It’s a smart move.
He’s working on the single workbench now, and I like how he’s rolled up his sleeves to show off the way his biceps flex as he hammers. Greyson catches me watching and flashes a smile. I grin back.
I’ve also got the base for the scene outside of Santa’s workshop via his workshop window with the gingerbread houses that we’re going to surround with twinkling lights.
Now that it’s dry, it’s time for me to add the details, so I meander to go looking for the palette I need to mix some gray tones, and Greyson follows me.
“You didn’t come over last night.” The warmth of his body behind me is alluring. I want to lean into him so desperately.
But I sigh softly.
Because, no, I didn’t.
I could only be rejected so many times.
And the words Gabe said before I stormed out…they played on repeat the whole night, kept me awake through a fitful sleep.
They’ve been nipping at the back of my brain all day.
Greyson closes in, turning me to face him.
“Hey. What happened?” He touches my cheek, and I don’t see any judgement in his gaze.
Everything inside of me leans toward him and his sweetness. How easy it is to just be myself around him.
“Do you think I make rash decisions?”
His gaze softens and warms. “No. You’re decisive and quick. You might take some risks, but you wouldn’t be so good at everything you do if you didn’t.”
Greyson’s touch lingers, gently caressing my cheek. And something blooms in my chest.
I reach for him, and he comes to me easily for a kiss. His mouth molds against mine, chaste at first, but as my touch crawls up hisshoulders to pull him closer, he gives up the pretense and kisses me like he means it with the full power of his intention.
I open to him, letting him in.
He doesn’t charge in, but he conquers me just the same. There’s something to be said about skill, the slow progression of his invasion until I’m putty in his hands.
He doesn’t let me down, leaning me back against the barn wall, sinking a hand into my hair to tilt me where he wants me.
God, I can feel his arousal against my belly, and I want my hands on him again.
But Greyson retreats, breathing as heavily as I am.
Part of me is glad that he’s got some sense to not let us get so carried away here.
We are at work, after all.
The other part of me wishes I could drag him back to me, undress him, and have him wipe away all my insecurities with the pleasure I know he can command.
His smile prompts mine, and we linger in each other’s space. I soak in every little touch, like how he plays with my hair, my ear, the collar of my shirt. It takes a moment for us to sober up.
“Are you coming over tonight?”
My heart plummets. “No.”
“What’d he do?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to tell him. I take his hand in mine to stop his casual touches. “I’m looking for a small paint palette.”
