Grey_The Infatuation Read online

  ***

  “Okay, lovely lady,” Grey calls from the couch. “We have a choice. Either a shitty, cheesy rom-com that absolutely makes me want to blow my brains out or a good ol’ action movie. Whatever you choose is fine.” I detect the slightest bit of bias.

  “Hmmm, whatever shall I choose?” I hum comically and tap my chin. “A delightful romance movie with an actual realistic plot or a movie where cars blow up randomly and there are unnecessary sex scenes every five minutes? Yeah, I’m gonna go with option number one.” I wink at him as he throws his head back and lets out a guttural sound. He’s so overdramatic. He’s acting like the world has ended.

  “I should have known better,” he mutters, but I hear him clear as day. I pick up a popcorn and toss it at his head. It rolls onto the ground, and he cuts me a glare that makes me laugh. He’s so adorable when he’s fake mad at me. “Did you just throw popcorn at me?”

  I pop one in my mouth teasingly and shrug casually. “Maybe…what are you going to do if I did?”

  We lock eyes for one second. Two. Thre—

  He jumps over the couch and runs over to me. I scream and jump back in shock, popcorn still in hand. I think he’ll stop because of the snack in my hands, but no. He wraps his arms around me and whips me off the ground. I burst into laughter as he nuzzles his scruffy jaw in my neck and begins blowing on my sensitive skin.

  “S-stop!” I shout and squeeze my eyes shut.

  “No, this is what you get for throwing a damn popcorn at my head.”

  I open my mouth to reply when I trip forward, and I tip over one of our glasses of soda. He presses forward and I, unintentionally, land chest first in the big puddle of dark liquid. I groan in disgust. He steps back, barely holding back a mocking laugh.

  I turn around and pick at the soft fabric of my soaking shirt. It clings to my chest frightfully tight; my chest is practically on display, save for the white lace bra.

  “Oh, come on! Grey!” I moan like a child and pin him with an intense glare, but I may as well have been giggling and clutching a pink teddy bear, because he leans down and taps my nose like it’s a button.

  “Have I ever told you how adorable you are when you’re mad?” he questions and leans forward, trapping me. He is such an asshole.

  “Get out of my way!” I duck under his arm and storm into his bedroom.

  “Like a wittle angry chipmun—”

  I slam the door before I can hear the rest. A smile can’t help but gravitate its way onto my face. But the smile twitches when I look down at the dark patch of cola on my shirt, some staining my pants. Great, he got my jeans wet too! But at least they’re dark enough so it’s not as bad. But my shirt is white.

  After stripping off my soaked jeans, I jog over to his dresser and pull out a white t-shirt, similar to what he’s currently wearing. There is no way I’m wearing the only other shirt I have. I planned to wear it tomorrow, and I’m not wearing this stained one when I can just borrow one of his.

  I pull my shirt off and pull his on. It stops mid-way down my thighs, and a blush arises on my cheeks. I feel exposed, but he’s seen a lot more.

  I return to the living room, finding him with his feet on the coffee table, throwing popcorn in the air and catching it in his mouth. He hears me come back because he snorts to himself while scrolling through the TV.

  “Back from your sugar plum planet alrea—” He falls short in his mocking when he looks at me. I swear I see the life in his eyes halt for a moment.

  “Don’t make fun of me,” I say and tug the shirt down. “You were the one who made me spill the soda.” I pad over to the couch, and before I can sit down, he raises a finger and curls it toward himself with a big bad grin.

  “Oh no. You don’t get to—Grey!” I squeal in surprise when he reaches out and pulls me into his lap. I smile and hold back snickers as I straddle his lap.

  “If you wanted to punish me, you wouldn’t have worn this,” he says, his voice low and thick with arousal as he massages my leg, pushing the cotton shirt up my thighs. I bite my lip and close my eyes at his fiery touch. “And you definitely wouldn’t have bitten your lip like that.” I open my eyes at the moment he reaches up and runs his thumb over my lip.

  “I guess you’ve found our movie,” I say in a sing-song tone.

  He’s too busy tugging me forward by the shirt to really respond.

  But when he does, he says, “What movie is that?”

  I wind my fingers through his dark tresses and tug. He draws back with a sharp groan and a slight narrow of his charcoal eyes.

  “Fifty Shades of Grey,” I whisper and burst into laughter when his face slacks and his arms follow suit. “Now there’s a punishment—for you, at least.” I arch an eyebrow and laugh even harder when he pushes me off him and onto the seat next to him. Literally. I kick his thigh, and like a pissy child who just got told no, he pushes my feet off the couch and pouts, crossing his arms, his eyes glaring at the TV ahead.

  “Oh, don’t be like that.” I get on my knees and tenderly peck his red-hot cheek. Blushing. Cute.

  I sigh in contentment after grabbing the remote from him and pointing it at the TV. I go to the Romance category, find Fifty Shades, and press play. The movie’s horrible, but he hates it, and I deserve payback. The movie starts, and I lay my feet across his lap, glancing at his sullen expression. I wiggle my toe against his abdomen, and he snaps a glare at me.

  “Can you turn off the light?” I ask in a sweet, polite voice.

  He merely stares at me.

  “Fine.” I begin to get up, but he reaches over and pushes me back down.

  “No, I’ll get it.” He gets up and murmurs, “Better than you flaunting your shit around.”

  I laugh and watch as he gingerly walks over to the wall and switches off the light. After he falls back into his spot, I place my feet on him again. He scowls at me but doesn’t say anything.

  “Have I ever told you how cute you look when you’re mad?” I tease, and he rolls his eyes. I laugh and perch up on my elbow to peer at the large TV screen.

  A smile stays on my face for the entire first half of the movie. But then the sexy parts come on, and I begin to seriously regret picking this movie even to punish him, because it’s punishing me with how uncomfortable and hot these scenes are making me. Plus, the acting is quite atrocious. But the naughty scenes take it up a notch.

  “Is little Ms. Tease getting hot and heavy?” Grey gasps and tugs at my foot.

  I look up at him and scoff loudly. “Am not.”

  “Are too,” he sing-songs.

  “Am not,” I sing back, ignoring his fingers crawling up my leg. I try to shoo him away, but he ends up laughing and tugging me by my ankle, causing me to straddle his lap. Again. “Stop!” I writhe and lean away from him, but he leans forward and continues to blow into my neck.

  “Fine, fine,” he says and winks as he pushes my legs off him and stands up.

  “Where are you going?” I lay on my stomach and peer at him and his butt shamelessly, as he waltzes over to the kitchen.

  “If I’m going to continue watching this bullshit movie, I’m going to be drunk out of my mind.” He returns to the couch with two cups of vodka soda, extra vodka. I take two gulps before coughing and melting into his arms, my legs laid out beside me. Before I know it, he has the blanket from the couch’s arm laid over me. I look up at him with a knowing smile. He’s getting so soft. And it’s all because of me.

  He catches my gaze and snaps, “I’m still a badass motherfucker,” before taking a large sip of his drink.

  “Sure you are,” I say in a condescending tone and reach up to caress his stubbly cheek.

  He grips my wrist and, with hooded eyes, says, “Trust me—I am.”

  I stare at him, and he stares back.

  “You’re so cute when you act so bad,” I coo and pinch his cheek.

  He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Whatever,” before turning back to the movie.

  I laugh and lean up to
kiss his chin and fall back into his lap. “Hey, how come you didn’t tell me you’ve been living with David for five years?”

  He tenses, but it’s gone the moment I notice it, and he looks down at me with a frown. “Didn’t come up.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Why did your mother put you out?” I ask shyly and play with his long fingers. I know it’s a personal question, but I’ve been curious about it since David mentioned in this morning, and if we’re giving this a real shot, he can’t be so closed off all the time. He has to know it’s okay to tell me deep information about himself.

  He finishes off the strong drink and places it on the coffee table. “She felt I was the reason I…uh…thought that I killed my father.”

  “How did he die?” I ask in a soft voice.

  His eyes lose lackluster shine when he says, “Heart attack.”

  “I’m sorry,” is all I know to say. No one really knows what to say to a person who loses a loved one. I should know. The only thing I was told on repeat was “I’m sorry” when Jonah died. Too bad no number of apologies can bring him back…

  He rubs my arm and draws my attention back to him. “And I’m sorry about your brother.”

  I sigh and shake my head, sitting up and fiddling with his thumb against mine. “Enough with the sad stuff. This was supposed to be a fun night. Let’s go back to that, huh?” I give him a smile as I climb onto his lap and tip his chin back.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he croons with a slick smirk.

  I lean down with a grin and connect my lips with his. He grips my waist and leans back. I wrap my legs around his torso and tug at his shirt. He reaches down, and I lean against the couch cushion as he pulls it off and throws it to the ground. I run my fingers up along his hardened muscles, enjoying the thought that he is mine to touch and do this to.

  I flip him over and cup the left side of his face and press my hand against his steel chest.

  “Whoa,” he says as I drag my lips along his neck. “Someone’s taking control tonight.”

  I smile against his skin and lean up, splaying my hand on his chest as his rides up under the shirt I’m wearing. “Promise me this forever,” I say, and he furrows his brows. “This. The easy communication. The easiness. I don’t want Diana or anything—not even your past—coming between us. Promise that we can stay like this.”

  He doesn’t say anything but stares at me with utmost adoration. Then, he reaches up, pulls me down, and presses his sweet, toxic lips against mine. I smile against the sweet and savory taste of it, and I swear I shudder in bliss. And just by the sensuality and passion of the kiss. It has to be the best one yet.

  He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. “I promise this with everything I have in me. Nothing will stand in our way, princesa.”

  I beam down at him and kiss the corner of his mouth. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” I bite my lip and hold his shoulders as he pushes the shirt up my hips and up and up until they’re bunched at my neck. I remove my hands and pull it off, throwing it on the floor on top of his. A few months ago, I would feel extremely small and exposed, wearing only a bra and underwear. But I have never felt so comfortable and at home in my entire life. And it’s all thanks to this beautiful man beneath me.

  “And these are what I want to see,” he jokes before launching forward and tackling me against the couch. My laugh is cut off when he smashes his lips against mine and shows me just how much I love this ravishing man.

  Chapter Nine

  A loud, reverberating sound by my right ear wakes me up. With lazy bones, I raise my head. I blink and lean into the pillow beneath my head to avoid the death glare from the sun. Grey and I fell asleep very late last night after we watched movies on the couch and drank. It was hard to say no to him. I’ve come to learn that he can be very persuasive, if you know what I mean…

  A slightly intoxicated giggle leaves my lips, mumbling into the pillow. I stop when a loud clang sounds. My phone. I turn my head and blindly reach a hand down to pick it up. I stumble around, and once I find it, I pull it up and press it to my ear.

  “Hello?” I groan and sniffle. This had better be important because I am not completely in the mood right now.

  “Olivia Westerfield? Why do you sound like that? Are you in cla—?” It’s my mother. And her rapidly questioning me doesn’t quite help with my hangover.

  “Shhh,” I cut her off and say, “I’ll talk to you later, Mother.”

  “You will not—”

  I silence my phone and drop it to the floor. I don’t feel like talking to her at the moment.

  I turn around and snuggle into Grey’s chest. His snores tickle my ear, and I chuckle and wrap my arms around him. There is nothing better than this. Being in his arms. I feel so content and complete. At peace. I like how connected we feel, like we were meant to be like this. It’s a lot better than the constant fighting and my overthinking and him being cold and puzzling. I just want this to last. It’s easier this way.

  I writhe slightly when my stomach suddenly feels heavy and moan out, “Grey, let go of me. I have to pee,” I whisper and nudge my chest against his.

  He snores in response.

  I groan and lean forward against his face and say a little louder, “I have to pee!”

  He growls like a predatory bear and tightens his arms. “No,” is all he mumbles, his nose twitching like an adorable bunny.

  “Aw,” I say and almost pinch his cheek, but the tingling feeling down there intensifies, and I groan and lean back in protest, trying to wriggle free from his boa-like hold.

  “Mi princesa…”

  “Your princesa has to pee,” I grumble back and try to sit up, but he pulls me back down and into his chest. “Grey,” I moan his name but can’t help but smile when he kisses my neck.

  “Don’t leave me,” he says, and I roll my eyes.

  “If you let me go, I’ll—” I lean toward his ear and whisper the rest, too naughty to repeat in my thoughts.

  A lazy smile washes over his lips, and he nearly pushes me off the bed and hums, “Have the greatest piss of your life.”

  I laugh and jog around the bed. I knew that would make him release me.

  “Were you lying?” he groans in an annoyed tone as he rolls over to glare at me. I know I’m supposed to be intimidated by his boiling hot glare and the click of his sharp jaw, but I can’t get over how adorable he looks.

  “Yeah.” I nod and open the door. “Get up, we have school.”

  “Don’t feel like it,” he grumbles as he shifts into his pillow.

  “Too bad. I can’t miss any more classes.”

  “You missed one day,” he protests.

  “Exactly. Get up.” I pick up one of his stained shirts littering the ground—I have the strongest urge to clean his room—and throw it at his head. He turns over and pins me with a laser beam-like scowl. I arch my eyebrows and head toward the bathroom. I feel his glare as I exit the room.

  “Liar!” he yells as I am about to enter the bathroom.

  My laughs echo off the tiled walls. I open the door and poke my head out before crooning, “If you stop being a little baby and promise me to go to class, I’ll let you shower with me.” The thought of him in the shower with me makes me a little more than nervous, but I find myself growing more and more comfortable around him every day. Plus, our first shower was tense and uncomfortable. I want to give this a second shot.

  He’s sliding across the floor and leaning against the doorframe in point-two seconds. “Strip,” he commands.

  ***

  “One black coffee and a Danish for the lady,” Mason says as he jogs up to me. I am currently on my way to my third class of the day. But since I felt bad for missing our usual meet up at the coffee shop, I asked him to bring some coffee along and walk with me for a bit before class. I have approximately seven minutes, but we’re pretty close and he has to go to the library, which isn’t far from the building I’m headed to.

  “Thank you, my gent.
” I jokingly give him a curtsey, and he waggles his eyebrows, making me burst into laughter. I wrap an arm around him as I bite into my Danish. The cheese in it tastes like heaven, and mixed with the coffee, I could not be any happier. “Again, I’m so sorry I missed this morning’s coffee.” I feel terrible for missing it, but I did have a shower date with a particular individual. The thought of Grey under the water and my hands gliding over him brings a monsoon of bubbles in my chest.

  He waves a dismissive hand. “I’m sorry for ruining your date night.”

  “You didn’t.” I frown and rub his arm comfortingly. He sighs and keeps his eyes trained to the floor. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you the night ended perfectly and we’re still in a great place?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly jump for joy, but as long as you’re happy—yes, it does make me feel better.”

  “Good.” I smile from ear to ear and peck his cheek. He blushes and playfully nudges me away. I belt out laughter and nudge him back but drop my arm. I finish off my Danish and throw the paper away in a garbage can. “Now, how do you feel about studying later? Finals are coming up pretty soon, and I want to be prepared for them.”

  “I’m up for it. Just text me when you’re coming. I’m spending the day at the library,” he tells me.

  We talk a bit more before branching off into our own directions. I have missed him so much. It’s only been two days since I last saw him, but the time I spent with Grey felt like a paradise where time stood still indefinitely. A smile spreads across my face as I revel in the tranquility that seems to consume me.

  My phone buzzes, and thinking it’s Grey, I answer it with a cheerful, “Hello!”

  “Olivia Renee Westerfield, what has gotten into you?” my mother barks, and I cringe. I forgot about her when I unsilenced my phone to talk to Mason.

  “Mother, I—” I try to speak, but she runs over my words like a bulldozer.

  “You have gotten so damn rude. How could you hang up on me like that?”

  “I didn’t mean to—” I try again, but she cuts through my words. Again.