Rm w/a Vu(130)

“So modest,” I tease, interrupting and nudging him lightly.

Laughing, Greyston shakes his head. “He didn’t stand a chance.”

I glance down at the picture again and smirk, tapping my finger on it and pointing out all the snow that covers him. “Looks like you might have gotten hit a few times, too.”

Greyston scoffs, reaching over my leg and flipping to the next page. “I had to let him think he at least stood a chance.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, prodding him a little. “You tell yourself whatever you have to to help you sleep at night.”

We go through the rest of the album, and Greyston tells me stories of his youth. Every story he tells me has me feeling closer to him than I ever thought possible, but it also makes me wish we’d met sooner. Of course, then I begin to think a bit more logically, and I realize that when he was nine, I’d have been two, and when he’d had his first real girlfriend at fifteen, I’d have been eight. This is not the recipe for romance, so I quickly derail that train of thought and thank the heavens that we met at this point in our lives—you know, when the age difference isn’t quite so…well, gross.

“What about your childhood?” Greyston asks, setting the finished album aside.

“What about it?” I quip, finishing the last of my wine.

Smirking, Greyston slips one of his arms beneath my left leg, wraps the other around my waist, and pulls me onto his lap. “Well, where did you and your family go on vacations? What was your favorite thing to do?”

“Well,” I begin, pushing a few strands of Greyston’s slightly disheveled hair back off his forehead, “we used to spend a few weeks every summer in Florida. My mom loves the ocean, and we’d rent a house on the beach every year.”

“Used to? Why don’t you anymore?”

I shrug. “Time, I suppose. It’s hard to coordinate our schedules during the summer.”

“So what were your favorite things to do while in Florida?”

“Dad was pretty into boating, and while I wasn’t particularly skilled at it, I enjoyed water skiing,” I tell him, gaining a big smile from Greyston.

“Water skiing,” he repeats. “So you are a little more adventurous than you’ve led me to believe.”

I snicker. “I don’t know about adventurous, but—”

Greyston’s barking laughter interrupts me. “Oh, I think that the flight attendants would probably agree with me that you’re a thrill-seeker.”

Feeling the need to remind him that our initiation into the mile high club was just as much his adventurous side as it was mine, I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off, pressing his forehead to mine and curling his fingers into my lower back. “Honestly, it’s one of the things I admire most about you. You’re not easy to read like most other girls.”

“You say that like you know what every other girl on the planet is thinking,” I reply cockily.

“Most are terribly transparent.” He sighs before ghosting his lips over mine, teasing me and making my longing for him swell. “But you…you’re always keeping me on my toes, Juliette.”

Greyston’s hands continue to move over my back, slowly lifting my shirt and setting the entire surface of my skin ablaze. I hum, brushing my nose over his and teasing his lips with mine. “Well, I think I’d much rather have you on your back than on your toes right now.”

“See,” he says with a breathy chuckle as he slips his hands beneath my sweater and removes it, “always surprising me.”

I make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, push it off his shoulders, and throw it behind me—careful to avoid the fireplace. Our lips crash together in a frenzy of lust and need as Greyston’s hands move down my body and come to rest between my legs. He strokes the inner seam of my jeans, making me whimper and writhe against him, before popping the button and slipping his hand behind the denim.

He hisses when he comes into contact with my bare skin, pulling his lips from mine and looking deep into my eyes. “I can’t believe I almost forgot about this,” he says, his voice low and raspy with desire as he moves his fingers back and forth over the smooth skin. When he moves his hand again, my eyes close, and I moan in appreciation. “We were so rushed earlier that I think I need to take things a little slower—appreciate your little surprise for me properly.”

“Yes,” I pant, “please.”

Seeming a little reluctant at first, Greyston removes his hand from my jeans and lays me down on the floor. He positions himself between my legs and hooks his fingers into the waist of my pants, working them down my thighs. Once he reaches my knees, I lift my legs straight in the air, and he pulls my jeans off the rest of the way, taking my socks with them as he sets them off to the side with our shirts. The warmth of the fire washes over my naked body as Greyston slips his own jeans off and kneels before me in his boxers, running his hands up the smooth flesh of my calves.