Page 89 of Untamed
When the chute gate opens on the right side (to the bull rider's right).
We stayed in a hotel last night and Grayer refused to have sex with me. He said we needed to wait until we got to his place, but it was also because we were all in the same room.
Sure, we did make out, and it was kind of nice to make out with someone and it not go further than that.
Grayer and TyinsistHaylee and I experience New Orleans so we made a slight detour. Grayer tells me, “Wanderlust and city dust,” suit me well and wraps his arm around my shoulder. Heading into the French Quarter, he kisses me, our backdrop beautiful old balconied buildings.
They take us to Café du Monde because you can’t not experience a beignet. I’d never had one, neither had Haylee, and I have to admit, it’s heaven. Humid air sticks to my cheeks, the smells of sugar-fried pastries so good.
Grayer bets Ty he can’t snort the powdered sugar up his nose for a hundred bucks. He takes the bet, because he never ever turns them down. So Grayer says. It ends in Ty crying tears, and coughing and laughing.
We stop for gas and food in Bunkie, Louisiana. As the sun sets, colors smearing over the Southern skyline, blending into the dark of the night, my stare catches Grayer’s occasionally. He’s a fairly quiet road-trip partner. Probably because most of his life is spent on the highway and it becomes a place where he thinks.
The drive is quiet alongside flat dry land. There’s not a taillight in sight as we head back to Texas, but it’s nice that Grayer’s truck has air conditioning.
Haylee must have driven in her usual attire of bra and underwear because they haven’t been behind us for over an hour.
Grayer looks over at me, his eyes dancing over my legs propped up by my bare feet on his dash and then my face and lips. “Come a little closer.”
Raising the center console in his Ford truck, I slide over the bench seat, my body pressing into his side. I definitely don’t need much of an invitation when it comes to him. Nods work. Winks work, but when he says come closer, I do that too.
Grayer surprises me when his arm moves around my shoulders and pulls me even closer. Raising my right hand, I hold his hand that’s dangling over my shoulder. He’s holding me. Never making an attempt to do more.
It’s perfect.
His body shifts, the motion giving me a wave of his scent. Breathing in deeply, I want that smell forever with me. In a simple gesture, a tender one, a sweet and endearing one, he kisses my temple, lips lingering as a sigh escapes him.
At that moment, I desperately want to know what he’s thinking. He sings “The Beaches of Cheyenne” in my ear, and I worry, because the songs about a bull rider dying. I don’t like the feeling of dread in my bones. This sport, what he does for a living, it could kill him.
He tells me, “I don’t know my fate outside the gate.”
Poetic as usual for him. Who the hell is this guy?
When I see the sign for Decatur, I get a little excited. I’m curious to see where he lives, but I don’t want to appear too excited. I know one thing. I can already tell I love Texas. It reminds me a lot of Ellensburg with the flat land, but it’s also ninety degrees at night. Completely unlike the chilly nights in the north.
There’s not much said between us when we get to his house. Like a gentleman, he opens my door for me and helps me out of the truck. Hand in hand, he leads me up to the door, unlocking it. It’s completely dark and I wonder if Haylee and Ty will ever make it back.
Grayer smiles. “Ty sent me a text that they’d be another hour . . . or so.” I try not to grin when he pulls my hand and brings me to his chest. “How about I show you my bedroom?”
“I think I’d like that.”
He reaches over, his hand cupping my cheek and then drops it to my hand to pull me forward. The house is a lot like any other home in South Texas, surrounded by a few trees and wide-open land.
When we get inside, it’s clear that a pair of cowboys live here. Grayer doesn’t give me a chance to look around before he’s picking me up and taking me down the hall to what I suspect is his bedroom.
He sets me down in front of a bed that’s just a mattress on the floor. I don’t even care at that point. “It’s not much.” He rips his shirt off and tosses it on the floor. Then he goes to take off his boots. “But I don’t think it matters at this point.” When he’s barefoot and just in his jeans, he takes a step toward me, his hands on my hips. “Does it?”
“It’s perfect.” I mean that on so many levels and I think he sees that.
With strong hands, he lifts my dress over my head when I slip off my boots. My bra’s next, panties, all of it, and then he’s laying me gently on the bed, only he still has his damn jeans on.
“Take those off,” I say, wrapping my legs around his.
He grinds his hips into me, staring into my eyes intently. “I said I’d make it up to you and I meant that.”
Oh.That’s all my brain is able to register as he slides down my body. Believe it or not, I’ve never had anyone go down on me. Probably because it was always Joel I was messing around with and it was alwayshispleasure he was concerned about. Not mine. And I think Jamie and I were too young to know what we were doing. I lost my virginity to him, but we didn’t know what the heck we were doing before that.
Grayer is different. He’s a man and knows exactly what he’s doing.
