The Fake Zone: A Fake Dating Sports Romance (Oleander Springs Series Book 3)
The Fake Zone: Chapter 36

I want to ask him to ignore the door and focus on our conversation so my past doesn’t cause a rift between us.

Another knock and Grey strides to the door, pulling it open.

Palmer and Corey are on the other side. “Did we…” Palmer asks, gaze skirting from my face to Grey.

“We can come back.” Corey takes a step back.

“Yeah.” Palmer nods.

Grey doesn’t object, letting them go before he closes and locks the door.

I move around the tiny island, hating the defeat visible with Grey’s rounded shoulders. Another tear slips down my cheek. I brush it away, but it’s replaced by more, determined to carve paths down my cheeks as I feel that pull for everything to just come apart. “Ask me something else. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you, just not … this.”

“It won’t change the way I see you.”

“It will.” Tears flow thicker.

Grey shakes his head. “I’ve spent the past two and a half years trying to change the way I see you. You could tell me you were from another planet, and it wouldn’t change what I feel for you.”

Warmth spreads through my chest as my mind wars with his words. “That I’m stubborn and headstrong with a healthy dose of opinionated?”

“Among other things,” he says, holding my gaze. His hypnotizing stare draws me closer without a word. “Tell me you think about me. Tell me you can’t stop thinking about the other morning. About me being inside of you.”

A blush that has nothing to do with embarrassment and entirely to do with desire flushes my cheeks. “Constantly.”

His head angles back a fraction, his relief palpable. “Mila,” my name is a prayer on his lips. “It’s you.”

“What?”

“My type is you.” His lips come down on mine, the wall at my back. The kiss is urgent, hopes and fears merging into a symphony of bliss as his tongue parts my lips and plies my mouth.

He grips my waist, fingers slipping under my shirt, replaceing purchase on my skin, and just that simple touch is enough to undo me. It is every time.

I slide his hand to the apex of my thighs, and he groans.

“Grey,” I’m pretty sure I’m begging.

He kisses my jaw as he slides his hand into my underwear and leggings, his breath a hiss as he discovers me wet and hot as his fingers part me. He presses his fingers to my clit, and I gasp. My vision goes dark for a split second before I close my eyes and lean my face into his neck, losing myself in his scent, warmth, and strength as his fingers work over me.

His hand slips out of my pants, and panic has my eyes flashing open, waiting for Grey to tell me this is wrong, and we can’t. That he doesn’t want me, can’t because he has goals, and a dozen other reasons I’ve heard him recite for why he doesn’t date.

Grey’s eyes are pools of desire as he stares at me. “You’re mine. You have been since the first day I saw you, painting that damn black wall in Hudson’s dorm.” His hands run the expanse of my waist, fingers digging into my clothes as though he’s considering shredding them, and I’m pretty sure he could. You’re mine. Your secrets, your pain, your fears—they’re all mine.”

Tears dance in my eyes, unwanted, especially now. “You don’t date.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t.”

My heart throbs with the confirmation, hating how off-balance I feel.

“Dating implies temporary—a status for other people. Something that can be casual. What I feel for you is none of those things.”

Grey leans forward, capturing a tear with a kiss.

Thirteen years of therapy spent learning how to identify and label my feelings and emotions hasn’t prepared me for this moment.

He leans into me, caging me against the wall, his hips sinking into me as his mouth challenges mine. With each hungry lash of his tongue and nip of his teeth, I hear his intention, feel him claim me—mine. Mine. Mine. His hands also mark me, slipping around to my back, stroking, tracing, and clenching in matching tandems.

We kiss like it’s a sport, like we were made to kiss each other.

Grey leans back, staring at me with lustful eyes, but the adoration in his gaze burns even brighter. He looks at me like I’m something to marvel at, something priceless and rare, eliciting more of my tears. “I’m really bad at this stuff. I have commitment and trust issues that nearly rival my abandonment issues.”

“You’re not bad at this, Mila. You’re just scared.”

“Terrified,” I admit.

“Do you trust me?”

With every fiber of my being. “Yes.”

The edges of his lips curl with a smile. “I’ve waited two and a half years, and I’ll wait longer. We’ll do this at whatever pace you want. If you want to call me your boyfriend or your friend—it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re with me, the rest is inconsequential.”

I lean into him, kissing him as another tear slips from my eye.

Grey presses a kiss to my mouth and then lowers his face as he lifts my shirt, revealing my sports bra. He kisses between my breasts, along the fabric, and down my stomach as he lowers to his knees.

“I haven’t showered.” My objection is weak in my own ears, but I was a sweaty mess when leaving the gym, and a part of my brain warns I’ll regret this once the fog of lust clears.

Grey looks up at me as he pulls my laces free and removes my shoes. “Good. You’re about to get a whole hell of a lot dirtier.” He hooks his hands into my pants and underwear and drags them down my legs, so they pool at my ankles, where he threads them off, and tosses them carelessly behind him.

Cool air hits my most sensitive area, but the goose bumps covering me are attributed to the way his eyes turn into liquid pools of fire as he licks his lips and lowers his gaze to my center. He leans forward, pressing his nose against me, and takes a long, deep breath that should make me feel embarrassed but, instead, only makes the desire become an ache.

Grey grabs my leg and hooks it over his shoulder before repeating with the other side, ignoring my objections as I become entirely reliant on the wall at my back and his shoulders. Every comment ever made about the size of my body flashes to the forefront of my thoughts on a wave of panic.

Grey fits his palms against each globe of my ass, lifting me, so I’m level with his mouth, and then his long fingers spread my folds, and his mouth seals over me, obliterating every memory and thought.

His mouth is possessive, the long hard strokes a tease that awakens every nerve in my body, coiling and desperate for a release he seems intent on prolonging. His soft groans, my breathy pleas, and his tongue sliding against my wet flesh become my favorite soundtrack.

“Grey,” my voice is a warning and a plea.

He moves to my clit, grazing his teeth over the nerve endings and making me choke out a sigh before he lavishes the same spot with his tongue. I feel my orgasm building at the base of my spine at the exact moment he pulls back.

My skin is on fire. I’m burning from the inside out. My bones are jelly. I curse.

Grey slips my legs down so my feet touch the floor and staples his hands to my waist, knowing I need the support.

“I want you to come on my cock,” he rasps against my ear, kissing my jaw.

I nod, wanting that, too, so goddamn much, I can’t think of anything but how empty I feel. I move toward the couch, but Grey’s hand on my wrist stops me. He reels me in, and then I’m in his arms, being carried to his bedroom.

I’d be fine with the floor at this point or the couch or the counter, but Grey deposits me on his bed, the woodsy scent of his cologne warming me as he makes quick work of stripping out of his clothes. He wants me just as badly as I want him.

“That shirt needs to come off,” he says, running a palm over his length.

Heat swallows me as I watch him, studying the way his fingers clench and move over himself.

“Mila,” his voice is a growl, a warning that has my eyes snapping to his face, working to recall what he’d said. “Your top.”

I grab the hem of my shirt and tug it off with the same sense of abandon he had with my pants, as though I don’t want to see them again, ridding everything that keeps me from feeling him against every part of me.

Grey leans forward, gripping the band of my sports bra. He pulls the garment over my head as his mouth closes over my left nipple. My sigh is a guttural sound as my back arches into the heat and friction of his tongue. I drag my fingers through his short hair, never wanting him to stop and at the same time, desperate to feel him everywhere.

He pinches my opposite nipple at the same time he slides a wide finger inside of me. It’s euphoria.

Pleasure radiates through me with so much intensity my lungs tremble.

“God, I love the sounds you make.” Grey’s voice is silk against my skin. I didn’t even realize I’d made a noise. Grey adds a second finger, and my moan is so loud I take note. The neighbors probably take note.

His fingers thrust inside of me again as he reaches for his nightstand, grabbing the box of condoms.

I take the box, and he rolls my nipple as his fingers curl inside of me, adding his thumb to my clit. Stars. I see stars as the box dents under my fingers as I squeeze it.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful. So perfect.” His breath is a cool breath against my flaming skin.

I drop my head back, grinding down on his fingers, forgetting my task until I feel his erection, thick, hot, and hard against my thigh. I rip at the box with my teeth, and Grey strokes at my clit, a reward or a bet to see if I can remain focused. It doesn’t matter because I want to feel him inside of me, or I’m going to fall apart.

Condoms spill across the bed. His only reaction is a crooked grin. I drop the box and kiss him as I grab a condom from beside my knee. Then Grey replaces that spot—the one that makes thoughts and breathing and existing seem impossible, much less doing them all at the same time.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, pressing my eyes shut.

“Never.” Grey kisses my chest, my neck, and my shoulder as I come apart, moaning and gasping as he pulls every bit of pleasure out of me, spreading my wetness over my folds and across my thighs.

I’m hollow. I’m liquid. My muscles are buzzing from the intensity of my release.

Grey kisses his way down my jaw and then my mouth, where the taste of me lingers on his tongue.

I feel like I could nap for the next month, but Grey’s release is at the front of my thoughts. I kiss him as I stand on shaking legs and sink to my knees.

Grey’s breath is a hiss as I lick the length of his shaft. I do it a second time and his hips tilt forward as his head falls back, his breaths becoming labored. It makes me feel so damn empowered. I smile as I take him into my mouth. He releases a deep moan, and weaves his hands into my hair, likely making a wreck of my ponytail. Even with him hitting the back of my throat, I can fit a hand around the base of his shaft.

I study him, memorizing each reaction and breath as I suck him deeper, run my tongue over his length, and discover how his control weakens when I run my tongue over the head. This time as I slide my mouth over him, I twist my hand, wet against his shaft from my mouth, and Grey growls. The sound feels like a prize.

I’m about to test it again when Grey’s hands slip under my arms. He hauls me up and onto the bed. “I want to finish inside of you. I need to feel you.” He brushes his fingers over me, ensuring I’m ready as he rips open a condom. He rolls it over his erection and climbs on the bed, pulling my leg across my front.

Anticipation has me holding my breath and arching my back. He slides inside slowly, the ache so sweet and good my breath leaves me with a groan. His hand around my thigh tightens as he growls, thrusting fully into me. I moan.

He’s so deep, and I’m so full, bliss surges through me. Each of his thrusts transforms my breaths, turning them into pleas and pants as I clench around him.

“Fuck, Mila,” the words drag out of him, filled with need and ecstasy, as he pins me with his gaze. His stare is more intimate than our actions. Instinct encourages me to drop my gaze and focus on the pleasure, but I don’t. I let him witness how he makes me come undone—how desperately I want him—allowing the intimacy to spike my blood and make each thrust carry me to the edge of breaking.

Grey reaches between my legs, pressing his fingers against my swollen clit, and with a final thrust, I cry out my release as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me. Grey erupts a moment later, his forehead against mine as he slowly shifts his hips, reeling through his orgasm.