Page 47 of Lilies in Autumn

“Who the fuck is going to see you come over? We need to talk, and I’m sick of talking over the phone every single night. I need to see you in person, I need to make sure you’re okay.” It’s not sexual, I just crave her presence.

“I-I,” she sighs again. “Greyson, it’s a risk.”

“Take the fucking risk, vixen. I will protect you. I will always fucking protect you.” I knew it was a promise that I couldn’t make, not with some asshole out there with a picture of her on their phone.

“Greyson, you know that’s not true.” I clench my fists, knowing that she’s right but pissed about it anyway.

“Please, vixen. I need you. I need to see you, need to make sure you’re okay. I know you’re scared, but, baby, please.”

A heavy silence filled the space between us, so goddamn tense.

“Okay.”

“Don’t lie to me, vixen.”

“Grey, I said okay. I’m not a liar.” There was that sass that I loved. This entire phone call has been one piece of shit after another, and I didn’t get any of my girl’s sass until now.

“Come whenever you’re ready. Did you eat?”

“Why, are you expecting me to cook for you?” I’m going to bend her over my knee for that comment.

“No, I can cook, smartass. Just stop being difficult and let me take care of you.”

“Fine. No, I didn’t eat.”

“Good. Let me know when you leave. The door will be open, just come in.”

“Absolutely not. I can’t just walk into your house, that’s incredibly rude.” Her ass was going to be red by the time I was done with her.

“Vixen, get your sexy ass over here.”

—

Half an hour after we hung up, a knock sounds on the front door. Even though I told Ava to walk in, I knew that she’d be stubborn and would refuse to make herself at home here. With both Dante and Lincoln out at Legend’s, Ava and I have the house to ourselves.

I’m not lying when I say that I am not expecting anything sexual tonight. I just need to fucking see her and breathe the same air as her. It’s been too long since I was able to look into her deep brown eyes and read the emotions on her pretty face.

Making my way to the front door, I open it to Ava, and my dick immediately stirs. Ava is stunning normally, her thick hair, full mouth, and perky tits bring me to my knees every goddamn time. But tonight, she’s dressed casually in leggings and an oversize hoodie, with not a trace of makeup on her face. I’m standing here, speechless by the natural beauty she doesn’t even realize that she has.

“Are you going to invite me in, or are we going to stand on your front steps all night?”

I step aside, opening the door wider to let her in.

Ava

I’m not sure why I agreed to come to Greyson’s house, but if I had to guess, it probably had to do with the prospect of an orgasm and the probability of touching him after nearly a month of tech-based interactions. I should have put more effort into my appearance, but at seven at night, after a full day of classes, the only thing I wanted to do was shower off the stress of the day and throw on sweatpants. After I agreed to come over, I upgraded to leggings because gray sweats look good on men… and that’s pretty much it.

In terms of attractiveness, I am undoubtedly looking as appealing as a pair of used tube socks, but it doesn’t seem to deter the hunger from Grey’s eyes. When he opened the door, looking better than he had any right to in a black tracksuit, his eyes zeroed in on my makeup-free face and heated to a sinful degree. He licked his lips, a seemingly unconscious movement, and my ovaries exploded, essentially.

I can’t keep the snark from my voice when I ask if he wants us to stand on his steps all night; his stare is unnerving. As soon as he steps back, I push my way into the house, not expecting the smell that hits me in the face. Breathing in deeply, I can identify the scent of onions and… fried potatoes? Without waiting for Greyson to close the door, I make my way into the kitchen and see a perfectly golden Spanish tortilla on the stovetop.

Whirling around, Greyson chuckles at the disbelief on my face. “Did you make that?”

He rolls his eyes. “Vixen, I told you that I could cook.”

“Yes, but I figured you meant a frozen pizza or boiled pasta with a jar of sauce, which, by the way, never serve either of those things to me.”

“It’s eggs, Ava, it’s not that difficult.”

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