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“Fair warning back, Cookie,” he says, his voice raspy. “I like the smell of cookies.” He cuts the call, leaving me to wonder what he meant by that and why he’s flirting with me after everything that’s gone down between us.
I guess I’ll find out in a few minutes.
Chapter 21: Grayson Nash
Fake It Til You Make It
A little red Nissan Versa comes pulling into the valet area, and a beautiful blonde hops out of it. She looks around and spots me as the valet attendant walks up to her, and I meet her by the driver’s side.
“You can charge this to my room,” I say. “She won’t be long.” I realize how that sounds after I say it. “I mean…I didn’t mean she’s coming by for an hourly visit or anything. We’re just talking.”
What the fuck am I doing? The valet doesn’t care. It’s his business not to care.
I shake it off, not sure why I feel nervous.
Maybe because the last time Ava and I were at the Palms together, I took her virginity.
Looking back, all the signs were there. She was tentative and nervous even though she was enthusiastic and ready. She was tight. God, she was so tight. Perfectly tight.
Maybe that’s why I’m nervous. The mere memory of sliding into her cunt is causing me many issues, from an accelerating pulse to heavy breathing to all the blood rushing straight for the cock.
I lead her through the casino toward the elevator, and as it happens, I’m back in our suite. I mean my suite. Not ours. We don’t have anything together. I certainly haven’t been calling the bed our bed in my head all day—especially not when I jerked off while I thought of her as she moaned beneath me.
Fuck.
Fuck.
There’s no way in hell I’m getting her up to that suite and not getting her naked again.
I blow out a breath. I can do this. I can control myself. We need to talk anyway, and apparently she has some idea that’s going to fix all this. I already feel like all eyes are on us as I try to hide my raging boner and she walks a few strides behind me, trying to keep up with my pace.
I’m nearly a foot taller than her. There’s no way she can keep up with my pace, and I realize I’m walking fast as it is.
I hit the button to call the elevator, and we head up to the suite, both of us silent in the already awkward silence of the elevator. Both of us remembering the last time we rode an elevator together as sweet anticipation built between us and we made out like we needed each other’s tongues to breathe.
This isn’t the same sort of visit.
Now she’s my best friend’s little sister, not some conquest I brought back to slam.
“You okay?” she asks quietly as the elevator finally skids to a stop on my floor.
I nod, and I give her a strange look. “Yeah. I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re breathing really loudly. You seem like you’re out of breath, so I just wanted to check.”
“Sorry.” I’m about to say that I was working out before I came down to get her, but that would be a lie. I can’t lie to her when that’s one reason I’m so angry with her.
I draw in a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart.
It’s her that’s making me breathe harder, but how can I admit that to her? She’s the very person I should be staying away from, and instead we’re feeding anyone who wanted to snap a photo of us exactly what they want since we just walked through that casino together.
At least we weren’t holding hands. At least the anger on my face was apparent. At least I was practically running through the place. Maybe that’s why I’m panting.
We walk into the room, and the door clicks shut behind her with a loud echo.
“Same room,” she says. It’s not a question, merely a comment.
“Yeah.”
