Stars (Penmore #1) (18 page)

“Nothing,” I tell him as I slip my handbag strap off my shoulder, let it fall to the floor and reach my arms out to wrap around his waist. As my head rests on his hard chest and his arms immediately envelop my waist, I finally feel safe and comforted.

“Your appearance at Lucky’s and status change did not go unnoticed by the succubi,” Andy mutters from behind me.

Gray’s arms tighten their hold on me before he asks, “Babe, did the girls on campus give you shit today because of our relationship?”

I don’t want to tell him all of the things the girls had been saying. I especially didn’t want him to feel responsible for their actions. I just wanted to hide, preferably between Grayson’s chiseled chest and solid arms. So rather than go into all the details, I just nod.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to handle this mess, unless of course you want a group hug?” Andy asks moments before he presses the front of his body against my back and wraps his arm around Grayson.

“Dude, get off my girl,” Gray states firmly while I try not to chuckle.

When I hear the front door close from Andy’s departure, I finally look up and into Gray’s eyes.

“I’m sorry he brought me here,” I whisper.

“Why?” Gray asks. “Did the girls say something that makes you not want to be near me?”

“Seriously? I walked in and hugged you. Clearly, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Then why the fuck are
you
saying sorry?”

“Because I’m here in your personal space and Andy wouldn’t let me text you first.”

“Stars, I’m glad you came straight here. D didn’t let you text me because he knew that without you holding on to me, I would have tried to track those bitches down and give them a piece of my mind.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, I don’t want you thinking about the crap they’re spewing, so how about I give you a tour of my place?”

I look around the spacious apartment, but notice that from our small spot I can see the lounge, kitchen and bathroom.

“There’s more?”

“Okay, not a lot. Mostly, this is it, but upstairs there is D’s and my bedroom.”

I watch as he registers his words and the possible implication of them. I tilt my head, enabling me to look directly into his electric blue eyes.

“I mean, we can also sit down here and watch a movie.”

“I think I definitely need a tour,” I tell him softly.

“Okay then. Let me give you a tour,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a sexy grin.

PARKER

We walk up the stairs, my left hand holding onto the bannister and my right laced with Gray’s, but my nerves are scattered all over the place. He’s talking, I think he’s telling me the story of how he and Andy met or he could be detailing how they managed to discover this amazing apartment so close to campus, although I’m not really listening.

Each step toward the upstairs bedrooms is causing me to hyperventilate.

My mind is clouded with scenarios of what I should do when he opens his bedroom door. I imagine myself demurely sitting on the edge of his bed, eagerly awaiting his first move. Like a sacrificial virgin all in white with—don’t ask me how I manage this in the next five minutes—long, curling blonde locks cascading over my shoulders.

Then I picture myself attacking him as soon as he opens his door, letting the urges that have been clawing through my body since the first time he kissed my palm escape. Ripping his clothes off moments before he helps yank off my checkered shirt and skinny jeans.

Oh, no.

My skinny jeans might come off.

Which has raised my anxiety to new heights for two reasons.

Firstly, getting out of my skinny jeans is never easy. I think in a perfect world he’d be able to get them off with one good pull. Unluckily, I’m pretty sure—if it’s anything like how I undress alone—the reality involves a lot of lying down, twisting in unattractive positions and short, consistent tugging.

Secondly, it means what I’m wearing
underneath
my skinny jeans is going to be seen.

And now instead of visualizing my future actions, I’m plagued by the memory of my past ones. Specifically, I recall going through my underwear drawer this morning and selecting my favorite cartoon
Star Wars
underwear. My hand didn’t even go
near
the fancy lace Victoria’s Secret panties I bought when I first started dating Grayson Waters. Instead, my hands went straight for my pre-adolescent, should-be-thrown-out favorite thick-banded underwear. And yes, they do have a giant cartoon version of Chewbacca directly over my lady parts.

The parallels that could be drawn between the underwear and my own personal grooming situation were not lost on me. I doubt Gray will giggle like I do about this fact.

I knew I was going to see Gray today for coffee, but I never thought between Reed Hall and the coffee cart we would have an opportunity to
remove
our clothes
. Sure, when Gray wipes away foam from his top lip I often picture licking it off. That is, however, as far as I ever imagine I would go in the quad surrounded by my peers.

I had no idea when I made my choice this morning I would be dooming myself this afternoon.

Before I have to come to a decision or possible alternative—like maybe rushing into the bathroom and removing my underwear altogether. Gray might start to think I have bladder issues, but I think I’m willing to risk it—he stops us in the middle of the hallway.

He lets go of my hand and moves both of his palms to the side of my head, tilting my face toward his again. His breath blankets over my mouth while I swim in the deep sea of his eyes. I part my lips, ready for him to explore my mouth. But instead of the fast and hungry kisses I anticipated, he lightly brushes his lips across mine.

“You’re nervous. We don’t have to go anywhere or do anything. I’m happy to stay right here with you.”

“In this hall?”

“In this hall. Back downstairs. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be,” he tells me softly as he strokes one of my cheeks with his thumb.

His tender words light a fire in me. Before I can even comprehend what I’m doing, I’m grasping his hair tightly and devouring his mouth.

The Chewbacca panties and skinny jeans dilemma is completely forgotten.

Thankfully, Grayson doesn’t hesitate in responding.

His palms move from cupping my face to gripping my hair and tugging me closer.

Better than any fantasy I’ve ever had is the sweet taste of Gray and the feel of his hair beneath my fingers.

All our pent-up sexual tension, which had been slowly building each time we sat in class together, our knees lightly touching and our elbows occasionally rubbing against one another, finally bursts forth. It is as if time isn’t able to keep up with us.

I have no idea if Gray’s room is the door on the left or the right. But I do know that the wood of the door is sturdy, and while it can handle one body pressed against it, as soon as a second is against the first, it swings open like it wants to yell, ‘Y’all get a room.’

When we fall backward onto the bed, we pause momentarily to stare at one another and grip each other tighter.

I have barely a second to marvel at the craziness of actually being
inside
Gray’s room and not peeking through a window while Gray makes fast work of the buttons down my new, stylish checkered shirt and quickly removes his belt.

The sound of his belt being swiftly pulled through the loopholes in his worn jeans causes me to reach up and pull Grayson’s mouth back toward mine. Thank
God
he isn’t wearing a shirt. Anything that will save time feels like a godsend as my mouth struggles to simultaneously breathe and get its fill of Grayson.

I somehow completely miss how long it takes Grayson to remove my bra and jeans—underwear included, who knew Gray would be a two-for-one sort of guy and save me from possible mortification? —because I’m too busy tasting his pectoral muscles. I don’t stare wistfully as he kicks his jeans off or register the sound of the wrapper ripping, too engrossed in nibbling on his neck, lightly biting his earlobe. Thankfully, I miss how easily he slides on the condom with one hand whilst bringing my mouth closer with his other, because I cannot get enough. Enough skin to savor. Body parts to seize and lick.

Once he manages to remove all our clothes, it appears neither can Gray.

After devouring my mouth, he goes directly for my nipples, biting down on my hardened peaks before sucking them into his mouth like they’re the elixir of life. His hands, however, trace over my body, mapping each curve and dip, hovering closely to my dripping heat.

He’s teasing me, coasting his fingers along the inside of my thigh, his knuckles lightly brushing against my lips that crave his touch. I spread my legs wider, inviting him to discover and enjoy me. But he continues to tease and tempt.

I’m just about to beg him. Beg him to enter me. Beg him to reach the destination his strong fingers have been lightly exploring and encourage him to go deeper. Harder.

Then his hand finally dives into me and his tongue attacks my earlobe. The sensation and sound of his swirling tongue, the building pressure of his firm circling fingers and the taste of his skin against my mouth cause my body to begin to shake. I’m trembling all over. It’s building, and I’m whispering, “Oh, yes, right there. Yes, right there.” I’m just about to shatter, break into thousands of pieces, when his fingers move away and I feel Gray pressing at my entrance.

I’m so ready for him, and when he directs himself to where I need him the most, he slides in with little resistance. The feeling of finally connecting, like the last two puzzle pieces that come together to make a picture of lightning bolts, triggers my body to explode. No pictures, moving images or words in a book could have captured or prepared me for how I would feel in this moment. Wrapped around him. Memorizing the look in his eyes—like I was the most important person in the world—as he buries himself inside of me.

I could never have imagined, in all my fantasies, the raw beauty that we would create together.

Grayson remains snug inside of me, pushing in deeper than I ever imagined he could go, over and over again, while I feel as if parts of my body are blowing around the room. When he finally releases and joins me in oblivion, I lightly kiss his shoulder, close my eyes and try to burn this unbelievable experience into my brain.

The idea that I might not ever have felt this way, had he not
finally
seen me, causes a single tear filled with relief and appreciation to seep from the corner of my eye.

*****

It’s still dark when I open my eyes.

The small lamp on the side table spills a soft blue light across the queen-sized bed’s white sheets and the relatively tidy man-cave. I knew Gray turned the lamp on after the third time during the night he reached from my body in desire and need. Millie was right; apparently, the Waters men
were
triathlon love-makers. I had, however, no idea if it was now early morning or still yesterday. I also couldn’t care less.

I was sweaty, I could feel strands of my now-curling hair sticking to my forehead and I knew I should probably go to the bathroom. But I was still wrapped up in Grayson’s solid arms and nothing short of a tsunami smashing into the bedroom window and ripping my body away from his would have me being the first to let go of this dream come true.

As I move my gaze from the bedroom to our entwined legs and finally up toward Grayson’s face, I find myself staring into his alert and smiling eyes. If I could wake up every morning and evening to those eyes and that smile, I would never want for another thing.

“Babe, been waiting for you to wake up. Didn’t want to jostle you, but I’m really hot. I’m going to go to the bathroom downstairs to quickly shower. Hopefully cool off some so I can keep holding you like this for the rest of the night without dripping sweat all over you. If I get back and you’re gone, I’ll just chase after you,” he tells me softly before brushing his lips gentling across mine, jackknifing off the bed and heading toward his bedroom door. Before he exits, he pauses in the doorway and says, “I’ve got a small en suite through that door to the left if you want a shower or anything. Towels in the vanity.”