“…but I don’t want your pity. I have my art. That’s all I need.”
“Happy New Year, Lily.”
Thanks to those words, I slept fitfully in one of the most comfortable beds ever. I should’ve had a more restful night sleeping on sheets with a thread count that’s more than my monthly salary, but because of how Grayson behaved toward me last night, I tossed and turned and barely got a wink.
I wish I could get a read on him. One minute he’s so kind and sweet to me, and in the next he shuts down and turns cold and distant. Which is why I’m mopping the kitchen floor the next morning with “Shake It Off” blasting through my ear buds. Taylor Swift just happens to fit my mood perfectly.
Then again, despite his status as a famous artist, Grayson is still a man and it’s a truth universally acknowledged that men loathe talking about their feelings.
I sweep the mop across the floor in the foyer to the beat of the song. I pick up the pace, hearing nothing but the lyrics and the music, oblivious to everything around me.
So when someone taps me on my right shoulder, I scream full-throated and jump what feels like a foot into the air, dropping the mop.
When I spin around, Grayson is staring at me with an amused grin on his face. He’s dressed casually in pressed jeans, a grey button-down shirt, and suede loafers, as if he were going out somewhere, but that couldn’t be. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
My heart won’t stop racing like a Formula One car, and my hand’s over my chest as I try to catch my breath. I yank one of the buds out of my ear. “No worries. I just aged about fifty years. I notice you do that a lot, though—surprise me, that is.”
Then I stop breathing because I think I just insulted him, but thankfully he smiles at me.
“Is there something you need?” I ask.
A serious look crosses his face. “Yes. I need you to accept my invitation to have lunch with me.”
And the surprises just keep coming.
My eyebrows furrow in confusion. I pull my iPod from the pocket of my sweats and shut off Taylor’s voice. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that, please? I still had the music on and I could swear you just asked me to share a meal with you.”
“You didn’t mishear me, Lily. Lunch is waiting for us in the living room.”
I gasp in realization. “Oh, you were serious.”
A frown forms across his face, and his scars elongate with his expression. “Forgive me. I just wanted to thank you for a lovely New Year’s Eve, but if you’re busy I’ll just go.”
My heart leaps to my throat. I quickly grab him by the arm. “No, wait. Of course I’ll have lunch with you. I’m sorry. This is just…unexpected. Just let me clean up.”
When I turn to grab the bucket of dirty water, his arm grips mine. “Don’t be silly. You look perfect to me. You must be ravenous since it’s nearly noon.”
I hadn’t even noticed the time, trying to shake off my insecurities about last night with Taylor’s help.
Suddenly my mind reverses, recalling what he’s just said to me. A million thoughts begin to spin around in my head. I warm all over, my cheeks growing pink from the blush.
I look perfect to him?
“Come,” he beckons me, gesturing toward the living room.
I nod silently and walk by his side down the hallway.
When we turn right, my eyes widen at the sight in front of me, and I gasp in awe.
A picnic blanket is laid out on the floor. There are tall candles positioned all around the space, illuminating the room. Bottles of wine and sparkling water stand in ice buckets, while cutlery, plates, and napkins sit in anticipation on opposite sides of the blanket.
I inhale deeply to keep myself from becoming emotional from the beauty of it all.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. This is all so lovely. And how did you get all this done when I was working in the kitchen?”
Grayson clears his throat, a sly grin taking over his lush mouth. “I have my ways. And I thought the dining room would be too formal. Since I can’t go outside, I thought I would bring the picnic inside.”
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
When I look at Grayson, his brown eyes bore into mine, molten with heat. He holds out his hand. “Shall we?”
I smile back at him for all of it—the lunch, his chivalrous gestures.
I place my hand in his open one. “You’re a true gentleman, Grayson Shaw.”
I can see him swallow deeply before gently steering me to the blanket, making sure I sit down before he does, almost as if he were helping me push in my chair if we were sitting formally at his dining room table.
He settles himself in and pops open the white wine, handing me a glass.
“To a fresh start,” he toasts us.
I smile back at him so widely, as if my heart will burst from his words. “A fresh start.”
He takes a sip from his glass, putting it down to cut me a slice of Brie, handing me a small plate with the cheese, some crackers, and a handful of green grapes. “Forgive me. I completely forgot to ask if you have any dietary restrictions.”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry. I eat everything.”
He laughs at my confession. “Thank goodness for that.” His expression suddenly turns serious. “I was concerned when you left us last night. Are you all right now? Did you get enough rest?”
Barely slept a wink, thanks to you.
I nod. “Yes, I’m fine. Much better, thanks.”
Poker face. Poker face.
His eyebrows rise at my reply. “Very well. May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why is my sculpture on campus so important to you?”
I slowly chew on the grape in my mouth, waiting for it to go down my throat before I answer.
Just tell him. You can trust him.
“It’s because of my fiancé, Reed.” I catch myself. “Well, I guess I should call him my ex-fiancé now.”
“The bastard who bruised your wrist.”
I gasp at his memory.
“I saw it,” he continues, his voice now low and menacing. “No man should ever do that to you, Lily. Never.”
I stay silent.
His dark eyes mirror his voice when I look into them. “The sculpture.”
I take a sip of my wine for courage. “I always loved that sculpture when I was an undergrad. It’s so sad, yet beautiful at the same time. When Reed and I met at Ashby, he was never like that. It’s only been in recent months that he became so frigid and indifferent. He became very ambitious about his job.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s an adjunct prof of computer science.”
“I see. Go on.”
“So when he became like that around me, I took Ingrid—”
“Who’s Ingrid?”
I laugh. “My car. It’s a Volvo. You know. From Sweden?”
An amused grin forms across his face. “Understood.”
“I would take Ingrid to campus and just sit in front of The Lovers. The way she holds him to her chest. I just found such comfort in them.”
Grayson points to my wrist as if the bruise was still there. “And how did that happen?”
“The night we came back from Sunday brunch at his parents’ house in Saratoga, we had an argument in the car and I raised my voice. He pulled over and grabbed my wrist and yelled at me not to ever speak to him like that. He was fine after that. But then the fire happened at Ashby and I found out what kind of man he really is, so that was the end of us.”
“What do you mean by that?”
I sigh and brace myself. “I was in town when the fire broke out. I drove to campus to make sure he was safe, and I saw him being led out of the art studio, followed by the woman who’s the new chair of his department. They were dressed…well, let’s just say I could tell they barely had time to get their clothes back on before the firemen got them out.”
“You mean they were…”
I nod in reply.
“Bastard,” he mutters under his breath. “If he ever—”
I reach out to touch his hand. “Grayson, I’m fine. Really. He’s out of my life for good, and I’m totally okay with that.”
He glances at my hand on his, then at me. “Where are you living now?”
“With my mom in Catskill.”
He nods in relief. “Good.”
“I still need to go back and get the rest of my things.”
“I wish I could go with you to make sure he won’t hurt you,” he murmurs.
I reach across the blanket, covering his hand with mine. “I’ll make sure he’s not there when I go.”
“You’re always safe with me. I promise, Lily.”
I grin back at him. “I know. Now, since I told you about The Lovers, it’s your turn to tell me why you became a sculptor.”
He clears his throat. “After my parents died, Emilia hired various child psychologists to get me through the trauma, but none of them truly helped me. And then she read about art therapy for children. She found someone locally, and since then, art has become my outlet. I was home schooled, and when my therapist taught me the basics of sculpting I found myself and what I was meant to do. Sculpting is my passion.”
Grayson shuts his eyes. I take his hand in mine. “You don’t have to continue if it’s too painful.”
He shakes his head. “No, I want to. For painting, you use a brush, but in sculpting, you use your actual hands, your muscles; every part of your body is involved in the process. When I’m creating something I feel alive, and I forget what I look like because I’m creating something beautiful.”
I don’t say a word. His deep voice forms a cocoon around me, like the warm blanket we’re sitting on. I can’t fill the void with empty words. It would feel so wrong. I simply grip his hand more tightly.
When he sees our entangled fingers, he continues. “Every time I close my eyes, all I see is you. On the days you’re not here, I stand at the window in the bedroom and mentally will your car…Ingrid…to appear in the driveway. You are so beautiful, and I wish I was good enough for you.”
Oh my God.
I stare at him so hard as he waits for me to say something, but I can’t. Without even realizing I’m doing it, I slowly inch myself closer to him until our knees touch. I carefully reach out my right hand to his face and gently trace his scars with my fingers. His eyes are closed, absorbing every touch.
“You are, Grayson. You are good enough for me,” I reassure him. “I just don’t think I’m the same for you.”
Suddenly his warm brown eyes open. He cups his hand over mine, moving his mouth toward my palm, then the rice paper-thin skin on my wrist where Reed hurt me. He softly kisses me there, sending electric pulses up my arm to the rest of my body.
“Grayson…”
Without warning, he pulls me closer to him, running his thumbs over my cheeks. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. He’s coming closer and closer with his lips almost taking mine…
“Excuse me?”
We pull back from each other at the sound of Emilia’s voice behind me. When we glance over to her, she’s waving a letter in her hand. “I’m so sorry, but I think you should see this, Grayson. It actually concerns Lily as well.”
He leaps to his feet, brushing crumbs off his pants. “What’s happened?” he demands.
My eyes widen at his tone. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I offer in an attempt to ease his concern.
“Lily’s right,” Emilia says. “It’s from the president of Ashby College. It’s a request for a donation or some kind of aid to help restore the art studio that was destroyed in the fire.”
He takes the letter from Emilia, skimming it. “I see. Well, what do you suggest we donate? Maybe they can auction off a piece of mine. We can go through the inventory, see what—”
My mouth opens and words form before I can stop them. “I have an idea. A masquerade ball.”
Emilia and Grayson both turn to me with questioning looks on their faces.
“A ball?” Grayson asks, a disgusted look on his face.
Deep breath. Go on.
“Yes. I think it could raise much more money than a simple auction. You could invite the trustees, the faculty. There are also the art lovers in Hudson, the ones who donate money and sponsor benefit events to preserve the Thomas Cole and Frederick Edwin Church houses. All of the people who’ve moved here from New York City who have enough money to restore a simple farmhouse and flip it for a million dollars. Are you kidding? They’d love it. And everyone loves to dress up. It’ll be fun. And I can help with everything.”
Grayson and Emilia stare at me silently.
Oh crap…
“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my place to suggest…”
“Let’s do it.”
Those three words from Grayson stun both Emilia and me. She speaks before I can form a sentence. “Grayson, that’s…that’s very generous of you. Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He steps over to me. “Forgive me, but I need to cut our lunch short. I need to get to the studio, and I think you might have some work to do now.”
Was that a glint in his eye?
My heart drops from my throat, light as a feather. I grin back at him. “Umm, yes, I guess I do. It’s okay. Go. I’ll clean up.”
He gives me a slight smile before walking away.
Emilia taps me on the shoulder. “He’s right, my dear. Looks like we have some work to do.”
We smile at each other, laughing to ourselves as we head for Emilia’s office.
* * *
Grayson
I step back, my hands dropping from the sculpture. Taking a few deep breaths, I admire my progress and can’t help but smile.
Not quite there yet, but I’m getting there.
A knock at the door shakes me from my reverie.
Emilia stands outside, holding my dinner tray.
“Come in. Please.”
I step back to allow her entry. My eyes remain on the sculpture as Emilia puts the tray down.
“Why did you agree, Grayson?”
I turn to her. “Agree to what?”
“You know what. The ball. I couldn’t believe my ears when you said, ‘Let’s do it.’ I thought I’d misheard you. You are who you are, so of course I couldn’t help—”
“Her.”
“Excuse me?”
“Her. I did it for her. To show her I’m human.”
When I glance back at Emilia, her lips are pursed together in thought, then she nods. “I understand. All right, Grayson. Have a good night.”
The sound of the door shutting echoes throughout the studio.
I look down at my hands, covered in clay. I need to wash. I need…
I need her.
I rush for the bathroom in the studio.
I quickly strip off my clothes, leaving them on the floor, and turn on the water, hot and unforgiving.
The water flows over me, rinsing my body.
I reach with my right hand for my cock.
She was singing something about haters, players, and shaking something off, whatever that means.
But I wasn’t really paying attention to the lyrics.
I was more focused on Lily’s beautifully formed backside as she shook it back and forth while she was mopping the floor. Her spectacular ass, so small and round, imagining how soft and supple her flesh would feel beneath my fingers.
I stroke myself slowly at first, remembering her genuine awe at the lunch I’d planned for her. I honestly did organize it as a form of gratitude for yesterday, but I never envisioned our lunch ending the way it did.
She just reached out and touched my face, tracing my hideous scars. No hesitation. No fear.
I never thought something like that could happen.
I can only wonder how sweet she’ll taste on my tongue.
I start to stroke myself faster, recalling her soft eyes, her gentle touch. The desire in her eyes so visible.
In my mind, her breasts are pressed against my chest, and when she straddles me I will come in my jeans. I would’ve taken her right there and then if it hadn’t been for Emilia’s interruption.
No, that’s not true. Lily deserves to be treated with respect, not like how her fiancé did, causing her physical harm.
She likes me for who I am. She genuinely cares about me, wants to know about my art, my process. She doesn’t need to tell me these things. I can sense it. Her attraction to me is real, as is mine for her.
The thought of her at the ball in a beautiful gown sends my pulse racing. I can’t stop pumping my cock with my fist.
She will look beautiful in whatever she decides to wear.
I’m so close…
My grip tightens on my shaft.
She yells out my name in reverence as I come inside her.
I explode, watching as my release streams to the floor, the water from the showerhead cleansing me.
I turn and slam my back against the tiled wall, my heart pounding.
I shut my eyes as her name crosses my lips. “Lily.”