I watched from the porch as Gray pulled the weeds in the back garden. His shirt was tossed over his shoulder and his hands were covered in dirt. Sweat dripped from his brow and dripped down his body, following his muscles natural peaks and dips as his strength shone for me. I walked out to him with a trash can so he could put the weeds in there, making it easier to dump.
And before I knew it, I was on my knees with his cock in my mouth.
He leaned against the tree, his body exposed to the world as I lapped him up. I drank down his precum and played with his balls, feeling them grow heavier and lower than ever. I hollowed out my cheeks and sucked him back. I moaned every single time he tightened his dirt-covered hands in my hair. I watched all of his muscles twitch for me as he thrust against my face, my lips swelling around him.
Then, for the first time, he exploded down my throat and I got to taste him.
Our stolen romantic trysts made everything else feel so domestic. I wrapped my arms around him while he cooked and he kissed my neck whenever I washed down the plates. We cuddled in the library while reading our separate books and even had some conversations over wine while sitting with the television on mute in the background. It felt comfortable. Familiar, yet oddly new. And even though we went to bed in separate rooms, I knew the truth I’d been so afraid of admitting.
I’d fallen in love with Grayson MacDonald.
There wasn’t any denying it, and I wanted to tell him. Hell, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops so everyone in this stupid ass town knew. I wanted them to know their gossip hadn’t hindered what we had found. That their nasty attitudes and biased hiring and firing practices hadn’t deterred me from finding the one thing I felt every person on earth deserved.
True, unadulterated love.
I wanted to tell Gray how I felt, but I was waiting for the right moment. Th
ere was no point in fighting my want for him any longer, because I’d already gone around a bend I could never come back from. So, instead of fighting his insistence that I stay with him under Anton’s roof, I went about trying to figure out how to tell him what I was feeling.
Because I knew it I did, there was a chance he felt the same way.
And maybe—just maybe—my dream to leave this place with him could come true.
“Gray?”
“Yeah, Michelle?”
“Is it okay if I borrow your rental to go get some groceries?” I asked.
“Sure. The keys are on the table in the kitchen. Could you also stop by the gas station in town? I need another container of oil.”
“Text me what kind of oil you need and I’ll make sure to get it.”
“Thanks,” he said.
I grabbed the keys from the table and started for the convertible. Gray’s body was bent underneath the hood of a car in the garage. A car that looked like it needed a lot of elbow grease to make it run again. I wondered if it had been Anton’s, or if it was a personal project of Gray’s. I didn’t recognize it. But then again, if it had been under a tarp in the garage for a while, then it didn’t shock me that I didn’t know it was there. When I worked for Anton, the garage was one of the places I never had to go in. I was always in the storage shed at the back of his property, pulling out the lawnmower and the shears to trim up bushes and stuff.
“I’ll be back in about an hour? Maybe two?” I asked.
“Take your time. I don’t need the oil right away, but I will need it eventually.”
I watched Gray mindlessly dip into his wallet and pull out a one hundred dollar bill.
“Are you sure? I can get the groceries with my tip money,” I said.
“Keep your money, Michelle. I’ll see you soon.”
He looked back just long enough to throw me that silly little wink of his that melted me at the knees every single time. I hopped behind the wheel of the car and started off, rolling down the top so the wind could caress my hair. I enjoyed that feeling. It felt like Gray’s fingers running through my tendrils. I drove through town and stopped at the store to get a few things, then I made a run to the butcher’s shop to get some fresh meat.
I wanted to cook up a pork tenderloin for Gray for dinner.
“Well, there’s a familiar face I haven’t seen in a few days.”
“Hey, Dr. Luke,” I said with a smile.
“What brings you into the butcher’s today?”
“Oh, you know. I need some toilet bowl cleaner. A few paper towels. A newspaper.”