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And then we’re there at the front door. And I’m taking her in, up to her room, laying her on her bed, ripping off her clothes, then fucking her, fucking her, fucking her, and it’s just as good as I thought, even better, except…
I’m still standing here, looking at her.
For fuck’s sake, Greyson, get yourself together!
“So,” she says.
“So,” I say.
What I should do isn’t what I want to.
I give her a quick kiss on the lips, then rip myself away.
As I’m walking away, she says, “Greyson?”
“Yeah?”
“Uh, you’re still holding my bag.”
Shit. Smooth, Greyson, smooth.
“Right.” I go back to her without looking at her. Don’t think about kissing her. Don’t think about her. Don’t think. “Here. ’Night.”
As I’m walking away again, she murmurs, “’Night, Greyson.”
“’Night, Harley,” I say, still walking as fast as I can.Chapter 20Harley
His kiss tingles on my lips all the way up to my place. One foot in the entrance and I hear scampering.
“Anchovy!” I hiss, seconds before he leaps into my arms.
I let my fingers run along his furry brown back happily as he squeaks happily.
“Shh,” I whisper, “You’ll wake Han, and you know how she values her beauty sleep.”
“I’m awake,” Hannah says, snapping on a light.
She smiles vaguely at me, as if I’m the one wearing a furry bathrobe and the furry sloth-head slippers I got her last Christmas.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “did we wake you?”
Hannah shakes her head as she comes over to throw her arms around me. “I couldn’t miss you coming back. I’m so happy to see you! How was everything?”
I hug her tighter. “I’m so happy to see you! It was… I… don’t even know where to begin!”
Anchovy leaps down and races overjoyed circles around us as my bag flops on the floor.
“Begin with your hot boss,” Hannah says, with a devilish eyebrow wiggle, “and how everything went.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “It was… OK, it was amazing. He was. Is. And, he…” I try to bite my lip and hold it in, but this is Han. “He just dropped me off, actually. And kissed me. After we spent four days together in the fanciest resort I’ve ever seen.”
Hannah’s jaw drops open and drops even further as I speak.
She grasps both my hands. “Tell me everything.” We’re halfway to the couch when she pauses. “Shit, you’re probably exhausted. Ignore that, you can tell me everything tomorrow. Go to bed.”
I go over to the couch and sit down. “No, I’m actually… not super tired anymore. For some reason.”
Probably the kiss, but I’m not about to go into how a grade-school-worthy chaste kiss has injected me with energy like a triple-shot espresso.
“OK then.” Hannah sits beside me. “Tell me everything, then.”
I do. I start at the beginning and go from there. Hannah giggles and groans and ‘oohs’ at all the right parts, and in the end, she laughs.
“What?” I ask her.
“He likes you,” she says simply. “And you actually really like him too.”
“Hmm.” Patting Anchovy absently on the head, I shrug. “You don’t think you might be reading into things?”
Another incredulous laugh. “Reading into things? Harley, you spent a glorious four days with the man camped out in a luxury hotel and, in your words, wanted to spend even longer. If anything, I’m reading too little into things.”
“Maybe it’s just the opportunity,” I continue, “just the excitement of finally nabbing my dream job, meeting one of my film idols…”
Hannah makes a skeptical sound. “Sounds like your delusional self needs some sleep.”
I sink into the couch gratefully. “You’re probably right—about the sleep part, at least. ’Night, Han.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Next thing I know, Hannah’s pulling me to my feet, over to my room. “No way do I want a lecture about morning etiquette because I decided to chew my Shreddies and woke you up. You are sleeping in your own room with the door closed.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say sleepily as she helps me along.
All at once, the weariness hits me, like a wave that had been sitting placid.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out, gone and…
**
I wake up to Hannah’s “You’re still asleep?!?”
I glare at her with my eyes still closed. “You’re still here?”
She snorts. “Still here? I just got back from work. Have you really been sleeping all this time?”
“Mrmph,” I say noncommittally, although I do open my eyes.
Sure enough, it’s broad daylight and my phone says it’s 4:37 PM with one missed call.
One missed call from Greyson Storm.
!!!
“Good thing Anchovy still had a crapton of food from yesterday,” Hannah says as she comes to my door.
“Are you still just slopping a mountain of minced meat into his food bowl every few days?” I grumble.
“Why not?” Hannah folds her arms across her chest. “He likes it.”
“Yeah, and my favorite food in the world is caramel corn. Doesn’t mean I should eat mountains of it all day every day.”
