He blew out a long, frustrated stream of air and pulled himself together. “More get-to-know-you dates. More making out—but not tonight, on this bed, when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt and barely there panties I want to rip off with my teeth.”
“Oh my God.” She visibly shook at his pronouncement, her nipples hardening beneath the faded tee shirt.
“Yep. Now you understand.” He swung his legs over the bed and rose to his feet. “Let’s see if the rain’s let up.”
“Good idea,” she said in a trembling voice.
He walked out of the room and climbed up top, relieved to find the rain had slowed to a drizzle.
“We can head back to the car,” he said as he returned.
“Good.” She held her wet dress in one hand.
He left his jeans and shirt on board. He’d pick them up tomorrow. “What are you doing next Thursday?” he asked, unwilling to take her home without making plans to see her again.
“During the day I volunteer at the Miami Children’s Hospital with cancer patients.”
He turned to her and stared.
“What?” she asked.
“You amaze me, that’s all.”
Grey hadn’t known Avery when she’d donated bone marrow. He’d entered her life in high school. But she’d confided in him just how difficult that year and those afterwards had been, both the revelation that her father had another family he spent more time with than hers and the fact that he’d needed one of her full siblings to donate in order to save one of his other kids. Avery had been the best match, leaving her feeling used and hurt. Yet here she was, years later, donating her free time to help other children who were in her half sister’s position.
God, she was something else.
“It’s nothing huge,” she said, deflecting. “I bring my iPad and makeup. I look through online magazines and sites with the girls and teach them how to feel better about themselves while they’re going through treatment.”
“That’s cool. It really is.”
She smiled at him, and it fucking lit him up inside. “How about afterwards? Want to meet Rep and Lola? They invited me over, and I know they’d love to meet you too. No groupies,” he promised her before she could find that as a reason to say no. “Just some good friends hanging out.”
“Okay.”
He blinked. “Just like that?”
She studied him for a long while. “Just like that.”
* * *
Avery spent Sunday doing laundry, cleaning the apartment, food shopping with Ella, and trying not to think about her feelings for Grey. She wanted distance from his hands on her body, his lips on hers before she could put things in perspective. And since Ella had so much to tell her about her job and the dinner with an up-and-coming designer, Avery managed not to daydream. Too much.
Of course Ella wanted details about Avery’s weekend, and she had to fill those in too. Still, she survived Sunday, and she woke up Monday knowing she had a full day’s worth of things to do to keep her busy. Before she could leave the apartment, she had to check her blog and answer messages. Another way to keep her mind off of Grey Kingston.
Except today’s blog extolled the virtues of her favorite Nars blush, and wouldn’t you know, it was called Orgasm. The well-known product had held a place on most Best Of lists in major magazines since the mid-2000s and was a cult classic worth mentioning yearly. But today, it merely served to remind her that she had spent the night alone on a yacht with her gorgeous ex, and she hadn’t had one.
Nope, not an orgasm to be found for Avery because Grey had decided to play things safe. At this point, Avery believed she might be thinking more clearly today if he hadn’t held back. If he’d let them both give in to the simmering sexual desire that was so obviously between them. But he hadn’t. And she admired his restraint.
It also scared her because she’d been wearing nothing but his shirt and barely there panties that he, quote, wanted to rip off with his teeth. Her entire body trembled at the memory of his words. Her sex clenched, empty and needy. If he’d been able to walk away from that desire, he had a wholly different agenda … and she didn’t know if she’d survive whatever it was.
He wasn’t the easygoing Grey she remembered. He was more dominant in his speech, more frank about what he wanted. And that kiss? He’d controlled it and her, until she’d have done anything just to get more of him. But as much as she wanted him, as much as they had in common, she still believed there were too many differences to overcome.
She had a half a week before she had to worry about dealing with him again, and so she settled in front of the computer to work. On Orgasms.
She answered some reader questions, going back over the weekend’s posts before turning to today’s blog. She pulled up the comments and began to read, startled and annoyed to find troll comments under a variety of different screen names. Words like skank and whore greeted her, and she immediately deleted them, hoping she’d discovered them before too many viewers had seen them too.
She didn’t let them get to her. The Internet was full of mean-spirited people who took pleasure in bashing people under the guise of anonymity. She put the insults out of her mind and focused on discussing why the shimmery peach-colored blush worked on so many different skin tones, as well as answering the typical jokes about the product’s name in good humor.