“You look a little flushed,” he points out. My eyes rise to his. I roll them. His lip twitches, as he obviously takes pleasure in watching me squirm.
“Do you like what you see?” he asks, rolling onto his back and crossing his arms behind his head. “Do you?” he prompts.
“Fishing for compliments?” I ask, sitting up on my knees. My fingers caress his chest, before slowly moving down further. I trace his abs with my index finger, causing him to tense.
He sighs, closing his eyes. “That feels good.”
“I was thinking about how lucky I am to have you,” I say in a soft voice.
His eyes open. “Babe, you have no idea. Trust me when I say that I’m the lucky one.” He pulls me down next to him, and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, and lastly my lips. “I meant what I said last night.”
I open my mouth to talk but he puts his finger to my lips. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“You don’t even know everything about me,” I manage to say, my brows furrowing.
“I know that, and I’m enjoying getting to know you slowly, bit by bit,” he says, lowering the silk strap of my pyjama top.
I push my strap back up, narrowing my eyes. “Yeah, you know me like that don’t you?”
His body shakes as he chuckles. “I know you. Not fully yet, but enough. I know that for some reason you hate the colour white, even though your hair is almost that colour and is fucking beautiful. Your favourite colour is blue. Like your eyes, which are also mesmerizing and fucking beautiful. You don’t like to talk about yourself. Learning things about you is like pulling teeth, but you have a good heart. You’re kind, smart, and witty. And the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
He’s right. I hate white, because that’s what they usually make me wear as Snow.
“I know you make this little mewling moaning sound when you’re about to come,” he says, running his hand over my chest. “Want me to prove it?” he asks.
I cradle his cheek with my hand, his tanned skin against my pale. He is all dark, whereas I’m all light. The contrast is beautiful.
“How about I show you how much I know about you?” I purr, undressing and throwing my clothes onto the floor.
“I think I’d like that,” he says, his eyes on my body.
“Okay. After you make me breakfast,” I say, grinning and walking out of the room.
He chases after me into the kitchen, makes love to me on the floor, and then makes me breakfast.
Priorities.
Chapter Fifteen
When I’m walking to class the next day, I can tell something isn’t right. I run and see a crowd forming in a circle. Pushing through the bouts of people, some of them yelling some of them cheering, I see what the fuss is all over. In the centre of the circle stands Grayson, who is beating the shit out of some guy.
“Grayson!” I yell, stepping into the circle, only to be pulled back by Daniel, one of Grayson’s friends.
“Don’t get in the middle,” Daniel says, gripping me by the waist. I struggle but his hold doesn’t yield, so I turn back to face Grayson. His clenched fist hits the guy in the nose, and I hear a horrible crunching noise. On closer inspection, the person Grayson is fighting is Jake, his friend. What the fuck is going on here?
“Why are they fighting?” I ask Daniel, grimacing as Jake gets in one punch to Grayson’s stomach. Grayson’s next punch sends Jake to the floor. “Why are you not stopping this?” I growl, pushing at him with my hands, trying to get away. Daniel sighs, then bends down and lifts me up in the air, his shoulder to my stomach.
“Put me down, you asshole!” I yell, pounding on his back with my fists. All of a sudden, the crowd goes silent.
“Put her down!” Grayson growls from behind me. Daniel instantly slides me down, and I can feel heat at my back. Hands wrap around my waist, pulling me into his body.
Daniel puts his hands up. “She was trying to get in the middle of the fight.”
“Thanks, bro,” Grayson says to Daniel, stepping to the side and taking me by the hand. We walk quickly to his car. He opens the door for me, still a gentleman even when angry.
“What happened, Gray?” I ask, staring down at his bruised, swollen knuckles. He makes a sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, as if remembering what got him so angry in the first place.
“Gray,” I snap when he doesn’t say anything, but just drives off. He doesn’t reply. When we’re halfway to his house, I can tell that he’s going faster than the speed limit. “Slow down,” I say in a calm voice. He listens to me, and slows down, going the limit. When he pulls up to his house, he slams his fists on the steering wheel, making me jump in my seat.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. He takes in a deep breath, as if to calm himself. He turns off the engine and slams the door shut, and walks off. Just leaving me there in the car. I get out and follow him in the house. He’s standing in the lounge room, waiting for me.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Are you a stripper?” he asks without flinching. I freeze. I knew I should have told him myself. I’m so stupid. I only have one shift left before I’m done, and I thought I could get away with it. Fucking stupid. He takes my silence as a yes, because he starts smashing shit around the room.
“Grayson,” I choke out, lifting my hand but then retracting it.
“Jake’s dad is a regular at Toxic,” he says, not looking at me. “He took a picture of you on his phone. Jake saw it.”
What the fuck? No one is allowed to take pictures in the club; he must have done it on the sly.
I swallow audibly, my vision blurring. “I’m sorry,” I say, a tear dropping down my cheek. And I am. So damn sorry, because I know this isn’t something that someone can just forgive. I don’t expect him to forgive me. I fucked up. I wasn’t honest, and now I have to face the consequences.
“All this time,” he growls, dropping onto the couch like he has no energy left. I’ve drained it all. Me and my issues.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“Don’t be sorry. Tell me why,” he says, his gaze connecting with mine. His eyes are cold. Hard. Hurt.
“I was already working there when I met you…”
“Not that. Tell me why you weren’t honest with me,” he says, his tone flat.
“I didn’t want you to look at me how you’re looking at me right now,” I tell him honestly.
He scoffs, and looks away. “I just beat the shit out of my best friend for disrespecting you, when he was right all along.”
It hurts. It burns. I want to tell him I love him, so fucking much, but I’m not that selfish. I stand, my hands shaking, cast him one last longing look, and then I walk out the door. I can hear things breaking as I stand out front, wondering how the hell I’m going to get home. I start to walk. It’s not that far, maybe a forty-five minute walk. I could call Anaya to come and get me, but I figure a walk would do me good. It gives me time to be alone, to deal with the consequences of my actions and feel sorry for myself.
Just like I deserve.
I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. When I hear a banging at the door, I get up to go answer it. Looking through the peephole, I see Grayson’s angry face. What the hell? I unlock the door and open it, watching as he gives me a once over, as if checking if I’m okay.
“What the fuck, Paris?” he growls, walking into the house. I close and lock the door, and then follow him into the living area.
“What?” I ask, my voice weak. I just want to go to bed.
“I rang you a million times! How did you get home? I was worried,” he says, sitting down and looking tired.