My face kind of scrunches up, and I shrug in response. “Would you believe me if I said I was just kidding?” He stops pacing and looks at me with an unreadable expression. “No? Didn’t think so. In my defense, I asked all sorts of questions, and every answer that both of you gave led me there. You even introduced him as your partner.”
“Business partner,” Greyston corrects. Even though I feel like he should be furious, he looks amused and somewhat relieved by this turn of events.
He moves around the island again until he’s standing a few feet away, but it’s me who takes that final step. Greyston reaches up to push a few strands of hair away from my face. He’s handling my blunder far better than I think he should be—not that I’m complaining.
Slowly, his hands move down until they rest along my jaw and neck. The tips of his fingers tickle, and the tiny hairs all over my body prickle. I shiver.
We stand in the kitchen, silent as we try to absorb everything we’d just unearthed. The way he’s looking down at me should feel odd, but for some unknown reason, this—being in his arms—just feels right.
“I’ve made a lot of assumptions in the past two weeks,” I admit quietly, and Greyston chuckles. “So, in order to clear a few things up, I’m going to ask you one thing.”
Greyston nods, leaning forward and kissing my forehead lightly. I sigh when the warmth of the gesture spreads beneath my skin. “Ask me anything,” he whispers, kissing my right cheek next and making my legs tremble. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Then he kisses my left cheek, and my fingers curl against my thigh. Finally, he kisses the tip of my nose, and I giggle. “Ask away.”
“So, just to clarify for my own personal peace of mind, you’re not gay?”
Greyston breathes out a single laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’d even think that, because from the minute I opened that damn door, all I seem to be able to think about is you.”
My heart is pounding so hard it’s all I hear behind the echo of his confession. Needing him closer, I wrap my arms around his neck. I break eye contact with him and run my lips over his stubbled jaw, stopping when I reach his mouth. “Kiss me.”
I barely have a chance to take a breath before Greyston’s lips collide with mine. One of his hands remains in my hair while his other arm snakes itself around my waist and picks me up so our faces are level. I thread my fingers through his soft hair, refusing to let him pull away like he did last night.
Kissing Greyston now, sober, is definitely better than it was last night. Maybe because now I know that the feelings I have for him aren’t unrequited at all. The arm that’s around my back shifts until he’s palming my backside, and I remove one of my own hands from his hair, placing it flat on the counter behind me to hoist myself onto it.
Before setting me down completely, Greyston’s hand moves down my ass, over my thigh, and his fingers hook under my knee, pulling it up and hitching it tightly around his waist before it slooooowly glides back up and slips into the leg of my sleep shorts.
Needing him closer, my other leg tightens around him, my heel resting just above the back of his knee, and I pull him forward a step until he’s tucked firmly between my thighs. The fingers of his right hand curl into the soft flesh of my ass beneath my shorts, pulling me forward, and I moan into his mouth when I feel a firm bulge behind his jeans.
I’m not overly experienced in sex or anything that might go along with it; I’ve never initiated it, and I never really cared if I got it one way or another. Of course, if I had felt half the things I am right now—the warmth that covers my body, the toe-curling, sensual tingle that’s coursing through me, the manic racing of my heart, and the deep pulsing between my legs—I might have been a little more excited by the idea.
Greyston takes his time, almost like he’s trying to memorize every part of me. He’s sweet and sensual, his hands soft as the glide over my body. Ben always seemed to be in a rush.
It’s intense and foreign to me. Plain and simple. And I want more.
I remove my hand from his hair and slip both arms between us, curving my back so I can keep kissing him and undo the button on his jeans. He moves to pull his lips from mine, but I react instantly, one of my hands returning to his hair now that it’s finished aiding and abetting the other’s dastardly mission.
Thankfully, he doesn’t resist, his tongue gently massaging mine. I’ll be honest; I never used to like kissing like this and avoided it entirely when I could. Ben was like a wild dog, salivating all over my mouth and chin.