The Breakup Plan, page 12
Needing distance, I wiggle out from beneath his arm. When he glances at me, I point to the restroom across the bar. “I’ll be right back.”
He jerks his head toward the far end of the room. “We’ll be over there.” He winks. “Don’t be long. Otherwise I’ll have to track you down.”
Eyes widening, I jerk my head into a nod. “Okay.”
That sounded suspiciously like a threat.
As soon as I’m a few steps away from Gray, I draw in a breath of fresh air—okay, more like stale beer and sweat—into my lungs before exhaling.
I hate myself for noticing just how good Gray smells. It’s something woodsy and masculine that’s unique to him. And right now, it’s playing havoc with my libido. Every time I’m around the guy, my panties dampen, and I’m tempted to rub against him like a cat in heat.
How am I going to get through the next couple of hours in his company? Inhaling his delicious scent. Reliving what it felt like when his lips were pressed against mine. His hand palming my breasts.
I shake my head to clear it.
Best case scenario, I feign a headache in about thirty minutes and Uber it to the safety of my apartment.
Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Decision made, I head to the bathroom and take care of business, giving myself a silent pep talk. By the time I return, all of my emotions have been locked down tight and I feel more in control. Nothing is going to happen between us. I’m more than capable of keeping Gray at a distance. One drink and I’m out of here.
I push my way through the throng of people, searching for the dark-haired, blue-eyed devil. The back of the bar is crowded with hockey players. And we can’t forget about the puck bunnies that turn out in droves to party with the team.
It only takes a moment to find him.
My feet grind to a halt when I spot Savannah snuggled up on Gray’s lap.
Grrrr.
That girl…
Every time I see her, she’s hanging all over him. Naturally, he’s lapping up her adoration like the attention seeking whore he is. Those two are perfect for each other. Which begs the question…
What am I doing here?
Maybe I should take this opportunity to skedaddle before Gray realizes that I’ve disappeared. If he notices. For just a minute, I consider skipping out on this victory party.
But…if I do that, then I can’t turn the tables on him for a change. And I don’t want to deny myself the pleasure of seeing the look on his face when I send his little puck bunny packing. With a determined stride, I proceed toward the couple until I reach the chair Gray is lounging on.
This is payback for all the times he’s embarrassed me.
Except neither of them are paying the least bit of attention and my arrival goes unnoticed.
I clear my throat.
But that doesn’t do it either.
So, I clear it more loudly and that does the trick. Two pair of eyes turn my way. Savannah looks mildly surprised to find me there while Gray’s expression becomes hooded. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
I jerk my thumb toward Gray as I stare at Savannah. “Did lover boy happen to mention that he’s been officially taken off the market?”
Her brows slam together as she frowns. “What are you talking about?”
I unleash a sweet smile. “Grayson McNichols will no longer be hooking up with the likes of you, that’s what I’m talking about.”
She flinches as her wide eyes swing to Gray. “Is that true? Do you have a girlfriend?”
Gray’s gaze stays locked on mine. He doesn’t spare Savannah one glance. “Yup, Winters and I are now an item.”
“But-but,” the other girl sputters. “You told me that you weren’t interested in being exclusive!”
He shrugs. “Guess I changed my mind.”
When she doesn’t immediately vacate his lap, Gray says, “You should probably move it along.” He tips his dark head toward me. “Winters has quite the jealous streak. I’ve seen her lose her shit, it’s not pretty.”
I arch a brow when Savannah gives me a death glare.
“Fine.” Without another word, she flounces away, pushing through the crowd until she disappears. I have little doubt that she’ll find another hockey player to hookup with for the evening.
Now that it’s just the two of us, I’m not quite sure what to do. I didn’t think beyond what would happen after confronting him and Savannah. Just as I take a step backwards in retreat, Gray’s hand snakes out and wraps around my wrist. He tugs me forward and I lose my balance before tumbling onto his lap with a loud oomph. My arms slide around his neck so I can steady myself. His hands lock on my waist, holding me in place.
With our faces inches apart, his eyes sear into mine, holding them captive. We might be in the middle of a jam-packed bar, but everything around us fades, making our closeness feel much too intimate.
“I’ll have you know,” he says, voice dropping, “that Savannah likes to help me celebrate after a win.” He allows those words to sink in. “Guess that’s up to you now.”
My mind tumbles back to the way his lips felt coasting over mine the other night.
I hate to admit this, but Gray is an amazing kisser.
Actually, he’s phenomenal at everything. I might have only knocked boots with him once, but it was more than enough to singe every moment of the encounter into my brain. And contrary to what I told him, he most certainly does not have a weak stroke game.
I blink, and his face looms closer than before. My breath catches as his mouth ghosts over mine.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A whimper escapes. I ache to feel the pressure of his lips against mine, but they never quite touch. It would be so easy to close the distance between us. If I lean just a bit to the—
What the hell am I doing?
Snapping out of my Gray-induced haze, I flatten my palms against his chest and blurt, “Your mom showed me a picture of you in the hospital.”
I think we’re both shocked by the comment.
His eyes turn distant as he leans against the chair, creating space between us. “She told you about that, huh?”
I nod. Even though disappointment surges through me, I know putting an end to what was about to happen between us was the right thing to do. Gray and I shouldn’t be kissing. We shouldn’t be doing anything together.
“Yeah.” I nod. “She was surprised that you hadn’t shared the details yourself, considering that we’re now a couple.”
Gray studies me before glancing away. My body wilts in relief as soon as his eyes release mine. No one has ever made me feel this way. I don’t know what to make of it. More importantly, I don’t know how to make it go away.
The attraction buzzing wildly through my system is a major problem. One that needs to be nipped in the bud so that it doesn’t blaze out of control.
Just as I begin to relax, his gaze returns, impaling mine. “What did she tell you?”
The seductiveness that had been threading its way through his voice only moments ago is long gone. In its place is an impenetrable distance. One I’m strangely tempted to breach.
Which doesn’t make sense.
Distance is exactly what I need between us.
Maybe bringing up his injury wasn’t such a great idea. But it’s too late to backtrack.
I shrug and downplay the situation, hoping we can gloss over the details and move on to a lighter subject. “Just that you had a skiing accident when you were younger and broke your leg and pelvis.” The photo of him materializes in my brain. It’s still difficult to believe. I watched him skate during the game and couldn’t detect the slightest hitch in his step. My voice lowers as if we’re sharing a secret. “The doctors said that you would never play hockey again.”
“Two of them told me that I would never walk without a limp,” he adds, voice turning bitter.
It’s an odd emotion to see on him. Grayson McNichols has a happy-go-lucky persona that he shows the outside world. It’s strange to scratch beneath the surface and realize there’s more to him than that.
“But you proved them wrong.” As much as I don’t want to be impressed by what he’s overcome, I am.
He jerks his shoulders as if that minor miracle is nothing more than a pesky detail. “What other choice did I have?” His gaze travels around the dark bar as if he’s deliberately avoiding my gaze.
“A lot of people in your situation would have given up.”
It’s impossible to imagine Gray as a young teenager lying helpless and broken in a hospital bed, told by the adults in charge of his care that he would never be able to play the sport he loved. He’s just too cocky, talented, and driven to ever let something—or someone—stand in his way.
“That was never an option.”
It sucks to admit that his determination is ridiculously sexy.
Without considering the ramifications, one hand slides along his jawline until I’m able to cup the side of his face with my palm. “What you’ve overcome is amazing.”
His shuttered gaze meets mine before dipping to my lips. My hand continues to cradle his strong jaw. The heat of his skin burns the tips of my fingers. I should pull away. It feels like everything in my body is about to burst into flame and I don’t think I’m ready for that. When his mouth slowly descends toward mine, I blink, snapping out of my haze before jumping off Gray’s lap. On wobbly legs, I stumble back a step. My hand flies out to grab his chair and steady myself.
Desperate to get away, I point to the bar. “I’ll get us drinks.” My voice comes out sounding high-pitched and panicky.
Gray arches a brow. “I’m sure the waitress will be by to take our order.”
I shake my head and gulp.
Nope, I can’t wait that long.
I have to get out of here or I’ll self-combust. “It’s not a big deal.” Already headed toward the bar, I toss the words over my shoulder. “I’ll be back.”
Only then am I able to draw in a full breath of air.
Chapter Eighteen
Gray
I plow a hand through my hair and watch Whitney push her way through the crowd. It’s like she can’t get away from me fast enough.
Hasn’t she learned that running away won’t do her any good?
Just as I’m about to go after her, a pouty voice says, “Gray? Can we talk?”
I force my gaze from Whitney only to find Savannah staring down at me. Her lower lip is tucked between her teeth. I groan inwardly, knowing that she wants to discuss my newly minted status as boyfriend. I’m not an idiot. I know she was hoping that if I ever decided to get serious, it would be with her.
“Ahhhh…” Unfortunately, my brain chooses that moment to malfunction and I’m unable to come up with an excuse as to why now isn’t the right time.
“Good.”
Before I realize what’s happening, she’s already settled on my lap. With her arms twined around my neck, she stares deeply into my eyes.
“I don’t understand, Gray.” Her fingers slide into my hair. “How are you with that girl?” Her face scrunches as she shakes her head. “She’s not even your type.”
“Oh?” I arch a brow. “And what exactly is my type?”
Her look turns coy as she watches me from beneath the fringe of her lashes. A smug smile curves her lips. “Me, of course. I’m exactly your type.”
I wish I could tell her that she’s wrong, but I can’t.
In the past, chicks like Savannah are precisely what I’ve gone for. Long thick hair (check), pretty face (check), big boobs (check), nice round ass (check), and the ability to keep our relationship status casual (the most important criteria of all).
Savannah checked all those boxes with flying colors.
My eyes slide to Whitney who stands at the long stretch of bar with her back to me. The length of her dark hair hangs like a shiny curtain down her back. Even though my hands are wrapped around one girl, she’s not the one I want.
My fingers ache to tangle in Whitney’s silky strands. Her body is slim. She doesn’t have much going on upstairs. And her ass might be kind of flat, but it’s still fucking hot. I like the way she fills out her jeans.
It’s no secret that I want to lay my hands all over her.
Whitney is the opposite of every girl I’ve ever been attracted to and yet she’s the one I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since we hooked up. Riddle me that, because I can’t make heads or tails of it. I just know that it’s the truth and I’m tired of fighting it.
Which brings me back to the chick on my lap. The last thing I want to do is be an asshole. I like amicable partings. That being said, she needs to understand what we had is over. Whether Savannah wants to admit it or not, we were never serious. Promises were never made.
“I guess my tastes have changed,” I say lightly, hoping she’ll drop the subject.
Instead of backing off, she rakes her fingernails against the back of my skull and attempts to pull me closer. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”
I shrug, already tiring of this conversation. “It is what it is, Savannah.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” She bats her mascara-laden lashes at me. “I can be very persuasive when I want.”
You’re damn right she can. Many a times I’ve been on the receiving end of her particular skill set. It’s nothing short of impressive. She can suck the chrome off the bumper of a car like nobody’s business.
It’s like winning the fucking lottery.
But still…I’m not interested.
My gaze flickers to Whitney just in time to see her smile at Evert who has sidled up beside her.
Seriously?
We’ve never had any beefs with one another or we wouldn’t be sharing a house, but I’ll tell you what, that guy is going to get it. I don’t know how much clearer I need to make it that Whitney is no longer a free agent.
The dude needs to move on.
Where the hell is Katelyn when you need her?
I shoot out of the chair and rise to my feet. Savannah gasps as she tumbles off my lap. My hands go to her upper arms to steady her so that she doesn’t fall.
“Sorry,” I mumble, not paying her any attention. My gaze is focused on Whitney. And Evert who just tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
Son of a—
That’s it. Someone’s getting the piss beat out of them tonight. And that someone is gonna be Evert. When his fingers are broken, we’ll see how easy it is for him to lay hands on my girl.
Whether Whitney realizes it or not, that’s exactly what she is.
My girl.
Maybe she always has been.
I have no idea.
Ever since the accident, I’ve avoided any kind of serious emotional entanglements. I was too focused on proving those asshole doctors wrong and turning my dreams into a reality. For the first time in my life, I feel like something is missing.
By the time I reach Whitney and Evert at the bar, I’m coming in hot. As soon as I’m in striking distance, I slide my arm around Whitney and haul her close, glaring at Evert the entire time.
“Missed you, babe,” I say tightly. “Thought you were bringing drinks back to the table?”
Whitney stares at me owlishly as if uncertain what to say. “I, um, was—”
Not interested in an explanation, I tilt her chin toward mine and press my lips against hers. When she gasps in surprise, my tongue slips inside the warm recesses of her mouth. Her palms flatten against my chest and she struggles to break free. I shift my body and continue caressing her. That’s all it takes to have her melting against me. Instead of trying to push me away, her fingers curl into my shirt as she tugs me closer.
Now that she’s no longer fighting me, I slow things down, taking my time, showing her the side benefits to us being involved.
When she moans, I pull away, knowing that I’ve proven my point. It takes all of my self-control not to grin at the dazed expression on her face. I’m also pleasantly surprised to notice that Evert fucking Monroe has made himself scarce.
This is turning out to be a banner night for me. I scored two goals during the game. And now I’m about to score one off the ice.
“You ready to take off?” I growl.
All I can think about is getting Whitney alone and putting my hands on her.
She nods, looking like she doesn’t know what the hell just happened.
“Good. Let’s get out of here.” With that, I grab her hand and tow her out the backdoor of the bar.
And there you have it folks, a hat trick scored by yours truly.
Chapter Nineteen
Whitney
For the second time in as many minutes, my fingers feather across my lips.
Did that just happen?
Did Gray really kiss me in front of everyone?
This relationship was supposed to be strictly pretend. Instead…everyone on campus now thinks we’re a couple. I’m not sure how this happened. One day, I’m hating on the guy and the next, we’re fake-dating and he’s announcing to my father, no less, that we’re shopping around for an apartment. This whole situation feels like a runaway train barreling down the tracks and I’m not sure if there’s any way to stop it.
Do I even want to?
I quickly shove that thought away before I can inspect it too closely and glance at Gray from the corner of my eye as he drives us back to my apartment. A heavy silence falls over us. It’s thick with crackling tension. You can practically see the sparks flying between us. My fingers twist nervously in my lap as I shift on the leather seat. I wrack my brain for something that will defuse the intensity swirling through the air, but it remains frustratingly blank.
Actually, that’s not entirely true.
My mind keeps circling back to the kiss in the bar. But I sure as hell can’t bring that up. The best thing we can do at this point is put an end to this whole fake-dating scenario.
