Page 13 of Never Always
I let my hand slip off his thick arm. “Ruining a nice moment with your cocky demeanor. I rescind my offer.”
He chuckles softly. “Listen, you don’t have anything to worry about. I judged you too harshly upfront. If you want the geek, I think all you have to do is be yourself. It’s about small gestures that others don’t think about. That’s my best advice.”
I slide from his side to perch on the seat directly across from him. “I think that’s the most practical advice you’ve given me yet. Far better than a few days ago when you told me to show more skin, and bend over to show him my cleavage when he’s not expecting it.” I cross my arms to hide myself.
Grange’s gaze darts to my cleavage at the mention of it. “You have a nice rack, Fire. That was me giving you solid advice.”
“Grey only saw me when I looked like this.” Swallowing hard, I point at my head. “The hair and the makeup. A different person. He didn’t notice me until I looked like a different person.”
“Bullshit. He thought you put more effort into your appearance, sure, but he has always noticed you. Trust me.” Grange stands, his shorts soaked and heavy on his hips, exposing the lower ab lines. Sue-Ellen calls them cum gutters, and I hate that the first time I’m admiring them, I’m thinking about my sister’s crass joke. “I’m up here.” Grange snaps his fingers.
He waggles his brows when I look up. “And you only notice me when my dick is almost out.” Grange readjusts his shorts, making everything in his pants shift. I stand and step out onto the deck, flushed a million shades of uncomfortable.
“That isn’t true.” I wrap my arms around my body. “You look different without clothes on. I’m allowed to have eyes.”
Grange perches his hands on his hips. “Tell me something.”
I blow out a long breath, school my eyes on his, and tip my chin up. In between his almost bare body and the way he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me for supper, I’m not sure I can speak clearly, with the vernacular he’s become accustomed to.
He licks his lips, slowly moving around the circular hot tub to me. “Are you a virgin?” Stopping when there’s about two feet of space between our bodies, he studies my face. “A simple yes or no.”
I stutter, tug on my ear and look at the red exit sign by the locker room. “No. But the answer isn’t that simple.” He makes a noise, and it draws my attention back to him.
“Not that simple?” he questions me with force, a need to know details, and I’d be a fool to give them.
“It was a bit of a transaction. My sophomore year in college—just once. He was a virgin and so was I. He was my lab partner. Not like a boyfriend or anything serious. It was nothing to write home about. I don’t get what the fuss is about, honestly. Like you, ruining a whole relationship for sex. It destroys things.”
He flashes me a white smile. Sex in grin form. My stomach flips. He goes to speak, laughs a bit, shakes his head, and tries again. “Without a shadow of a doubt, you will one day understand what the fuss is about. It might not be with the geek.”
“Grey,” I correct, interrupting him. “His name isn’t Geek.”
He nods. “Grey. Sex destroys things, you’re right. But it also makes a whole hell of a lot of things better. You’ll know it when you feel it.” My core clenches, and I’m impossibly confused how mere words affect my body so viscerally.
Unconsciously, I step back, away from him and the conversation. “Why does it matter anyway? If I was a virgin?”
He stalks forward. “It clears things up for me. Helps me help you.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. It’s so violent, I wonder if Grange can see the movement. “It’s just sex,” I stammer.
He raises both eyebrows. His shoulders and biceps flex and bunch as he moves and the fluid contractions draw my eyes to places it shouldn’t be. Again. “If you’re doing it right, it will never be just sex.” He grabs the end of my hair that’s wet on my shoulder. “You described your first time as a transaction. Did he see you?”
My throat is dry and my hands shake. “No.”
“I see you,” Grange growls. “I want to see you in a different way.” He lays a hand on my hip and fire ignites centering on where his hand is. I’m burning. I’ve lost my mind. It’s the only explanation.
He steps forward again, and I wobble backward a step. “What way?” I ask, looking up coyly.
He grabs me with his other arm and lifts me off the pool deck. “I want to see you look like a drowned rat. Cannonball!” His voice echoes as he jumps off the side of the pool and plunges us into the water, the cool slicing the fire into a million pieces.
When we surface, he releases me and I try to move the hair out of my face, spluttering for air.
“You’re fired, Corrick Granger.”
His reply is the happiest laugh I’ve heard in my entire life.
Chapter Six
Tennyson
