Page 32 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter twenty-nine

"Adrenaline" - Simple Creatures

Mia

After the surprise visit from Macy and Makenna, we load up the tour bus and head to our next city.

We have a few days between shows, so our group decided to make a detour and spend the day in Charleston before heading on to Miami.

Sleep is still hard to come by, and I was enjoying the peace and quiet of the drive—until I’m jolted awake by Grayson pelting balled up socks at me.

“Rise and shine, rockstar girlfriend,” he grins, pulling the blanket off me like he has a death wish. “Get dressed, we’ve got a date.”

“Is it for your funeral?” I ask sweetly, grabbing the pillow from behind my head and aiming for his face.

He catches it mid-air. “You won’t find out if you don’t get up.”

“Details, please?” I ask as I rise from our bunk, beginning to rummage through my duffle for my makeup bag and a change of clothes.

“You. Me. The badass Jeep I rented. A bitchin’ playlist I made last night. And most importantly, an actual day off with no cameras, no screaming crowds, and no Jake up our asses all day. So what do you say, beautiful? You down?”

I nod, amused, as he flashes that boyish grin I love before leaving to go pick up the Jeep, his only instructions before taking off being to wear “something cute but not, like, someone might steal you away from me cute.”

I’d laughed, because by now I know that Grayson’s idea of a casual afternoon could go from “just lunch” to “let’s get matching tattoos” real quick.

Returning not even an hour later in what is, in fact, the coolest Jeep I’ve ever seen, he lifts me into the passenger seat as though I weigh nothing and lingers there, situating himself between my legs as they dangle off the edge.

His fingers fumble with the hem of my denim skirt as he kisses me, slow and firm, like we have all day to make out in this car.

“I think I’ll just forget how to put myself in the car from now on,” I murmur against his lips as I wrap my legs around his waist, bringing him closer to me.

I feel his lips twitch into a smirk. “Guess I’ll just have to keep helping you then. For safety reasons, of course.”

“Of course,” I echo, even though nothing about the way his fingers keep inching closer to my panty line feels particularly safe.

He trails a line of slow, open-mouthed kisses just below my jaw, his breath hot against my skin. I let out a quiet moan, unable to help myself.

“You keep making sounds like that, sweetheart,” he says softly against my neck. “And we’re not going anywhere. At least not with our clothes on.”

“You started it,” I whisper.

“Trust me, Mia,” he says, nipping lightly at my ear. “I fully plan on finishing it—with my face buried between your thighs and my name on your tongue.”

I let out a shaky breath, trying to gather what’s left of my self control as Grayson jogs around to the driver’s side.

As soon as he climbs in, he glances at me with a grin that can ruin lives, knowing exactly the effect he just had on me—knowing I’m pretty much about to come apart in the passenger seat.

“Seatbelt, beautiful,” he says, buckling his own before he slides his hand to the gear shift—and then right back to my thigh like it belongs there. Spoiler alert: it does.

The Jeep rumbles to life and his “bitchin’ playlist” begins—starting with Adrenaline by Simple Creatures.

Grayson drums the fingers of his free hand on the steering wheel as he drives, which happens to be the same way he kisses—fast, confident, and a little reckless.

Wind tears through the topless Jeep as we speed towards Charleston’s historic district in the daydream kind of weather that makes it feel like we’re in a movie.

We park near a cluster of beachy, pastel colored houses, and Grayson jumps out to open my door before I could even touch the handle.

“You don’t always have to get my door for me, you know,” I smirk, secretly loving his chivalrous side.

“I plan to woo you all over this city today,” he says. “Don’t want you going anywhere.”

“You already have me!” I laugh, teasing him.

“I just want to make sure you stay mine.”

We walk the streets of the downtown area, Grayson’s hand never leaving mine.

It looks like something out of a postcard.

The smell of saltwater and jasmine fills the air as we admire the mossy oak trees and the incredible, historical architecture.

He slips us into a local breakfast spot that he swears the internet says has the “best biscuits in Charleston.”

He charms the quirky cashier just enough to give us the best table in the place even though there’s a line out the door. I narrow my eyes as he slides into the booth across from me.

“I saw that,” I say, pointing my knife at him.

Grayson raises a brow and pouts, all innocence. “Saw what?”

“Don’t play coy. The smile. The lean-in. The winking. You flirted to get us this table.”

He picks up his second biscuit and breaks it open. “And it worked. You’re welcome.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling.

Damn this man and his effect on—everyone.

The food really is incredible, and somehow Grayson manages to look like a Calvin Klein ad while just licking jam from his thumb. I might’ve stared a little longer than I should have.

He catches me mid-gawk and chuckles. “Want me or the jam, baby girl?”

I throw a sugar packet at his head. But secretly, I could maul him right here.

After we finish brunch, we wander through a pop-up open-air market, fingers laced, Grayson’s thumb rubbing lazy circles against the back of my hand.

We stop at a vendor who makes her own jewelry, and my eyes catch on a pair of wire-wrapped gemstone earrings.

The saleswoman tells us the gem is called lucky in love as the aqua-green coloring shimmers in my hand.

Grayson winks and, of course, buys them immediately, saying he fully intends to test that theory before the day is over.

We stroll down Bay Street towards the water, the sea breeze curling through my hair as we reach the pier. The waves crash against the coastline and I’m about to say something about how peaceful and perfect the day has been when a high-pitched squeal pierces the air.

“Oh. My. God. You’re Grayson Harris!”

We turn to see two teenage girls in oversized Catastrophically Charismatic t-shirts standing behind us, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

Grayson smiles that patient, gracious smile I’ve come to recognize—the one he uses when being somewhat famous isn’t always convenient, but when he’s also reminded of how much influence he can have over people.

The girls are sweet, jittery, fumbling through a few questions and compliments—clearly trying not to lose their minds while meeting their idol. One of them keeps eyeing me, too, as if she recognizes me but can’t place where.

“You’re his girlfriend, right?” she blurts suddenly, earning a slap on the arm from her friend. “You’re Mia Alexander?”

Grayson and I share a quick glance.

“She is,” he confirms, slipping his arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to my temple.

“You were so amazing in that video from the Philly show,” the other girl gushes. “Your voices sounded so good together. I can’t wait to find someone who looks at me the way Grayson looks at you.”

I don’t even have to ask what she means, because I already know. It’s Grayson’s you completely own me look.

After a few photos, hugs, and more squealing, the girls run off before one of them comes back as if she forgot something important.

“I know I’m asking a lot,” she huffs, a little out of breath. “But my dad owns a little club on Folly Beach. Would you be interested in playing an acoustic set there, like, tonight? It’ll be totally low-key, I promise.”

Grayson looks to me for approval; I shrug and nod.

“We’re in,” he beams, making what seems like the girl’s entire year.

They exchange a few details about a time and place before we’re alone again.

“You’re famous now, too,” Grayson says, his eyes flicking over me. “How does it feel?”

“Insane,” I admit. “But if I’m going to burn it all down, I’d rather do it with you.”

He steps closer, that devilish gleam in his eye. “We’re just getting started, beautiful.”

There’s something about the way his words hit me that makes me feel it in my bones.

We walk a little further down the pier and find a food truck, stopping for a drink before wandering towards the marina where the crowds thin and the noise fades into the background.

There’s a spot tucked behind an old warehouse—quiet, secluded, and shaded.

Grayson pulls me towards it with his eyes glowing.

“Gray…” I warn, reading the look of desire that’s all over his face—all heat and no fucks given.

“What?” he asks innocently as he pushes me hungrily against the sun-warmed brick wall. “Just want to be alone with my girl.”

His hands wander from my waist back to the hem of my denim skirt that barely covers my ass like he’s seconds away from pushing all boundaries. His fingers trail down the back of my thighs until they find the hem of my skirt again, slipping them under it. I gasp as his palms land on my bare skin.

“No panties again?” he murmurs, fire igniting in his eyes. “You really want to test my patience, don’t you?”

I know exactly what my lack of underwear does to him. I’m a little obsessed with the possessive, slightly feral side of him that appears every time he finds out I neglect to wear any.

“You didn’t give me time to put them on,” I tease, already a little breathless.

Then he kisses me—deep, hot, and reckless—and the world melts away. The rough heat of the brick presses into the backs of my thighs as my skirt rides higher. His lips steal every rational thought from my brain, and when he slides one leg between mine, the friction makes me dizzy.

I don’t stop him. I can’t.

“I could fuck you right here,” he growls against my mouth. “Fast. Hard. With my hand over your mouth so no one hears.”

My breath hitches hard.

“You’d let me, too,” he continues, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re so needy for me right now, you wouldn’t care who saw.”

His fingers ghost across my folds, drawing slow, deliberate pressure over the ache between my legs.

“Grayson,” I whisper as a shiver rolls down my spine.

I arch into his hand, but he doesn’t move. He just smiles against my skin like he knows what I need—and wants me to beg him for it.

“Remember earlier when you said I started it?” he murmurs breathily in my ear. “Pretty sure this is where I’ll finish it.”

“Here?” I manage, lightheaded as his fingers keep teasing me. “Why do we always get like this in public?”

“Maybe it’s because we live in a tin can with six other people and this is more private than that will ever be,” he smirks—then his voice drops.

“Or maybe it’s because I can’t keep my fucking hands off of you.

Because since the dressing room and afterwards in the hotel, I want you all the damn time and it’s ruining me. ”

I try to laugh, but it comes out shaky and thin—because I feel the exact same way. I push against his chest, barely resisting, just grounding myself.

“If I get arrested for indecent exposure in Charleston, I’m blaming you.”

“I’m already writing a song about it, baby.”

I lean in close and whisper, “Later. Tour bus, with a locked door. Before the others get back. I want your mouth everywhere.”

His jaw clenches hard, like he’s physically having to hold himself back.

“You’re killing me, Mia Michele,” he breathes.

I pull my skirt back down to its intended place and kiss his cheek, fully aware that my legs are definitely still trembling.

“I’m just giving you something to look forward to.”

Grayson steps back slowly, never taking his eyes off me.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warns, his voice thick with promise. “You keep making promises like that, and I’m gonna make you keep every single one.”

As we walk back towards the Jeep to prepare for whatever awaits us tonight, his hand slips into mine once again. Even with the sun blazing, the buzz of the city around us, and the saltwater wavering in the air, all I can feel is him.