Lola

IT WAS NOON on Saturday and I had finally come out of my Grayson bubble. After agreeing to spend the night with him the evening before, he’d proceeded to keep me up until the early hours of the morning, supplying me with more orgasms than I could count.

I received a wakeup call most women would fantasize about — Gray’s head between my legs, under the covers. We finished in the shower, my back against the wall while he pounded into me as the three — yes, three — showerheads rained down on us.

Never in my life had sex been so good. Ever. Maybe it was because he wouldn’t give me control. I’d never had sex where I wasn’t the one calling the shots, but after round two, it became abundantly clear that Grayson would never be dominated.

And after I discovered what he could do with his tongue, lips, fingers, cock, etc., I was totally cool with that.

He’d driven me home earlier once I’d been fed bacon and eggs — the bacon sent the last part of my wall that was still standing crumbling to the ground in a massive cloud of dust — and kissed the hell out of me on the steps of my building before making me promise to have lunch with him the following day. I’d blissfully agreed, still floating in my Grayson bubble.

But that was then, and this was now. We’d been apart for two hours, which was apparently just enough time for me to start freaking out. In a panic, I’d called my girls and demanded an impromptu lunch. I needed them to talk me off the ledge. And honestly, no one liked freaking out on their own. That was what friends were for, after all.

We agreed to meet up at a little bistro we all loved in Queen Anne Hill. I decided to wear a pair of my most comfortable heels and walk, hoping the cardio would help work off some of my anxiety.

It was twelve on the dot when I pushed through the door to the bistro. Both my friends were already there, sitting at a little table by the open glass doors that led to the patio.

The second my butt hit the chair Sophia was pushing a mimosa my way. I accepted the drink gratefully and downed the contents in two long gulps.

“Whoa,” Daphne said. “Someone’s stressed.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I replied, holding my glass out for a refill. Sophia picked up the pitcher and poured.

“Would it have anything to do with this?” Daphne handed me her cell phone. On the screen was a picture of me wrapped around Grayson like a second skin just inside the doorway of his house. I backed out of the photo to see it had been posted on a celebrity gossip site.

“Christ! So much for privacy. How did they get this? It was only last night!”

“You know how fast those vultures work,” Sophia chided. “And nothing’s private with them.”

I handed the phone back to Daphne and dropped my head onto the table with a pained groan. “Hey, look on the bright side. This whole stunt was to repair his public image, right? Well, it’s working. The papers are eating this stuff up.” That was Daphne for you, the eternal optimist.

“God, this is bad. This is so bad,” I mumbled into the tablecloth.

Sophia’s hand on my shoulder pushed, forcing me to sit up straight. “What’s going on? Why’d you call us in such a dither?”

I gave her a look. “Dither? Really?”

She shrugged. “I’m trying to use one new word a day.”

“And you couldn’t have picked a better word than dither?” I deadpanned.

“Would you have rather I have used ‘tizzy’?”

I curled my lip. She knew I hated that word. It was right up there with “moist” and “Kardashian.”

“Can we stay on topic, please?” Daph asked, looking at me. “What’s going on?”

The waiter stopped by the table and set out a loaf of French bread and an olive oil dipping sauce. Normally I loved my carbs, but my appetite had run for the hills right around the time my Grayson bubble popped.

“We had sex,” I said on a dramatic whisper.

“Who had sex?” Sophia asked.

“Me and Grayson. I went over to his house last night for dinner. You know, the one he bullied me into yesterday?”

Sophia smiled wickedly. “Didn’t look like it took too much bullying to me.”

“Anyway….” I scowled. “I showed up and he answered the door and I kind of… threw myself at him.” I pulled in a much-needed breath. “And we had sex. Like, a lot. And he asked me to stay the night… so I did.”

My friends’ jaws hung open in shock for several seconds before Daphne came back to her senses. “You had sex?”

“Yes.”

“With Grayson?

“Uh-huh.”

“A lot?”

“Will you stop repeating everything she just said?” Sophia snapped. “We’ve already established she had a lot of hot and sweaty sex with Grayson—”

“I didn’t say anything about hot and sweaty,” I protested.

She gave me a “Bitch, please” look. “Well, wasn’t it?”

Damn it. It really was. I rolled my lips between my teeth and bit down, refusing to answer, but the bright crimson blush on my neck and chest gave me away.

Sophia let out a delighted whoop. “I knew it! I knew that guy was going to be killer in the sack. I’m so jealous of you right now.”

“Can we please get back on point?” I whined. “This isn’t about whether it was hot and sweaty or just lukewarm. It’s about the fact that it never, ever, ever should’ve happened.”

A scoff traveled up Sophia’s throat. “Okay, Taylor Swift. It never, ever, ever should’ve happened.” The bitch actually sang the “never, ever, ever” part.

“It shouldn’t have.” I glared, somehow refraining from kicking her in the shin beneath the table. “First of all, he’s my boss—”

“Your dead-sexy boss who’s been chasing after you like a puppy for weeks,” Daphne unhelpfully added.

“Secondly, this whole thing was supposed to be for show. It was never supposed to get real.”

I hadn’t realized just how much I’d given away until my friends turned quiet, their expressions growing concerned and speculative.

“And is it?” Sophia asked softly. “Getting real? For you?”

“It is,” I finally admitted after several seconds of silence, in which I stared down at the table, toying with the cutlery. “I have… feelings for him. I know I shouldn’t, that it’s a huge mistake, but I can’t help it. I tried to talk myself out of it over and over.”

“Honey,” Sophia whispered, reaching out to place her hand on mine, “this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. He seems like a really good guy. He’s not your dad, or—”

Her mouth clamped shut, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. He wasn’t my dad… or Dominic. I turned my hand over under hers and twined our fingers together, giving her a comforting squeeze. She’d loved my brother more than anything. She still hadn’t gotten over that heartbreak, and it killed me every time I saw the pain in her eyes.

“She’s right,” Daphne chirped, intentionally cutting through the morose mood that had suddenly enveloped our table. “It wouldn’t be fair to paint him with that brush. Especially if he hasn’t done anything to warrant your distrust. What if he truly is a good man and he really wants to be with you? Do you really want to risk losing that just because you’re scared?”

“How can you say that?” I asked. “You know better than anyone… hell, we all know just how bad this could go. All three of us have lived it.”

She shrugged and gave me a sad smile, her past still causing pain as well. “We have to let it go at some point, right? I mean, we can’t stay bitter forever, can we?”

“Of course we can!” I smacked the table for emphasis. “We even made a pact, remember?”

She rolled her eyes at my dramatics. “That was years ago, Lo. We’re in our thirties—”

“Shut your whore mouth,” Sophia gasped. “I’m twenty-eight.”

“You’ve been twenty-eight for three years,” I teased. “Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

“As I was saying,” Daphne continued with a giggle, “we’re getting older. We need to learn how to move on. We offer relationship advice for a living, for Christ’s sake. Don’t you think it’s time we start practicing what we preach?”

Sophia and I hung our heads in shame, knowing she was right but unwilling to admit it out loud.

“Okay,” I finally said. “So what do you suggest?”

She gave my question consideration before answering. “Just go with it, I guess.”

“That’s your brilliant plan?” I scoffed. “Just go with it?”

“Yep. Just go with it. And enjoy the hot and sweaty sex in the meantime. If it stays good, Sophia and I will be thrilled for you.”

“Yeah,” Soph added. “And if it goes bad, we’ll help you bury the body and come up with a rock-solid alibi.”

It was official. I had the best friends in the world.