Page 9 of Deceiving Grier

“Hey.”

I looked up to find Grier standing in the doorway, one of the boxes from my car in his arms.

“This is labeled books,” he said, his gaze not quite meeting mine. “Do you want it in here or in your bedroom?”

To say Grier had been acting strange toward me since I’d arrived early this afternoon with my entire life to date packed up in a collection of cardboard boxes and a single duffle bag would have been an understatement. More than once, I’d caught him watching me, only quickly glancing away when he realized I was looking, pink staining his cheeks. And if I stood too close to him, he scrambled to put space between us.

If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed Grier had a crush—and wouldn’t that have been adorable—but let’s face it, I was hardly Grier Miller’s type.

“Here’s good,” I told him.

He nodded and carried the box in before bending down to set it on the floor against one of the shelves lining the walls. His faded jeans hugged the curve of his perfectly shaped ass. My cock twitched behind my fly.

It was probably infinitely stupid, but at that moment, I would have given anything to see that ass up close and personal without the layer of denim obscuring my view.

He straightened and turned, his gaze meeting mine, and his throat jumped. Something dark and hungry unfurled inside me, all too close to want. I had to stop thinking about Grier like that. Not only did I have to live with the guy for the next eight months, but I wanted him as a potential source for my story. Fucking him wouldn’t be my most professional decision.

“I’ll go,” Grier said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “and get the rest of the boxes.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, quickly. “There’s not much there. I can manage.”

“I don’t mind helping. It won’t take long,” Grier said, before darting from the room.

I sighed. Of course, Grier didn’t mind. Considering he was helping me, I probably shouldn’t have been so irritated, but Christ, he was such a try-hard. Unfortunately, that eagerness did little to detract from his overall hotness. Instead, I wondered if he was that eager to please witheverythinghe did.

Stop it, I told myself, coming out from behind the desk and making my way through the house to go back out to my car.Stop wondering what he would be like to fuck… about the sounds he’d make… or what his face would look like when he came.

I gave myself a mental shake. I was letting these fantasies get out of hand. Besides, in reality he was probably repressed, uptight and a terrible lay.

I’d given Jett money and sent him to buy beer. My plan had been pizza and beer to say thanks for letting me move in and helping with my stuff—and maybe if the conversation wound up drifting to the fire and how they’d ended up living here, they’d let their guard down enough to answer me honestly.

Now though, I wished I’d sent Grier instead. Less time alone with the other man probably wasn’t a bad thing.

I stepped out onto the porch just as Grier reached the top of the steps, another box in his arms. I must have startled him, though, because he stepped back and, maybe forgetting how close he’d been to the stairs, he started tipping backward.

Almost by instinct, I grabbed his arm and jerked him towards me, away from the steps. He dropped the box and stumbled forward, his lean solid frame slamming against mine. His hands shot out and grabbed onto my upper arms, and his eyes widened a little in surprise.

For a moment, we both just stood there, gazes locked, his body pressed tight to mine. Even through his clothes, I could feel the taut muscle from years of playing soccer.

“Sorry,” I said, ignoring the sudden rasp in my voice. I had to say something though, before I did something stupid like press my mouth to those perfect pink lips. “You almost backed off the step.”

Grier’s gaze dipped to my mouth before returning to my eyes. His throat bobbed again as if he’d swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

His voice had lowered, softened, but with an edge, and the sound shivered over my skin.

He pulled back, and I let him go before I gave into the urge to drag him into the house and finally taste that mouth.

Wordlessly, Grier bent down, scooped up the box he dropped, and hurried inside. I hurried down the steps to my Jeep to keep moving in my things.

Together, Grier and I settled into a system that let us unload the boxes from my car while simultaneously avoiding each other.

Jett got back with the beer, which helped too. He didn’t do much in terms of the move, but his endless chatter defused some of the tension still lingering in the air.

Later, after I had unpacked most of the boxes, the three of us sat in the living room eating pizza in near silence.

Jett and I shared the sofa, and Grier sat in the armchair next to the fireplace on the opposite side of the room. Though to be honest, after how carefully he’d avoided me for the rest of the afternoon, I’d been certain he would make up an excuse and take off.

Maybe he was as determined as I was to ignore the tension crackling between us and pretend everything was normal. Though, some perverse part of me wanted to poke at him, tease and test to see if I could whittle down his resolve, batter his defences until they were gone and I had him naked and desperate under me.

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