“Move your f**kin’ 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 f**kin’ 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 g*y?”
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 h*ps 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, f**k,” 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 f**kin’ 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, f**k,” he hissed and his forehead dropped down to mine. “I missed you sayin’ my name like that.”