Things Liars Say (#ThreeLittleLies #1)(30)

“Polite boys deserve a reward.” My warm breath flirts with his square jawline, his dark blonde hair tickling my nose. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

He gives his head a jerky shake. “No. What does that mean?” The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs up and down when he swallows.

“Thompson, it means you’re getting lucky tonight.”





“Um… You were seriously steaming up the dance floor. For a fake boyfriend, it sure did look real.” Melody sidles up to me by the cake table, whispering around a stack of dessert plates and nodding politely at each passing guest. “Jeez, sexual tension much?”

“Tell me about it. And I don’t think there’s anything fake about it anymore,” I whisper back, smiling broadly at a new member of our sisterhood when she comes up for a slice of the marble cake Mel and I are cutting.

We make small talk with her and serve several more pieces of cake before we’re able to speak alone again. “Grey, you two look like you’re…” She hesitates, and the cake knife she’s wielding pauses mid-slice. “You know—in lurve.”

I consider this, glance across the room where Cal stands with a group of some older gentleman—alumnae dates and husbands—gesturing wildly and causing everyone to die laughing uproarishly.

I wonder what’s so funny.

He raises a drink to his lips just then and glances over, watching me above the rim of his glass. I blush furiously before looking away.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Oh God, I’m actually jealous that I’m stuck on the opposite side of the room serving stupid, dumb cake.

“Geez Grey, look at you, all flustered and adorkable.”

“I can’t help it. He makes me positively giddy. I’m head over heels.”

“Yeah, I can tell. And I think the feeling is mutual. That boy hasn’t stopped watching you all night. But I mean—who could blame him. You’re clearly the babeliest babe in the room.” The cake knife is thrust my way. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“Yes you are, but I’ll permit it.”

“What are your plans for later? You check in to your room yet?”

“Yeah, Cal took care of it while I was helping Carly and Jemma with raffle tickets.”

“Nervous?”

“No. We’ve been building to this point for over seven weeks. Seven. I want to kick everyone out and drag him upstairs, caveman style. Like, by his beautiful hairs.” I sigh wistfully and hand her a stack of napkins. “Lick.”

Melody covers her laugh with a cake plate. “Oh gawd, if only he knew how dirty your mind was, he wouldn’t be so content chatting it up over there with Stella’s husband Ryan.”

“Well, he kind of does know. I may have whispered some naughty, dirty things to him while we were dancing.”

“Such as…?”

“Such as, ‘I want to lick you from head to toe.’ I think he almost wet himself.”

“Why are you let loose to roam around in public?”

“It’s not like I say things like that to just anyone. Besides, I just wanted to see the look on his face. It’s totally different.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Keller. Now keep handing me plates.”





Calvin





By midnight, we begin making our way back to our room. It’s late, but my body crackles with electricity, buzzing with seven weeks’ worth of anticipation. A burst of pure adrenaline zips through my body, fueled by Greyson’s words as they play on a loop through my mind.

It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…

Arms wrapped around each other’s waists, we walk side-by-side in companionable silence and pent-up sexual tension to our hotel suite, taking the elevator to the eighth floor from the Grand Ballroom.

Grey relaxes against me as we watch the numbers climb from one floor to the next.

The elevator dings, having reached its destination, and we step out, make a right turn, and quickly arrive at our door. Grey rests her back against the wall, watching as I dig the room key out of my suit coat and slide the keycard through the card reader.

She leans forward as I turn the doorknob, and I pause, pressing against her gently for a quick kiss. The door eases open, and she sweeps inside, reaching up to pull the flower clip out of her hair and laying it on the dresser. Next to the dresser is the suitcase I placed there earlier.

“I should probably get out of this dress before taking my make-up off,” she says from the other side of the room, clicking on a lamp.

My nerve endings strum high on vibrate.

It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…

“Help with my buttons?” Grey turns towards me, presenting her back, holding her lustrous blonde hair aside, and glancing at me over her shoulder.

It means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight, it means you’re getting lucky tonight…

In two long strides, I’m reaching for the pearl buttons at the top of her dress, the gentle illusion collar at the nape of her neck a stark distinction to my large, battered calloused hands, and I briefly pause to regard the juxtaposition of them against her dress.