Page 71 of Seeing Grayscale

Taking that as a small win, I hold out my glass, wiggling it. He refills us, sagging as much as he can against the rock-like cushion.

“I never sit down here,” he mutters.

“Couldn’t tell,” I say dryly.

We exchange a look, with him being the first to crack a smile; then he props his legs up, too. The liquor is loosening me up, so Ipress my shoulder into his, leaning on him like he said I could. A grunt leaves his throat, his body shifting uncomfortably. I hurry to straighten because,again, I am doing something he doesn’t like.

“This is better,” he says, surprising me when he lifts his arm and drapes it across my shoulders. The sheer weight of it has me squishing into his side. I can’t help but look at him in question. “Is this okay?”

“Well…yeah, but—”

“So that Caleb person stole your art?” he changes the subject.

Alright, we just aren’t going to acknowledge the massive elephant in the room. Got it. “Yeah,” I say, wiggling my hips to get more comfortable. It’s a futile attempt, but I do try.

Both of us are in our jackets, but the gentle brush of his fingertips over my bicep sends little jolts of excitement through my stomach. Needing the courage to survive this intimacy, I take a decent-sized sip.

“How did that happen?” he prompts.

“Honestly? Because I let it.” I shrug. “He was my first…relationship. The kind that lasts more than a couple of weeks. I thought—it doesn’t matter, but he asked me to paint that. I’m not the best with an actual brush. It’s been alongtime since I had access to it. But I wanted to make him happy—wanted to make sure he didn’t lose interest. So I made it for him. The paint wasn’t evendrybefore I found him…with someone else.”

I spare the gory details of Caleb bent over on all fours, howling like a cat in heat, while being railed from behind. The rich dude didn’t even bother to take his damn slacks off. Just unzipped and went to Pound Town. As if the sight itself wasn’t devastating enough, Caleb never let me top him. I never even got a say in how we did stuff. It was just… ‘I need to be inside you, Gray.’ And I would do it. But some rich guy promises money and a better life, and Caleb lethim.

Hunter’s fingers dig into the meat of my arm, tugging me closer. “Was he an artist, too?”

“A shitty one. Fucker could barely draw a circle. But he liked to think he was talented.” Yeah, art is subjective, and beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but fuck Caleb.

Fuck him for breaking my heart and stealing what wasmine.

“So because he lacked any skill, he used you and made you believe there was a genuine relationship to take your art?”

“I guess. And the guy he left me for owns that studio. So it’s his word against mine. Not that it matters.”

“It matters,” Hunter insists. “I’ll take care of it, alright?”

I glance up at him. “Are you going to put a hit out on him too?” My eyes narrow in a playful tease.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Do I look like I know assassins?”

My eyes flick over his body, trying to see beyond the thick pea coat he’s still wearing and button-down shirt. “It's a definite maybe.”

Another loud laugh. “I think that’s wishful thinking on your part.”

I bite my lip; the heat radiating between us is too much.

Separating us momentarily, I lean forward to put my glass down and peel off my hoodie. Hunter takes his coat off as well. The dark blue button-down is still tucked into his slacks, and the brown leather belt keeps everything in place. Even on his day off, he still dresses like he’s going to work. At least there’s no tie.

There’s a slight hesitance while I glance back at him. Do I try to snuggle into his side again or put some space between us?

“Come here,” he rasps, lifting his arm again.

I sink back into his partial embrace, relieved to have this much.

It’s fucking crazy to think that only a few weeks ago, I revolted over the idea of evenhintingat something like this happening.Now, it’s all I can think about. He’s sweeping me off my feet without even trying.

And with the whiskey coursing through my system, my inhibitions quickly dissolving into thin air, that kiss comes to mind. The gentleness of it, the careful way he handled me—like I’m something delicate, maybe even precious. It’s doing wicked things to my heart and mind.

When his fingers return to their easy caressing, I let my head fall into the crook of his neck. “Want to know something I’ve never told anyone before?” he whispers.

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