One Shade of Gray Read online

  She stood up and tossed a paper ball at my chest before heading toward the door. Her hair stood up on one side and she’d dropped some sandwich on her blouse to join the coffee stain. And yet, even in her perpetual state of disarray, I wanted her.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven, Gray. Don’t make me wait.”

  4

  Izzy

  I checked my hair in the mirror one final time. The golden strands, and the too-dark roots, sat perfectly. The entire evening seemed to be falling into place. I was able to leave work early, no creepy strangers following me home. Then the shop around the corner had my favorite wine, my eyeliner wings were on point, and now my pixie hair sat artfully disarrayed around my head in that sexy bedhead vibe I’d been failing at for a month.

  One swipe of lipstick and I headed out the door, clutch and heels in hand. I’d put them on at the bar to give Gray something to look at. The sky-high royal blue velvet pumps made my legs look like they never stopped.

  The warm night air bolstered me as I headed to the taxi on the curb. I climbed inside and gave directions to the driver, while attempting to ignore the way the scent of my peach blossom perfume mixed with the curry the driver must have been eating before he picked me up.

  As we pulled up outside Gray’s building it occurred to that me the man probably had his own car service. No. I squared my shoulders and climbed out of the vehicle. His secretary had given me directions, and now the doorman held the door open wide for me.

  “Qui êtes-vous ici pour voir, Madmoiselle?”

  My French being a little terrible I caught about half of what he said. “Monsuier, Gray?”

  “Yes, of course,” the man said in perfect English, not even an accent.

  He went behind a tall desk and picked up the phone. Some words were exchanged in French and then he hung up. “Mr. Gray will be down momentarily.”

  I nodded and stepped away from the counter. Part of me was sad I wouldn’t get to see his apartment. Another part of me was happy the temptation wouldn’t be present.

  I’d avoided thinking about that kiss all day. But now that I was about to see him again there was no stopping the way it played in my mind like a movie reel set to loop. He’d taken the liberty, and damn it, I wanted him to do it again. It was the only reason I’d asked him out after my speech about dating the boss.

  Chemistry like that couldn’t be faked, and I’d spent a lot of years with duds—long enough to know how badly a relationship can go without it. I wished like hell he wasn’t my boss though. It would make wanting to use him for sex so much less abashing. Or at the very least, it would make me feel less guilty about it.

  Instead of waiting to do it in the bar, I stripped off my flats, picked them up, and folded them into my clutch. I glanced up to catch the doorman staring, a bemused expression on his face.

  I shrugged and slid on the heels without a single wobble. “They hurt to walk on the cobblestones.”

  He inclined his head and focused on the elevator. It dinged, the gleaming doors slid open with a swish, and out stepped Gray like he was shooting a cologne ad or something. I almost wanted to sigh in frustration.

  He wore black dress pants, a white shirt folded to the elbow, a navy tie, and a vest that cut a tight figure.

  I looked him over and felt entirely underdressed in my skinny jeans, pink velvet cami, and heels. “It’s ok that you decided not to dress up,” I offered.

  He froze in the middle of adjusting a sleeve at his elbow, a look of alarm crossing his features for a split second before clearing. “Very funny, Miss Vale.”

  “I suppose you can call me Izzy. And by the way, Dorian, don’t think for one minute that we’re not going to be talking about your name.”

  He held out his elbow and I allowed him to help me into the taxi idling at the curb. Once I was settled, he climbed in on the opposite side and I gave him brownie points for not mentioning the smell, the taxi in general, or the fact that he probably could have ordered a limo or something to take us out.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Izzy,” he said from his very far away side of the car. I could barely catch the edge of something that smelled warm and spicy emanating from him. Like cinnamon or cloves. I wanted to move closer but he already had too much power in this relationship—between me telling him I wouldn’t date him, then letting him kiss me, and me asking him out. I didn’t need to be throwing myself on him in the back of a taxi on top of it.

  I forced myself to stare out the window at the passing pedestrians as we made our way through narrow streets before I responded. “Thank you. So do you.”

  I stole a glance his way in time to see the corner of his mouth lift the tiniest bit. An unguarded gesture that measured high on the reaction meter for him—the man of many masks.

  The taxi stopped outside my favorite bar and I handed the driver cash before Gray could even retrieve his wallet. He didn’t put up a fuss though and followed me onto the sidewalk.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been taken out by a woman before.” He mused, and slipped his hands into his pockets.

  “No?” I gestured to the thin brick building behind us and he followed me inside. A haze of smoke filled the dark room and I claimed my favorite table in the very back of the long narrow bar. It was perfect for people watching, and my friend who tended the bar usually kept it empty with a reserved sign when she was knew I was coming. I grabbed the plastic card, turned it to the side, and slid into the curve of the oval-shaped booth. Dorian followed, keeping a respectable distance between us.

  A soft jazz tune played quiet and slow from outdated speakers in each corner of the bar. And before I could even warm up my first piece of conversation, the other regular bartender brought two of my usual.

  Gray took the tall pint of beer without a word.

  “You’re pretty accommodating for a millionaire.” I said as he took a sip.

  He swallowed and turned to face me. “I promise you I’m not always acquiescing. But when I want something I can be.”

  Heat trickled up my neck and into my ears but I didn’t flinch, maintaining eye contact, as I sipped my own beer. Once I’d swallowed I swiveled to face him as well. “Noted.”

  “So this is a local haunt of yours?”

  “Didn’t you find that out while you were stalking me?”

  He shook his head and picked up the sign. “No, but they seem to know you and your usual routines.”

  “My friend works here so I do spend a lot of time here. Once rehearsals start back up I don’t think I’ll be around much.”

  “And how are you liking...?”

  I held up my hand. “Hold it, Gray. We are not talking about work.”

  “What would you like to talk about then?”

  I let out a sigh and scooted an inch closer so I could hear better over the music and the other patrons. He must have taken it as permission and did the same, so only a few inches separated us on the black vinyl. “I want to talk about that kiss.”

  He let out a soft snort that even I had to strain to hear. “You really do like to jump right in, don’t you?”

  “Do you prefer women with more guile and games?”

  He raked his eyes across my features and leaned back so his shoulder pressed into the backrest of the booth. “No, I have no enjoyment for games when it comes to romance.”

  I moved closer, my knee touching his now, feeling bolder between the darkness and the beer. “I hope you have some room in your life for games.”

  His face changed. It wasn’t exactly the playboy mask I was used to seeing, but his lips and eyes were definitely squarely in the mischief column. “I am open to any suggestions you might have, Izzy.”

  I took another sip of my beer and let the condensation from the frozen glass run down my fingers. He watched me, his eyes hooded, lips half turned in a smile. Once my fingers were chilled I put them on his full bottom lip, tracing it with my fingertip. He opened his mouth and took it inside. His tongue swiped against my fingerprint and creat
ed a direct line to my panties. I let go and tried to mask the arousal no doubt written all over my face.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  I shook my head. “No, you have nothing to apologize for.”

  He reached out and pulled me in so we sat side by side, hip to hip, and he wrapped his arm around me. The world looked different inside the curve of his embrace. Like I’d been peering at the universe through a porthole in a submarine that had just surfaced for the first time.

  Something had shifted and I couldn’t figure out when. Was it the moment he kissed me, and I decided I’d have him? Even if it ended badly. Even when it ended badly. Even when he’d likely demolish my heart.

  I felt the need to break the tension, to shine some light on the shadows that were slowly creeping in. “You do know I plan on using you for sex, right?”

  My mouth did that sometimes, ran away without my brain.

  He jerked against me and turned my head with his fingers to look up at his face. I couldn’t read the expression there now. Not another mask, but not the same look as before. This one was as inscrutable as his playboy mask but there was an edge of vulnerability to it.

  “Is that all you’re offering?” he asked so quietly I could barely hear him.

  “For now.”

  He shrugged and lifted his arm away from my shoulders. “Then I’ll take what I can get. I’m hopeful I can change your mind. As you noticed earlier, my powers of persuasion are unmatched.”

  “Was that a joke, Gray?” I laughed despite the absurdity of the entire situation. “We are on the same page though right? I don’t want you thinking you own me or anything.”

  He leaned in, and that spicy scent wrapped me up in heat. When his lips stopped—licking distance from my own—I could see the match waiting to strike against the roughened edges of my need for him. “I’d never presume to own you. That would be like trying to own the sun. An easy way to get scorched.”

  There was a question there that he wasn’t asking. “But?” I said, shifting to get closer. He reached up and gripped my chin, keeping me too close and too far at the same time.

  Fucking hell this man knew how to tease a woman.

  “But, we should discuss some things.”

  I couldn’t help it, I squirmed in his hands. Worse yet, I felt no shame in it.

  He leaned past my face to press his lips almost fully against my ear, leaving only a breath’s worth of space between us. His exhale heated my skin and tickled the fine hairs on my face before his words struck that hovering match. Each syllable a fan to the building flame.

  “I will never allow you to be at the mercy of your emotions. I will use them, you will enjoy them, and we will dominate them.”

  5

  Dorian

  A beautiful woman in my embrace is the end to an enjoyable evening. An experience I had forgone for probably a decade. But a woman trembling, needing, aching in my arms is some kind of biblical.

  I didn't want to do this here. The bar wasn’t crowded or dirty in the least, but it was still public. I wanted Izzy all to myself. “Would it be presumptive of me to pay the bill and call my car?” I whispered, still trailing my lips teasingly around the arches of her delicate ear.

  She swallowed, loud and heavy and wet, before answering. “No, not presumptuous since I’m three seconds from climbing into your lap.”

  I couldn’t help the surge of pride that burst through me. Moments like this were definitely something I appreciated about the modern era. Women who took what they wanted from a lover without compunction. She didn’t need to ask me twice. I sent a text to my driver, climbed out of the booth, and dropped a couple bills on the table. Once I’d paid, she handed me her bag. I took it without thinking and then she glanced down to the very obvious tent of my pants.

  I couldn’t care less if the entire country knew what she did to me. But in case she might be embarrassed, I carried her bag out into the dark street to shield my arousal.

  My driver pulled up in a black town car before I could attempt conversation with a raging hard on. I opened the door for her and slid in behind her.

  She shifted in the seat so her thighs aligned with mine. “Your driver got here very fast.”

  I didn’t bother with the seatbelt or the side-by-side business, and lifted her off the leather into my lap. She took the hint and straddled my thighs.

  She wiggled down so our bodies aligned in that absolute way. “Oh that’s better.”

  I wrapped my hands around her to cup the shape of her ample hips. Before I had time to process it all, she had me flat against the back of the seat, hips swiveling against my cock, trailing teeth and lips and wet heat down the side of my neck. My mind blanked and I gave in to the need for her. The tingle in my appendages, the raging blood in my dick. If I weren’t so practiced at playing a gentleman, I’d have ripped open her jeans and fucked her right there in the back of my car for the whole world to witness.

  Those long-dormant depraved depths of me almost demanded it. Almost.

  She reached into my hair and gripped the strands tight, pulling them before pressing her hips up to take my mouth.

  Fuck, I could smell her arousal. That promise of sweaty sheets and a warm wet entrance. I reached out, clutching her as tightly to me as possible. Everything. All of it. I wanted every single inch of her body against mine. Those throaty sighs she made as our lips molded together, tongues seeking permission and battling for domination.

  She kissed like she lived. With heat and fire, and a little bite.

  When she released my hair from her vice-like fingers she pulled away from my lips, trailing her nails down my chest. I could barely feel it through my clothes, but the promise of it, the violence of it, was enough to set me trembling for her.

  “How far?” she asked. That was it. As if forming full sentences was too much right now.

  I glanced out the window to clear my brain and saw the last turn toward my building.

  “Seconds,” I whispered, pulling her in for another kiss. A little more. Just a little taste to tide me over until I got her inside.

  The car stopped and we both reached for the door handle. She laughed and climbed off me and out the door. I followed as close as I was able until we reached the elevator.

  As it climbed the ten stories to the top floor I cursed my penthouse for the first time in my life. The seven-by-seven-foot space held more sexual tension than I think the safety code permitted.

  The gleaming stainless steel door slid open achingly slowly. We stood in front of my flat and I tried to maintain my composure while I unlocked the door to let her in.

  After I locked it again, I turned to face her. “Do you want a drink?”

  She tilted her head and lowered her eyebrows to give me a purely feminine look that even I recognized, having been off women for a decade, before the slow shake of her head. “Do you really think I came over here for a drink?”

  Now that we’d both taken a breather, the clarity of the situation was starting to filter in. My lust-addled mind pinged warnings through the haze like a lighthouse in a dense fog. This was meant to be my second chance with her, not a booty call or whatever ridiculous name they’d given one night stands in this century. Albeit people usually didn’t do one night stands with their employers.

  “Stop,” she said, forceful and clear.

  I froze and met her eyes. “What?”

  She ambled closer and began to slip the buttons of my vest through their opposing holes. “Whatever it is that you’re thinking about right now. Just stop. I can see the gears whirring about in that head of yours. I’m not letting your brain cock-block me.”

  Cock block wasn’t a term I’d picked up this decade but the meaning was clear. “I just don’t want you to think this is all I want from you.”

  Once she finished the buttons of my vest she stripped it off my shoulders and let it drop in a soft puddle on the floor. Then she started on my dress shirt with a single-mindedness I found both erotic and imp
ressive.

  “I was very clear at the bar. I’m the one using you for sex.”

  She finished there and stripped the shirt away to join the vest on the floor. When she encountered my T-shirt she stopped. “Really? How much clothing is necessary for a few drinks?”

  I shrugged. “I have to protect my honor.”

  She rewarded me with a snort chuckle that warmed me to my toes. Then she yanked the hem of my shirt out of my pants hard enough I almost stumbled for balance. “I can remove my own clothing.”

  Another sexy grin. “I know, but I like undressing a man. It’s like opening a Christmas present to find Santa brought you everything you wanted and more.”

  Next, the white cotton was up and over my head faster than I’d have been able to manage.

  As she bee lined for my belt buckle I halted her fingers before they could work the brass closure. “This entire situation is severely disproportionate.”

  She laughed this time, a loud guffaw that echoed off the hardwood and granite of my home, before stepping back and kicking off her heels. With three less inches of height she stared up at me now. And she made sure to lock her eyes to mine as she twisted her camisole off over her head to drop it on the floor.

  And in a microsecond the raging inferno relit. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Standing in my entryway with only a pair of denim blue jeans between her wet flesh and my body, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop myself.

  I reached out and tugged her to me by the waistband of her jeans. She came easily enough, going straight for my belt buckle again. She opened it before I got her button and zipper down. Why were women’s fastenings backwards? A fact I’d forgotten, or overlooked, in the last ten years.

  She let my trousers go and shimmied out of her jeans to reveal a black lace pair of boy shorts. I froze and stared. When she cleared her throat, I finished taking off my trousers to pool in the minefield by the door.