All The Wild Ones | Wildfire Series

Dead Composers

NESSA

A few weeks of being Grayson Everett's girlfriend, and I'd learned one thing: he lived for public displays of affection. As for me? I lived for trying to resist him and failing.

"Um, Grayson?"

I glanced sharply over at him as he slid into the booth at The Grounds. Directly next to me.

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

His husky chuckle gave me goosebumps that I tried to ignore. One of his hands clamped down on my bare thigh, just below the hem of my skirt.

"I'm sitting, Adler."

"You're not going to sit across from me like a normal person? There are a set of perfectly good, empty chairs right there." I pointed to the available seats, even though they looked admittedly uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not," Grayson said simply before smiling up at Madie, who'd brought him the iced tea he ordered.

I didn't miss how her eyes flicked from Grayson to his hand on my thigh and then to me. After throwing a wink in my direction, she hurried back behind the counter to prepare more drinks. Bren walked passed her, making a quick stop to whisper something in her ear before moving to the register to help a waiting customer. Madie ducked her head, trying to hide a smile.

God, they scheduled them for a shift at the same time? Absolutely nothing would get done.

Giving my attention back to the guy man-handling my thigh, I blinked up to see Grayson staring at me hungrily.

"We came here so I could get some homework done," I said pointedly, ignoring the heat rising in my body. "I have to research composers."

Grayson sipped his iced tea slowly before answering me. "I know."

"Then you're going to need to stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

I lowered my voice. "Like you're picturing me naked."

One of his shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. "Well, I am picturing you naked. I've been picturing you naked since I saw you naked. Not really an easy thing to forget."

"Grayson..."

He flashed a naughty, unashamed grin. Inching his hand beneath my skirt, he squeezed my thigh. "Your legs are delightfully bare today."

"Yeah, well, it's hot out," I huffed. "And you keep ripping my tights."

Leaning in, Grayson kissed my forehead, murmuring against it. "Stop acting like you're annoyed by it, Adler. Or I might have to prove you wrong again."

I had to train my breathing to remain steady. He knew me too well, and it was starting to become a problem. A very good, perfect problem.

With Grayson's thumb still tracing circles on my inner thigh, I attempted to open my laptop and focus on music history. But dead composers were no match for the man sitting next to me, and it was impossible to concentrate. It had been impossible to focus on anything for the last several weeks. Grayson's moms hadn't wanted him to work his usual summer job mowing the lawn at the golf course, so he got a new summer job. It was one that paid in kisses: being my own personal chauffeur.

He was always with me. And I loved it.

I didn't love being so dependent on him, though.

"I've saved up enough money to buy a car," I said after getting too irritated with Debussy and Handel. They were nice to listen to, but boring as hell to read about.