Bound (Bound Duet Book 1) Page 15

  The lies mounted exponentially. I convinced myself if I had spent more time with him, done more for him, shown him more devotion—he wouldn’t have been able to let life go. Then I’d blamed myself for not reaching out to someone, not telling anyone who might have helped either one of us. I now coped with what I knew was emotional abuse by forcing those thoughts back, effectively becoming a workaholic, driven—an overachiever on the outside, but it took an additional year after the trials for me to finally start to move on. But I hadn’t moved on, I’d simply closed the door to the trauma and hidden the key. I was as immature as Gray was just in a different respect.

  Here I was again being flooded by those same thoughts of inadequacy, though theoretically, my relationship was still intact. My thoughts of worthlessness were not Gray’s fault. I allowed myself to feel this way. I permitted his behavior—my actions dictated what I deemed acceptable and put a number on my worth…but I’d be damned if I could figure out how to change it without losing him. And that wasn’t an option.

  My friends coped with drugs, and I was an emotional disaster—meeting up with them was likely not the best idea. But neither Scarlett nor Jenny would ask questions. They simply welcomed me when I walked through the door. Without hesitation, I proceeded to get completely blitzed, soothing my spirit, and effectively settling my mind. The more I inhaled, the funnier everything became until we had convinced ourselves we should go on tour as a comedy trio. In reality, most of the crap we were cackling over wouldn’t have made sense to anyone with half a brain cell still intact and who wasn’t equally intoxicated, but it felt good to laugh. This right here had always been my draw to marijuana—it always held the ability to make me laugh. I hadn’t so much as looked at anything illegal in months, at Gray’s request, but I felt light as air and quickly remembered why I’d never wanted to turn down a joint.

  As the weeks went by, I spent more time with Jenny and Scarlett, and as a result, my drug use became more frequent, though I wasn’t wallowing in self-pity or hatred. I kept telling myself it was different because this time it was for fun, recreational, whereas before it had been to keep up with my schedule. It was a lie—they were both coping mechanisms, or rather not coping. Cocaine still did nothing for me other than to keep me awake, but a good bowl made my day.

  Jenny was an old soul better suited for the sixties. She was all about peace and love. My friend believed in the natural goodness of all and rallied in Gray’s defense. “He’s been through a huge life change, Annie. He needs the freedom to find himself again.”

  Internally, I rolled my eyes at her hogwash notion of serenity and auras. I wanted to give him the space he needed—I truly did—but I had to know I was still a top priority for him too, even if we weren’t together all the time. The more I altered my state of mind, the more I attempted to convince myself I was okay with our relationship as it was. He came home to me every night, and we had a very physical relationship. I never saw him with other women, and that spark was still vivid in his eyes, assuring me the bond, the tie, was still there. He still gave me that quirky smile, the one that caused his eyes to crinkle and made him appear genuinely happy. I wanted to hold on to it—embrace that emotion.

  The last couple of days I’d been feeling like crap, really run down. Initially, I’d thought it was simply a lack of sleep, but when the incessant sneezing started, and my face became raw from the overuse of tissues, my self-diagnosis changed to allergies. When Benadryl hadn’t worked, Gray insisted I see a doctor. The pressure in my face was almost unbearable, and I was convinced my eyes would pop out of my head at any given moment.

  The doctor put me on a Z-Pak to knock out the sinus infection. Once home, I was down for the count. I didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, but to my surprise, my sweet, considerate Gray was back in full force. Had I felt better the whiplash of his personality might have been more confusing, but as it was, I welcomed his attention and care. He hadn’t left my side since I had gotten home from the drug store with the antibiotics. It was times like these I remembered why I loved him the way I did, why I gave him the leeway I did—he took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself. He stepped up when the time called for it, and the other was trivial.

  I had started to feel human by the third day, so Gray reluctantly went to work. He kept texting me to check on me.

  I sighed when I read this one. This was like the fifteenth set of texts I had gotten today with him mothering me.

  Me: Hey

  Gray: How are you feeling?

  Me: Much better.

  Gray: Really?

  Me: Yes

  Gray: You up to going out tonight?

  Me: Who with?

  Gray: Me & you

  Me: Just us?

  Gray: Just us

  Me: Absolutely

  Gray: Be ready around 730pm. Love you Bird Dog.

  Me: Love you too

  Every time I reached a point I thought I needed to jump off the Gray roller coaster, he surprised me and restored my faith in him. He was wonderful the last couple of days and equally doting as when we had first met. As crappy as I’d felt physically, I needed his attention emotionally, and he’d given it to me.

  Gray got home from work, ran through the apartment shortly after seven, and shouted something about a quick shower as he slammed the bathroom door. He emerged not long after, and I swear, I fell in love with the man all over again. His jeans hugged his hips in the most perfect way but hung loosely down his legs. And he had paired them with a V-neck sweater and a white T-shirt underneath, and black Docs. The cobalt cashmere made his eyes glow a radiant blue, deep enough to swim in.

  The material alluded to the form of his chest, accentuated his build, but left me wondering how magnificent it truly was. My imagination took me on a journey fantasizing about what was beneath, a secret I already knew the answer to. When God handed out forms, he had given Gray perfection. Unfairly for the rest of the male population, he hadn’t only gotten amazing looks and a gorgeous body. Initially, upon meeting him, he seemed warm and friendly, but as someone got to know him, they realized he had more confidence in his little finger than most men had in their entire bodies. But it wasn’t unjustified. It wasn’t arrogance—just self-assured Gray. It absolutely lured me to him. He held out his hand to help me up from the couch and whistled.

  “Damn, Bird Dog. You look hot.”

  His eyes roamed from my head down to my toes in a slow roll. Still holding my hand, he lifted it above my head, encouraging me in a circle for him to admire. I wasn’t sure where we were going, so my outfit had been a crapshoot. Luckily, Gray was easy to please with a white lace camisole under a completely translucent pink blouse that almost wasn’t there it was so sheer, the tightest pair of dark jeans I owned sans panties, and my worn brown leather cowboy boots embroidered with pink flowers. My ponytail fell several inches past my shoulders in one perfect twist, and I’d topped off my simple ensemble with diamond studs and a hint of makeup. At the end of my twirl, he hooked his arm around my waist and dragged me to him. His other hand found the curve of my ass with a quick squeeze.

  “Bird Dog, you little tease. You don’t have any panties on.” I saw the desire that gleamed in his eyes.

  “I aim to please.” It rolled off my tongue in a seductive voice I didn’t know I could pull off. I added a wink at the end like I was a practiced flirt.

  He tucked his nose into my neck and growled. Holy shit, I’d missed him. This was the man I fell in love with, the man who made me feel like a goddess—worshiped, revered.

  We went downtown to a little restaurant I’d never heard of. The food was good, but the atmosphere was better. Tucked away on a back alley, it seemed to have been forgotten by the louder crowd that hung out on Main Street. We sat there for a couple of hours eating and idly talking. I hadn’t had a lot of time out at the DC recently, so I enjoyed hearing about the antics going on. His mom had found a boyfriend and seemed happy. He caught me up on all the things I’d missed by not be
ing around.

  “Have you thought about what you want to do after graduation?” The question came out of nowhere. The way he regarded me as he asked had me wondering what his motivation had been.

  “You mean other than work?”

  “In general. Do you have any plans?”

  We hadn’t talked about anything in the future. After the incident in Gatlinburg, I had refused to broach any subject that might have led to a discussion about the future: his, mine, or ours. Now, he had brought it up, but I couldn’t decipher what he wanted to know, so I played it safe to see where it went.

  “Not specifically, no. Obviously, I’ll go back to full-time work at Walton’s, and at some point, I’d like to consider buying a house and stop paying rent, but I’m not in a hurry to make that happen.” I shrugged in an attempt to stay as carefree about the question as possible. I hated the insecurity I felt carefully choosing each word I uttered to ensure I didn’t say the wrong thing. “I think I’ll be so happy to have school off my plate that I’d like to chill out and enjoy life for a bit.”

  He held my hand on top of the table with his legs crossed out to the side, completely casual, and totally into me. We talked about what type of house I wanted, and to my surprise, he kept the conversation going—where I wanted to live, whether I wanted to build. His interest in the future gave me hope, but I wasn’t brazen enough to question him. I never wanted this to end. This was my Gray, the one who made me feel alive.

  “Do you want to go meet some of the guys from work for a few drinks before we go home?” he asked me after receiving a string of text messages.

  “Sure, where are they?” It wasn’t really what I wanted to do, but I wanted him to include me in his time out. The only way that would happen was if I attempted to spend time with his friends. The only one I knew well was Topher, and I figured I should know them all as long as we’d been together.

  “Topher sent me a message saying they’re down at Chiefs.”

  “Sure, let’s get the check.”

  Gray set his credit card down on the table, and the waitress materialized—like she was at his beck and call—to take it after having shown Gray the bill. “Are you sure? We don’t have to go. I told you we’d go out tonight, just the two of us.” He was considerate, but I could tell he wanted to go, and he wanted me to go with him.

  “Yep, I’m sure, but you better promise me I get you at home alone afterward.”

  Once he signed the bill, he stood up. My hand was in his, and he hauled me to him. He said nothing, just gazed into my eyes, communicating emotion words couldn’t describe. With my cheek cupped in his hand, he rubbed his thumb across my cheekbone. I leaned into the warmth of his touch for a brief moment before we walked out the door.

  Opening the door to Chiefs, I felt like we had strolled into Cheers and I was with Norm. A chorus of voices sang out Gray’s name, and I noticed Topher sitting with a group of guys who waved us in their direction. The massive amounts of people amped up my anxiety, but I was determined to stick it out. Hand in hand, we meandered through the crowd toward them. I couldn’t believe how much fun I had with a group of guys I had spent relatively no time with and didn’t know all that well. They were all welcoming and acted as though they’d known me their entire lives. We laughed and talked, but mostly, they made fun of each other. I found kindred spirits in Sean and Robbie. They weren’t from the South, and both had a dry and snarky sense of humor. I had easily fallen in with them and knew why Gray was so fond of the group as a whole.

  We hadn’t seen a waitress in ages, so Gray pulled me up and walked me to the bar. “What do you want to drink, baby?” he asked when we reached the counter.

  I didn’t want to tell him “nothing” and make him believe I didn’t want to be here, enjoying time with his friends, so I opted for a shot thinking it was only one drink. I could get it down and over with quickly. Then I’d be done with it, and no one would be the wiser. “A shot of Goldschläger.”

  His eyebrows rose in surprise, but he didn’t question me. I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever consumed alcohol in his presence. “Budweiser in a bottle and a shot of Goldschläger.” When he paid the tab, he handed me the shot, which I promptly threw back. He laughed and grabbed his beer. “That’s one way to go about it.”

  The burn of the liquid seared my throat, coated my stomach, and then ignited my insides with warmth. Within minutes, I’d relaxed completely, and the crowd no longer bothered me. When we returned to the table, right before we sat down, Gray saw a waitress he knew, and she made sure to take care of our group. Every time she came by, he ordered me another round to accompany his beer. After the first two, they went down like water. My apprehension over drinking was lost along with the number of shots I consumed.

  I sat nestled on his lap with his arms surrounding me, and now and then, he reminded those around us of who I belonged to by kissing me on the forehead or the cheek. He staked his claim as much as he announced he was taken, and the realization I could have had this all along poured over me. Had I been willing to go with him, hang out with his friends in clubs, or do something outside of my comfort zone, I could have had this constant reassurance instead of questioning him and myself for far too long.

  I tried not to focus on what could have been in favor of what currently was when he whispered in my ear, “I need to get you out of here…and into our bed.” His voice was husky.

  The humidity from his breath in contrast with my skin raised pebbles on my flesh from the unexpected chill. Lost in the alluring blue of his eyes, I craned my neck to stare at him. His body engulfed mine in an embrace and consumed me. At that moment, everything around us disappeared, causing tunnel vision.

  The alcohol didn’t fully hit me until I stood to leave. I was unsteady on my feet, and my equilibrium was way off balance, but I used Gray to steady my stride and ensure I made it home in one piece. Making our way through the crowd, we were both stopped by people we knew as we tried to get out the door. The last person to halt our departure was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen—and it wasn’t just because I was drunk. She looked as though she’d stepped off the cover of Vogue.

  I was stuck with two people between Gray and myself, swaying slightly with the movement of the crowd and possibly the rhythm of the music, but he still had a tight grip on my hand. She stepped in front of him, and the scene played out in slow motion with me as a spectator. The alcohol-induced haze highlighted the two of them with a spotlight. The moment her hand landed on his chest and the other dared touch his hip, and she cocked a bit of an attitude, I was instantly jealous and insecure. It was too loud to hear the words between them, but I saw her lips moving while she talked to him and her perfect teeth and beautiful mouth mocked me.

  He reeled my arm in like a fishing line on a pole until I was next to him, on the verge of lashing out like the mega-jealous bitch that raged within me. Effortlessly, he tucked me into this side with a surprising grace for a man his size, effectively removing her hands from his body, and barked, “Ask my girlfriend.”

  I was a tad stunned by his words and unsure if I would be required to speak when he paused. He cast his attention down at me, completely smitten. Without waiting for a response, we started walking out the door, leaving the woman shocked.

  That was by far, the single hottest moment of my entire relationship with Gray. I had no idea what was said, but I knew he had chosen me over the goddess in the bar, but I never had to utter a single word. Years later, I would look back at this and remember what he’d done for my self-esteem with that choice. He’d secured my faith in him and our relationship again in roughly thirty seconds.

  Slightly inebriated, the alcohol had relaxed us both and sent our sexual desire into overdrive. If I were sober, I would have questioned Gray’s ability to drive us home, but he seemed fine in comparison to my loopy demeanor, so I went with it. By the time we reached the apartment and unlocked the door, we were both panting with desire. Gray was unusually quiet but steadfast
in removing his clothing. I, on the other hand, stumbled in my effort to disconnect myself from my boots and jeans, but his arm reached out to snag me before I tumbled. I had no idea how he’d gotten naked in my haste to get out of my own clothing.

  My back met the frosty metal of the front door, causing me to wince at the icy sensation. With both of my wrists in his hands, he secured them above my head in his grasp, while his other slid down my side and stopped at my hip. The oceanic blue in his eyes rolled like waves with lust. I wondered briefly what was lurking in his thoughts as he hesitated, unmoving, and silent. Just before I opened my mouth to ease the tension mounting, his eyes cleared, and his foot pushed my ankles apart. The length of his body pressed into mine, and his free hand captured my leg. He then pulled it around his waist as he thrust into my center.

  My head rocked back to the door with a hollow thud. Desperate to touch him, have his skin on my hands, I pulled free from his grasp to wrap my fingers around his shoulders, cupping them from behind for leverage. Without prompting, he pawed at my thigh, encouraging me up, and held my weight against the door, cradling my ass in his hands. His movements were powerful—deliberate and calculated.

  “Look at me, baby. I want to see your eyes when I’m inside you.” His voice was rough and gravelly and immediately commanded my attention. His movements never ceased, and the sensation was so fierce I couldn’t keep my eyes open. “Annie, eyes!” This intense side of Gray was one I’d never seen, as though he was claiming me.

  I struggled to hold the stare but clung to the supreme intimacy. The journey he was on would lead me to the cusp of my orgasm, but he was remarkably restrained. Every time I tried to set my own pace, speed up his delivery, he silently refused to give up control—simply shook his head as if to say I was wasting my time. This was his game, played by his rules. My mind buzzed with each sensually torturous move he made.