Page 6

CHAPTER 6

Henry

Grayson was heavy against me, but I was no weakling.

Though if lifting trashed patrons becomes a thing, I might have to start going to the gym more.

I fumbled with my keys at the door as he leaned against me, his face pressed against my neck so close I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin. The sudden warmth against my flesh caused goosebumps to rise on my arms, and the way Grayson squeezed my waist, the way he sighed when he breathed me in, was a form of intoxication all its own.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I shoved the odd feelings down as I jiggled my key in the lock, the door opening finally, and I squeezed his hips back.

“Come on, big guy, let’s get you settled,” I huffed as we ambled through the doorway. I flipped the lights on, kicking the back of the door to close it with a soft thud.

“You smell good,” he murmured, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

“It’s not me, it’s my Glade Plug-In,” I remarked as I led him over to the couch, depositing him there.

He fell with ease against the couch, leaning back against the cushions like he was truly as exhausted as I felt.

He leaned his head back, his lips parting, another sigh leaving him that caused my damn cock to twitch. Without my server apron to hide behind, I silently cursed, thankful he was staring at the ceiling instead of me.

I knelt on the ground, taking my time and easing his shoes off, the leather smooth against my skin. I set them aside, readying to lift his legs onto the couch when I noticed he was staring at me from above, a dark gleam in his eyes that froze me in place.

“Wh... what?” I asked, worried I’d somehow done something wrong, or that this was the moment he was finally going to upchuck.

“You’re just... you’re fucking beautiful, do you know that?” he said, his words slurred and hazy, but awe-filled nonetheless.

My eyelashes fluttered as I tucked some sweaty, stray strands of hair behind my ear.

I shrugged off his flirtations. After all, he was drunk. Everyone looked pretty with martini goggles.

But in the morning, when he’d see me with my bed head and my Star Wars pajama pants, I doubt he’d think I was beautiful.

I was average, at best, and I was okay with that.

Except at that moment, I wanted to believe his drunken words. I wanted him to see me sober the way he did drunk.

Why, I had no clue, but it didn’t change the fact of the matter. Come morning, Grayson wouldn’t remember a thing he said tonight.

And he’d go back to his life, and I’d go back to mine.

“Thanks, but, uh, I think that’s your martinis talking. Now, let’s get your legs up here,” I said as I lifted his legs up one at a time, settling them on the couch cushions, reaching around his waist, if only to situate him so he was elevated enough against my couch pillows that if he did decide to upchuck everywhere, he was less likely to destroy my couch.

And more apt to destroy his shirt.

Which was soft, and warm, and...

Grayson leaned up as I settled him, and I turned to face him. Our faces were just mere inches away, and this close, I couldn’t help but notice underneath the scent of gin and olives, he smelled like musk and cedar, hints of orange and pine meddling with the alcohol that was like a hit to my system.

I breathed him in for a moment, appreciating the sight of his dark eyes and lashes, of his perfectly pouty lips.

He leaned closer, his lips hovering just a breath from mine.

I paused only for a moment before turning away. I didn’t go around kissing hot, wealthy, intoxicated men. I did have morals, after all, and as badly as I wanted to kiss Grayson—to know if his lips would feel as soft as his shirt—I knew I shouldn’t.

But that didn’t stop my cock from protesting otherwise.

“Okay... all settled,” I whispered as I slid my hands out from underneath him, stepping away. I reached over him, grabbing the blanket that was draped across the back of the couch and quickly unfolding it, covering him in haste. I needed to get as far away from this man as possible, if only to quiet my stupid cock with a mind of its own.

“Henry...” he groaned as I backed away.

“Good night, Grayson,” I said, before turning away and running to the safety of my bathroom like a god damned coward.

Only when I was alone, in the sanctity of my bathroom, did I let out a sigh of relief.

I turned on the water for the shower and adjusted the temperature to my liking.

Steam coated my bathroom rather quickly as I disrobed, stepping into the small space and letting the hot water soothe me, washing away the weirdness that had transpired moments ago.

Grayson tried to kiss me.

Because he’s drunk, Henry. Not because he’s into you.

Bracing myself against the tile, I closed my eyes as I fantasized someone like Grayson could ever be into me.

That he could be into me. Images flooded my brain about what he would taste like, the texture of his lips, the salt of his sweat on my tongue.

His swollen cock in my mouth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t go there, Henry.

But it was too late, my cock had already voiced its opinion on the matter, and there was only truly one way to get the thoughts to leave. I groaned in guilt as I wrapped my hand around my shaft, the friction a most satisfying sensation. I leaned into my hold, slowly rocking my hips forward, building a rhythm. My palm was wet and warm, and the slide of my cock against it elicited a deep groan out of me.

I wondered about those perfect, pouty lips of his, and what it would feel like to press my mouth to his, what his mouth would feel like along my skin, biting and sucking my flesh at all my sweet spots. Beneath my ear, on my neck.

And most certainly, I wondered what his lips would feel like wrapped around my cock, his tongue licking me clean of the precum that was currently coating my hand and shaft.

I thought about that dark look he’d given me as I knelt before him, my hands around his ankles.

I fantasized about him commanding me to take care of him.

I came without warning, grunting in guilt and relief, leaning my head against the tile, watching the ropes of my release circle the drain, round and round.

My breathing started to even out as I tugged the last remainders of my release out of my softening cock, and I knew I needed to put Grayson Sanderson as far out of my mind as possible.

Because this... this wasn’t some romance novel.

This was life, and the truth was that aside from Giselle’s wedding, I’d probably never see Grayson again.

Right?

I finished cleaning myself, turned off the water, and climbed out. Wrapping a fluffy towel around my waist, I used another to quickly dry my hair. I grabbed a clean pair of sleep pants and slipped them up my legs, pulling a t-shirt on over my head.

Finally dressed, I slipped out of my bathroom to check on Grayson before heading to bed myself, noting that he was passed out, snoring away. I noticed however, the blanket I’d given him had fallen to the ground and he was now sleeping on his side.

I sauntered over quietly, doing my best as to not make a peep and wake him. Slowly, I knelt to pick the blanket up, carefully laying it over him. I gently tucked it in the back, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of his slumber, like a freaking weirdo.

He looked so peaceful, so content. It was envious.

“Good night, Grayson,” I whispered, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

And when I said good night to him, I promised myself that it would end there.

The fantasy, the hope.

Come morning, everything would go back to normal, the way it was supposed to be.

I slipped into my bedroom, beneath my sheets, and let my own wave of exhaustion take me under.

And I dreamed of wild, amber eyes, and pouty lips, and wedding bells in a forest full of pine.