Page 42 of Wicked Bite
I chuckled. Cheeky Brit. Always trying to get me into bed.
I consider it my life’s work.
Laughter burst from my lips. My, my, aren’t we ambitious. And here I am with a goal of finding my favorite fuzzy socks.
Open the door and I’ll help you look.
I froze. He couldn’t be here. Not now. Not when I looked like . . . this. This ensemble wasn’t a dating stage outfit. And though I was falling for him and felt totally connected to him, this was a ‘we’re entirely too comfortable with each other but it was still all the love’ kind of outfit. One that someone wore when they’d been together for longer than six months. Not in the new stages. I stared down at my phone for a moment trying to decide if I needed to change or just go for it.
Chuck it in the fuck it bucket. I sighed and walked out of my room and down the stairs past the kitchen and living room then straight to the front door. I hesitated for a moment, still debating with myself if I should change into my “cute” loungewear, and decided nope, he was going to get the real me. This is what I was. I grabbed the doorknob and turned the handle. When I yanked the door open, there he was. In all his hotness glory.
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Hello, Little Creature.”
“Hey.” I rested my head against the door.
I expected him to be dressed in his dark jeans and one of his even darker sweaters that were clearly expensive and looked like they were made just for him. Instead, he stood there in his gray sweatpants and a long sleeved black thermal shirt that clung to his sleek, muscular body. His peacoat hung open, and a dark scarf lay smooth around his neck. He looked good even in lounge clothes. So damn good.
I stepped back and opened the door wider for him. Without a word, he strolled through the door like he owned everything in sight. He spun around and looked at me. “I love the place. It’s very well done.”
I glanced around at out little slice of Salem heaven and gave him a smile. “It is, isn’t it?”
Uncertainty riddled my body. I didn’t know what to do next. Exhaustion ate at me, and I found it difficult to muster the excitement I actually felt about seeing Grayson. He stepped in closer to me and ran his hand over my cheek. “You look right knacker, love.”
“Is that a nicer way of saying I look like shit?”
His lips parted in a smile. His eyes softened as he looked me over, and something in my chest fluttered. His thumb brushed over my skin. “You could never appear so.”
Charmer.
“Not even like this?” I motioned to my baggy sweatshirt and pants.
“A good friend of mine told me never to trust a girl who didn’t wear sweatpants when she was alone.” He let his hand run all the way down my arm to my wrist. Then he reached for my hand and twined his fingers with mine.
“Words to live by.” I swayed on my feet and gave him a slow blink.
“I think bed is in order for you.” He turned for the stairs and tugged me behind him. He didn’t rush up the stairs or pull me too hard. There was nothing ever hurried about Grayson. It was a slow calm pace, like he knew I couldn’t move any faster. When he reached the second floor, there were only four doors to choose from: mine, Dice’s, the bathroom, and a closet. He didn’t even look at me, just turned and headed straight for my door.
“How’d you know which one is mine?”
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Lucky guess?”
I rolled my eyes. “Like I’m going to believe that. Are you stalking me?”
“If you must know . . .” He opened the door and pulled me inside. “It smells like you.”
I fought the urge to lift my arm and take a whiff. “And what exactly do I smell like?”
“Honey and sunshine. The loveliest thing in the world.” He pulled me farther into the room and then turned to close the door behind me.
Heat rushed my face. “Do I?”
He drew me in closer and leaned in. My heart skyrocketed as he came nearer. At the last second, he tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips to my neck in a light kiss. His lips were soft and warm on my skin. My toes curled at his slightest touch. Connection bloomed between us. Except this time, it was more and deeper than I could’ve imagined.
“If only you could see what I see.”
I tried to look at my room and see it through his eyes. The walls were a light gray that I found soothing. I had a queen-size bed with a messy burgundy comforter balled on top of it. The pillows were strewn in all different directions. In the far corner stood a single dresser that I repainted a bright white myself after getting it from a garage sale last summer. Clothes were spread over the floor and spilling out of the closet. A single TV was mounted on the wall opposite the bed.
“Guess I should’ve cleaned up.”
