Midnight Heat (Firework Girls #2) (6 page)

A breeze sweeps through the patio of the restaurant, rustling the palm trees and bringing the scent of the ocean. We’ve polished off the bruschetta and the calamari, but we’re still nursing our drinks. “Okay, so go over the itinerary with us,” Ashley says to Isabella. “I’m confused about tomorrow.”

“Well tomorrow a lot of people are still arriving, so we thought it’d be fun to have one day where people could choose their activity. There’s so much to do here. So there’s a charter van going down to the beach and we’ll provide surfboards and boogie boards and stuff for whoever wants to do that. There’s wind surfing there too. Or people can just hang on the beach.”

Sam raises her hand, “That’s
so
what I would’ve done.”

“Or there’s the zip lining thing,” Isabella says.

“I’m so excited about that!” I say.

Sam gapes at me. “You’re going on it?”

I nod eagerly.

“On purpose?”

“It’ll be fun. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Look at you getting all bold,” Ashley says with a grin. “First it’s taking off to Boise, then it’s the blogging thing, now it’s zip lining. What will we see next from you?”

I smile at her. I have felt bolder lately. Since moving to Boise, I’ve taken myself out to dinner (a lot) and gone to movies all by myself and I don’t feel weird about it at all. It’s actually pretty fun. I’m not anti-social or anything; I’ve made a few work friends and we’ve gotten together a few times, too. But I’ve never been one to do something completely by myself. Not like I have been recently. It’s a nice feeling, like I’ve finally grown into my own skin.

It’s something I wish I could thank Grayson for. It’s sometimes strange to me that in my quest to make sure I don’t need a man, it was a man who gave me that shot of courage I needed. But he did.

I’ve wondered what my life would’ve been like if I’d been with a man like Grayson from the beginning instead of a man like Brad. But then again, maybe Brad was what I needed at the time. I’d spent so many years being the responsible one, Brad’s inclination to be practical used to be an attraction. He was more responsible than a lot of kids my age. But those responsibilities I’d felt in life were placed on my shoulders too young, and they’d changed me. In some ways for the better. In some ways not. I’ve only recently rediscovered the more impulsive side of me. I’d forgotten about her.

In some ways, I have Grayson to thank for helping me get to know her again.

I still remember the way his eyes held mine as he encouraged me to lay plans. To be bold. Fearless.

The Night of Grayson wasn’t really about any one moment. It was the sum total of every moment. It wasn’t just the hottest sex I’d ever had. It was the fact that I’d never felt so physically open to a man before. It wasn’t just that we talked more intimately and deeply than anyone should with a stranger, it was the fact that he didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt like mine and I felt like his.

It was magical. It really was.

Which made what happened next all the more devastating.

The Morning After the Night of Grayson

We’d been laying on the floor of his office on a little nest of blankets. Neither one of us had on a stitch of clothing, which had more or less been the case since we’d first taken them off. Nearly an hour had passed since the last time we had sex, and even though I was raw from so many encounters in such a short span of time, I knew I could get going again if I really wanted to.

He lay propped up on one elbow, his face close to mine, our legs entwined together. We were doing that lovers’ dance I’d read about but never experienced.

We didn’t say a word as our fingertips ran over cheekbones, shoulders, arms, chests. It wasn’t sexual. It was tender, and we were doing more than exploring each other’s bodies. I think I’d already sampled every bit of him by then anyway. We were knowing each other. Claiming each other.

At one point our eyes locked and our movements stopped. Our gaze went so deep, I almost felt we were entering each other somehow. Then he took my face in both of his hands and kissed me so tenderly I felt I was falling. He parted his lips and I responded by opening mine. His tongue touched mine and he rolled on top of me, embracing me in his arms. I both felt as if we were falling together and as if he’d caught me. If there’d been any part of me that had been resisting Grayson, it was gone in that moment.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and he stroked his hand down my side as we kissed deeply. I felt his hardness against my thigh. The heat between my legs was instant, and only gave flight to everything else. In his arms, with his firm weight on top of me, my entire body was soaring. I opened myself to him and he entered me with one stroke. Like one long exhale.

We held each other tightly and made love, kissing and caressing and nuzzling each other as he rocked me. As our intensity grew, my feelings for him grew too. My chest feel like it was going to burst. I rose myself to meet him and opened more and more to him and felt every inch of his shaft rubbing in and out of me. I honestly couldn’t tell where my body ended and his began. We seemed to merge together and become one unit. The sensation startled and amazed me.

His thrusts grew more urgent and he held me more fiercely. He whispered my name in my ear.
“Chloe.”

He said it like a term of endearment.

“Grayson,” I whispered.

“Chloe.”
His hot breaths warmed my neck and we moved together faster. “I want this forever,” he said, and I burned for him both body and soul. “I want you.”

I want you too.

I clung to him and he held me in his strong arms as we swayed together, his hard cock stroking every inch of me until I caught fire. As my heart melted, hot pleasure rose in me. Higher and higher. Higher than I’d ever been and I almost couldn’t take it. He said my name once more and we cried out together as we exploded into a joint orgasm. His hard cock pulsed against me as the pleasure overtook me. As he pounded me, I contracted around his cock and my climax stretched out in wave after wave. I cried out again and arched back violently, completely consumed. White pinpricks of light danced on the edge of my vision. At last the waves began to retreat and I clutched him as the power of my orgasm began to relent. He was still stroking me, softly and slowly, drawing the remaining bits of pleasure out of my body.

By the time I lay loosely in his arms, completely spent, my world had changed forever.

We were both panting, coming down from the high. I looked into those blue eyes and he smiled. His lone dimple appeared on his cheek. I reached up and touched it gently with the tip of my finger. I was still lightheaded and weak from my orgasm.

We held each other’s eyes. With only the sound of our ragged breathing in the background, I looked at Grayson and saw the way he was looking at me. I thought he was going to tell me he loved me.

My heart began to pound. I still couldn’t say if it was due to longing or fear.

Finally he took a breath, ready to speak. If he told me he loved me, I honestly didn’t know what I would say back.

But this is what he said: “I used to think my parents were crazy.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, then I laughed. “Well, that’s not what I expected you to say.”

“What did you expect me to say?”

His question caught me off guard and I looked at him frankly, wondering if he could see it on my face. There was a pregnant pause. He kept his eyes on mine, but stroked my hair gently.

“I don’t know,” I said, smiling now. Keeping it playful. “I guess I just didn’t expect your parents to come into the conversation so soon after we... you know.”

“You know?” he asked, his eyes twinkling at my hesitation to come right out with it.

“Okay, okay. Tonight you’ve given me the fucking of a lifetime.”

He smiled broadly and puffed up his chest, looking perfectly pleased with himself. “Fucking of a lifetime, huh?” He twirled a lock of my auburn hair around his fingers. “Don’t build me up too much or I’ll be doomed to spend the rest of our lives trying to top an impossible standard.”

My heart started pounding against my chest so loud I knew he had to hear it. The rest of our lives?

“So why did you think your parents were crazy?” I asked with a smile, trying to deflect what I felt building between us.

“Did I tell you my parents were
eighteen
when they got married?”

My ear caught on the word ‘married.’ I shook my head. “You said they’ve been together twenty years or something.”

“Thirty. And they’ve been miserable for most of it, as far as I can tell.”

I furrowed my brow. He wasn’t kidding.

“Miserable,” he said nodding. “And I swore I would never end up like that. Who gets married when they’re eighteen? How can anyone think they’re not going to screw up a decision like that when they’re not even done growing up yet? It’s stupid. Almost as stupid as sticking it out for thirty years and hating the one person in the world you’re really, really supposed to love.”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.” One of the things that comforted me after my mother’s death, was knowing how much my parents had loved each other. While somewhat recovered and relatively happy, six years after my mother’s death, my father still won’t date.

“Eh. I’m pretty adaptable,” Grayson said. “You learn to get along on your own when you’re the last kid in a long line of kids. My parents were worn out and kinda checked out by the time I hit junior high. I made a lot of decisions for myself, and one of them was that I’d never get married young. I promised myself I wouldn’t marry before thirty.”

“Thirty??”

“My friends call it The Rule. They like to kinda mess with me about it. But did you know the human brain isn’t even done developing until you’re twenty-five? I figured thirty’s a safe cushion.”

I shook my head again. “I’m twenty-three. I’ve got two years to go until I’m done developing.” I gave him a devilish grin.

His eyes slid down to my breasts. “I think you’ve developed just fine, sweetheart.”

“You’re almost twenty-five. Less than a year to go.”

“Six until I’m thirty,” he said. I guess that sounds like he could’ve been giving me the brush off, like, “Don’t even think about it honey, I’m nowhere near thirty.”

But he wasn’t. And I knew it.

He looked deep into my eyes, placed his hand on my cheek, and leaned in until he was nearly kissing me. “I may have to make an exception.”

He kissed me then, with my heart beating out of my chest. I don’t know where the hell my brain went, because it was definitely my heart in control at that moment. I kissed him back so deeply it was like my heart was saying
yes
to a question he hadn’t even asked.

When he pulled back he leaned on his elbow again looking content and satisfied. “Are you hungry?”

I nodded, too stunned by the moment to speak. My heart was still pounding. What was I getting into?

“How about I take a quick shower, then I’ll make you my famous French toast.”

“And bacon?” I asked, smiling back at him as if my head weren’t spinning.

“Anything you want,” he said, giving me another peck before hopping to his feet.

I rolled onto my stomach, watching his bare feet pad across the carpet to the doorway.

He stopped and looked down at me with that crooked smile of his. “Feel free to join me in the shower,” he said, “if you have the strength.” He winked and left the room.

In the five seconds that followed his departure from my presence, a cold wave of fear dropped over me.

Right there on Grayson’s floor.

Funny isn’t it? Just how much can happen in five seconds?

I suddenly realized that only three months earlier I was prepared to marry another man and here I was, ready to give my heart to Grayson after one day. I really was. And I did not doubt he intended to give his heart to me. I thought of him whispering in my ear:
I want this forever. I want you.

I thought of his Rule and him saying,
I may have to make an exception.

Shaking, I got to my feet and tiptoed to the hall. Down the way, through an open bedroom door, I heard the shower water running.

In the opposite direction was the living room and my clothes. And the door.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. Not from the cold. I don’t know how long I stood there, deciding.

I had said I didn’t want a one-night stand because I knew I had to be me, just me. Just for a while. I couldn’t lose myself in a man again.

But...

I looked in the direction of his room.

But it’s Grayson.

It was very clear to me, in that moment, that if I stayed, I would be wrapped up in Grayson for good. There would be no taking things slow. We were far past that point already. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him.

I took a slow, indecisive step backwards, toward the living room. And another. Spurred on by the momentum of those two steps, I backed farther and farther away, making myself do it, until I was bolting into Grayson’s kitchen and fumbling to get dressed.

I ran out of his house, fully dressed but with my shoes in my hands. I drove barefoot, away from Grayson’s house and down through the hills, with my heart pounding.

It took every ounce of strength I had not to turn around and go back. As I crossed Swan Pointe, heading for my apartment, I had to make the decision over again every time I went through an intersection. I pulled into my apartment complex knowing he was probably out of the shower by now. And I wasn’t there. I was here.

I would not permit myself to cry. I had to be strong. I couldn’t be one of those women who couldn’t survive without a man. I wouldn’t.

When I pulled into my parking spot, I was momentarily distracted by the fact that Ashley’s car was still parked out front. Shouldn’t she have taken Isabella to the airport by now? And after that, Ashley was supposed to drive back to her apartment in Rosebrook. What happened?

“Where the hell have you been?” Ashley demanded when I opened the door to find her sitting on my couch.

The room was empty. I dropped my bag and shoes on the floor, furrowing my brows at her. “Why aren’t you on the road? Where’s Isabella?”

“I dropped her off at the airport but then came back here to wait for you. Why didn’t you answer my texts? Is your phone dead?”

Then Ashley took in my clothes—and probably my just-been-fucked appearance—and a dawning smile broke out across her face.

“Ah!” she said in a Sam-like way. “I see!”

“Ashley—”

Her phone rang and she pulled it out of her back pocket, still looking gleeful. Suddenly worn out, I headed toward my bedroom when I heard “Bella? She’s here. Spent the night with some lucky guy from the looks of it.”

I spun on Ashley and heard Isabella squealing through the phone. “Shut up, Ashley!” but Isabella’s squealing reached a new decibel level as Ashley put it on speaker phone.

“Oh my god!” Isabella said. “I want details.”

“Absolutely not,” I said.

Ashley’s face immediately registered concern. “Are you okay? What’d he do to you?”

I turned around and tried, once more, for my bedroom. “Nothing.”

“
Nothing?
”

I heard Ashley get off the couch and start following me. I managed not to groan in frustration.

“Well, I mean, yeah we did
something
but he didn’t do anything wrong.” God, I did not want to talk about it.

“What’s going on?” I heard Isabella ask through the phone.

“Chloe’s upset,” Ashley said.

“I’m not upset.”

I’m not sure why I couldn’t tell them. I tell them everything. Ashley was the first one I ran to when Brad called things off. My Firework Girls came and cried with me and got me to laugh and feel like things would be okay, in the end.

But in that moment, I couldn’t begin to put into words what happened and what I was feeling and I didn’t want to try. I just wanted to go to bed and sleep. For a month.