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“You haven’t finished eating yet,” he points out.
“That’s okay. I’ll grab something afterward.”
I pick up my phone and check the message.
“Everyone is there,” I tell him, reaching for my matching red bag. “Come on, Grayson, no being late.” The way his incredulous gaze whips to mine has me laughing.
He reaches for my hand and slides his fingers between mine without a word. As promised, he gives a death stare to anyone who looks our way as we walk to the car.
“Stop it,” I tell him.
“Stop what?” he grumbles, opening the car door.
“Staring at people like that.” I huff.
“They should keep their eyes to themselves.” He waves for me to get in, standing behind me so no one can see me bend over. I want to laugh, but instead, I look up at him as he closes the door and watch as he walks around the car and climbs in.
“We could walk. It’s not that far,” I offer.
His eyes trace my body until he reaches my face. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“I’m not yours,” I point out, but it sounds like a lie on my tongue. “You get that, right?”
His hands squeeze the steering wheel. “Yeah, I get it.”
I nod and look out the window.
Grayson pulls up in front of the club and parks, then turns to me. “Restrain yourself tonight, would ya?” I say as I tap his thigh, then open the door and get out. He grumbles something, but I don’t hear him. Then he comes to my side and slides his hand to my lower back, touching just above my ass as we walk in. I spot the girls straight away. Some I speak to more than others, but most of them are lovely. Monica has become a friend I didn’t know I wanted. She texts me, checks in on me, and it is nice to have that in a person; it’s not something I’ve been lucky enough to experience much before.
I’ve always wanted a friendship like that.
Glancing over at Grayson, I wonder what it would be like to love him, to be loved by him. I have a feeling both of us would be in the same boat and have no idea what to do or how to even handle that emotion. His hand falls lower to my ass as we get to the seating area in the back. I go to sit, and he positions himself so he blocks my view of the dance floor or, better yet, anyone seeing me.
“Oh, the devil. It suits you,” Monica says, and I hear a low grumble from Grayson. “You look good too, boss. What are you?” she asks, her hand on her hip. She’s dressed as the Wizard from The Wizard of Oz and looks amazing.
“He says he’s my bodyguard when in truth, I think he is the bogeyman.” I turn and wink at him.
Grayson smirks before I pull his hand and tell him to sit. Then, like it’s his natural position, his hand finds my lower back, and he strokes it through my costume, I tense, thinking he can feel my scars, or worse see them but that feeling fades quickly. I feel the tension rising with every caress.
I’m going to sleep with this man again.
I just know it.
