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I side eye him, huffing under my breath, “I’m not grumpy.”
Grayson unfolds his arms and shuffles an inch closer to me. “You are. Why?”
I turn to face him, not realising how close we would be; our toes are almost touching. I take a step backwards just so I can breathe a little better, but I’m hit with the edge of the worktop at my back.
“I’m done with dating. I’m fed up with it being dull and boring. It’s become a chore that I don’t want any part of. I seem to only attract boring men and maybe it’s because I’m a little inexperienced or maybe it’s just how it is. I’m bound to end up an old spinster at this rate. Someone buy me a fucking hundred cats and I’ll be fine.” My chest heaves with my outburst. My pulse flickers wildly in my neck. I blink, the room coming back into clear focus after my mini meltdown. “Sorry, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?” I awkwardly feel my face heat from Grayson’s unreadable stare.
He takes two measured breaths before placing his arms on the counter either side of me, trapping me. My traitorous body reacts immediately to his familiar masculine scent. My eyes flicker to his lips. They’re plump for a guy, and the memory of how well he knows how to use them flares in my mind, making my nipples harden. “I’m adding to your list,” he whispers.
My head shakes lightly, not enough to protest, and I immediately feel dizzy from the onslaught of this man on my senses. “Wh-what?”
“I’m taking you on a date. Tomorrow. I’m going to show you what a good time looks like.”
I feel myself pale and then my unwavering desire to sass him takes over in an instant. “I don’t need you to pity date me. I don’t want you to help me like that.” I place my hand on his chest to shove him back, but it’s met with too much resistance, and I can’t actually push at all.
“Don’t be stubborn, Nora. I’m trying to help,” he says, letting his gaze drop to my lips.
I huff, lowering my hands from his wall of muscle. “Well, you’re not. You’re offering me a date because you think it’ll make me feel better, but it won’t. In fact, your charity date makes me feel a thousand times worse. The only people I want to go out with are those who are actually interested in me and find me attractive. Not playboys whose only agenda is to inflate their own ego.”
“Don’t mince your words there, Nor. Jesus.” He turns away from me, letting me finally inhale fully, but in a split second he’s back in the same position, making my breath hitch. “I don’t docharitydates. I was genuinely trying to help,” he snaps, as his eyes roam over my face. “And I do find you attractive. I think you know that. In fact, I think you’re the fucking bomb, but what do I know?”
“I…”
“Don’t bother apologising. We both know you meant what you said. I understand why you feel grumpy and are acting out, given the bad date tonight, but lucky for you, I don’t give a shit. What I dowantto know is if you’re going to get over yourself and go out with me, despite what you think you know about me.”
My mouth opens and closes in quick succession. Words aren’t coming, so I snap it shut before I say something I regret. The nearness of him is making me light-headed, messing with my brain. His full lips are far too tempting and the warmth radiating off his hot, sculpted body is sending me a little feverish. A part of me wants to throw myself at him for calling me out and still being there for me, despite my mardy attitude. But I’m confused because my anger is mixing with something much more dangerous, and I can barely control it.
“Good talk. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight, shorty.”
And then he’s gone.
Chapter 7
Grayson
Waitingoutsideherhouse,my leg jitters up and down, as my fingers tap the leather steering wheel. I hate waiting, but this is more than that. I have this weird pit in my stomach reminding me this is probably a terrible idea. I don’t date because I’ve never had a relationship or met anyone I wanted to date. I refuse to fall into the trap that my parents endured and made me endure along with them. My dad’s voice echoes in my head constantly. ‘Don’t get married, son. Women will break your heart.’ But despite all my apprehension, Nora looked so fucking sad last night that I had to do something. I couldn’t let her think that men are all boring shitheads who don’t know how to treat a woman.
Her front door opens, and she steps outside wearing a dress that makes my pulse pick up. It’s red, knee-length, and clings to every curve on her body. As she turns to lock the door, she gives me a full view of her perfect arse, which makes me want to bite my hand to stop the overwhelming need to bend her over and bite her. There’s no doubt about it; she looks stunning. As she walks to my car, my gaze trails up to her face and I notice a light dusting of make up, which is exactlyher. Her dark hair falls poker straight around her perfectly delicate face and neck, and I’m definitely ogling.
Fuck me. This was a bad idea.
I climb out to open her door, and she stops and looks at me, surprised. “Opening doors for women, Grayson? Careful, you’ll lose that playboy title you covet.”
I’m still unable to form a full sentence as she gracefully climbs into my car. I hadn’t thought this through. Now I’m going to have to sit next to her and opposite her all night while she looks like a fucking snack; no, a whole damn meal. And right now, I’m also remembering everything about my night with her. Her taste, her moans, the feel of her body in my hands, the way her walls tightened around my dick as she came dragging me toward my own release. My dick swells and I take a few deep breaths as I round the car again, trying to ignore the feelings that this woman stirs up in me.
Walking into the restaurant, I bypass the front desk and head to the private area where another desk sits dimly in the corner. I’m not sure I’ll get used to having money and connections. Liam has plenty and uses them with ease, but I still feel like a bit of an imposter sometimes. Most people wouldn’t realise I feel like that, but then again, not a lot of people know me that well. They only know Grayson King, the playboy.
“How can I help you?”
“Grayson King, reservation for two.”
“Ahh yes, Mr King. Your table is waiting for you upstairs. The rooftop restaurant is best accessed via the lift over here.” The waiter points to a small set of aluminium doors just to the left of us.
I nod, placing my hand on the small of Nora’s back, guiding her forwards. Her breathing stutters as we wait for the lift. I’m not sure if she’s just nervous about this whole evening or it’s something else. We step inside the lift, and she clamps her hands together and closes her eyes, breathing through her nose and out through her mouth.
“Are you okay?” I ask. Her eyes snap to mine, wild and dilated as we travel up to floor 40.
“Fine,” she breathes heavily. I want to ask more, but she doesn’t look at me, she just breathes deeply. I don’t push the subject again, and we ride the lift with the only noise being her deep breathing. When the doors finally open, she walks, no runs, out. I’m guessing she wasn’t that comfortable, but was it the lift or me?
