Текст книги "Playing with Trouble"

Автор книги: Chanel Cleeton

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Blair

I felt like I’d overdosed on happy pills. I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face, was a few steps away from humming a freaking song.

I’d woken up this morning to the sight of Gray’s muscled chest, his face in sleep softer than I’d ever imagined it could be. There had been a moment when I’d thought about waking him up early, but after last night . . . holy multiple orgasms . . . I figured he could use his rest. And then I’d walked downstairs in search of coffee and had the idea to cook breakfast for him.

I loved to cook, and now that my days weren’t dominated by hundreds of pages of reading, or stressing about finals, I couldn’t resist the urge to indulge. Given the rather untamed look he had about him, I figured Gray hadn’t had a lot of domesticity in his life.

Luckily, Martha Stewart was my middle name.

His kitchen was awesome. By the look of things, he didn’t use it a lot, as in ever, but what he had was pretty spectacular. I might have had another mini-orgasm at the sight of his stove.

My apartment was nice, and I’d rented it right when I started law school, but it was small and nowhere near as fancy as his place. Cooking on my little stovetop was hit or miss, and thanks to an unevenly heating oven, baking was even worse. I’d have to see if Gray would let me commandeer his oven for Christmas cookies.

I’d set the table and then started cooking, relishing the feeling that the noose around my neck had been temporarily lifted with the end of fall classes. I might have had only a month’s reprieve, but I was definitely going to make the most of it.

And then Gray came downstairs, and held me in his arms, and what was already feeling like a fantastic day became infinitely better.

So I kissed him, giving him my happiness with my mouth, giving him everything I had.

When he released me, he had a slightly dazed look on his face, as if I’d surprised him once again, much like I had last night.

I really liked surprising Graydon Canter.

I turned back from the food, smiling at him leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in his hand, his gaze locked on the sight of me cooking. In a suit, he was devastating. In boxers and a T-shirt, his eyes heavy with sleep, he was practically edible.

I’d never seen the boyish side of him, doubted many people had, and I couldn’t resist. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Breakfast is ready. Why don’t you sit down at the table, and I’ll serve it.”

He blinked.

“Gray . . .”

“I feel like I’m going to wake up and discover you’re a figment of my imagination,” he murmured, his hand reaching out and stroking my hair. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you; I’m not even sure I do deserve you. Fuck, I probably don’t. But I can’t let you go. I don’t want to, and even more, I’m starting to think you wouldn’t even let me if I could walk away.”

God. Sleepy, sweet Gray was almost too much to resist. My heart, the one he held in his hands even if he didn’t realize it yet, thudded with each word that left his mouth. His heated gaze warmed me from the inside out, filling me with a glow he’d given me several times last night.

And he thought he was the lucky one . . .

I kissed him again, and then pulled away, nudging him with my hip. “Go sit down.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased.

I swatted his ass with a dishtowel. We were definitely going to go for round four later.

I carried the food into the dining room. Gray stood behind one of the chairs, staring at the table.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked up at me. “You did all this while I slept?”

I nodded.

“The flowers?”

“I picked them from the courtyard.”

“You picked flowers. From my courtyard?”

I nodded again.

I’d basically been taught to set a table and entertain from birth. My mother wasn’t big on cooking, but she loved hosting dinners and parties, and she’d expected me to know how to do the same. Maybe it was a weird skill for a twenty-three-year-old to have, but my upbringing hadn’t exactly been normal.

I stared at the pretty purple flowers on the table in a makeshift vase. They brightened things up, and Gray definitely needed a little bright in his life.

“Sit. The food’s going to get cold.”

He sat at the head of the table, me on his right, and took a bite of his pancakes. He finished chewing and gave me another heartbreaking smile.

“Best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad. I love to cook. I haven’t been able to do it as much as I’d like.” I hesitated. “Speaking of. How would you feel about me using your oven to bake some Christmas cookies?”

That same surprised look came on his face—like he held the winning lotto ticket in his hand and didn’t know what to do with it.

And then I knew.

I was definitely, undeniably in love with Graydon Canter. And even though I doubted he was ready to admit it, the look in his eyes said it—he was more than a little in love with me, too.

I fought back against the tears pushing at my eyes, and tried not to freak him out.

“Are your cookies as good as your pancakes?” he asked.

“Better.”

“Bake away.”

I grinned. “And if I’d said they weren’t better?”

“Do you really envision a future where I’m not going to give you everything you want?”

Then we were both in luck—

All I wanted was him.

I sucked in a deep breath and asked the question I thought I already knew the answer to. Maybe I didn’t even ask it for me. Maybe I asked it for him, so he would understand that I was sucking him in deep and I wasn’t letting him go.

“So we’re doing this?”

He set his fork down, leaning across the table, and cupped my cheek in his hand, holding my gaze. The force of his stare flooded me with warmth, his voice low and gravelly.

“We’re doing this.”

Thank god.

We finished eating in silence, Gray giving me smiles that did more to wake me up than the coffee. Definitely ready for round four.

When we’d finished, I stood up and grabbed the plates to clear the table.

“I’ve got this,” he interjected.

I shook my head. “I can do it. Why don’t you sit and relax? I cooked breakfast, I don’t mind cleaning up.”

He grinned. “I mind. You cooked. I’ll clear. It’s only fair.”

I opened my mouth to protest, enjoying the experience of fussing over him.

A gleam entered his eyes. “Besides. You promised me dessert.”

I so did.

“Go upstairs and get naked. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Maybe he was right, and I had many instances of getting my way in my future. But for now, I was more than happy to let him have his.

I went upstairs and got naked.

Gray

Just the idea of Blair naked, waiting for me in bed, had me hard. Especially now that I knew what to expect after last night.

But then I walked into the bedroom and I about had a heart attack.

However she carried herself in public, the Blair I got in the bedroom was something else entirely.

She laid spread out on my bed, her knees up, legs crossed at the ankle, hair fanned out over my pillow, completely naked.

My lungs dragged in air, my heart hammering as I struggled to breathe. There was no one like her. No one had ever come close.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t get my shit together enough to even form words, so instead I let my body take over. I knelt down on the bed, moving forward until I hovered over her. I stared down into her beautiful eyes, and lowered my lips to kiss away the smile on hers.

And then my hips settled against her, and her legs wrapped around my waist, and she decided I was wearing too many clothes.

I’d intended to take my time, to explore the parts of her body that I’d rushed over last night, to tease her until we were both craving release. Blair took my plans and threw them out the window.

Her mouth devoured mine, her hands gripping the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it up over my skin until she couldn’t go any farther, and I reared back, yanking it over my head. And then her hands were everywhere, and her mouth left mine, kissing her way down my neck, my chest. I groaned, my hands fisting in her hair, the sensation of her lips on me so fucking good.

Her fingers found the waistband of my boxers, and she slid them down my hips, her hand growing bolder until she held my cock in her palm. Our gazes locked as she stroked me, her lips parted in an invitation I couldn’t resist. I kissed her while my hands caressed her breasts, while my fingers played with her nipples.

I released her mouth, and then I was kissing my way down, my tongue flickering over each nipple before I drew the bud deeper inside, while my hand went between her legs, my fingers grazing her clit, her body coating my fingers in her wetness.

My teeth grazed her nipple and her back arched as I drove my fingers inside, her pussy tight around me. I slid in and out, her hips arching against my hand, my middle finger curling, seeking, finding. Blair moaned when I hit the right spot, and then my thumb began stroking her clit, rubbing back and forth until her hips began thrashing, her back bowing over the bed. I brought her to the edge of orgasm, so close I could feel the tremor building inside her, desperate for release.

Blair’s eyes slammed open. “Why’d you stop?”

I grinned. “You promised dessert.”

I slid down her body, spreading her legs wider, enjoying the show, pretty and pink, and so fucking wet. I wanted to taste her, wanted to make her shatter against my mouth.

She began to say something, and then I licked her clit as I lifted her legs up over my shoulders, spreading her even wider before me, and I finished the job my fingers had started, as I fucked her with my mouth, and she came.

Twice.

Chapter Twenty-one

With the holidays quickly approaching, D.C. has become far too quiet. Is everyone trying to stay off of Santa’s naughty list?

–Capital Confessions blog

Blair

I knocked on Gray’s front door, a shiver sliding down my spine as the cold wind whipped around me. It was chilly for December, just two days shy of Christmas. I bundled further into my coat, the bags in my hands shaking.

The door swung open to reveal Gray’s smiling face. “Hey.”

Gah. His voice would never get old.

I lifted the bags in my hands. “I brought Christmas.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I brought Christmas,” I repeated, unable to keep the silly grin off of my face. It had only been two weeks since we’d started . . . whatever it was that we were doing that involved lots of sex and holing up in his apartment, ignoring the rest of the world. I couldn’t call it dating since we hadn’t actually gone out on a date yet, but since I was in love with him, it also felt like a lot more than just sex.

He stepped back and I crossed over the threshold, the heat hitting me full blast. He took the bags out of my hands, leading me toward the kitchen.

He set the bags on the countertop, and his arm hooked around my waist, pulling me into the curve of his body. I wrapped my arms around his neck, lifting my lips to meet his, leaving a kiss there. He kissed me back, his mouth waging a soft war upon mine. Our legs brushed against each other, my palms stroking the muscles beneath his T-shirt.

He pulled back. “I missed you.”

Gah.

I’d spent last night having a girls’ night with Jackie and Kate, and it had been the first night since we’d slept together that we’d been apart. It probably wasn’t a good sign that I’d missed him, but I totally had.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I whispered.

He kissed the top of my nose. “So what does ‘bringing Christmas’ entail, exactly?” he murmured, his lips brushing against my skin.

I grinned. “First off, cookies. And then Christmas movies. And, if you’re really lucky, I might have also purchased some hot cocoa complete with mini-marshmallows.”

He laughed. “Sounds perfect.”

I began pulling groceries out of the bags.

“So does this mean you’re baking cookies from scratch?”

I nodded.

“What kinds are you making?”

“Snickerdoodles. Press butter cookies. Maybe gingerbread cookies.”

He leaned over and kissed my neck, pulling me into his arms again. I didn’t know what I’d expected from him, but his affectionate side was seriously surprising. He was sweet. And even though we hadn’t talked about it—and I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about it—I knew this was more than sex for him. Judging by the way he looked at me, it was a lot more than sex.

And considering I’d realized I was in love with him a while ago, it was a pretty good thing. A really good thing.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbled against my skin, his voice thick.

My heart tumbled over in my chest. Twice.

“Save it until after you’ve eaten my cookies,” I teased.

He flashed me a devilish smile. “Oh, I know all about your cookies.”

I laughed. “Did you just make a dirty joke?”

He winked as he released me, moved over to the bar, and sat on one of the stools.

“So how was girls’ night?”

I started gathering supplies out of the bags. “It was good. Jackie asked me and Kate to be bridesmaids in her wedding.”

I hadn’t expected it, but the moment she’d asked, it had felt right.

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, it really is. I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but I love her. She’s really fun and smart. Loyal. She’s the best thing to come out of all of this shit with my dad.”

“How was it with Kate?”

I’d told him everything about Kate, so he knew things were kind of weird between us.

“Okay, I guess. It’s not like it used to be. Not even close. There’s this wall between us, but I don’t know what to do about it because it’s the same wall Kate has with everyone, and it doesn’t look like it’s coming down anytime soon.”

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“Kind of. Not really.” I didn’t know how to explain it. “I’m not someone who does well in awkward situations.”

He didn’t speak, just stared at me, gesturing for me to continue.

“I hate confrontation. Like am pathologically allergic to it. I’ve tried to broach the subject with Kate a few times over the years, but she shuts that shit down immediately.”

“And you don’t push.”

“Not at all.”

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes narrowed.

I stared down at the recipe book, trying to focus on making snickerdoodles and not my social dysfunction.

“You pushed with me.”

I stilled. He was right. I totally had. Hell, I’d basically thrown myself at him.

“Yeah, I did.”

“So why can you do it with me and not with the rest of the people in your life?”

I had no freaking clue.

“I don’t know. Is this one of those situations where you really know and are just asking me these questions so that I’ll figure it out myself?” I asked, my tone wry.

He laughed. “Sorry, but no. I can barely get my own shit together, much less psychoanalyze someone else.”

“Fair enough.”

I started gathering the dry ingredients together, getting ready to sift the flour, my mind racing, his question eclipsing baked goods.

“I don’t think I want to rock the boat,” I admitted.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. “I sort of figured that out. The question is, why?”

Because good girls—ladies—didn’t rock the boat according to my mother. They also didn’t drink beer, curse, wear white after Labor Day—not even winter white—didn’t run out on their weddings, or own vibrators that they kept in their nightstands.

Because my whole entire life I’d been told I had to act a certain way, present a certain image to the world, because I was a Reynolds and my father was someone important, and I had centuries of history to preserve. Because he might run for president someday, and we always had to be the best version of ourselves we could be. Because Kate had cornered the market on rebellious at an early age; because there were cracks in my family that had always been there, the kind of cracks that came with a marriage built on the consolidation of wealth and power and little to do with love. Because it was easier to be a peacemaker and go along with what was expected of me than to fight who they wanted me to be.

Because I was scared. Because it was easy.

“It’s who I am,” I answered. “It’s who I’ve always been. I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

“Bullshit.”

I blinked. My mother would hate Gray. Absolutely, positively, hate him.

He said exactly what he thought. I thought everything, and said nothing.

Maybe it was time to take a page out of his book. Maybe it was time to change that.

Gray

The girl she described and the girl she showed me couldn’t have been further apart. She hid behind this facade that wasn’t her at all, and I didn’t understand why.

“Why are you scared to let people see the real you? Why are you scared to be that girl when it’s so obvious that she’s inside you, screaming to get out?”

“I don’t know.” Blair took a deep breath. “I just . . .”

It was strange to see her at a loss, searching for words that didn’t come. I knew she was younger than me, knew she had her own shit she dealt with, but I was so used to the girl who stunned me, the girl who always seemed to know exactly what to do and say, that it rocked me to watch her flounder.

I got up and came around the counter, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her against my body until her head fit under my chin, her cheek against my heart. I held her there, waiting to give her whatever she needed to make this okay.

Her body relaxed in my arms, the tension sliding out with each moment that passed, until she sagged against me. Only then did I release her, my hand tipping her chin up until our gazes locked and she gave me the rest as it came to her, filling in the remaining pieces.

“I feel like people have this expectation of who I am, of who I should be, and I’m worried I’ll disappoint them. I’m the eldest, so my parents were stricter with me than Kate. My mother immediately made me her pet project—she used to dress me in these ruffled dresses with giant bows in my hair. She was constantly drilling me on how to eat, how to walk. We’d have these family brunches where they’d take us to fancy restaurants and she’d critique our manners. When I was like six.

“It wasn’t bad. I don’t want to do the whole ‘poor little rich girl’ thing. I had an amazing childhood filled with opportunities most people never get. But I can’t deny that at the same time, it made me who I am. The kind of person who lives her life under a microscope. Who plays a role in campaign ads and interviews. The kind of girl who blends, even when she’s front and center.

“Once you start to see yourself a certain way, it’s easy to continue to define yourself that way. I was raised with a clear path to follow and there was never a question that I wouldn’t follow it. Maybe that makes me a pushover. It’s who I am, though.”

Her lips pursed.

“I thought I was supposed to follow this path, and that it would take me where I was supposed to end up, and that was it. And then I started down the path, and when I got to the end, I realized it wasn’t what I wanted. And somewhere along the way, the person I am on the inside, that little voice in my head that I couldn’t shut off, became completely different from the person I am on the outside. And I don’t know how or why, just that I feel like I’m trapped in my own body. Trapped as this person I don’t want to be.”

I knew exactly what she meant.

“The Blair you give me—this girl that’s black lace and baking cookies and a mouth that’s either putting me in my place or giving me the best fucking kisses I’ve ever had—is that you?”

Her lips curved, and she nodded, her eyes soft.

“You should let everyone else see that Blair. Not the kissing part,” I amended. “I’m fine with you just keeping that to me. But the rest of it. She’s pretty amazing.”

“I jumped my professor in his living room at two a.m. I’m pretty sure that kind of behavior wouldn’t go over so well.”

My hands drifted down to her ass, pulling her tightly toward me. “It went over pretty well with me.”

She grinned. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

“Do you regret this?” I asked, my chest tightening.

She held my gaze. “Not for a second. You?”

God, I loved this girl.

“Never. You don’t have to be perfect, Blair. You just have to be you. The people who count will love you for you, not because you’re some freakishly perfect version of you that isn’t real. Don’t be scared to give that to other people.”

She cocked her head to the side, studying me, a smile playing on her lips.

“Since when did you become so good at reading people?” she teased.

“Since you knocked some sense into me and taught me that I didn’t need to be someone I wasn’t to get a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?”

“No matter how you see yourself, no matter what you think your faults may be, you have to know that even the most flawed, imperfect version of you is a million times better than anything I’ll ever deserve. Period.”

She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“About you, yeah. I’m not the hero, Blair. And somehow I still got the princess.”

She grinned. “Honey, I’m pretty sure you’re the beast. And I am definitely not a princess. I thought we just established that.”

“You’re my princess. Dirty mouth, naughty lingerie, wicked tongue, formidable temper, and all.”

A gleam entered her eyes. “Speaking of naughty lingerie. The cookies might not be your only surprise.”

She slayed me. “Really?”

“Did you know they make Christmas themed lingerie?”

A choking sound escaped me. “Like naughty Mrs. Claus?”

Blair gave me a flirty wink. “Something like that.”

She grabbed a bag from the counter, pulling out something small, red, and edged in fluffy white.

My blood pressure shot up as I backed her into the countertop. I buried my head in the curve of her neck, her perfume sending another spike of lust through me.

“Am I getting a show later?”

Her hands came down between us, stroking me through my jeans, and a groan escaped my lips as I jerked against her touch, my body already hard and ready.

“If you can handle waiting for cookies, I might be able to give you a preview now,” she teased, her mouth hot on my ear. Her teeth nipped down on my lobe, sucking it into her mouth and I rocked forward another inch, pinning her to the countertop.

I could definitely wait for cookies.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her in the air while she squealed, draping her over my shoulder, my hand on her ass, her breasts smashed against my back. I grabbed the bag with the magic lingerie and carted her upstairs, where we celebrated Christmas in our own inimitable way.

Three times.

Hours later, we stumbled downstairs, and Blair baked Christmas cookies, wearing only an apron and a mischievous smile that had me utterly and completely wrapped around her finger.

The snickerdoodles were every bit as amazing as she’d said they would be. Dessert was even better.