All The Wild Ones | Wildfire Series

Reeds

GRAYSON

For the five days before spring break, Nessa all but moved in with me.

Brodie didn't return, texting that he needed to be home with his mom. Understandable. I was still wrapping my head around his situation, anyway. Still wrapping my head around the fact that I'd actually met the asshole his mom had been dating. I'd met Bren's dad.

Madie was still recovering from what that man had done to her, and she stayed in Fresno with Bren. Beau came back to take a midterm, but then he packed up his shit and headed out, too.

Which just left us.

I hated it as much as I loved it. She was such a sweet torture to have around.

We didn't see each other often during the day, staying busy with our exams. But we ate dinner together every night before crawling into my bed, squished on a tiny twin mattress. Nessa didn't seem to mind, though. One night she spent two hours with her chin on my chest, pulling up all of John Williams' movie scores on her phone to prove to me that he was the superior composer over my man Hans.

Nessa made the tightness in my chest from all the stress lately disappear. She made me feel more level-headed. More normal.

At least until she jerked her ass into me in the middle of the night, anyway.  Then I felt winded—like I'd run a marathon with blue balls. My heart would pound, and my groin would ache for more of her. For more of something.

She claimed it was an accident, but I suspected she did it on purpose. Because Nessa, my little whiskey girl, had taken to teasing the shit out of me.

"I can't believe I'm fucking saying this, but if you're going to sleep in my room, I'm going to need you to put some more goddamn clothes on."

Sprawled out in my bed the night before spring break, Nessa had on that football shirt she stole from me. And nothing else.

"What's wrong with this?" she asked coyly, stretching out so that the shirt lifted up, revealing the pair of black, skimpy underwear she had on.

Okay, so I supposed she was wearing one other thing. But I'd be damned if she had a bra on, judging by how her nipples peaked beneath my shirt.

"You know damn well what's wrong with it," I growled, shoving my hands in my pockets.

And I knew damn well why she was doing it and what she wanted. But like hell was I going to give in without hearing her say it.

Nessa made a purring noise in the back of her throat as she tossed one leg over the other. I didn't say anything else. The only words that were flitting through my brain right now were so dirty. So fucking dirty. And I refused to break my promise when I knew we were so close to not needing it anymore.

Instead, I let my body do the talking, leaning against my desk and flicking my gaze over her. She did the same, studying me with dark, hot eyes that lingered on my growing erection.

Fuck, she was making this hard.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I heaved a sigh.

"I'm going to the practice rooms. And when I come back, you better have pants on."

I didn't miss the disappointment in her eyes as she watched me turn around, but I refused to cave. All she had to do was tell me what she wanted, and I was hers. That kiss she gave me, that sweet, soft, perfect kiss—it wasn't enough. I needed words. I needed explicitness. I wasn't going to do a goddamn thing until I was positive we were on the same page.

A page that read I'm yours, Grayson.

I didn't mind waiting to hear it because I knew it was only a matter of time. But I wasn't going to wait with her lying there half-naked.