Virginal Headlines: Love Between The Headlines Page 14

  “Call me?”

  Prim nodded. “How are you getting home?”

  “Don’t you worry about me. I’m the apex predator in this concrete jungle.”

  “Poppysaurus Rex,” I sputtered with a laugh.

  She flipped me off, then yanked the back door open and slipped inside.

  When Poppy was gone, I opened the passenger door for Prim and then got into the driver’s seat.

  The air was thick with tension. The truth was out there, swimming in the air around us. Taunting us to expand on it.

  “Do you want to go to my place?” I asked, fearing she’d say no.

  When her eyes met mine, I knew the answer.

  Putting the car in drive, I took off toward my apartment.

  Minutes into the drive, Prim’s head rolled along the headrest to look at me.

  She shook my entire world when she said, “I believe you.”

  “You know, the place suits you,” Prim said as she walked through the loft.

  It was an open-floor plan. The bathroom only shielded by plaster walls that skimmed above the floor, suspended from the ceiling. My bed rested on the floor in the corner, a glaring red sign blinking above that read—Addiction Lives Here. It was given to me by an old flame before she discovered I wasn’t the commitment type. I kind of liked it, so I kept it up.

  Prim pointed to it, and then shook her head with a smirk. I didn’t know why, but it felt personal having her in my loft. Though plenty of women had passed through the space, none had ever really taken it all in the way she was doing. Picking up random books. Looking at the picture that hung from my walls.

  “I take it you’re into art?”

  “Where would our culture be without it?” I said, heading to the kitchen along the far wall. I pulled out two water bottles from the fridge and carried one over to her. She was staring at a painting I bought off a local artist just starting out. It was dark, like many other paintings I kept. Dollar bills rained from the top, slowly morphing into fire that covered the city.

  “Not a big fan of money?” she asked when I handed her the water.

  I slid a hand into my pocket. “It’s a long story.”

  “One you’ll indeed keep to yourself, I’m sure.”

  My eyes dipped in question.

  “Do you ever open up to anyone?”

  Her question hit me square in the chest. The way her eyes implored mine, digging for a truth that was cemented deep inside me. I was almost scared to look at her. At the innocence and determination. She was like the perfect sunny day. Things that couldn’t be replicated. That couldn’t be broken or stolen or impure.

  I think she picked up on my uneasiness, because she twisted off the cap to the water and took a sip while idly walking away. Peered behind the walls to the small bathroom. A clawfoot tub, a toilet, and a sink. Nothing fancy. She finally stopped in the living room where a big-screen TV hung from the wall.

  “Want to watch a movie?” I asked, reaching for the remote.

  “Sure. But… do you think I could maybe borrow some clothes and grab a shower? This isn’t quite comfortable for watching movies…” Her attention turned to the dress I’d imagined peeling slowly off her body. Inch by inch, soaking in the sight of her skin.

  Licking my lips, I said, “Of course. I have a T-shirt and some sweats you can wear I don’t think will be too loose.”

  She followed me to my dresser, then disappeared behind the bathroom wall. I headed to the kitchen, gripping the counter, welcoming the cool as I tried to find my sanity. I wanted her so fucking bad it hurt… but making a move on her felt like foreign territory. What if I was right about her? What if she was a virgin? I wouldn’t be the guy to fuck her over. She deserved more than that. Someone better.

  But the thought of someone else with her made my blood boil.

  “What do you think?”

  When I glanced up, I nearly got a boner. The makeup had been cleaned from her face. Her hair was loose and dripping from the shower. The sight of her in my clothes… my shirt hanging past her knees… drowning in my pants. Fuck. I wanted her.

  Badly.

  “Looks good.” I cleared my throat. Pointed to the couch. “You want to pick a movie?”

  She needed to go first because it was going to take a minute to get control of my erection.

  Thankfully, she wandered ahead and plopped onto the couch. A second later, I made my way over and took a seat beside her. She scooted closer, fitting by my side. Easily. Just like the night at her place.

  “So… about the sleeping arrangements,” she said after the movie started.

  “I can take the couch.” A pulse rippled through me. Had I really just said that? Was I really not going to make a move on her?

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.”

  She snuggled a little closer.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked as I slid an arm over her shoulder, trying not to lose my fucking mind over how good she smelled.

  “Like I’m definitely going to regret those drinks in the morning,” she admitted with a small giggle.

  “Don’t worry. I have a great hangover remedy.”

  Her face turned up to mine.

  Jesus, her lips should be classified as a sin. The supple pout I could nibble on while fucking her senseless.

  “I wanted… I wanted to thank you, Grayson. For tonight. I know I said some things…”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Seriously, though. I was being ridiculous. About it all.”

  My gaze dropped to her mouth. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were, because I don’t have to imagine how it felt seeing that headline. Not when I experienced that feeling first hand seeing you with that guy.”

  Awareness deepened in her pupils, a sensual swirling of silver and turquoise dancing in her irises. Lips swollen and puckered with desire. She was so painfully beautiful. A goddess in the flesh.

  The movie became nothing but noise in the background.

  Without thought, she kissed me, and I swear the world stopped.

  It wasn’t a big kiss. Only a soft parting of the lips.

  But fuck if it didn’t get me as hard as if she were naked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. “I don’t know—”

  “Who are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, just when I think I have you figured out, you do something that makes me rethink everything. You’re an enigma, Prim. A fucking delight.” I lifted her chin back to me. Pressed my lips softly against hers. I wanted a turn at taking her breath away. At making her feel the way she made me feel. At giving her the first kiss she deserved.

  When I pulled back, her eyes were still closed.

  “Wow.”

  My lips followed hers, curling up as her eyes slid open.

  “I’ve never… that was…” She shook her head. “Grayson, there’s something I need to tell you. Before… before anything…”

  I brushed a thumb over her cheek.

  The look in her eyes pinned me down. “I’m a virgin. Through and through.”

  I stilled for a moment. Though I’d guessed it still shocked me hearing the words out loud. From her mouth.

  “I’m not implying anything will or would… I just… thought you should know.” She tore her attention away from me, focusing on the pillow across her lap. “I know you probably think I’m weird. What twenty-three-year-old in New York is a virgin these days?”

  “I think it’s pretty amazing.” The words came easily. Thoughtlessly. Everything about her, down to her soul, was beautiful. “And we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I meant it when I said I liked you, Prim. A lot. I don’t want to mess this up. I want to keep doing what we’re doing. See where it goes. Maybe even…”

  Even what? Ask her to be my girlfriend.

  “I do too.” She picked up my hand. Kissed the tips of my fingers with a passion that somewhat shocked me.

  Holy fuck. Maybe I
was wrong thinking I could go at her pace.

  “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before,” she said, leaning forward and pressing her lips against the side of my mouth the way I had before. Just a whisper of a movement.

  For a virgin, she seemed sure of herself.

  “Which is why I want to really get to know you. To be let in.”

  “What do you mean?” I was wholly distracted by her mouth. Her breasts poking against the shirt. The way her thighs skimmed mine.

  “You’re past you never talk about. You’re thoughts. You, Grayson. I just want to know you.”

  She was like a siren, luring me in. Pulling my jagged past up to the rocky surface.

  “I don’t really like talking about my past. My mom… she…” The words halted in my throat. It didn’t matter how much time had passed… saying them out loud hurt just as much as the first time.

  Her hand covered mine, eyes swimming with recognition.

  “I miss her.”

  “You know what I do when I miss my family?”

  I watched her, open and waiting.

  “I dance.”

  It was such an odd thing to hear, but it made the pain recede as humor traced the outline of my eyebrows.

  “Seriously.” She stood, her hands out, wiggling her fingers at me. I took them. Let her pull me to the middle of the floor. With fingers laced through mine, she started moving with no real direction. No set moves. Only crazy leaps and turns and hip shakes. The smile that overtook her face was breathtaking. Pure magic. “Come on,” she said, grabbing my hips and moving them back and forth.

  Slowly, I began to move. Laughter rose up the back of my throat as I let go and gave in to the moment. To her.

  “See,” she said, the buttery sounds of happiness spilling past her lips. The notes soothing the deepest wounds. “She’s here with you. In this moment, because those who love you only want your happiness. And your happiness is the strongest way to hold on to them. Find the joy. It’s where they live.”

  She was right. I felt my mom. The mornings she’d danced her way to the table carrying platters of breakfast. The slow dance we shared at the mother/son dance. Her laughter that always made every illness better.

  When the moment subsided, I pulled her onto my lap. Brushed my thumb over her rosy cheeks. “This doesn’t feel real.”

  “But it is.”

  I blinked. “I know. And that scares the hell out of me.”

  She placed her lips against my forehead, and then pulled back. “It doesn’t have to.”

  My eyes clenched shut. I couldn’t stop thoughts as they rushed forward like a black wave, carrying anger in its tide. “He cheated on her, you know? When she was sick. And once she was gone, he only waited six months before he remarried.” The truth was tar on my tongue. Sticky and mangled. A pulsing shadow I couldn’t escape. “I just… I don’t like giving him a second thought. He doesn’t deserve to be talked about, you know?”

  “When you’re ready.” She tucked herself against me. Glanced back over to the TV as a large yawn ripped from her mouth. “If I pass out, I apologize. I’m usually never up this late.”

  “It’s okay. I can move you.” I let her put her head on my lap. Ran my fingers through her hair as she drifted off.

  I didn’t move her until the movie was over. I liked holding her. Watching her as the small sounds of sleep pushed past her mouth. The softness of her eyes closed. The warmth radiating around her.

  I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve her. To have the light that was stolen when my mom passed brought back into my life. A light that burned so bright it warmed even the iciest parts of my soul. And I’d do whatever I could to protect it. To protect her.

  Carrying her to my bed, I tucked her in, then kissed her forehead, knowing I was already in over my head.

  “I’m all yours,” I whispered in her ear before heading for the couch.

  Magical Burrito

  “Did you know you snore?”

  It wasn’t the kind of sentence any girl wanted to hear first thing when waking up in a man’s bed. A stupidly hot man. The same man who had the lips of a sinner and had planted them on me the night before.

  There Grayson was, sitting at the edge of the bed with two mugs of coffee in his hands and an amused tinge to his face. Jesus, did he have to look so good first thing? Even his bed head deserved an award. The wispy, dark strands fell perfectly against his forehead.

  Palming the sleep from my eyes, I said, “I do?”

  His hooked grin curved higher. “Yeah. But not obnoxiously. It’s more like a soft whimper. Kind of like a sad meowing cat.”

  A soft whimper? Sad meowing cat? I’d worry about my current state of appearance, but I think that ship sailed at the mention of snoring. There was no coming back from that.

  I laughed, watching his lips twist upward at the sound. “A sad meowing cat. That’s a first. I hope I didn’t keep you up.”

  “Not at all.” He brought the mug to his lips and took a slow sip. “Actually, I’ve never slept better. Who knew a cheap-ass couch could do wonders for my back that a two-thousand-dollar mattress couldn’t?”

  I sat up, then instantly regretted the action. Shards of pain spliced along the base of my head so sharp I thought for a moment I might gag.

  “Whoa, easy there.” He set the mugs down. Propping the pillows behind my neck, he helped lower me down, concern softening the sharp plains of his face. “Here.” He reached for two pills that were on the nightstand. “I left them here last night. I guess I should have woken you. You just looked so peaceful.”

  After he handed me a small glass of water, I took the pills and swallowed them, praying they’d kick in fast. I’d been an idiot for drinking that much. For letting my emotions get the better of my judgment. The moment I wasn’t debilitated, I swore I’d strangle Poppy for convincing me to go out and make an ass of myself.

  “Lucky for you,” Grayson said, standing, “I make one hell of a hangover breakfast. It’ll help take the edge off.”

  I shifted against the pillows, all too aware of whose bed I was currently in. “Food,” I said, making a face.

  He chuckled. “It always sounds bad, but trust me… one bite and you’ll feel life breathing through your veins.”

  I moved just enough to see him as he moved into the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the fridge. Within minutes, a pan was on the stove, and he was moving around the counter like cooking was his career.

  “So you cook too? Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “I can’t yodel, and I really suck at knitting. I can cook a little, though. But that’s only because after my mom passed, I moved in with my aunt and uncle. She insisted I learn how to take care of myself. She was very pro-woman. So I started out making breakfast.”

  I rolled to my side, propping my head up on my hand. “Why didn’t you stay with your dad?”

  He froze mid-chop, but then quickly recovered. “We never really got along.” His words were haunted. Dark. Pain wound around every forced syllable.

  Reaching for the mug of coffee he brought me, I took a tentative sip. The warmth felt good when it hit my empty stomach, sending energy through my veins.

  “It isn’t true, you know,” I heard him say over the noise of my thoughts. I glanced up at him, his eyes open and swirling with pain. “The fire. I didn’t start it.”

  I froze the moment his words took up residence in my mind. Every nerve in my body tuned into him, awareness pinging in my blood. He was letting me in. Opening the door. I would be patient with him. Let him choose the speed.

  Getting up, I took a seat across from him on a stool at the bar. Watched him push meat and onions around a pan, lending him an ear.

  “I know what everyone thinks about me. The spoiled child of a multimillionaire. My entire life had been mapped out in the tabloids. And after Mom died and Dad remarried, things slid down a rocky slope.

  “I was the one who asked him to cut me out of my trust. I didn’t want
a single penny from him. I wanted to make it on my own, without him looming over my shoulder. Of course, he didn’t agree. Said I was a fool trying to prove myself to a ghost.

  “It was his new wife who spread the rumor about me starting the fire. I was nowhere near the place, though the truth didn’t matter when stacked against a juicy lie. She sold the fake story to a tabloid in exchange for money. I found out a couple of years later, after they divorced. A lot came out about that marriage after the divorce. She didn’t like me or the fact my father didn’t want to cut me out of my inheritance.

  “It wasn’t until the rumors became bigger than our name, casting a shadow over his empire, that he finally cut me off.” A bitter chuckle rumbled against his tongue. “I was glad for it, you know. He couldn’t be linked to negative press. If that meant going along with the lie and looking like the victim, then so be it. I’m just glad my mom wasn’t around to see it all play out like it did.”

  “Grayson…” I stood, making my way around the bar so I could pull him into a hug.

  His arms wrapped tightly around my waist as he held onto me. “It’s okay.”

  We stayed like that until the acrid scent of something burning pulled his attention away from me.

  “Shit,” he said, laughing. He adjusted the heat, then moved the meat around. “I think I caught it in time.”

  There was a heaviness in the air, tension and electricity zapping at our skin. The kiss was there between us like a ghost speaking over our shoulders. Did I mention it? Should I wait for him to? This was foreign territory. Not to mention waking up in his bed. The last time I slept over at a boy’s house was in the fifth grade, and it was my cousin’s.

  This… this was brand-new territory.

  Grabbing a tortilla, he started loading it up with everything he cooked. It looked like eggs, steak, and tomatoes. He rolled it with expert precision, then placed it on a plate.

  “Madame,” he said, handing it toward me.

  “Thank you.” It was huge. Bigger than my face. When I held it up for comparison, he chuckled.

  “I went a little overboard. I’m used to cooking for men around here.”

  “Speaking of,” I heard Finley say from behind me. “I smell the scent of a hangover in the air. Who’s the unlucky victim?” When his eyes landed on me, they widened just a fraction. Grayson started moving the dishes into the sink. “You’re the chick from the—”