“Not a one,” I say, shaking my head. Baylee’s as close as I got to having feelings for someone and even that was more of a friendly-type vibe accompanied by the occasional bang.
God, seriously. I’m a complete prick. But at least I’m being honest with Gracie. No bullshit here. She’s going to hear what I’m all about, whether she likes it or not.
And if she doesn’t like it? At least I tried. Hashtag no regrets.
“You say that like you’re proud,” she says.
“I am. I’m not ready for a relationship. We’re young. Why do we need to get all serious like everyone else around us?”
She contemplates me, the frown gone. She even drops her arms by her sides. “You’re right. We are young. And I’m even older than you are.”
“Yeah, and all of our friends are attached. Fuck, Ava wants to marry Eli and she’s barely nineteen,” I say with an eye roll.
“She’s crazy,” Gracie agrees.
“I know, right? Everyone we know is in a serious, committed relationship. Well, fuck that,” I say.
“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice going soft. “Fuck that.”
I grin. “You game then?”
“Game for what?”
“Me.” I reach out and grab her hand. She lets me take it. “And you.” I yank her close, her body colliding with mine. “Getting naked.”
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Eight
Gracie
I’ve never been propositioned the way Caleb is currently propositioning me. He wants to have sex with me, but with no strings attached. Basically, he’s making my dream offer. I don’t like strings. We—as in me and the guy I’m with—can get too tangled up in them, and then someone always ends up hurt.
In my case, it’s usually the guy. He’s the one who wants all the relationship stuff by the time I’m dying to bail out of the entire thing, eager and ready to move on to the next one.
Callous of me, but oh so true.
Messing around with Caleb is all sorts of trouble, but damn it, I like trouble. I’m drawn to it. And the look on his face is trouble personified, mixed with temptation. As in, he’s extremely tempting.
Being pressed against his hard, lean body isn’t helping me either. He’s warm and solid and he smells good. Like sunscreen and the faintest hint of sweat. I’m not usually aroused by a sweaty smelling guy, but here I am.
Turned on. Contemplating rubbing myself against him.
“This won’t work,” I remind him. And myself.
“There’s nothing to work, Gracie. It’s just sex,” he says. “That’s it.”
He’s so right. It is just sex. But…
With us, it feels like it would turn into more. And by more, I mean an impending disaster.
“Let me think about it,” I say softly as I lift my head so my gaze meets his. “Okay?”
“Okay,” he says, way too agreeably. “While you’re at it, think about this too.”
Without warning he presses his lips to mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth the moment I part my lips on a gasp. He grabs hold of my face, cradling my cheeks as he eats at my mouth like a starving man, and I rest my hands against his chest, clinging to him, a low moan sounding in my throat.
He breaks the kiss way before I’m ready for him to, a smirk curling his lips as he contemplates me. “There. How was that?”