“Are you sure you want to go?” Grey asks for the millionth time.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I smile at him through the mirror.
He is being very strange, urging that we stay home tonight. Is it because there will be bad people there, people he doesn’t want me to interact with? Like…Rose? No, I don’t think so. She is trying to be friendly with us, but partying with us would be going over a clear line of comfort. I wouldn’t want to torture the nice girl. Maybe Dean…my stomach tightens at the idea of the monster being anywhere near us. He has been nothing but trouble to Grey.
“Why don’t you want us to go?” I ask him as I apply lip gloss. “Will, um, will Dean be there?” I look at him through the mirror, and his face hardens, but then he sighs and shakes his head.
“No, I…I cut myself off from the gang,” he says, and I whirl around.
“When?” I gasp. He’s always been so adamant about being in it, saying it would be too dangerous if he ever left. So why leave now? Don’t get me wrong, I am incredibly happy and relieved that he’s left the gang. I’m just curious as to when and why he did so.
“The night we came home from the hospital,” he mumbles, looking down at his fumbling fingers.
“That’s great,” I say and smile.
“I guess. It was just taking my time away from being with someone who makes me happy…you.” He clears his throat.
“You’re so cute.” I walk over to him and kiss his head.
He looks up at me through his lashes. “Thanks,” he says as I push his cheeks together.
I smile and kiss his nose. “Now…” I step back. “How do I…look?”
I feel his eyes on me as I struggle but succeed in zipping up this loose pale blue dress that is off the shoulder and stops mid-thigh. I twirl around in it, nearly falling over because of the matching blue wedges, but I catch myself and grin. Grey is laughing, cheeks pink and eyes lighting up.
“You look adorable,” he says as he pulls me between his legs.
“You look…” I pause and look down at his outfit: a white shirt that makes for a crisp contrast to his dark, haunting tattoos, his signature leather jacket, washed out Levi’s jeans, and boots. Is drool dripping down my chin? “Hot,” I admit.
“Why, thank you. I try only for you, babe.” He cups my face and brings me down to his.
“Only for me, always only for me.” I grip his jacket and narrow my eyes playfully.
“Fuck, I love it when you get feisty,” he snarls, and I laugh as he falls back on the bed, hand sliding under my dress and gripping my butt. I moan against his neck, and he grows hard against me. “Wanna arrive fashionably late?” he whispers against my ear.
“Mm-hmm,” is all I can say, well, hum.
His laugh ignites a flutter in my stomach, and I shut him up with my mouth covering his.