I’ve always considered her tall, but standing here in front of me now, she doesn’t seem it anymore. I tower over her despite her height, but the longer I stand here, the more I wish I were on my knees looking up. Worshipping at the altar of a woman so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her in this proximity. I feel unworthy, but that doesn’t stop me from keeping her right here, close enough to smell the lingering scent of her perfume mixed with sweat andme.
Her nipples are hard, pointing straight at me as I prowl closer and then crouch just enough to slide my hands around her thighs. With a simple move, I’ve got her in my arms again.
“This isn’t the easiest position to wash my hair,” she whispers, pressing close, her breasts brushing my chest.
I smirk, teasing her lips with my words. “I’ve got other things I want to do to you first.”
And not a single one of them includes shampoo.
11
JILL
I’ve always beenan active sleeper, which is why I wasn’t exactly expecting to wake up tucked beneath a very heavy, very male arm. Yet, here I am, very still and comfortable being this way.
The curtains are closed to block out the majority of the sun, only the tiny trickles of morning light appearing through the top and bottom. It’s utterly silent, like the world is still sleeping outside of this room. I’m on my side, facing the window with the thin hotel comforter resting over my shoulders and one knee bent in front of me, half-stretched out. My toes are free of the blankets, and I wiggle them for a moment before sinking further into the strong body behind me.
The movement tugs at the soreness between my legs, making it flare. I wince and pull my knee back, blinking quickly. Slow, even breaths filter through my hair, warming my scalp. It would seem that Grayson’s a cuddler, which . . . isn’t surprising in the slightest. Even after what happened last night, I totally called this.
It seems like he’s still the man I expected, even with a few extra quirks and perks.
Releasing a breath, I reach up to rub my eyes. Last night was intense. I don’t know if intense is even accurate. It was insanity, really. From the touches under the table at dinner to the desperation I felt in the elevator and shit—everything that came afterward. I mean, I let him bind my wrists with his belt and make me beg to be able to come. None of what happened was what I expected from this trip. Not even close.
Regardless of my predisposed ideas, I think I prefer everything we did to anything that I could have ever imagined.
His every possessive touch, adoring gaze, and devoted kiss had me willing to do just about anything he asked with a loopy smile on my face and a “yes, sir.” Even now, when the morning-after clarity should be hitting and I expect to feel the shame spiral that usually follows a one-night stand, I feel nothing short of amazing.
Grayson isn’t just a guy I let buy me a few drinks at the bar and went home with only to sneak out before the sun rose. This is my boss and, more importantly, myfriend. He’s the person who shows up after every snowfall with a shovel in hand and who notices when I forget to bring a lunch and orders me my favourite sandwich from the deli on the corner. I’ve never once had to call and ask him to show up when I’m in need or give him a list of my regular orders at all the restaurants in town. He listens, and he remembers. That’s who Grayson is.
Now, all of those things feel a bit heavier. Like they’ve held more significance than I’ve realized.
For three years, I’ve grown used to his presence in my life. At first, it was just nice to have a familiar face that would smile at me from the office across the hall when I was having a rough day. Ivy wasn’t working at the office then. It was just me, Grayson, and a few other employees whom I couldn’t really ever connectwith. Grayson was newer to the job than I was, but despite his intimidating size and the scowl I’d see him wear more often than not back then, I saw a kindness to him that made me feel calm.
Over the weeks and months, then years, that followed, we started speaking more, and eventually, he was making that first offer to come over and help clear my driveway after a near-Christmas snowball. Of course, it was more like a weird joke then, considering Ivy was relating it to getting fucked, and he just so happened to be eavesdropping, but it was an innocent offer on his part nonetheless. And since then, he’s made it a point to take care of me.
That’s what it is.
Now that I’ve ripped that ridiculous blindfold off my eyes, I can see that’s exactly what he was doing.
What started as coffee brought into my cubicle on days where I came into work with bags under my eyes soon grew into him building me that damn wooden holder for my garbage bins and driving by every week to make sure I had put them out onto the street on time. My neighbours know his name, recognize his car, and jeez, even offer him a tin of cookies every Christmas with a red bow on top.
It shouldn’t have been surprising when he volunteered to help me at the wedding, nor should I have been shocked when I found myself happy that he had. It was a relief as much as it was nerve-racking. There are few people I would have enjoyed being with the way I have with Grayson. And that . . . that should have been obvious.
So should the flutters I have as I lie here, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back. Not one thing feels out of place here, in his hold with the memory of him between my legs still hot in my mind. I want more of this, of him, and I think I have for months now. Maybe longer.
A small smile plays on my lips as I reach out and grab my phone from the nightstand. My sister’s messages aren’t exactly unexpected, considering how Grayson and I left dinner last night. I roll my eyes at the first one and gawk at the reply I certainly didn’t send.
Kate: Are you ok? Is it food poisoning? I told Mom not that nobody orders seafood the night before their wedding. Should I blame her for this???
Kate: Should I go up and check on you? Why haven’t you answered me?
Kate: HELLO!!!!! Jill!!!! Don’t make me call you Jillian.
Me: The seafood was an odd choice. I’m just sleeping it off. I’ll be good for tomorrow.
Kate: Thank God. Okay, sweet dreams. <3
It’s so clearly written by Grayson and not me that it’s a miracle my sister didn’t pick up on it. I blame our lack of recent relationship for that. What with all her time spent with Vince’s sisters . . .
