Grip [GALATEA]

Chapter 1

Nicole

"You have spent the last twenty-five minutes trying I don't know how many dresses, Nic," Alex complains as he walks into my room, checking his wristwatch.

He's wearing a white slim fit dress shirt though there's nothing slim about his hot as hell body. I almost miss seeing him naked. Almost. His dark brown belt matches his shoes and his dark blue slacks fit him so perfectly that they give any woman's libido a boost. It probably took this little bastard two minutes to decide what to wear and he looks like that.

Granted, he could wear an avocado printed fuchsia oversized shirt with and he'd still look hot.

I ignore his harmless huff and motion for him to zip up my dark blue cocktail skater dress.

He shakes his head with a smirk while zipping me up and then sits back on the edge of the bed behind me as I move closer to my full-length mirror.

Apart from the macrame wall hanging above my bed and the two lady palms that are getting too big for their tiny pots, this mirror is the only decorative piece on the wall. It's like my personal moving photo that displays a slightly different scene every time you look at it.

I love it when it brings the cotton candy clouds into my bedroom in the morning and when the sun rays travel through my window creating my own private rainbow.

And I definitely miss how well it reflects the sweaty and breathy carnality that my queen mattress welcomes.

Or used to welcome. Ugh.

God, I've been lacking dick-induced orgasms for way too long. Way. Too. Long. I can only blame him for it because he has somehow telekinetically pussy blocked me. That's right, his cock jinxed my mind and voodooed my body because I can't even meet a guy without thinking about him.

Goddamn pussy blocking warlock.

Ugh. I hate him.

I roll my eyes and do my best to focus on deciding whether this is the dress I'll wear or not. The dress's off-the-shoulder neckline draws attention to my collarbone, which I do appreciate. I'd say it's discreetly sensual or modestly frisky, given its high-low hemline that cascades from above the knee to the back of my lower leg.

I swirl in front of the mirror and smile as Alex steps closer to me and places his hands on my shoulders.

"You're not trying any other dress. This is the one you're wearing, Nic," he kisses my forehead and sighs, clearly tired of waiting for me to get ready. "It's just one dinner, relax."

"I know it is. But it's important to Emily. She's meeting Liam's parents this evening," I redirect the conversation, pushing it away from where Alex's words are heading.

"And are you okay with seeing Ryan again?"

I guess I didn't redirect shit. Damn it.

Alex sits back on the edge of the bed again and squints at me, as if prepared to examine my answer.

Ugh. I liked him better when we fucked more and talked less.

"Have we not had this conversation already? Jeez, Alex! I'm fine!" Peachy, right?

"So this dry spell you've been bitching about for months has nothing to do with him?"

"Stop asking questions you already know the answer to, Alex. You're starting to sound like me and it's pissing me off."

"I'm just checking, Nic."

"What can you possibly be checking that you haven't checked already? Seriously. Ryan and I were a temporary series of one-night stands seven months ago. Then he left. And, as the saying goes, thank you, next," I wink at Alex, hoping he doesn't mention what I've been trying to forget for the past four months. I turn to the mirror again, searching for the smile I'll have throughout the evening. It's there somewhere between my eyes and my heart.