Without a doubt.
My computer doesn’t turn on right away, so I try again. Nothing. The light for the power button doesn’t even come on, so I check to make sure the AC adaptor cord is plugged in to both the computer and the wall. It is. However, when I wiggle it a little, the battery light flickers on and off several times, which means the wiring is ruined and I’ll need to replace it.
“So much for that idea,” I huff, slamming my laptop closed and crossing my arms like an angry toddler.
Then I remember that Greyston has a computer. Would it be wrong for me to look up questionable material on my boyfriend’s computer? What if he found out somehow? I would be humiliated. Though, if I made sure to clear the history, no one would be the wiser…
Realizing I don’t have much time, I rush to Greyston’s office and turn on his iMac. I open Safari, and my fingers hover over the keyboard; it almost feels wrong to even be contemplating this. Taking a deep breath, I enter words I’ve never spoken, much less typed, into the search browser and hit enter with closed eyes.
While I know the Internet is positively swarming with porn, it still surprises me a little to see just how many hits I come up with. The first few are…terrifying, and I close them almost immediately… Yeah, almost—I’ll admit I linger a little longer than I probably should.
There are a few videos I find…informative, and they also serve to be quite titillating. The longer I watch, the more excited I find I’m becoming about trying this with Greyston—I just hope I don’t mess it up. That’s my biggest fear: what if I’m no good?
As I continue to research, I feel the deep tingle that’s been moving through my body intensify between my thighs, forcing me to cross my legs. I’m suddenly regretting this idea, because I’ve grown quite aroused, and Greyston’s not around to lend a hand, so to speak.
I’ve become engrossed in one video in particular, resting my elbows on the desk and propping my head in my hands as I watch this couple. Suddenly, keys in the deadbolt of the front door startles me, and I frantically close the window before running down to find Greyston walking in.
“Hey,” he greets with a bright smile as I descend the stairs. He pulls me to him and kisses me firmly. “How was your morning?”
My cheeks warm, remembering what I was just doing, and I shrug. “F-fine. I just finished tidying our rooms after making your bed.” He looks ready to say something, but my nerves force me to cut him off. “I was just going to go make some lunch. You hungry?”
His expression changes minutely, and I briefly wonder if he can see how anxious I am. It doesn’t last long, though. “Actually, I have to run upstairs and check an email. My phone didn’t open the file properly when Callie sent it to me.”
“Sure.”
“I won’t be long,” Greyston promises, kissing me sweetly before heading upstairs.
In the kitchen, I search the fridge for something to make. I pull out sandwich ingredients and am just starting to organize everything when anxiety slowly starts creeping its way along my spine. I shake it off, because I really have no reason to worry that I can think of, and I begin washing the few dishes I’ve dirtied.
Then it hits me like a wrecking ball. “Oh, shit,” I mutter, dropping the knife back into the sink and running out of the kitchen. I launch myself up the stairs, taking them two at a time—even though this has proven in the past to be hazardous. When I barge into Greyston’s office, out of breath and probably looking completely insane, he slowly raises his wide eyes to mine.
The entire time I was running up here, I hoped that I was only imagining the worst…but as I read the expression on his face, it’s confirmed: I didn’t actually close the Internet window in my hurry to greet Greyston, but only minimized it. It figures this would happen to me.
And just when I’d started to think my humiliation streak had ended.
Chapter 23
I’m breathing heavily, trying to figure out how to explain the massive amount of porn I’d Googled, and my face is burning hotter than ever. Before I can say anything to get myself out of this mess, though, Greyston stands up and crosses the room to me. He wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me into the room, closing the door and pressing me against it. The look in his eyes eliminates any embarrassment I feel, replacing it with the familiar warmth of arousal and lust for him, and he presses his hands to the door on either side of me, effectively pinning me in place.
“I think you’d better explain your Internet usage, Miss Foster,” he commands in a firm voice that makes my stomach flip and my heart flutter. I suddenly imagine myself in a schoolgirl outfit while he’s in a suit and tie, and I’ve just been called to the principal’s office.