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“Nothing,” I tell a little white lie, omitting the pink lacy hipsters.
I hear a throaty rumble and the phone shifting before he speaks. “That’s the vision I want to think about all day and until the minute I step foot back in Miami. It’ll be nice to finally to sleep in my bed again.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something about him sleeping on the couch, but I refrain. It’s another painful reminder we don’t need. So instead, I go a different route.
“It’s very lonely without you. I dreamed a lot last night, remembering the last time I was here and what you did to me. I woke up curled around your pillow.”
Another throaty rumble comes through the line, this time sounding like brutal torture.
“Fuck, Grace, I’m hard as a rock over here.”
“Hmmm, such a waste. Maybe I should let you go take care of that,” I tease.
“Hell no, you’re not going anywhere. We’re taking care of this.”
“What do you suggest?” I nearly purr, feeling the sexual tension build through the line.
“Grace, tell me about your dream.”
“I’d rather you tell me about your dreams.”
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “I’ve never in my life thought I’d be into phone sex.”
“Don’t let me corrupt you.”
“Holy fuck. Touch yourself, Grace. Tell me how it feels.”
“Tell me what to do, Nick. What do you want?”
There’s more rumbling on his end, and his breathing picks up. “I’m going to tell you exactly what to do, and I want to hear it all.”
I suck in a deep breath, feeling sexier than I ever have in my life. “Okay,” I give in to him, needing this as much as he does. My entire body is on fire, needing this touch. Thinking of him, lying across the country, in bed, gripping himself as he tells me what to do, proves he has complete control.
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
“First, I need you to trace your fingers around your nipples and slowly run them down your stomach…”
“You’re finally done, Grace. It’s all ready,” I say to the empty office and close down my computer, shoving it into my bag.
I take one last look around, checking the printer and making sure I’ve got everything. Then I walk through the gallery, memorizing its layout, knowing it will be different when I return.
When I get in my car, I send a quick text to my mom that I’m on my way and drive toward their hotel. This is it. Only Mom knows my plans. She’s been an integral part of helping me get things together, so I’m comfortable with the transition.
The drive to the hotel and ride in the elevator, I rehearse what I’m going to say with a knot growing in my stomach.
Grandpa throws open the door before I even knock and hauls me into a hug. “Peach Princess!” He twists me around as if he hasn’t seen me in forever.
“Grandpa, I saw you last night.”
“But this old man needed some love.” He places me on my feet and brings me inside where my mom promptly hands me a glass of wine.
I flash her a grateful smile and lay my bag down on the table in their suite.
Dad and Logan come in from the balcony when they spot me. I take a large gulp of my wine and grab a folder out of my bag, going to the barstool by my mom.
“I wanted to talk to you all tonight before we meet the Bennett’s for dinner. There’s something I need to tell you.”
I focus directly on Logan first. “Logan, I’ve been keeping something from you, not only as your sister, but also as your business partner.” I take the top two papers in the folder and walk them to him.
