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.