“Please,” I snort. “Then explain how I keep letting this happen.”
Moving closer to me, Greyston rests his arm along the back of the couch and exhales heavily. “Juliette, you’re the type of person who’s always trying to see the good in people. It’s not your fault that they fail to see just how amazing you really are.”
I scoff. “Yeah, okay.”
His eyes narrow, almost like he’s trying to get inside my head. Not exactly the safest place to be swimming right now. “How is it you don’t see just how great you are? You’re warm, compassionate…stunning.”
“You’re insane,” I tell him pointedly. “In fact, I think that’s it.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I reach out and rest my index finger against his mouth to silence him. “Shhh… I’m having an epiphany here. I think there’s a very real possibility that all men are crazy. That has to be it.” Greyston smiles against the pad of my finger, drawing my attention back to his mouth—to his perfect, soft, kissable lips.
Licking my own lips, I shift my hand slightly until it’s my thumb touching his mouth, and my gaze darts between it and his penetrating stare. “You know,” I say softly, “you’ve got the perfect Cupid’s bow.” My thumb moves lazily along the ridge of his upper lip, and his eyelids drop slightly.
“Juliette,” he whispers against my roaming thumb, his eyes falling closed while his hand comes up to cover—but not move—mine. The minute his thumb presses into the pulse point at my wrist, I know he can feel just how fast my heart is racing.
For him.
When his eyes open again, they’re a brilliant blue and filled with unmistakable want. While this confuses me, I also know without a doubt that I’m not imagining it. He continues to stare at me in a way I never expected, and when I think back over the last week, I come to realize that this isn’t the first time he’s looked at me…and I mean really looked at me.
I’m aware that my alcohol-induced state is probably forcing my brain to blow everything out of proportion, but there has to be something there; a spark that maybe, just maybe, has the potential to grow out of control.
I know it’s wrong, but I can’t fight it anymore. And with the amount I’ve had to drink tonight, I don’t know if I’d be able to fight it even if I wanted to. Impulsively, I move forward on the couch until my knees touch his thigh. Butterflies flutter wildly in my stomach at what I am about to do; never in a million years have I been the one to initiate anything, and while I know there’s a very real possibility that he’ll reject me, something in my brain tells me to proceed.
“I want to try something,” I tell him, my voice soft and raspy. I remove my thumb from his soft lips, letting my hand rub the scratchy stubble along his jaw, and I lean closer to him than I’ve ever been.
Our eyes are locked, our breathing is matched breath for labored breath, and he nods. I move in a little closer until the tip of my nose brushes his, and his hold on my hand tightens. My lips are so close to his I can feel the warmth of his breath. “Don’t. Move,” I instruct. His head bobs slightly in understanding, and I close the very small gap between us.
Chapter 15
I only peck his lips at first, staring into his eyes to gauge his reaction. When he doesn’t seem utterly repulsed, I kiss him again. This time, I press firmly, my bottom lip finding a home between his. With a moan, his mouth molds to mine, and his eyes close. Swept up in the moment, I allow my own eyes to flutter shut, and he drops my hand in favor of cradling my face.
In the back of my mind, I know this was only supposed to be an experiment—one I wasn’t sure he would allow me to conduct—but it appears to have been successful for the most part. His fingers move up into my hair, releasing it a little from the loosening hairpins and sending a delicious jolt of pleasure down my spine.
Even though I don’t want to, I stop kissing him, opening my eyes to find him staring at me, bewildered, and breathing quite heavily. I definitely see something there, something that pulls me back to him. That spark I saw only a moment ago has ignited, and my entire body feels like it’s caught fire; it’s all consuming, and there’s only one way to extinguish the burn.
I don’t think anymore; I act.
In a flash, I’m moving to straddle him, my lips seeking his out again, and I rejoice once they’ve made contact. It’s Greyston who makes the next move, his fingers curling in my hair, and his mouth parting slightly until I feel the sensual warmth of his tongue pressing against my lower lip. Soon, my own tongue is moving languidly against his as his hands move from my hair and run down the length of my back, stopping when they reach the curve of my backside. I can feel Greyston’s fingers trailing along the hemline of my sleep shorts, tickling the sensitive flesh right below my ass, while his thumbs move in firm strokes over the thin cotton fabric. The gentle movements of his fingers send shots of white-hot passion pulsing through my veins, and I can’t take it anymore; I shift my hips against him to quell the intense desire I’ve felt for this man for weeks.