Devious Minds (21 page)

She pulled down her skirt, grabbed her torn underwear off the floor, and picked up her bag. I pulled up my boxers and sweats. We both stared at one another with no words to describe what just happened. That wasn’t true. I could think of one: life-changing.

“Well?” Grabbing Sydney’s hips, I pushed her back against the wall. “Can you walk?”

When I lowered my head to hers, the elevator doors slid open, but our eyes never wavered from each other’s. Sydney answered my question by meeting my swollen lips with hers, and I leaned my forearm above her head, taking hungry swallows of her tongue.

“Ahem.” A security guard standing outside the elevator cleared his throat. He tapped the wall with his flashlight, hoping the sound would tear us apart.

Sydney reluctantly ripped her mouth from mine and slumped against the wall, catching her breath. Lifting a finger toward the elevator panel, she rasped out, “You guys should really do your maintenance on these things.” With a hitch in her step, she made her way outside elevator.

The guard’s suspicious glare hovered over both of us, and he lifted his walkie-talkie from its holster.

“I mean, the last checkup was two years ago? I should call the fire department. I’m pretty sure that’s a violation.”

No sooner had she said those words than he dropped the talkie. He stepped inside and studied the written log. I stood, dumbfounded and half naked, waiting for Sydney to take off running.

“You gonna stay in there all night?” She arched an eyebrow at me, fixing her messy bun.

I smiled and picked up my T-shirt. “Going up?” I asked the guard and then slammed the top floor button, running out just as the doors closed.

W
arm water slid down my body, mixing with Gray’s soap.

I was careful scrubbing over every swollen, aching part of me, but it was worth every second. I’d go back to that elevator so fast your head would spin. Gray’s hands roaming my body. The feel of this tongue slipping against mine. The sound of his groans against my neck. All things that made every sharp thrust against a metal elevator wall worth it.

But God I was scared. Katharine DeSonna (confirmed dream wrecker) knew about Sunday Lane. She knew about my thoughtless nickname for Allison—shallow puddle. She knew about
me
. And from her murderous glares at Gray’s party, it was now evident she was going to hand me my ass on a platter. Worse yet, she was going to hand it to Northern.

Shit
.

I should be out hunting her down, not standing in the doghouse shower, but as much as I feared the imminent death of Sunday Lane, I couldn’t run from Gray.

I won’t run from Gray
.

After what he said outside the elevator… how he wanted me… how I left without explanation... and all he wanted was a chance. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I wanted it too, and if we had any hope to right our wrongs, I couldn’t leave him again.

“Can I come in?” Gray’s timid voice floated around the shower curtain. “I mean, I’ll sit on the toilet while you shower. Not get inside with you.”

“Isn’t there another bathroom you can do that in? Gross,” I teased, waiting for him to burst through the curtain and take me up against the wall.

“What?” He was quiet for a second while his brain caught up to me. “No. I just want to talk to you… I’m not… Jesus, Sydney.”

Feeling a bit disappointed, I kept scrubbing myself as my mind drifted to Jack (
no, I don’t think about Jack when I shower, or pee, usually
), and naturally my obsessive mind fell back on Katharine. Why hadn’t she revealed Sunday Lane’s identity? I needed dirt on Katharine, and Gray knew the most about her, but I’d feel guilty using him. I’m not used to feeling remorse, but over the last few weeks Katharine had given me a crash course on the subject, and now my words were coming back to haunt me.

No, I refuse to use Gray
. We were trying to start fresh. No more lies.

“No more lies, right, Gray?” I felt the words come out without thinking. His trust, along with his erroneously labeled micro-dick, was all I wanted. “No more lies between us.”

When he didn’t respond, I pulled the shower curtain an inch. Gray was sitting on the closed toilet seat with his elbows resting on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

“Gray?”

His eyes flashed to mine, and he gave me a small smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear over the water.” He stood and grabbed a towel from the cupboard. “Here’s a towel when you’re ready. We can still go out if you want. Or I can make you something to eat.”

I reached out an arm, grabbing the towel, and turned off the water. Gray turned his head as I stepped out onto the mat.

“You don’t want to see me?” I said, feeling a little sting of rejection.

“I’m just trying to give you some space,” he responded, eyes shut tight. “I mean, trust me. I want to badly, but I don’t want to offend you.”

Another wave of disappointment hit me as I dried off my hair. Ambushing me in the bathroom wasn’t giving me
space
. “So you’re going to say something offensive?”

He shook his head, eyes still shut to tight slits. “No. God, you’re twisting my words again.” Gray finally turned his head toward me, and I let the towel drop to the ground. He scanned my wet body and drew in a long breath. “So we can eat or we can go to my bedroom. My choice is the latter, but you know.”

I picked up the towel and swatted him on the butt. “Well, it’s nice to know I have that effect even if I’m not a supermodel,” I teased, wrapping it around my body.

Gray’s eyes darkened listening to my words. “Sydney Porter, you are beautiful. You’re perfect. Stop fishing for compliments.”

Dropping my jaw dramatically, I pushed him back on the toilet seat. “
Gray Peters
.” I mocked his voice. “I was not fishing for compliments.” I straddled him, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. “But I will take constructive criticism. I mean, look at you. It pains me to say this, but you’re like a demigod strutting around campus. Of course I’m going to feel a little self-conscious.”

He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “My only advice to you is to always wear those baggy clothes and ugly hats.” I swatted him in the arm, and he smirked. “That way I’m the only one who knows there’s a sexy woman underneath. And don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll be done with football and have a beer gut like my dad. You’ll see.”

Was my head in the oven? Because my face was beginning to roast.

Gray was hinting of a future together.

“No, I won’t see.” I leaned closer to him and ran my mouth along his neck. “Because I’ll make sure you work out every night.” He grabbed my ass and squeezed, letting out a soft groan. “Maybe even double-drills, twice a day.”

Gray pulled his hands underneath my towel, swiping his fingers over my wet, swollen skin. Giving me an arrogant smile. “Double-drills twice a day, huh? By my calculation, we’re up for round two.”

“As long as you call me Coach Samuels,” I whispered as seductively as I could into his satellite dish ear. I could barely finish my sentence before I started laughing.

“Syyyyddnneeeey,” he growled, lifting me off his soaked sweats. A look of disgust swept over him, but it quickly ended in a sly grin. “Let’s go, Coach.”

“I call the wall side,” I yelled, running toward Gray’s bed. I liked to lie against the cool wall at night. As I made a mad dash past him, Gray grabbed me by the waist and tickled me until I screamed out for him to stop.

“You can have any side you want, Sinister.” He pulled off his clothes and flopped down next to me, pulling the covers over us.

It was a matter of seconds before I was underneath his body. This time it was different.

He made me feel delicate as he slowly moved inside me. Gray propped his elbows on either side of my head and focused on my eyes with every gentle pump. Smoothing my wet hair from my face, he laid kisses across my forehead and cheeks.

This wasn’t rushed. This was slow and loving. He was overwhelming me with intimate whispers into my ear.

He told me I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. He told me my mouth was sweet and addicting. He told me he wanted me from the first day he’d met me, and it’d never stopped. My reaction was to groan underneath his body. Eventually, he lifted my hips, hitting me at just the right angle until I tumbled over the edge. Not long after, Gray let out a string of choppy, shallow breaths, and on the last one, his body relaxed over mine.

He stayed several seconds with his head against my chest, pressing his ear to my skin. My heart thumped so hard I expected his head to bounce up and down, but he wrapped his arms under my back and pressed his ear deeper against my skin.

“You should record your heart beat,” he whispered so low it felt like a voice in my head. “You could use it in one of your mixes. The sound is so rhythmic and intoxicating. I never want to move my head.”

Combing my fingers through his tangled hair, I couldn’t suppress my grin. This moment was perfect. I was used to okay, and I was used to just fine, but I wasn’t used to perfect. “I’ll think about it, but one day you’ll have to move your head because your massive noggin is crushing my lungs.”

He laughed and kissed my breasts before sliding over on his stomach next to me. Letting out a yawn, he wrapped his arms under his pillow and watched me as I stared up at the ceiling.

“You gonna come to my game Saturday?”

“I don’t know.” I would never have entertained the idea before, but that sentimental organ in my chest was pumping harder than ever, and it was all Gray’s fault. “Going to games seems very… official.”

“I know,” he said, smashing his excited little boy smile into his pillow. “But I want you there. Bring a friend.”

Flipping toward him, I smashed my excited little girl smile into my pillow. “I guess I might make an appearance, but I’d have to go alone. My friends aren’t really into football, except Allison maybe.”

Thinking about Allison made my stomach churn, and the smile fell from my face. My reckless words had hurt her. I could only assume she knew they were from me, Sunday Lane.

Gray pulled an arm from under his pillow and drew my body to his chest. “What’s wrong, Sydney?”

I marveled at his strong jaw and his tight chest. He was beautifully built, and it felt wonderful locked in his embrace, but even that couldn’t take away my guilt.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking about Allison. Jack was really upset.”

I closed my eyes, trying to formulate a plan, which was nearly impossible with two hundred pounds of hard muscle surrounding my body.

“Everything will be fine. I’ll talk to Katharine,” he said, lifting my bruised hand to kiss my knuckles. “I’ll set her straight.”

“No,” I snapped, a wave of fear crashing over me. “Don’t talk to Katharine. I’ll talk to her myself. This is girl stuff. You don’t need to concern yourself.”

He bunched his eyebrows together, listening to the urgency in my tone.

“You look like an old man when you scrunch up your face.” Lifting my hand, I smoothed his brows back down. “You know I can handle myself just fine, but I appreciate the offer.”

“I know, Sydney. I won’t say anything.” Slipping out of bed, he walked over to his desk and turned on his reading light. “Got your favorite,” he teased, pulling a can of Pringles from his desk drawer.

Sitting up, I wrapped the sheets around me and held out my arms. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

Gray threw the can, and I popped it open.

“This is sooo much better than that steak dinner you promised me.” I popped a triple stack into my mouth. “Wish you had gummy bears, though,” I mumbled through dry fragments of chips in my mouth. It was all very sexy. Trust me.

Gray hopped into bed and stole the can from my cheese-coated fingers. “Only the best for my girl, but I’m not made of money, gold digger. Gummy bears are for our second date.”

My chewing slowed to a halt, processing what he just said.
My girl
. Gray caught my stunned expression and shoved a chip in my open mouth. “That’s right, Sinister,
my girl
. Don’t worry. I call all my conquests
my girl.
Now chew.”

I smacked him playfully in the stomach, and as directed, I chewed, finally taking a good look around Gray’s room. This was the first time I’d been here without feeling like death had sucker-punched me with a massive hangover. Abstract artwork covered the walls, and my mind returned to freshman year.

“You draw those?” I asked, pointing to the wall opposite the bed.

“I wish,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “That’s Color Field artwork. You know, abstract expressionism. They were my grandpa’s old prints from the ‘50s. That one.” He turned and pointed to what looked like a target with a bull’s eye. It was simple and had varying swirls of black, white, red, and blue rings. “That’s a reprint of Kenneth Noland’s
Beginning
.”