Feel her nails dig into me.
Her—oh—shit.
I banged my head against the door, coming with a groan as my orgasm ripped its way out of my body.
I breathed in and out, sweat beading my throat and chest. Holy shit. I can’t remember the last time I came that hard or fast from jerking off.
I lifted my hand at the sticky mess.
Or the last time I came on my hand.
I don’t know what it is about her. Everything was the opposite of what I should want. She looked a little bit like Lottie, but she was nothing like Lottie. Lottie was quiet, reserved. Contrary to her outfit, this girl was a blaring siren.
I know despite whatever we talked about last night, Snitch was still like every other girl out there, someone who only knew the Grayson Crowne. Whether it was my money, my name, or what they printed in the magazines, whatever she’d fallen for was a mirage. And like them, she’d eventually seek to take.
I cleaned up and decided on a very fucking cold shower. Maybe by the time I was done her hair would be dry. The thought of wet curls dripping around her heart-shaped face, soaking into her clothes—fuck.
I shook my head.
Ice-cold shower.
I pushed the door open to my master bath; then everything in my head short circuited.
Snitch naked.
Well, fuck.
Question answered.
Our eyes locked in the same instant she screamed.
Twelve
STORY
* * *
I scrambled for a towel, out of my mind with embarrassment, but Grayson didn’t make any move. He just watched me.
“You said I could use any but the north one!” I said, shielding my body with the plush silver towel.
“This is the north one,” Grayson said, an utterly addictive grit roughening his voice, like smooth whiskey.
I mentally did my never-eat-soggy-waffles and…shit.
This bathroom was nice, but I just figured it was Grayson’s wing, so everything must be nice. The bath was bigger than most hot tubs and overlooked the ocean. In the shower, I imagined putting my elbows on the thin edge and staring out at the dark-blue waves.
Grayson studied my body without shame. Goose bumps pebbled my skin and slid into my throat as I watched him get hard beneath his gray sweats. A long, thick, tapered outline growing more and more defined. My eyes darted from it, to his eyes, back to it. His just-slept-in hair was even sexier, messier, matching the look in his eyes.
“Grayson?” Mrs. Tansy Crowne’s voice cut into the moment. “Grayson, are you here?”
My head snapped to her voice. Tansy fucking Crowne was out there, and I was naked with her favorite child.
“Sec,” he called back, voice hard, eyes still locked on me.
I couldn’t read the look in his eyes; it was dark and muddled. A quiet Grayson was a dangerous Grayson. Quiet Grayson had led me to the secret gambling den where I spent a night thinking he was going to bet me. Where I came so hard I saw stars…
“What are you doing?” I said low, so Tansy couldn’t hear.