Page 136 of Really Truly Yours

The city’s skyline is impressive. Gray steers toward it, exiting and winding us into the midst of towering buildings. We wind through an underground garage where he pulls into a numbered slot near a bank of elevators.

“Come on. I want you to see my place.” He grins again, like a kid who brought his pet on show and tell day.

Foregoing the rattly wheels, Gray hoists my suitcase with his good arm and we ascend to the nineteenth floor. Dinging, the doors part. We step into an open area with fewer doors than I had imagined for a single floor in a building this size. I see why when Gray punches a code into a keypad and opens the furthest one.

His apartment is huge. Why wasn’t I expecting it? Yes, I pictured fancy and high-end, but his place is impressive and beyond my imagination.

Ha, my imagination. My hometown provides little inspiration for this kind of thing.

There’s steel and glass everywhere, yet what draws me like a gravitational force is the wall-to-wall bank of windows. In fact, we’re on a corner, so the windows meet in a right angle, introducing a panoramic view.

I gaze out over the city, where green spaces poke up intermittently amongst the jungle of modernity. It’s gorgeous and mindboggling. Real people live like this?

Duh, Sydnee.

“You like it?”

My arm brushes Gray’s sleeve as I about-face for a thorough inhaling of the experience. The condo is beautiful and…okay, maybe a tad sterile. Like a designer lives here, but not a living, breathing, human soul. Not someone warm and vibrant…like Gray.

“Go ahead and say it, Sydnee Lou. It’s awful, isn’t it?”

I examine his expression. “Awful? How can you say that?”

He shrugs, mindlessly massaging his left shoulder. He’s doing that more frequently. “It’s hardly warm and homey.”

“It’s spectacular.”

Waves of wheat-colored hair brush his collar. His palm slides along the waist of my slacks until my shoulder is in the crook of his arm. “The view is. The rest of it?” He dashes his head. “Doesn’t feel like a home.”

I look up for a peek into his eyes. “Why do you live here if you don’t like it?”

“Don’t like might be too strong. The view is awesome, the location is perfect. The décor is impressive, but…it’s cold, am I right?” His mouth sags. “I want homey.”

“Yet you stay.”

“Another byproduct of the stupid stage.”

And now I’m the one wishing he wouldn’t bring it up. I hate thinking of him and other women.

“I might have gotten a big head there for a bit. You know, thought I needed the latest and greatest, the best of the best.” A dry chuckle emerges. “This is cool, don’t get me wrong. Glad I had the experience—but it isn’t me. Last time Mom and Chelsea came over, they wore coats just so they could razz me about how cold the place is.”

I can’t help a snicker. “They sound like a lot of fun.”

He huffs “They’re obnoxious as crud. But, I’ve decided to let them fix it up when I get back,

When he gets back.

His fingers drag across the small of my back. His smile turns me into a puddle. “You thirsty? I don’t have a wide selection at the moment.” He moves on those terribly long, strong legs of his to the sparkly kitchen and eyes the open refrigerator that boasts probably three times the capacity of mine. He turns. “Sydnee?”

“Oh, um, water would be nice.”

Uncapping a bottle, he hands it to me, then circles his fingers on my wrist and leads me to a black, ultramodern sofa centered in the enormous living room.

He tugs me down with him, leaving zero daylight between us.

My mouth goes dry. I scoot myself to the front of the swaddling cushions and sip my water, not that it helps any. Gray’s hand finds its way beneath my hair. His fingers work mesmerizing magic at the base of my skull.

All I want is to sink into his touch.

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