Текст книги "Things Liars Say "
Автор книги: Sara Ney
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 7 страниц)
Calvin
I pull at my necktie as I take the steps to Grey’s front door, tugging it back and forth to tighten the knot I’d loosened on the way over so I could breathe.
It’s a white silk tie with white embroidered flowers, a tie my sister picked out when I told her what I was doing, and who I was doing it with. It’s also the color of Greyson’s dress.
Maybe the guys are right; I am fucking pussy whipped.
But I swear, when Grey finally opens that door, I don’t give one shit what anyone says. They can bench me or filet me alive or kick me off the team, for all the fucks I care.
Because Greyson is stunning.
And the look she’s giving me right now has me standing twenty feet tall.
Greyson
For a moment, we just stare at one another.
It’s me who moves first, opening the door wide enough for Cal to step through, up into the living room.
He looks so handsome. Black pleated dress pants, crisp black shirt, tailored black jacket, and a glaringly white embroidered tie that matches my dress perfectly.
I want to touch him.
“Jesus, babe, let me look at you,” he says with a strained voice, stepping farther into the room. “You are so beautiful.”
“I feel beautiful.” I give a pleased little twirl, and my skirt flares up around my hips. His eyes go to my bare legs, and I bite back a smile as I say, “I need a hug or something.”
Or something.
Cal smiles, shrugs off his suit coat, lays it neatly over a kitchen chair, and wraps his arms around my waist after I step into his outstretched arms. I lean into the embrace¸ mindful not to get makeup on his shirt.
My lips graze his jaw, tattooing his skin with plum lip prints, and I draw back, fingering his tie. It matches my dress.
I gasp with delight. “Wherever did you find this?”
“Tabitha.” He rolls his eyes. “She literally lost her shit when I asked for her help. It made her whole year. But then my mom got all weird because I didn’t call her first. It was a whole thing I’d rather not talk about,” he jokes. “Tabitha had it rush shipped to school. She can’t believe I’m going to a sorority formal and wants to meet the girl putting up with my bullshit for an entire night—her words, not mine.”
“Well, thank your sister for me because you look… Is it possible that you got more handsome since the last time I saw you? How am I going to keep my hands to myself?”
“You don’t have to keep your hands to yourself,” he jokes.
“Okay. I won’t.”
“In that case, I guess I’ll have to send my sister a bouquet to thank her for making me irresistible.”
“Maybe you should.”
We stare at each other until I’m itching to run my fingers down his chest. Instead, I flex them and state the obvious. “We should go. Melody is covering for me, and I can’t leave her hanging or she’ll kill me. I promised I’d be there by five thirty.”
Calvin
When she’s not leaning in to hug or shake someone’s hand, Greyson’s arm is looped through mine, her hand clasping my tricep as we stand at the head of a receiving line, enthusiastically greeting the Gala’s arriving guests: sorority alumnae, her sorority sisters, and their dates.
I cannot stop giving her sidelong glances, for she is truly a vision.
It’s over an hour before we’re “alone” and Greyson can take a break from her hostess duties. I set my beer glass on a nearby table, and we wordlessly move out onto the hardwood dance floor. I pull her in close, and her fingers snake under my suit jacket, clasping at the small of my back.
I want to kiss her so badly right now, but it’s not the time or place. I settle for resting my lips on her neck, just below the white flower she has pinned there, running my hands up and down her spine.
We dance like this through one song, then another. I’ve never been more grateful to hear a bunch of cheesy slow songs in my life.
Because somehow… we just fit.
And fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing.
Greyson
At this point, I don’t even think we’re moving. Cal’s nose is buried in my hair, his fingers are stroking my back, and when the chords from the next slow ballad begin, I don’t even care that I have responsibilities to see to.
Just one more song, and I’ll go pull the silent auction bid cards.
One more.
Or two. I can afford two more songs.
My hands find their way up the front of his shirt, resisting the urge to pop open the row of black onyx buttons one at a time. Those same hands wrap around his neck, resting there so my delicate fingers can rake through the curly hair just above his starched black collar.
Cal kisses my temple and tightens his hold, his hot breath on my neck throughout the song.
I continue stroking his hair. He rubs my back in a light caress.
I’m sure we look ridiculous just standing here, barely dancing, but I still feel like I’m floating on air.
“I don’t know if I mentioned it¸ but thank you for coming tonight,” I aimlessly twirl a piece of his hair around my finger.
His voice is a hum next to my ear. “You’ve only mentioned it four or five times. But for the record, there’s no other place I’d rather be.”
I whisper against his skin. “I won’t ever take you for granted, Cal. I know the sacrifice you made to be here tonight.”
“I know.”
I arch back and cock my head at him. “Is your sister horrified you’re at a sorority formal?”
His mouth curls up into a smirk. “I wouldn’t say horrified; I’d call it shocked. I mean, I’m not really the type to, you know…”
I nod. “I know.” We sway to the music, and his hands rest on my hips. “Speaking of types, what is yours?”
“Oh, gee, let me think,” he laughs. “Blonde hair, hazel eyes, infectious smile…”
I nuzzle our noses.
Sick, I know.
“You think I have an infectious smile?” I smile at him.
“And kissable lips.”
“Ooh! Now that I like the sound of.” I release my fingers from his silky mop of hair, trail them over his shoulders and down over his firm pecs, and give them a squeeze. He puckers his lips, and I touch my trout pout to his—briefly, so I don’t smear my lipstick.
Cal rolls his head to the side and groans. Loudly. “I want to, ugh. So bad.”
Laughing, I press my lips to his for another quick kiss. “Want to what?”
“Never mind. I’ll sound like a dog in heat if I say it.”
My heartbeat quickens. “Say it anyway,” I plead.
He hesitates. “I want to stick my fucking tongue down your throat.”
“I want that too,” I murmur, leaning in to flick his ear with my tongue. “I want to lick you from head to toe.”
“Fuck. Um, okay. You win.” He gives a strangled laugh and buries his face in my neck. “I cannot believe you just said that.”
“Why?”
“Because. You look so sweet. And you’re classy.”
“Hmm,” I hum in his ear as we sway, enjoying the power of my femininity when his whole body stiffens at the simplest inflection of my tone. “Well, you know what they say about the classy ones.”
“No.” His voice squeaks slightly. “What do they say?”
I raise one eyebrow suggestively.
His head shoots up, eyebrows in his hairline. “My dick is so hard right now.” He groans. “Shit. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”
“Hard? Ya think? It’s been digging into my thigh this entire time. Trust me, it’s taking every last effort for me not to grind on it.”
“Jesus, Grey!” Our bodies are flush, and Cal is pushing his hips into me slightly. Not enough to be obvious to an onlooker, but enough that I notice. “I’m trying really, really hard to be polite.”
“Polite boys deserve a reward.” My warm breath flirts with his square jawline, his dark blonde hair tickling my nose. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
He gives his head a jerky shake. “No. What does that mean?” The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs up and down when he swallows.
“Thompson, it means you’re getting lucky tonight.”
“Um… You were seriously steaming up the dance floor. For a fake boyfriend, it sure did look real.” Melody sidles up to me by the cake table, whispering around a stack of dessert plates and nodding politely at each passing guest. “Jeez, sexual tension much?”
“Tell me about it. And I don’t think there’s anything fake about it anymore,” I whisper back, smiling broadly at a new member of our sisterhood when she comes up for a slice of the marble cake Mel and I are cutting.
We make small talk with her and serve several more pieces of cake before we’re able to speak alone again. “Grey, you two look like you’re…” She hesitates, and the cake knife she’s wielding pauses mid-slice. “You know—in lurve.”
I consider this, glance across the room where Cal stands with a group of some older gentleman—alumnae dates and husbands—gesturing wildly and causing everyone to die laughing uproarishly.
I wonder what’s so funny.
He raises a drink to his lips just then and glances over, watching me above the rim of his glass. I blush furiously before looking away.
A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Oh God, I’m actually jealous that I’m stuck on the opposite side of the room serving stupid, dumb cake.
“Geez Grey, look at you, all flustered and adorkable.”
“I can’t help it. He makes me positively giddy. I’m head over heels.”
“Yeah, I can tell. And I think the feeling is mutual. That boy hasn’t stopped watching you all night. But I mean—who could blame him. You’re clearly the babeliest babe in the room.” The cake knife is thrust my way. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“Yes you are, but I’ll permit it.”
“What are your plans for later? You check in to your room yet?”
“Yeah, Cal took care of it while I was helping Carly and Jemma with raffle tickets.”
“Nervous?”
“No. We’ve been building to this point for over seven weeks. Seven. I want to kick everyone out and drag him upstairs, caveman style. Like, by his beautiful hairs.” I sigh wistfully and hand her a stack of napkins. “Lick.”
Melody covers her laugh with a cake plate. “Oh gawd, if only he knew how dirty your mind was, he wouldn’t be so content chatting it up over there with Stella’s husband Ryan.”
“Well, he kind of does know. I may have whispered some naughty, dirty things to him while we were dancing.”
“Such as…?”
“Such as, ‘I want to lick you from head to toe.’ I think he almost wet himself.”
“Why are you let loose to roam around in public?”
“It’s not like I say things like that to just anyone. Besides, I just wanted to see the look on his face. It’s totally different.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Keller. Now keep handing me plates.”
Calvin
By midnight, we begin making our way back to our room. It’s late, but my body crackles with electricity, buzzing with seven weeks’ worth of anticipation. A burst of pure adrenaline zips through my body, fueled by Greyson’s words as they play on a loop through my mind.
It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…
Arms wrapped around each other’s waists, we walk side-by-side in companionable silence and pent-up sexual tension to our hotel suite, taking the elevator to the eighth floor from the Grand Ballroom.
Grey relaxes against me as we watch the numbers climb from one floor to the next.
The elevator dings, having reached its destination, and we step out, make a right turn, and quickly arrive at our door. Grey rests her back against the wall, watching as I dig the room key out of my suit coat and slide the keycard through the card reader.
She leans forward as I turn the doorknob, and I pause, pressing against her gently for a quick kiss. The door eases open, and she sweeps inside, reaching up to pull the flower clip out of her hair and laying it on the dresser. Next to the dresser is the suitcase I placed there earlier.
“I should probably get out of this dress before taking my make-up off,” she says from the other side of the room, clicking on a lamp.
My nerve endings strum high on vibrate.
It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…
“Help with my buttons?” Grey turns towards me, presenting her back, holding her lustrous blonde hair aside, and glancing at me over her shoulder.
It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…
In two long strides, I’m reaching for the pearl buttons at the top of her dress, the gentle illusion collar at the nape of her neck a stark distinction to my large, battered calloused hands, and I briefly pause to regard the juxtaposition of them against her dress.
One by one, I pluck the buttons free, and when I’m done, I splay my hands over her smooth back, running them up her spine before brushing her hair aside and pressing my mouth against her skin. Pushing the sleeves of the sheer fabric down her arms, my lips kiss a trail down the tantalizing column of her neck.
Grey shivers, lolling her head to the side with a loud, labored moan as her dress lands in a pile of crinoline and lace at her feet. I take her hand, and she steps out of it, leaving it in a lacy puddle.
Her hazy eyes watch me intensely as I kneel and bend her knee. Unbuckling the straps of her sexy nude heels, I slip them off one at a time, then run my hands up her smooth leg, planting a kiss on the inside of her arched thigh.
I trace a path of kisses up her leg, running my hands up her lean torso. She’s standing in only a white pair of lacy underwear and a strapless white bra; one that pushes her sexy tits together until they threaten to spill over the edge of the cups.
It pains me, but I stand, releasing her so she can use the bathroom.
She cups my chin in her palm. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Not in a million fucking years.”
This earns me another kiss, and a second later I get to watch her retreating, toned ass sashaying towards the bathroom.
Sexy as hell.
Biting back a groan, I set to removing my own shoes, followed by my socks, tie, and belt, draping them over the single chair in the room. I untuck my black dress shirt, plucking the buttons opens and letting it hang open.
I heft Greyson’s small suitcase up onto the dresser so she won’t have to struggle with it later, before removing the cell phone from my pocket and checking it for messages.
There are four text notifications.
Mason: Thunder cunt. I sure-as-shit hope this chick is worth the shit storm coming your way. We got our asses handed to us tonight, no thanks to you.
Aaron: Hey condom breath, you’re fucking your stalker right now, aren’t you, asshole? I want all the nasty dirty details.
Aaron: Sorry. That was really out of line. Don’t listen to me. I’m totally shit-faced and probably a little jealous.
Tabitha: Hey little brother. How’s it going so far? Did Greyson like the tie? GOOD LUCK TONIGHT! She is one lucky girl!
The text from my sister is the only one that makes me smile—the others make me scowl—so I shoot Tabitha a reply.
Me: Night went great. You were right about the tie. She loved it. Says to thank you.
Then, knowing there’s only one way to get her to leave me alone, I add more.
Me: Stop texting. Speaking of lucky, I’m about to get laid—her words, not mine.
My sister immediately replies.
Tabitha: You’re disgusting.
Me: Whatever.
I smirk, hitting SEND before powering my phone down and tossing it on the dresser next to my wallet and car keys.
I’m standing in the middle of the hotel room when the bathroom door opens, and Grey emerges wrapped in a fluffy white hotel robe, fresh-faced and glowing, her face free of makeup. Her lips are still stained from her deeply pigmented lipstick. She’s removed the pins from her hair; it cascades down her back in loose waves created by the braid.
She’s so un-fucking-believably gorgeous.
I try to say something, but no words come out. I’m crazy for this girl.
Grey’s hazel eyes widen as she purposefully strides towards me on a mission, eyes on the exposed skin under my unbuttoned shirt. My body goes ramrod straight, and I inhale sharply with breathless anticipation as her smooth palms connect with the planes of my bare chest, fanning out over my pec muscles under my open dress shirt. Unable to prevent myself from flexing, my pecs contract beneath her roaming fingers, and I watch her face, transfixed as her pupil’s dilate.
“Your turn. Go clean up and… come to bed,” she whispers huskily as her fingertips skim, feather light, over my shoulders and push the black shirt down my arms, over my biceps, until it joins her dress.
Greyson parts her lips.
Her tongue darts out to moisten them.
The shirt drifts silently to the floor. My nipples harden under her soothing touch, and I fight the urge to moan.
Come to bed. Come to bed. Come to bed. Jesus. Do three sexier words even exist in the English language? If so, I sure as shit haven’t heard them.
I nod incoherently, my head dipping up and down like a bobble head, putty in her hands. Right now I would literally do anything this girl asked me to.
Anything.
Once inside the bathroom, I make quick work of taking a piss, washing my face, and brushing my teeth. Several sexy, dark burgundy lip prints line my jaw.
I leave them.
Taking a deep breath, I open the bathroom door with a shaking hand.
Greyson
I’m not nervous.
Nope, not one bit.
I hear the sink running in the bathroom, and I glance at myself in the mirror above the dresser before unzipping the purple suitcase Cal has thoughtfully removed from the floor for me.
Loosening the belt of the hotel robe, I slide it low on my shoulders and take a few deep cleansing breaths to compose myself and calm my racing heart as I continue to study my reflection; color high, my eyes are bright and slightly wild. Aroused.
I finger a pink sleep shirt in my suitcase, rubbing it while I debate:
on one hand, if I don’t put a shirt on, I might look cheap and easy. On the other, I did already tell him he was getting lucky, so why bother putting on clothes?
Ugh, crap. I’m crap at this.
It’s been two years since I’ve had sex. Two. Years. And quite honestly, I don’t ever recall those experiences being particularly memorable.
The robe peels open farther, and the lacy white g-string undies and pristine white bra peek through.
Maybe I’ll just…
…let it fall open. Like this?
No, like this.
Just then, Cal emerges from the bathroom, and I watch, spellbound, as his hard body advances to the center of the room, clad only in a pair of loose-hung gray sweatpants. You know the ones; they dip low on a guy’s hipbones and hug him in all the right places.
I can’t see it, but I know they’re emphasizing his fine, round, athletic ass….
Every firm muscle on his body, every jaded scar, every line of his colorful tattoos are there for my perusal, and boy do I look my fill. He moves closer, watching me through hooded, lust-filled eyes before turning and depositing his folded suit pants on the dresser.
His eyes grow wide at the sight of me standing next to the dresser, first with total shock, then with desire. Hunger.
Want.
Need.
But that’s not all I see there.
This guy wants to let himself love me; I can see it in the way he’s looking down at me. Like I’m a precious, cherished thing.
I’m not nervous.
Nope, not one bit.
Calvin
I don’t know what I did to deserve this girl, but…
Fuck.
Rugby.
Rooted in spot next to the dresser, Greyson faces me, the white robe a contrast to her tan skin, its gaping sliver baring her white bra and panties. She reaches to loosen the knot on her belt farther, the terrycloth falling completely open.
I stare.
I stare at her beautiful body, her waterfall of blonde hair, her high, round breasts and curvy hips. She’s not perfect, but she’s perfect to me.
“Cal,” she entreats quietly, her voice filled with desire. Hunger.
Want.
Need.
For me. For fucking me.
I don’t know who moved first, but our mouths meet, and my hands span her waist, kneading her bare, warm skin. Provocative. Achingly slow, our hot tongues mingle, wet and wanting.
Wet kisses. Open-mouthed kisses. Lips, tongue and teeth.
Grey’s robe falls to the floor, and she breaks the kiss to skim my abs with the tips of her fingers and the waistband of my pants, untying the white knot holding them around my hips.
My dick throbs so hard I can feel it beating in my pants.
Fuck.
I walk her backwards to the bed, the back of her knees hitting the mattress. She lies down, the gold comforter providing a backdrop for her magnificent blonde hair that pools around her fresh, flushed face.
The look she gives me invites me to look. To taste.
To touch.
I crawl on top of her then, dragging an open palm and my tongue up her stomach, over her breasts.
She pants when I lick her cleavage, my wet tongue flicking the groove between her blessedly plump tits. My fingers briefly toy with the small white clasp in front of her bra, and without preamble, I pop it open.
My mouth covers her then, and she moans loudly, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath me. I grind my erection into the apex of her spread thighs. Grind into her hard.
It’s torture.
She grabs a handful of my disheveled hair and tugs.
“Lights on or off,” I ask between sucking on her flawless skin.
“On. I want to watch you.”
“I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, Grey.”
“You already have, baby.” She gasps into my mouth. “So fucking good.”
Baby. Jesus Christ, it sounds good spilling from her lips. The dirty talk. I bite my cheek to stop the litany of endearments threatening to spill off the tip of my tongue, wanting to call her every goddamn mushy name I can think of: baby, sweetheart, sweetie, honey, babe, cutie pie, darling.
Shit. My friends were right; I am pussy whipped.
But only a spineless dickhead would give a shit what his friends thought.
“God, you’re fucking sexy as shit,” I whisper, caressing her hip. “I love your skin. I love your tits.” To illustrate my point, I lick them both, sucking on the dusky nipples.
“Keep talking. What else,” she asks, panting in a long, drawn out breath. “You feel so good.” It sounds like she’s sulking.
“I love how funny you are.” Grey tips her head back as I suck on her neck gently, palming her breasts with my now trembling hand, kissing my way down her collarbone. “I love how smart and clever you are.”
“You feel so good, Cal. Did I say that already? I’m losing my mind.”
“You make me crazy.” I moan, totally losing control of the situation. “Do I make you crazy?”
Our incoherent, sex-induced babble fills the room.
“Oh yeah, so crazy.” Her hands push frantically at the waistband of my pants, and together, we slide them down my hips, then set to tearing off her underwear in a heated frenzy.
“God, just give it to me, Cal. I don’t want to wait anymore; I want you so bad,” she implores, reaching for my hard erection, stroking it up and down with her talented fingers. “Don’t you want this inside me? I do. I want it bad.”
Holy hell. Holy shit, the dirty mouth on her.
“Stop. Don’t, baby,” I beg through clenched teeth. “Or I’m gonna come.”
“Come inside me,” she moans, grabbing my ass and pulling me down. My dick brushes the slit of her pussy, pre-cum making it slick. “Please. I’m on the pill. Honey, please. I want this with you so bad.”
Pill. Honey. Please.
I try to make sense of the words in my brain, but I’ve lost the function of reasoning.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I’ve never had sex without a condom—then again, I’ve never been serious about anyone before. Ever. Not even close.
But I am now—and whatever she wants I’m going to give her: Commitment. A relationship. Date nights. My cock inside her without a condom.
I swallow the lump in my throat and my balls tighten, eager and twitching with greedy anticipation.
“If we fuck without a condom, Greyson, you’re mine. Do you understand?” My plea is hoarse, raw and full of emotions I didn’t know I was feeling. “The only person I’d ever consider screwing without protection would be a steady girlfriend.”
Or future wife, but I keep that shit to myself.
“Silly boy.” Greyson cups my cheek in her palm tenderly, even as her rotating hips work the tip of my dick. “I decided I was keeping you the day you showed up at my door. You’re mine.”
