t tell Grey that part.
Just another day of holding in the demeaning crap men feel they have the right to say to me whenever I’m not swathed head to foot in clothing that resembles an extra-large potato sack.
I’m kinda short and slim but with curves that make men see me as some object. Or at least, certain types of men.
Grey’s keen eyes scan the parking lot as if on the lookout for them until we make it onto the sandy little path parallel to the ocean that leads us back towards our rental houses, and more importantly, back towards the home of what I hope will be the savior of my sanity tonight: the jolly masseuse, Gwyn.
Tall reeds brush against my hand and leg as I walk along the sandy path, desperate to take my flip-flops off so that my feet are grounded into the Earth, but not wanting to traipse sand throughout Gwyn’s lovely beachfront home.
The garlicky scent of fries wafts through the air as Grey holds out a small brown bag as we walk.
“I told you I wasn’t hungry,” I say, not wanting to fill my stomach up before lying down on it for an hour. I restrain myself from adding,I’m amazed you eat peasant food,seeing as he doesn’t actually seem quite as stuck up as I’d expect for someone of his wealth and position in society.
“Just one,” he says, holding it out, and I take one from his competent fingers, crunching down on whatever a “chickpea fry” is before discovering that it may be one of the most delicious things I’ve ever put into my mouth. The crunchy, spicy outer coating gives way to a heavily seasoned fluffy chickpea center which is pure deliciousness.
“Oh my God!” I exclaim, reaching for another. “They’re amazing!”
Only as my fingers make it within inches of the bag, he holds it back. “I thought you didn’t want one, Indie.”
“It’s stillIndigoto you.”
“Do you like them…Indigo?”
The way he draws my name out makes me want to dunk the packet on his head, though I’d probably need a footstool to reach up there which may dampen the illusion somewhat.
“What, are you gonna make me beg?” I scoff.
He squares his body at me, taking a small step forwards and forcing me to crank my head back to look up at him. The fact that he’s such a giant compared to me annoys me as much as it turns me on, for his presence is so bold, so arresting, so palpable, that it’s as if he comes with his own one-man weather system.
“The begging will come later,” he replies, his tone utterly flat but his eyes blazing as I swallow down my outrage at his assertive and borderline indecent insinuation.
His eyes form tight slits as he studies my reaction which I would best describe asdumbstruck. I seem to be caught between wanting to give him the tongue-lashing from hell for his blatant lasciviousness and asking him to tell me more about this begging business.
Because frankly, and in another insult to my female ego, I’m starting to think I’m all for it…
The smile lifting his thick pink lips makes me relocate my inner sass. “I’m all for men begging,” I retort, just to annoy him. “The more the better.”
His smile widens until I see the tips of his large, pointed canines, and my God, if the thing doesn’t feel like the first rays of sunshine after a week of rain. “Tell me how much you like them, Indigo.”
“What?” I think the word came out of my mouth. I can’t quite tell.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He crunches the bag in his hand. “Tell me how much you like them.”
“And why exactly?” I ask, glancing down at my chest to see that the flush of heat I can feel there is not unfortunately invisible to the naked eye.
