The Design(33)

I stepped to move around him but he reached for my arm and tugged me back so that I was pinned against the counter. My mouth hung open as I tried to keep up. He took a step toward me so that his dress shoes hit my socks. I watched his mouth as his lips parted and his breath slid in and out. Every breath he took made his chest rise and touch mine.

I begged him to kiss me in my head. I wished it with all of my might.

My gaze flickered up to his eyes, but he was still staring at my mouth.

“Why can’t you just leave it alone?” he asked, reaching for my hips and gripping them, hard.

“You mean ‘why can’t I just leave you alone’,” I clarified.

He nodded.

“Because I can’t. I won’t. And I don't think you want to be left alone.”

His fingers dug into my side as he bent down, eye level with me.

“You aren’t someone to play around with,” he said.

I smiled, feeling lightheaded from his touch and the scent of his aftershave. “Ah, that's where you're wrong. All work and no play makes me... restless.”

I was teetering on the brink of complete self-esteem annihilation. If he turned away from me then, I wouldn’t recover. There are only so many times you can throw yourself at a burning star before you learn that sometimes stars are better left untouched, far away in the sky.

His lips hit my neck, and I closed my eyes.

“Remember that you asked for this,” he said, pushing me up onto the counter so that we were eye level once again. As I opened my eyes, our gazes locked, and he didn’t wait another second before leaning in and taking a kiss. Our lips crashed together, my eyes fluttered closed, and his hands held my chin on either side, pinning me in place.

It was hopeless.

Trying to catch hold of the frenzied moment was hopeless. I caught snapshots of it, like a dream that escapes you as soon as you blink your eyes awake. His hands gripping my neck. My legs wrapping around his torso. Our hips pressing together. My fingers dragging down his chest until I found his belt loops and pulled him even closer.

His lips.

His lips stole the show.

I felt like I was tipping over the edge of the kitchen counter. Falling, falling, falling farther away from something I could control and falling further into Grayson.

“Don’t stop,” I begged in the quiet kitchen.

As soon as the words were spoken, he pulled back.

The kiss was broken.

In a flash, he stepped away so that I could see his eyes. They were dark, dilated, and wild. He’d been affected just as much as I had. My neck ached from where he’d gripped it too tightly. My lips stung from his kiss. He’d been rough, but I’d liked it.

I held on to the edge of the counter and inhaled sharply, trying to regain my bearings. It helped to focus on the kitchen floor and my pink fuzzy socks falling in and out of view.

That kiss…

That kiss was everything.

After a moment, I let go of the counter, wanting to wrap my arms around Grayson again and keep him close. But when I glanced up, he was already halfway out of the kitchen, already on his way to being gone. His dress shoes smacked the floor with clear intent. When he passed the threshold, he didn’t look back. He slammed his hand against the doorframe and left me sitting there all alone.

I’d begged him to kiss me, just once.

At that moment, I learned to be careful what I wished for.





Chapter Thirteen


Amount saved for Paris: $723 (minus the $12.50 I spent at Walgreens for the supplies to make a voodoo doll. Now I just needed to find a DIY guide online.)

Items I have: Keds for walking around the museums and parks.

Items I need: red lipstick and a blue striped top… to fit in with Parisian women.

French phrases that I know: Grayson Cole est une salle de bain géante…which roughly translates to “Grayson Cole is a giant bathroom.” (I realize that this isn’t a very good insult, but I thought I’d multitask and start memorizing words that will actually help me in Paris.)




I arrived to work early Wednesday morning after having tossed and turned for eight sleepless hours. Grayson had given me permission to leave work the night before (I mean, he went so far as to pour out my coffee), but I hated having Alan’s work hanging over my head. I cared about this job. I wanted to prove myself to Alan so that he’d stop giving me crappy assignments. I was a good designer and I just needed to show him that.

I could tell that Grayson was already in his office by the time I set my things down on top of my desk. A thin shaft of light spilled out from beneath his door and I could barely make out the faint sound of his typing. I wanted him to come out and face me, but he never did.

I knew he’d felt something during the kiss. Why else would he have been so angry afterward? No one storms out after a mediocre kiss, I knew that much.

Eventually, I forced myself to focus on the pile of work I’d left behind the night before. A full cup of coffee and freshly sharpened drafting pencils were almost enough to convince me to concentrate on my sketches instead of replaying the previous night in excruciating detail. Almost.

I stirred from my work sometime later that morning when I heard Beatrice mention my name on the phone.

“Sure, I’ll connect you with Cammie. Let me just put you on hold for a moment,” Beatrice said.