Rm w/a Vu(137)
Greyston places a hand on my thigh. “Sweetheart, the legal drinking age here is nineteen, remember?”
Relieved and somewhat excited, I reach into my pocket and grab my ID, handing it to the server. He looks it over, smiles at me, and hands it back. “All right. I’ll be right back with that wine and give you all another minute or two with your menus.”
The conversation between the three of us dies as we decide what to order, so by the time our server returns, we’ve all made up our minds. Gemma orders a steak dinner with a baked potato and seasonal vegetables, Greyston decides on a burger and fries, and I choose the rotisserie chicken with garlic-mashed potatoes and a side salad.
The ambiance of the restaurant is nice. It’s a smaller place, probably family-owned, with dim overhead lighting and candles at every table. It’s an intimate-looking place, and I feel like it should be weird that there are three of us at one table, but one look around tells me it’s not that uncommon. There’s a couple of families here, enjoying a night out with their kids, and several tables with what appears to be a couple groups of friends unwinding after a long day over a pitcher of beer.
“So, Juliette,” Gemma speaks up, “how did you and Greyston meet?”
“Well, I was looking for a place to live after I left the dorms, and I happened across an ad in the paper,” I explain.
Gemma looks a little confused, but Greyston interjects. “I’d placed it because I was looking for someone who’d rent the room and be there to watch the place whenever I’m out of town. You know how crazy my schedule can get,” he tells her. “I’d never needed a roommate before because Kelli was always there when I wasn’t.”
“Ah, right,” Gemma says, raising her wine glass to her lips and taking a small pull. “Almost forgot about her. You haven’t had the pleasure, have you, Juliette?”
While I’d heard a little about Greyston’s ex—mainly about her clinginess and ultimatums—I’d asked very little because I didn’t want to know who came before me. Ignorance is bliss and all. I shake my head. “Um, no.”
“Lucky girl. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
The conversation quickly steers away from Greyston’s past girlfriends and back to how we wound up involved. Of course, Gemma finds our story hilarious—especially the part where I thought Greyston and Toby were a couple. The more I talk with Gemma, the more I like her. I feel silly for being jealous of Greyston’s past with her, especially after hearing more about Dom. Curious, I ask about the wedding, and she tells me that they’re only in the beginning stages of planning but that we should expect an invitation in the mail once they’re ready to go out.
After dinner—which was absolutely amazing—Greyston and I say goodnight to Gemma and tell her we’ll probably be at the resort again the next day. Gemma agrees to meet us there and offers to bring her board for me again, even saying I’m more than welcome to borrow it for the remainder of our trip.
As we walk out to our vehicle, I can tell that the wine has relaxed me just enough that my legs aren’t as sore as they were earlier. They still feel pretty tight, and the muscles in my back and arms are starting to feel the same way. I’m not looking forward to what tomorrow is going to bring.
When we arrive back at the cabin, Greyston opens the front door and ushers me inside. After taking off our jackets and hanging them up, he turns up the heat and smiles. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand and leading me for the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You’re probably going to be sore tomorrow from boarding, so I thought a nice, warm bath and a massage might help relax your muscles enough that it won’t be as bad,” he explains.
Smiling, I follow him upstairs. “Just when I thought today couldn’t get any better.”
He leads me into the bathroom and starts the bath. As the room fills with warm fog, Greyston helps me out of my clothes, my back muscles protesting when I raise my arms to remove my shirt. Once I’m naked, Greyston follows suit and helps me into the tub first. I scoot forward so he can join me in the large tub, then he eases me back against him, rubbing my shoulders and then slipping a hand between us to massage the muscles in my lower back. I groan happily as some of the tension releases from my muscles, and Greyston kisses the back of my neck lightly.
“So, you had a good day?” he whispers against my skin, making it prickle.
“Mmm hmm,” I hum, finding myself incapable of speaking due to how amazing the massage feels.
He continues to press soft kisses against my shoulder, his scruff tickling my skin while his hands knead my stiff muscles and relax me further. His hands wander around from my back, gripping my hips briefly before moving toward my legs. He’s on a mission, and my body is responding accordingly—until the minute his hands make contact with my thighs. He doesn’t even press very hard, but even the slightest touch has me wincing, and he recoils immediately, removing his lips from my shoulder at the same time.