Page 83 of Just for the Cameras
What the hell is wrong with me?
After a few more seconds, he finally breaks the silence. “Are you going to put your shoes on or just stare at me?”
Yup, that snaps me out of it.
“Shoes,” I say, spinning around, but then tripping over my own feet and tumbling forward.
I wince as I tip over, but he’s quick to my side, catching me by the waist and pulling me back to my feet and right against his rock…hard…chest.
Dear God in heaven, I’m sweating.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “Don’t go fucking up your wrist even more.”
His tone suggests I planned on doing that.
“I didn’t mean to,” I say, shrugging away from him, but he still holds on to my waist, checking to make sure I’m fine. When I take another step back, he releases me but doesn’t look happy about it.What is going on with him?
And me, for that matter.
“Be careful,” he says in a darker voice. Wait, is he…reprimanding me?
“I will,” I say back, unsure how to respond to such a demand.
And weren’t my thoughts just a second ago about wanting to undress him? Yes, those are long gone as he thrusts me back into reality with his prickly disposition.
Well, not long gone. I am a human with eyes.
As I start to walk away, he leans against the door, his large body taking up all of the space in the entryway as he folds his bulky arms across his thick chest, his eyes not leaving me as they follow me through the apartment.
Never straying.
Just…hungry.
Very, very hungry.
Graydon St. Johnisa man of few words, and that silence he loves to keep, well, it’s saying a whole lot right now.
And I have no clue how to interpret it.
CHAPTER 17
GRAYDON
“Dude, you look like secretservice, ready to murder with your own hands,” OC says as he comes up to me, wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, the top few buttons undone. Next to him is, fuck, what is his name? Trevor? He’s wearing a full-on safari outfit minus the hat. But he’s making khaki his bitch tonight, that’s for damn sure.
“Don’t call me ‘dude.’” I sneer at him.
OC winces, then directs his attention to Maple. “How do you deal with the grump on the daily?”
She takes a sip of her champagne. “Alcohol.” This causes OC to let out a wallop of a laugh.
Fucking idiot.
Bennett isn’t here because he’s out of town for an away game, but his zookeeper is zooming around from group to group, chatting it up while I stand off in the corner with Maple, trying to avoid talking to anyone.
Gretchen would have a fucking fit, but I don’t give a shit. The last thing I want to do is engage in small talk, especially with a bunch of people I don’t know or care to know.
“Oh, there’s Wallace. I’m going to go say hi,” Khaki Man says before he takes off, leaving me with OC and Maple.
