Page 24

CHAPTER 24

Henry

I watched the fire dance as we all surrounded ourselves around it. After a most delicious dinner of fire-roasted beef and vegetables that probably cost more than my luggage, we were served with an array of after-dinner drinks and fireside desserts. Where s’mores were a staple at all the campfires apparently, there were other desserts to choose from.

I’d always been a simple man, something Grayson taunted me about, of course, but even then, when I expected him to say something, he was rather quiet.

Perhaps he is just having an off day or something.

I sipped my warmed Glühwein, a concoction Giselle told me derived from the Germans and was quite popular around the holidays, relishing in the sweetness of the mulled spices and the burn of the heated alcohol as it coated my throat and warmed me from the inside.

It truly was the best drink I’d had, and it was perfect to sip around the campfire in a copper mule mug amidst the chilly mountain air.

Thanks to the WiFi available in the glampgrounds, Julie was able to access her Spotify, and graciously provided us with a playlist that was probably as chaotic and unhinged as she was.

Seriously, I was not a fan of Axe 2 Grind or Taylor Swift, but I wasn’t the one controlling the tunes.

The sounds of Willow and The Anxiety’s Meet Me At Our Spot swept through the air, the singers crooning on about being hypnotized by the lights, and I couldn’t help but look up from my current marshmallow sandwich, catching sight of Grayson lit up by the strings of outdoor lights, grumbling over his burnt marshmallow, twisting his lips in frustration.

I couldn’t take my gaze off of Grayson, who sat more or less by himself, away from the rest of us.

I didn’t like seeing Grayson like this.

Removed, quiet.

Alone.

Maybe it was because I knew what it felt like to be alone, maybe it was because Grayson had told me that he felt like an outcast too.

Or maybe it had something to do with the three glasses of Glühwein I’d had.

I assembled the rest of my perfect s’more and walked over to where he sat. Immediately, his gaze flashed up at me, and I could have sworn he looked surprised. I handed him my s’more.

“You look like you need this more than me,” I said.

Grayson hesitated for a moment. “Is this a trick?” he said, narrowing his eyes as his fingers grazed mine, taking the chocolaty marshmallow treat.

“No trick. I just... noticed your marshmallow skills seem a little... beginner,” I said, flashing him a smirk. Thanks to the wine, I felt a bit better than I usually did. I found myself just talking instead of trying to constantly figure out the right thing to say.

Or what not to say.

“Well, we all have our skills, it seems,” he said as he bit into the s’more, the marshmallow caving and exploding as he groaned.

Same marshmallow, same.

I picked up his stick before heading over to the dessert cart that boasted all the ingredients for everything from s’mores to hand pies to banana boats. I grabbed some marshmallows, noticing how everyone else was in their own little bubbles with one another. Laughing, singing, dancing. Drinking.

When I came back to the lonely log that Grayson was taking up residence on, I slowly set to fixing his stick—and my own—with their prospective sweets.

“It’s all in the wrist,” I said, motioning to him as I held the stick, to watch how I turned my wrist and not the stick itself. “You want to make sure you get at least ten seconds on all four sides.”

“A marshmallow does not have sides,” Grayson grumbled, but his tone was marginally lighter.

I gazed back at him with a confident smirk of my own. “Everyone has sides,” I said, realizing my error far too late.

Grayson’s shoulders loosened, and I didn’t even bother to correct myself.

How could I, when it seemed it was the right thing to say?

I handed him his stick and he took it from me with ease.

“All in the wrist, huh?” He cocked a smile.

The heat in his tone was like a spark to dry kindling. Normally, I agonized over socializing like this.

Innuendos, flirtations, jokes.

But after a few drinks, and being near Grayson—a man who seemed to unravel me whether I wanted him to or not—I couldn’t help but respond.

“As you said, we all have our skills, Grayson. ”

Did I really just say that?

Grayson let out a dark chuckle as he rose, heading for the fire to roast his marshmallow, and I followed. Taking my spot beside him, I didn’t realize how close I was until I bumped his shoulder.

“Sorry,” I said instinctively.

Grayson shifted his stance as he leaned closer to the fire, watching his marshmallow intently. “Trying to throw me into the fire now are you?” he teased.

I shifted my stance, bumping into him again, smiling at his tone before reaching out and gently turning his wrist.

The touch itself was warm, and not at all sexual.

I was, after all, just helping him with his sub-par roasting skills.

But something about the way his skin felt beneath my fingertips reminded me of the warmth of his hand over my stomach, of his body curled around mine, and I let out a small gasp. I brushed the underside of his wrist rhythmically with my thumb, and swallowed harshly.

I knew I should let go, but...

I didn’t want to let go.

Grayson didn’t move either. Instead, his gaze fell to where I held his wrist.

I gently turned it again, gazing back at the fire, watching as the white sides of the marshmallow turned golden with just the swiftest of motions.

“Not everything is perfect on the first try,” I said softly, pulling back.

Grayson followed my lead.

I dropped my hand, nodding toward the perfectly golden marshmallow, which sported an even color on all sides.

“Some things take time,” I said with a shrug, setting to roast my own marshmallow.

My stomach flipped, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol, or the way Grayson was looking at me.

He assembled his s’more as I finished roasting my marshmallow. Pulling the giant toasted piece of fluff off of the stick, melted marshmallow spread along my fingers. I quickly tossed the sticky, melty confection in my mouth, licking my fingers clean, if only because I hated to feel sticky.

The sounds of Post Malone’s Circles came on over the speakers, and I noticed the rest of the party had decided dancing was apparently a good idea.

Giselle and Aaron wrapped their arms around one another, lost in each other’s eyes, and the rest of the couples followed suit. For a moment, it felt like I was witnessing something private, and the reality of my singleness spread once more.

I hadn’t danced with anyone in years.

Five years, to be exact.

My gaze drifted to Grayson, who was staring into the fire like it held all the answers to the questions he didn’t dare ask out loud.

I mean, it was a dance, right?

It didn’t mean anything. When in Rome and all that...

“We should join them,” I said without thinking.

Grayson turned to me, his gaze studying me. “What did you say?”

“I said, we should join them. I mean, it’s just dancing, right? Fun shouldn’t be something that is only reserved for couples.” I shrugged.

I looked back at him in question. “I mean, unless marshmallows aren’t the only area you’re lacking in skill.”

Why did I just insult him?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I knew the answer to my thoughts as my head was currently spinning.

“That depends,” Grayson smirked as he set his hand on my waist, pulling me closer into his hot, sexy vortex.

I slid my hands up his chest, resting them on his shoulders.

“On what exactly?” I asked, my voice unfamiliar, even to me, filled with a darkness I didn’t know I was capable of.

Grayson’s hand slid over my hip, resting at my back as he gently pressed his palm against me, coaxing me closer.

Pressed against him I could feel everything.

My breath caught in my throat as my own cock sprang to attention against the sizeable outline of his hardness.

“If you’ll let me lead,” he said darkly.

“Maybe that’s what I need,” I murmured, feeling lightheaded as he swayed us back and forth. I leaned against him, staring up at his dark eyes with wonder, drunk and under his spell.

I hadn’t been this close to anyone in a long time, and the reality was slightly terrifying.

I could feel myself falling for Grayson and that scared me.

How was it possible to fall for a man I barely knew in only a matter of days?

My hand slid over his chest, over his heart, and somehow that made it real.

Grayson leaned his face down just the slightest, his gaze full of heat and confidence.

And suddenly, I was faced with the reality that I hadn’t been with anyone in years, and my insecurities got the best of me. My heart racing, my throat tight, my cock aching for release, and sweat forming all along my body where he touched me, mixed with the fact that we weren’t truly alone—and everyone could see us. I panicked.

I pushed away from Grayson, breaking our hold. “I can’t do this, I—”

“Henry...”

“I’m sorry,” I said, flustered as I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

What I didn’t expect, was for Grayson to follow me.

Away from the courtyard, the woods were dark. The faint glow from the string lights cast just enough light I could see the tree I almost ran into. I stopped, dropping my hands to my knees as I tried to catch my breath.

“Henry!” Grayson called, and I stood, slowly turning to see the disappointment on his face I knew would be there.

Why did I keep fucking everything up?

Perhaps I was cursed.

Cursed to be a perpetual cockblock to myself for all eternity.

“You are infuriating, do you know that?” Grayson growled.

My eyes widened. “Me?” I snapped back.

He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dark under the shadows, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Yes you! You push me and pull me, only to push me away when I get too close. I’m tired of playing these games with you, Henry. Tired of wondering if you feel this too. Tell me you don’t and I’ll leave you alone and never ask again.”

“This is not on me!” I hollered back. “You and your constant flirtations are maddening, do you know that!”

“Me? You’re going to pin this on me ? Are you insane?” he barked.

“Yeah, I am! Because you tease and taunt me, with your fucking pretty face and your killer body, and... your touch, and... but you don’t have the fucking balls to actually follow through, and do something about it—”

Grayson grabbed my face between his hands, crushing his lips to mine in a brutal flurry.

Every bone in my body stiffened as it took a moment for me to comprehend what had just happened. Almost instantly, I melted in his grip as some switch inside me flipped.

I slid my hands into his hair, gripping his silky locks as I parted my mouth, my tongue stroking his in a desperate attempt to find my footing, my grounding. Grayson’s grip on my face was fierce, and I ground my hips against him, my cock desperate for the friction of his hardness.

Grayson groaned in my mouth as he thrust himself against me, eliciting a deep, satisfied sound to escape my throat.

And then he broke away, his labored breath the only sound I could hear.

“Am I being fucking clear now, Henry?” he growled, his grip on my face easing up slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

“Crystal, Grayson,” I said as I slid my hands out of his hair.