The Design(53)

“Every time I see you, I want to spread your legs just like this.”

His left dress shoe hit my designer heel and then he kicked it out so that my knees buckled. His hand reached out to hold me up as I secured my footing with my feet spread much wider than they’d been just a second before.

I shot him an annoyed glance and he squeezed my hip as reassurance. The smirk he wore proved he enjoyed sweeping my feet out from under me, literally and figuratively.

“They’ll be able to hear us in the hallway,” he said, pushing my pencil skirt up around my hips.

I bit my lip and gripped the counter even tighter. I watched my knuckles turn white as he shimmied my panties down past my hips. I had to pull my feet back together so that the lace could slide down, but the second they were gone I moved back to how he’d placed me a moment before. The low groan he emitted told me I’d done the right thing.

A new, seductive song kicked on in the lounge as he unbuckled his belt.

I swallowed slowly, nerves starting to get the better of me as his palm slid up the back of my thigh. He left goose bumps as his touch trailed higher and I tried my hardest to watch it all happen in the mirror. It was hard, though, to confront your deepest desires head on. I’d never done anything like this with anyone, let alone with someone like Grayson.

“Can you see my hand in the mirror, Cammie?” he asked as he touched the center of my thighs.

The mirror cut off just a few inches above my hips so I pressed up onto my tiptoes and nodded.

I could see it all.

“Keeping watching,” he said as he brushed a finger over my skin.

My knees threatened to buckle.

The music grew louder.

My moans matched his.

I squeezed my eyes closed and he told me to open them, to watch.

My stomach pressed against cold marble.

His hands dug into my hips as he held me in place.

Someone rapped on the bathroom door, and we completely ignored them.

He pressed into me in one quick thrust and I nearly lost my footing.

He held onto me tighter, keeping me in place.

We moved with the music. My heart matched the beat.

I pushed my hips back to meet his and his eyes rolled closed.

When I cried out some time later, Grayson bit down on my earlobe and whispered, “I found you just like your note asked… but now I think I’ll keep you here all for myself.”

…



“Are you kidding me right now?! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!?” Brooklyn yelled.

I took a step back, holding my hands up in defense. If I hadn’t been two drinks in, I would have been looking for some kind of escape route. Alas, I had to face Brooklyn’s fury head on.

“You need to calm down. It is not that big of a deal,” I said—obviously the best thing to say to an angry person.

We’d gone back to Brooklyn’s apartment after happy hour. Jason had stepped out a few minutes earlier to get us ice cream, per my request, and some more wine, per Brooklyn’s request. We didn’t have long to talk before he returned, but she’d asked me where I’d gone in the middle of happy hour and I’d decided to tell her the truth.

Now I was regretting it.

“Not a big deal! Not a big deal? You’re sleeping with Grayson Cole. Grayson! In the middle of a bar bathroom.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you don’t stop yelling, I’m locking you in the bathroom until you calm down.”

She paced around the center of her kitchen island, oscillating between calm and crazy. Every few seconds she’d reach for something on the counter—a knife, an empty bottle of wine, some chocolate—then stop mid-grab, realizing that none of those things would help our situation. Unless, of course, she wanted to stab me. Which would really put a damper on our sistership.

I met her halfway around her fifth lap of the kitchen island and gripped her shoulders so she couldn’t move.

“Okay.” I said, trying to meet her eye. “Okay. I’m really, really sorry. I really regret having sex with Grayson and will try and purge all of the sexy images from my mind.” By the end of my heartfelt apology, I had a dopy smile on my face.

She pointed at that smile and groaned. “You’re not sorry! Jeez, Cammie. That’s so reckless… and fine, yes, it’s actually quite hot, so I can’t really get mad at you about that, but still! I’m mad at you for ditching Stuart like that.”

"C'mon, did you hear him? His childhood dream was to own a laundromat for Christ's sake," I moaned.

“It doesn't matter, Cammie. You should have told me to cancel on Stuart or something.”

“I didn’t know you were even going to bring him! And don’t worry about him, he has that Clark Kent look. He’ll be fine. But dear god, he needs to get a new job. I’ve never met a sexy accountant. No one wants a guy to balance their budgets.”

The door opened at that moment and a smiling, naive Jason walked in holding two paper grocery bags.

“Cammie, they were out of that gelato stuff that you like, so I grabbed a bunch of other stuff,” he explained, dropping the bags onto the counter and rifling through the contents. He pulled out a pint of ice cream and held it up for my examination.

“Oh, that looks awes—”

“Cammie doesn’t deserve ice cream. She DEFINITELY doesn’t deserve Triple Chocolate Fudge ice cream,” Brooklyn interrupted with a snotty glance.