NESSA

A single text from Madie saying they arrived in Fresno wiped all the sexual tension from the room, and now Grayson was pacing by the door, rubbing his chest. My anxiety about the situation must have leaked into him because he seemed unnerved.

But he was also the cool, calm, and confident Grayson Everett, so of course, he was trying to hide it.

"How was your class earlier?" he asked, glancing over at me. I was curled up in his bed, half-hiding beneath the covers, drowning in the smell of him. There was a lamp on at his desk, but beside that the room was beginning to grow dusky. The late afternoon clouds had rolled in. A misting of rain fogged the windows.

I sighed. I didn't really feel like talking, but I knew he was trying to distract me. And I didn't want to make him feel bad.

"I hate biology."

He paused, frowning. "Isn't that asshole in Bio with you?"

"Jonathan?"

"Yeah," Grayson grunted. "Him."

I smiled at his sullenness.

"He is. But he leaves me alone now."

"Good." Grayson resumed pacing.

"He doesn't really want anything to do with me after that day in the commons. When you got all pissy."

He shot a glare at me, and I couldn't help but laugh lightly.

"I thanked him for leaving me at the gala. Because then another guy showed up who knew how to treat me a hell of a lot better," I whispered.

Grayson turned slowly to look at me, an unreadable expression on his face. His lips twitched. "You told him that?"

"I did."

Grayson ducked his head then, but I didn't miss the shy grin that peeked out. It warmed my heart for a moment, distracting me from the ache of not knowing what was happening with my friends. But then my phone buzzed, and all of my anxiety came rushing back. I snatched it up before groaning in frustration.

It was just Piper, wondering if she could borrow a dress I'd left at home. I was surprised she even bothered to ask; I wouldn't have known either way.

My phone buzzed a second time, shooting tingles down my spine. But it was still Piper.

Piper: Mom is making me ask.

Well, that explained it.

Me: Sure, go ahead.

I tossed my phone back onto my and exhaled loudly, expelling all my worries.

"Just think about something else," Grayson said quietly. I heard the sympathy there. "Try to go to your happy place for a bit, Adler."

I sighed. "It isn't that easy."

I'd have to figure out where the hell my happy place was first. I loved to daydream. To reimagine the world, to mix fiction and reality. Pretend I was a Bridgerton or that I had the brains of Irene Adler like Grayson thought I did. I liked to dream. But dreams were filled with more wistfulness than happiness.

"Of course it is," Grayson replied, unbothered.

"Fine. Then what's your happy place?"

A smirk flashed onto his face before getting masked by a solemn look, lips in a straight line.

I arched my brow. "I just assumed that you would say something poetic about football or music or something. But your mind went straight to the gutter, didn't it?"

"Just because I've been a good boy with clean mouth recently—"

"A good boy?" I repeated, sputtering a bit. "Is that what you've been?"

He shrugged, but I didn't miss the wicked gleam in his gaze. Or the slight grin on his face. "In comparison to what I could be doing? Oh, yeah."

I rolled my eyes, pushing away the tingles in the tips of my fingers.

"Alright, let's hear it, then," I said. "Your dirty, happy place that you weren't going to share with me because you're a good boy."

His smile vanished, and he continued to pace. "Not a chance in hell."

"Why not?"

"Because I told you I wasn't going to say shit like that anymore."

"Yeah, but this doesn't have anything to do with me. It's different."

He stopped. His eyes rolled over to me, his chin tucked as a steely gaze stared up at me beneath long lashes. Slowly, a brow rose.

Oh—

"You're fooling yourself if you think it has nothing to do with you."

I sucked in a breath. "Tell me anyway."

He shook his head. "I can't. I'm bound not to say a word about it. Bound by the terms of our sacred deal," he drawled mockingly. "Sorry, babe."

I glared at him. I didn't actually think he would take his promises so seriously. Not when I was all but begging him to break them.

"Text me, then."

His attention shifted swiftly back to me.

"Seriously?"

"You won't be saying a single thing." I couldn't believe I was serious, but I was. My heart was pounding. My throat was dry. I wanted inside Grayson's brain because the truth was that I'd missed knowing what was going on in there. "Text me, Wilder."

When he slowly pulled out his phone, I held my breath. Leaning casually against the door, Grayson kicked one foot to cross over the other while he focused on typing. And typing. And typing.

"Are you writing an entire book over there or what?"

Grayson lifted a brow and peeked at me over his phone. "Maybe." Glancing back at his phone, he shrugged. "More like a standard five-paragraph essay, probably. You'd like a whole ass novel, though, wouldn't you?"

Denial was on the tip of my tongue. But at this point, we both knew it'd be an act. So I just cocked my head to the side and lifted a brow, copying him. "Maybe."

His lips split into a grin. "If you must know, I've had to start over a few times. Tenth grade English taught me that the hook is the most important part of a paper."

He winked, and then I felt my phone buzz. Taking a deep breath, I opened his message.

Grayson: You were right. Sitting in front of a piano has always been my happy place. But here's the thing, Adler. I can't play the piano anymore without thinking of you. I can't play a piece without thinking of the one that you wrote. I can't close my eyes without picturing you above the keys, wearing that dress.

My heart jumped into my throat. I'd expected lewdness, not...this. His thoughts were poetic. Too bad I didn't have a poetic bone in my body to be able to respond the same. And even if I did, I probably wouldn't be ready to admit to him just how much I understood how he felt.

I gave up on writing that song because it didn't sound nearly as good on the ukulele now that I'd heard him play it on the piano. Now that the melody screamed Grayson and the resolution seemed so unclear.

Me: I suppose that night was a pretty good night.

Grayson: Pretty good night, my ass. It was amazing. And I fantasize about it more than you know.

There was a tingling numbness in my fingers as I typed my next response.

Me: Tell me about it.

Grayson groaned from across the room.

"This is a bad idea," he muttered beneath his breath and crossed the room to drop onto Brodie's bed, lying back.

"Why?"

"Because I feel like it's another test, and this one, I might fail."

That hardened my resolve. Part of me wanted him to fail, but I didn't know how to tell him that. And I didn't really want to try, not after I'd already said he could touch me, and he responded by walking away.

Me: Tell me.

Grayson: Fine.

Grayson: I like to imagine what I would have done if I hadn't held back.

Me: And what's that?

Grayson: I wanted you off that goddamn piano and onto my lap.

Me: Is that all?

He scoffed from the other side of the room.

Grayson: Of course that's not fucking all, Adler.

Me: Well, I'm waiting.

A ragged sigh. I looked over to find Grayson propped up against a pillow, typing quickly. And then, within seconds, my phone buzzed again.

Grayson: Did you wear underwear that night or did you say screw it like your bra? Because fuck, I wanted to get my hands under that dress.

I couldn't help but smirk as I replied.

Me: I wasn't wearing anything, Grayson.

Grayson: Goddamnit.

Me: Sorry, but like you—I'm not going to lie.

Grayson: Oh, I've been waiting for this version of Nessa. The one that doesn't lie.

Guilt lingered in my chest at that comment. Because, in a way, he was right. I'd been lying to myself—and him—for a while now.

Me: I'm here. Straddling your lap on a piano bench.

Grayson: And undoing my belt buckle while I touch you?

Heat pooled in the pit of my stomach.

Me: And undoing your belt buckle while you touch me.

Grayson: Moaning, too. I need you to moan for me.

Me: I'm good at that.

Grayson: Oh, I know.

Me: Would I get to touch you this time?

Grayson: You bet. You'd wrap that pretty little hand around my dick, Adler.

There he was. The Grayson who didn't hold back, the one I'd been expecting. And considering how my entire body throbbed, I'd missed him.

Grayson: And then you'd guide me the fuck inside you.

I swallowed a throaty moan. Responding seemed like a lot of effort right now. I was too busy staring at my phone, rereading his last two texts. He'd said before what he wanted. But he'd never told me how he wanted it.

"Do you want me to stop," he said, his raw voice interrupting my thoughts.

I swallowed and shook my head. "No."

He couldn't stop now. I'd hit the point of no return when it came to Grayson Everett.

"You want me to keep going?"

The way he rephrased the question made it seem like he didn't believe me. Turning to look at him, I found a heated, desperate gaze staring back.

"Yes," I whispered. "Keep going."

Grayson held my eyes as he licked his lips. "So you feel that? What I feel when I think about what could have happened?"

My eyes drifted over him. He had the leg closest to me propped up casually, but not even that could hide the evidence that he was just as turned on as I was.

I nodded slowly.

"Then touch yourself," he said gruffly. "Because God knows I want to."

Those words shot through my veins, heating me beneath the skin. I didn't even know if he meant he wanted to cross the room to touch me or throw his hand in his own pants, but it didn't matter. My mind had conjured up the image of Grayson stroking himself while thinking of me. And it was making it hard to breathe.

I stared at him and all the fire in his eyes. Any remaining words had dried up in my throat. I couldn't force a damn thing out.

Grayson seemed to sense what was happening. He turned back to his phone. And then mine buzzed, and I turned back to it, too.

Grayson: Stop thinking so goddamn hard and tell me how wet you are.

I sucked in a breath and then gave in, throwing all voices away except for his.

Sliding my hand down my front, I felt Grayson watching me. And I unashamedly reveled in it. I had on one of my favorite skirts today, but I'd paired it with tights that trapped my hand tight against my hot skin as I slipped it beneath the waistband and further down. All I could do was give short strokes between my legs. But it was enough.

"So wet," I breathed.

Grayson: Good. Now don't reply. I don't want you interrupting my conclusion paragraph.

I laughed lightly while waiting for another text. My breathing was heavy and labored, just like every other time Grayson had switched on the light inside me. And I was done trying to fight it.

Grayson: I wanted to fuck you against that piano, darling.

Grayson: That's what I fantasize about. I wanted to slam into you and make our own goddamn music.

The scene played in my head of what he was describing, and god—

Grayson: Your eyes on mine, your hands in my hair,  your dress hiked up while riding me hard.

Grayson: Or me railing you hard. Either one.

Grayson: Shit, Adler. I'm not picky. I just wanted to be inside you.

Grayson: I wanted to hear you echoing off the walls of that huge ass ballroom.

Grayson: I wanted your legs around my waist.

Grayson: God, your legs around my waist. I think about that just as much.

Grayson: For the record, I'd pin you up against a door and take you that way, too.

Grayson: And do a better job than that vibrator did.

I was dying. It was as though his lips were whispering the words in my ear, his skin on my skin, his body against my body. And my fingers couldn't keep up with the demand. With the need. Arching my back, I pressed myself against my hand and whimpered, unable to bear it.

Grayson swore under his breath.

Grayson: My fantasy is just you, Nessa. Literally just you. I don't care about the specifics, but it always ends the same way.

With my phone gripped in one hand, I glared at it when no other message came through.

"How does it fucking end?"

His light chuckle made me want to reach across the room and smack him.

"Ever heard of a cliffhanger, Adler?"

"Ever heard of a conclusion sentence, Wilder?"

He laughed harder before lowering his voice.

"It's just sometimes I think the tension in a song is the best part. Right before the chord is resolved, when you're left waiting for the perfect ending. You can feel it about to happen. And you know it will."

He paused, and there was a heady pulse in the room. Rain smacked harder against the window.

"You know it ends, Nessa."

Oh, goddamn him. I did know. And when I pictured it, my muscles began to tighten. Sweet, unbearable pleasure built between my legs, and his name slipped between my lips. It was a ghost of a scream.

"Fuck," he groaned aloud. "I love it when you say my name when you're about to come."

It was like he gave me permission to do it again, and it came out of my mouth like a squeal this time while a trembling high ripped through me.

"God, Grayson."

I tipped my head back, closing my eyes as relief swept through me.

"I'm right here, Nessa." I turned my head, and my hair fell over my face. But through the strands, I saw Grayson watching me come down from my climax. His eyes were bright even though the room had begun to dim. His breathing, uneven, and he fisted his hair in a tight grasp.

"I think it's your turn," I said, panting as I swatted the hair out of my eyes. He wanted it, and I wanted to give it to him. I wanted to give something to him.

His expression shifted into a tortured one. But it was soft, too.

"It won't be my turn until you're mine, Adler."

Until you're mine.

That goddamn persistent ache in my heart that had been lingering for the past few weeks exploded. I could have clutched my chest with how intense the realization was. How was it possible that he really did want me? Like, all of me. Not just some of me.

"So tell me," he said after a long pause. Mischief lingered in the curve of his lips.

"What?" It came out strangled; I was still trying to catch my runaway breath.

"Compared to your other solo sessions, how did that compare?"

A gasping laugh fell out of me. "Well, I usually imagine Chris Evans, so I mean... it's hard to complete, Wilder."

He narrowed his eyes. "What happened to the version of Nessa that didn't lie?"

Caught me there.

"It's better, Grayson," I admitted softly, smiling.

His eyes twinkled. "I've always known I'm better than Captain America."

I rolled my eyes, but it didn't stop me from answering his question honestly. "Everything since you has been better. Even when you don't touch me. Even when you don't kiss me, it's still better than anything I've ever known. And I don't even understand how that works."

With an utterly satisfied grin, Grayson turned onto his side to face me. "It's because it's always been more than something physical between us," he said, keeping his voice low. "It's always been more than something physical for me."

It felt like my heart had gotten loose from its proper place and was tumbling around in my chest.

"What is it, then?"

He sighed, and it was a little sad. A little wistful.

"You'll figure it out eventually."

💗

we get it, guys, you're hot for each other.
now do something about.

ohhhh yeah, that's my job.
working on it.
xoxo amelie