Rm w/a Vu(69)

I lean in to press my lips to his, but when they’re a hairsbreadth away, he whispers, “You’re going to be late.”

I move my head back and forth, allowing my lips to lightly brush his. “You’re doing it again,” I tell him softly. “Being a tease.”

He refuses to acknowledge my accusation with anything more than a smirk. “You should go get dressed; I’ll clean up.”

“All right. But this isn’t finished,” I warn, leaning in and pecking his lips before hopping off my chair.

After quickly dressing, I grab my car keys off of my dresser and my book bag off the floor as I make my way out of my room. By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, Greyston is there, holding a travel mug out for me.

“For you, beautiful,” he says. “Have a good day.”

I hum, brushing my nose over his. “You too.”

Inhaling deeply, Greyston groans. “Okay, you should go before I force you to play hooky with me all day.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, my eyes moving back and forth between his and watching conflict spark in them. “That actually sounds like a lot more fun.”

“Go on,” he says, his eyes showing just how much he’s struggling with letting me go. “I’ll see you when you get home from work.”

“’Kay.” Walking out the door isn’t easy; it’s almost like it’s the last step to accepting that my fantastic weekend really is over.

With a depressing sigh, I climb up into my car and buckle up. When I slip the key into the ignition and turn it, the engine clicks a few times, so I pump the clutch repeatedly to force it to turn over. Nothing. “Come on,” I grumble, turning the key again. “Don’t do this to me.” I repeat this process several times, only to get the same results. Abso-freakin-lutely nothing.

Now I’m not just sad that my weekend is over, I’m pissed off that my week is starting off so crappy. I unbuckle my seatbelt, angrily flinging it back against the window, grab my bag as I throw my door open, and storm back into the house.

Greyston is just coming down the stairs in his trunks, and for a brief moment I forget all about my stupid car. Because he’s half-naked and halfway between our bedrooms and me.

Then he has to ask the question that reminds me why I was upset. “What’s wrong?”

“My stupid engine won’t turn over.” I grab my phone and start flipping through my contacts to find a cab company.

“Who are you phoning?”

“A cab. I don’t have time to take a bus. I’m going to be late as it is now.”

I’ve just found the number I need when Greyston’s hand appears over mine, blocking the screen to my phone. “I’ll give you a ride.”

It’s sweet of him to offer, but I feel guilty that I’m robbing him of his morning off. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to have to give up your morning,” I tell him. “I’ve got some cash. It’s fine.”

“Juliette, I’m not going to make you take a taxi when I can go get dressed and give you a ride.” He sounds resolute, so I just nod. A smile spreads across his face as he lets go of my hand, and he rushes back upstairs, re-emerging about two minutes later, fully dressed.

“Thanks,” I say as he holds the door open for me, closing and locking it once we’re outside. “For the ride.”

“Anytime, Juliette.” He opens my car door for me and shuts it once my legs are safely inside, then runs around and climbs in next to me. “I’ll have someone come over and take a look at your car this afternoon.”

We arrive on campus a little while later, and Greyston parks near the doors. He hops out while I struggle to untangle the straps of my bag from around my ankles. How it happened, I have no idea; I’m just glad I noticed it before trying to get out of the car.

My door opens as I free my right ankle, and Greyston is holding out his hand for me. One look around at the students who’ve stopped to see what’s going on forces my cheeks to warm. But it doesn’t stop me from taking his hand. Nothing ever would.

“Thanks again for the ride.” Greyston closes my door and pulls me closer, the warmth of his body making every inch of me hum. “I’ll, uh, find a ride to work, and I bet Katie can drive me home afterward.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear me. “What time is your last class over?”

“Three. But, Greyston—”

“I’ll be here at three and drive you to work,” he says, not letting me finish.

I shake my head. “No, Greyston. It’s out of your way.”

“Not really. I’ve got meetings nearby this afternoon. I’ll see you at three.” He leans down to give me a chaste kiss and then straightens up. “Have a good day.”