Toxic Girl

Chapter Fourteen

The next day, I stare at the missed calls on my phone, wondering why my sister and brother are both calling me. I send London a quick text message, asking her if everything is okay, and then head to class. It’s not unheard of for London to call me, usually when she needs something, but my brother? He never contacts me. I put my sunglasses on, and walk quickly to campus, not wanting to be late for my class. As I walk toward the building Leah, Grayson’s sister, stops me.

“Hi, Paris,” she says as she walks toward me. We haven’t really spoken before, apart from a few hellos and smiles. As petty as it may seem, Leah is Dylan’s friend, so I didn’t really see her becoming my best friend any time soon. Having said that, she seems to be a nice girl, always smiling, and I know she loves her brother a lot by the stories Grayson has told me.

“Hey, Leah, how are you?” I ask her, offering her a small smile.

She pushes her hair behind her ear. “I’m good. Just thought maybe we could hang out some time? My brother is crazy about you, and I don’t know you at all.”

She wants to hang out?

“Umm, sure,” I say, not sounding convincing even to my own ears.

She gives me a knowing look. “I’ll get your number off Grayson and send you a text.”

“Leah!” someone calls out. We both look in that direction. When I see Dylan walking over, I stifle a groan. Not someone I want to see right now… or ever.

“Hey, Dylan,” Leah says, giving me an apologetic look.

“Hey. I didn’t know you two were friends,” Dylan says, shooting a sneer in my direction.

Leah shrugs and says, “She’s dating my brother. I’d like to get to know her.”

Dylan’s face drops at that reminder. “Everyone dates your brother. You going to make friends with the whole school?”

Leah scowls. “Paris is different. He’s crazy about her.”

Dylan makes a scoffing noise. Bitch.

“Anyway, Paris, we’ll catch up soon, yeah?” Leah says, pulling the strap of her bag.

“Umm, okay,” I say, blinking slowly. “See ya.” I walk off, ignoring Dylan’s dirty looks.

Maybe Leah and I could be friends? I shake my head and head to class.

Priorities.

Grayson releases a guttural moan as he finishes. Panting, I slide off him and lie down next to him, smiling as I catch my breath. This is the first time we made love without a condom, because I’m now on the pill, and it was incredible.

“I’m getting kind of good at that,” I boast.

Grayson grunts. “More than good. You’re amazing, babe.”

I smile wider into the dim light, and then move into the crook of his arm. He turns to face me, moonlight on his face, our eyes connected. “Want to go again?” I ask into the silence.

He chuckles. “I’m going to need a minute.”

“A minute? You old man,” I joke. I squeal as he rolls on top of me, pushing me into the mattress. I love the feel of his weight on top of me.

“Old? I’ll show you old,” he says, tickling me until I scream. He rolls me so I’m lying completely on top of him.

“Is it always like this?” I ask, lifting myself up so I can see his face.

He tenderly touches my cheek with his fingers. “It’s never been like this.”

“I thought so,” I choke out. I kiss him, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling gently. I feel him grow hard again and smile into his mouth.

“You asked for it,” he growls, flipping me over and slowly sliding into me. He lifts my arms above my head and pins them down. “I think I love you, Paris O’Sullivan,” he says.

I think I love him too.

I wake up in Grayson’s arms. Wriggling, I disentangle myself and sit up, taking in the view. He’s sleeping on his side, facing me, completely nude. I’m one lucky girl; that’s for damn sure. Last night, he told me he loved me. At least he said he thought he did. Is that the same thing? Or does that mean he’s falling in love with me? I wanted to tell him that I loved him too, but I couldn’t. Until I’m free of Toxic, it wouldn’t be right for me to tell him that. When I do tell him I love him, I want it to be with no secrets between us. I devour the sight of him, unconsciously reaching out and running my fingers down his rippled abs.

“Mornin’,” he says, making me jump. I look up at his face to see his eyes wide open and on me.

“Morning,” I reply, licking my bottom lip. I look down, a little embarrassed and turned on at being caught ogling him while he slept.

“You look a little flushed,” he points out. My eyes rise to his. I roll them. His lip twitches, as he obviously takes pleasure in watching me squirm.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks, rolling onto his back and crossing his arms behind his head. “Do you?” he prompts.

“Fishing for compliments?” I ask, sitting up on my knees. My fingers caress his chest, before slowly moving down further. I trace his abs with my index finger, causing him to tense.

He sighs, closing his eyes. “That feels good.”

“I was thinking about how lucky I am to have you,” I say in a soft voice.

His eyes open. “Babe, you have no idea. Trust me when I say that I’m the lucky one.” He pulls me down next to him, and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, and lastly my lips. “I meant what I said last night.”

I open my mouth to talk but he puts his finger to my lips. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“You don’t even know everything about me,” I manage to say, my brows furrowing.

“I know that, and I’m enjoying getting to know you slowly, bit by bit,” he says, lowering the silk strap of my pyjama top.

I push my strap back up, narrowing my eyes. “Yeah, you know me like that don’t you?”

His body shakes as he chuckles. “I know you. Not fully yet, but enough. I know that for some reason you hate the colour white, even though your hair is almost that colour and is fucking beautiful. Your favourite colour is blue. Like your eyes, which are also mesmerizing and fucking beautiful. You don’t like to talk about yourself. Learning things about you is like pulling teeth, but you have a good heart. You’re kind, smart, and witty. And the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

He’s right. I hate white, because that’s what they usually make me wear as Snow.

“I know you make this little mewling moaning sound when you’re about to come,” he says, running his hand over my chest. “Want me to prove it?” he asks.

I cradle his cheek with my hand, his tanned skin against my pale. He is all dark, whereas I’m all light. The contrast is beautiful.

“How about I show you how much I know about you?” I purr, undressing and throwing my clothes onto the floor.

“I think I’d like that,” he says, his eyes on my body.

“Okay. After you make me breakfast,” I say, grinning and walking out of the room.

He chases after me into the kitchen, makes love to me on the floor, and then makes me breakfast.

Priorities.