Play It Safe Page 24

  Lash watched Cody close his eyes and drop his head.

  To that, Lash called out, “I’m not done.”

  He watched Cody’s muscled back bow as he drew in a deep breath then Cody tipped his head back to look at Lash.

  “There’s been no one since you,” Lash whispered and he saw it, felt it. Cody’s body went statue-still but the air around him started undulating with the depth of emotion coming off him. “She danced for me but only for me. She was a waitress when I found her. She never dated. Never had a boyfriend. Nothing. Not even another kiss. You were her one and only, Cody, and you still are.”

  “Move your fuckin’ car,” he growled instantly.

  “What?” Lash asked, Cody’s beer bottle landed with a thud on the porch by his boot and he surged to his feet sending the porch swing flying.

  “I said, move your fuckin’ car.”

  Then he walked forward, dropped down off the porch and walked right by Lash to his truck. He opened the door and it creaked loud.

  Lash turned to him, saw Cody pause, change direction and stalk back to Lash.

  “Keycard,” he demanded, hand up, palm up.

  Lash’s lips twitched and he dug out his wallet.

  “You get another room tonight, man,” Cody went on.

  “Right,” Lash muttered, pulling out his keycard and handing it to Cody who tagged it swiftly, turned and stalked back to his truck. “Better move the car, Freddie,” Lash called but Freddie was on it, smiling a huge-ass, motherfucking, white smile.

  Freddie got in and barely got the car out of the way before the truck reversed then swung around and sped down the lane.

  Lash sauntered to the Lincoln and folded in the passenger seat.

  After he got his door closed and seatbelt on, Freddie took the lane a lot more slowly.

  “I think that went well,” Lash muttered.

  “Fuck yeah,” Freddie muttered back.

  There was silence.

  Then from Freddie, a quiet, “Dude, you’re gay?”

  Lash sighed.

  Then braced.

  Then affirmed, “Yeah.”

  “I so have a cousin I need to introduce to you. You are totally his type,” Freddie replied. Lash’s eyes cut to him, Freddie glanced at Lash then back at the windshield then again he smiled a huge-ass, motherfucking, white smile.

  Lash looked to the lane and stopped bracing about half a second before he started grinning.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Say It

  The door opened and, lounging across the bed in my black satin nightie with spaghetti straps that criss-crossed over a mostly exposed back, a hem that hit me right at the bottom of my ass, slits up the sides to my waist and a pair of little, black panties (all that Lash bought me, he didn’t only have an eye for good eveningwear, costumes and interior décor, he was hell on wheels in the lingerie department), I didn’t tear my eyes away from the movie I’d rented from the hotel selection as I called out my greeting to the returning Lash.

  He’d gone places unknown, explaining he had “shit to do”. I didn’t question this. Lash owned a successful club, he often had “shit to do”. So much of it, he couldn’t escape it and I knew some of it would eventually leak into our getaway.

  So, eyes never leaving the TV, I called, “I think warning the catering staff I was in meltdown over a hot guy was overkill, honey. They didn’t give me a breadknife with my room service and ‘forgot’ to bring it up even after I called so I had to pry open my baguette and spread my pâté with a fork.”

  There was silence as I felt Lash’s presence near the bedroom area.

  Then, “You don’t look like you’re in meltdown over a hot guy.”

  That wasn’t Lash and my eyes flew to the wide doorway that led to the bedroom area where Gray was lounging, shoulder against the jamb, arms crossed, ankles crossed, lean hips hitched, eyes on me.

  I was on my side, head in hand, elbow in the bed but, seeing him, I shot up to a straight arm, hand in the bed and stared, my breath clean leaving me.

  Gray’s eyes held mine then they traveled down my body then his entire expression changed to one I hadn’t seen in seven years. One for just over two months I saw often. One I never forgot, not for a day and one that had a profound effect on my entire body.

  “Jesus, fuck,” he muttered.

  “How did you get in here?” I whispered.

  His eyes moved to mine, his arms uncrossed and between two long fingers he held a keycard.

  But he didn’t answer.

  “How did you get that?” I asked.

  He casually shoved the keycard in his back pocket, re-crossed his arms on his chest and kept his eyes on me but he didn’t speak.

  “Gray?” I called.

  “You sleep with him.”

  It was a statement not a question.

  I held his gaze and for some ridiculous reason explained quietly, “We whisper about our days before we fall asleep and he cuddles. I like that. Not feeling alone even when I’m asleep.”

  Gray pushed away from the doorjamb and started toward the bed, saying, “I’ll remember that.”

  At his movement, I pushed up to my knees and scooted back asking, “What?”

  “I’ll remember you like to whisper about your day before you fall asleep and you like cuddling. I’ll remember that. Though, already knew that last part.”

  I hit headboard and changed directions, scooting quickly off the bed repeating, “What?”

  Gray changed directions too, moving to round the bed toward me, saying, “I think you heard me, Ivey.”

  What was happening?

  “What are you doing here?”

  He was almost at me as he said, “Told you we had to talk. We’re gonna do other things first, then we’ll talk.”

  At his presence, his movements and his inference, my heart leapt into my throat then my feet leapt onto the bed. I ran across its wide expanse and jumped down the other side, eyeing the doorway, knowing I was acting like a lunatic, not caring even a little bit and then seeing Gray had changed directions and was again coming at me.

  He had a mind to do it he’d get to me fast. I knew it. I didn’t have a prayer.

  “Wait!” I cried putting a hand up but he didn’t even slow.

  But he did speak.

  “Honest to God, dollface, you need to stop running around in that fuckin’ nightie. You’re killin’ me.”

  I was breathing fast even though I was not moving, not able to get a lock on all that I was feeling. Panic, a little bit. Confused, definitely. Excited.

  Oh yeah.

  Panic, as it does, won out and I made a dash toward the seating area not even knowing why I was doing it but I was caught with an arm around my belly, hauled back into a hard body, walked back swiftly then I was going down. Gray landed on the bed, I landed on Gray then he slid me off him and rolled right on top of me.

  Yes, that was what I said.

  Right on top of me.

  I took his heavy weight, I loved his heavy weight and I looked into his heated eyes.

  Oh God.

  “Gray –” I whispered.

  “Fuck, Jesus, fuck,” he hissed and his forehead dropped down to mine. “I missed you sayin’ my name like that.”

  Tears filled my eyes and my heart started beating triple time.

  “What’s happening here?” I whispered.

  His head went back up and his hand came to frame my face, his thumb sliding out high across my cheekbone under my eye.

  “Please don’t cry anymore, Ivey.”

  I pulled in a trembling breath in an attempt to get a lock on it, succeeded in that endeavor and repeated, “What’s happening here?”

  “I need you to know I don’t think you’re anything but Ivey.”

  My head shook slightly with confusion and I asked, “Sorry?”

  “You’re not anything but Ivey. Way those two guys got your back, you never have been.”

  “I don’t…” I cleared my throat because
my voice came out croaky, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t think you’re a whore. I don’t think you’re trash. I don’t think you’re anything but Ivey, the prettiest thing I ever saw seven years ago and seriously the prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen five minutes ago wearin’ that fuckin’ nightie.”

  My body froze under him and my eyes froze on his face.

  Gray wasn’t done speaking.

  “I loved you then. I love you now. I’ve loved you every day for seven years. You left, flashback to my Mom, flashback to my Dad pinin’ for my Mom. He loved her, Christ, he loved her. Ate away at him when she left. He never got it. Never. And that pain dug deep and grew bitter so when she came back he never forgave her. Three years they lived in the same town, he never forgave her. She came to his funeral and she looked crushed. She actually looked it. Like her world just ended and even now I see her and that haunts her eyes, what she lost, what she threw away, what she’ll never get back. And that was me when you left, Ivey. I knew it was happening to me, I felt it, I understood it, I lived it with my Dad and knew it was happening to me and I didn’t do fuck all to try to stop it.”

  He couldn’t be serious.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  “You love me?” I breathed.

  His eyes didn’t leave mine and the intensity didn’t leave his.

  “Yeah.”

  “You love me,” I stated.

  “Yeah.”

  “Every day for seven years?”

  “Every day, every minute, every second since you blew on me.”

  Oh my God.

  Oh my God.

  I stared into his eyes.

  He was serious.

  This was happening.

  Oh my God.

  Gray’s thumb slid across my cheekbone again and he said gently, “Now, you get that, can you relax so I can kiss you then I can fuck you then we can talk about important shit then I’m gonna fuck you again then we’ll go to sleep and while we do, we’ll cuddle.”

  I stared at him again then whispered, “Say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Order me to tell you I love you.”

  The instant the words came out of my mouth, his eyes closed, a shadow of pain crossed his face and he dropped his head to the side of mine.

  He remembered.

  He missed that too.

  He missed it badly just like me.

  Then his hand found mine, his fingers laced tight and his lips went to my ear.

  And there he whispered words I longed to hear for over seven long years, “Say you love me, Ivey.”

  I turned my head, my arm stealing around him and I whispered back, “I love you, Gray.”

  His head lifted, mine kept turning and we both went for it, our mouths colliding.

  We had a lot of making up to do. Seven years.

  And it was clear both of us had the same thing on our minds.

  Desperate, even greedy, mouths taking, tongues driving, hands bumping into each others, I tore his shirt over his head then I yanked at his belt. Gray took over and I multitasked, moving down, pulling off his boots, his socks then tugging at the legs of his jeans.

  Then he was naked, gorgeously naked and hard, hard everywhere. He rolled back into me and, whoosh! My panties were gone then, whoosh! My nightie was gone and then we really went for it, driven, near frantic, like one or the other of us would disappear into thin air and we had only that moment then the next and the next.

  Then Gray’s fingers between my legs were making me whimper into his mouth and my hand stroking his cock was making him groan into mine and he shifted.

  He lifted up, jerking me up as he went. He positioned me, my legs opened to straddle his hips, his arm was around my waist and he pulled me down on him, filling me.

  Gray filling me, inside me, connected to me.

  Yes.

  My hands went into his hair, fisting, my head fell down, my forehead crashing into his and I rode him. Moving up, driving down, again, again with the same desperation we’d both had since we started. My mouth was against his, our breath mingled. I kept going and my mouth moved, lips open, tip of my tongue trailing, down his cheek, along his jaw.

  God, I loved the taste of him.

  Always did.

  His hands slid up my back, gathering my hair, holding it at my neck in his fists, his arms tight around me as I kept riding him.

  It didn’t take me long, it had been over seven years, it came fast and I gasped, “Gray.”

  He heard it, knew it was coming and he twisted me. I landed on my back, he kept thrusting and his mouth came to mine as it swept through me, bright, burning, beautiful and I moaned my orgasm into his mouth. Then both his hands went behind my knees, jerking up and, still mewing through the glorious aftermath of my orgasm, I kept taking him, rocking my hips to take more of him, give more to him. He buried his face in my neck, grunting with each thrust, his hands shoving back my knees and I knew he was close.

  “Baby, I wanna see,” I whispered and his head came up.

  My hand moved to one of his, took it, he twisted his, laced his fingers with mine and pressed it into the bed beside me as he kept driving into me.

  “Missed you,” I kept whispering, watching his face, drinking in his beauty. “Missed you so much, Gray.”

  He held my eyes and kept moving as he whispered back on a groan, “My beautiful Ivey.”

  “Missed you, honey.”

  Then he gave it to me. His cock drove deep, his head shot back then it fell forward, his forehead to mine and I watched it move through his face as his hips bucked into mine again, again, again, again and one last time before he stayed rooted and his weight hit me.

  When I sensed it was fading for him I whispered yet again, “Missed you.”

  Gray closed his eyes and then his head slanted and he kissed me, wet, deep, yes, God, yes, I missed him.

  His lips slid from mine to my jaw, my ear, down and started nuzzling my neck as his hand left the back of my knee. My calves shifted to round him, his free hand went up into my hair and he moved our linked hands to press them to his chest, sandwiching them between us.

  Finally his head came up but his eyes didn’t come to me. They went to my hair and I watched him watch his movements as I felt his hand sift through it like he was arranging it, fanned across the comforter.

  He took his time doing it; his expression absorbed then his eyes came to mine.

  “You never cut it,” he noted softly.

  “Never,” I confirmed.

  “It’s longer now.”

  It was. A lot longer.

  “Yes.”

  His eyes held mine and I saw something flash in his, more pain but understanding.

  “You did that for me.”

  I did. I never cut my hair except for trims and I did it for him.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Didn’t have me, knew what that meant to me and did it for me.”

  I pressed my lips together. His voice was rough, thick, it sounded tortured like he had to push the words out.

  “Fuck, Ivey,” he whispered.

  I closed my eyes and lifted my head to shove my face in his neck.

  His hand squeezed mine then I felt him turn his head so he could say in my ear, “Gonna get off you now, dollface. You need to put your sweet nightie back on. We got shit to talk about and I want you to feel safe while we do it. Yeah?”

  I pulled in a trembling breath, nodded, my face moving against his skin then he gently slid out, rolled off me and took me with him. Then he rolled out of bed, taking me with him when he did that too and setting me on my feet in the circle of his arms but he didn’t let me go.

  I tipped my head back and looked at him to see he was looking down at me.

  “You gotta know, I also want you to put that nightie and those panties back on because I like them a fuckuva lot.”

  Then he grinned and gave me the dimple.

  I had a nanosec
ond to make a choice. Take in that dimple for the first time in years, how it made his extreme masculinity so damned cute, remembering how much I loved it, feeling that love still, having it back and burst into uncontrollable tears again. Or take in that dimple for the first time in years while standing naked in his arms after he told me he still loved me then made love to me and keep my shit and move forward with Gray to put the past behind and move the fuck on.

  I chose option two.

  And therefore I grinned back. It was tough, the pain wanted to burst through so my grin trembled on my lips. But I did it.

  He saw it, a shadow crossed his features but he made the same decision as me. I knew this when his head dipped, his mouth touched mine, he again lifted it and his arms gave me a squeeze.

  Then he ordered, “Get dressed, honey.”

  I nodded and moved to grab my nightie and panties. I pulled the nightie on over my head then moved to the bathroom, cleaned up, donned my panties and came out.

  Gray was buttoning up his jeans, his chest was bare, the TV was off and the minute I moved into the room, his eyes came to me.

  “Come here, dollface,” he murmured.

  I went there. The instant I made it to him, he picked me up like a groom would carry his bride and he walked us to the bed. Then we were in it. He spent some time grabbing pillows to stack behind his back then he settled with head and shoulders against the headboard, me tucked to his side, my head to his pectoral, his chest all I could see.