Laughing at myself, I remove the first omelet and pour the second one into the pan. “No, that’s okay. I either need to learn to not be so jumpy, or tie a bell around your neck.”
Greyston smiles, crosses the room until he’s standing right next to me, and tugs at the hem of my sweater. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re running around here in next to nothing just to drive me crazy,” he says, grazing my bare thigh with the backs of his long fingers.
“And I’m starting to think you do that”—I nod my head in the direction of his hand on my leg—“to drive me crazy.”
His hand moves up a little farther, above the fabric of my shorts until he’s fingering the waistline of them. My abdomen quivers when his knuckle grazes the ticklish skin there as he dips a finger in and pulls me to him. My chest is pressed so firmly to him that he can probably feel my heart beating. He holds my gaze, eyes blazing, and I sigh when our lips barely touch.
“Greyston, our breakfast,” I whisper, raising my free hand and teasing the hairs at the nape of his neck. Though, if I’m being entirely honest, the longer we stay like this, the more focused I am on how his body feels when it’s pressed so close to mine than the stupid eggs.
Breakfast be damned.
He briefly presses his lips to mine before releasing my shorts. “You’re right.”
Regretting saying anything at all, I toss the spatula on the counter and grab his arms before he’s out of reach. “Nonononono,” I tell him, tugging him back to me and shaking my head. “I’m wrong. So wrong.”
Laughing, Greyston kisses my forehead and moves around me to pour a cup of coffee. “No, you’re not. I’d hate for you to be late for school because I wouldn’t let you leave the house.”
I pick up the discarded spatula, add cheese to the omelet, and fold it over. “I think you’re just being a bit of a tease,” I accuse playfully. “Building the anticipation between us.” I turn and point the spatula at him. “I’m on to you, Masters.”
He quirks a brow and gives me that devilish half-smirk. “Not yet.”
I suddenly feel like my legs might give out beneath me, but I refuse to let him see this. “Funny.” After dishing up the second omelet, I pick up both plates and head for the island. “Breakfast is ready.”
Over breakfast, I ask Greyston if he’s got a busy day. Apparently he doesn’t have to go into the office until this afternoon, so after I leave, he plans to go for his swim. “I’d have preferred to have gone while you were still home.” I eye him curiously. “It’s just I hate that I’ve robbed you of your little routine.”
My jaw drops. I’m stunned. “I…uh…I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I stammer, poking my eggs with my fork, refusing to meet his smug stare.
“Yeah, that almost sounded believable.”
I set my fork down and turn to him. I’m not going to try and deny that I’ve been watching him, because he knows just as well as I do that I’m guilty, but his accusation has me curious about something. “So, you’ve seen me up there, and yet you still thought I was into Toby?”
“I wasn’t certain what you were doing up there, to be honest…you very well could have been enjoying the desert view and fresh morning air,” he admits, smirking crookedly at me. “It wasn’t until we finally got everything out in the open that I finally put two and two together.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “If only the two of us could have mastered basic math a week ago before jumping to all of the wrong conclusions.”
Before I know what’s happening, Greyston pulls my chair toward him, the feet scraping loudly against the tile. His warm hands are on my thighs, moving down to my knees where he curls his fingers and lifts my legs, resting them on his own. It’s kind of awkward, but I don’t really mind since I’m only inches away from straddling him—which must be his newest form of torture.
“Oh, I don’t know.” A tingle begins to work its way up my legs as his hands move up and down my thighs, his fingers occasionally dipping just beneath the hem of my shorts before resurfacing. There’s a really good chance that my heart is going to give out at the rate it’s beating. “I think things might be better this way,” he says, his voice low and seductive, increasing my desire for him exponentially. “All of those nights spent wondering kind of…intensified everything. Don’t you think?”
I nod once. It’s not the most fluid movement given my brain is more focused on the fact that Greyston’s hands are still running up and down my legs. Warmth spreads through my body, starting where his hands are touching me and moving all throughout until it settles in the pit of my belly, igniting a flourish of butterfly activity. No one has ever made me feel half as alive as Greyston, and if he’s able to elicit this kind of response from me with only his hands…well, imagine the possibilities.