NESSA

"What are you going to do during my gig?"

What a crazy, ridiculous thing to ask. Someone would literally have to drag me out of a room where Grayson was performing. I wasn't about to give up the chance to hear that kind of music. Or the opportunity to see this kind of a man playing it.

"I'm going to come listen, of course."

An unsure frown worked its way onto his face. "You don't have to."

"What else am I going to do? Sit in the room by myself?"

"Yeah, I guess." He shrugged, eyes staying on the road as we drove into Monterey. "Reading a book on the balcony with a drink in hand sounds like something you'd enjoy."

He had me there. "You're not wrong. I do want to read Anthony's book before the next season of Bridgerton comes out."

"Did you bring it with you?"

I shook my head. Reading wasn't exactly what I was thinking about when I'd packed a bag for this weekend. "No, but even if I had, it wouldn't matter. I want to hear you play."

He sucked in a breath, thumbs fiddling on the steering wheel. "Just don't expect anything too impressive."

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as we pulled into the bayside resort. I quickly took in the beachy blue siding with white trim before turning my attention back to Grayson. He never downgraded his talents. It was one of the things about him that drove me crazy and secretly turned me on all at the same time. He oozed confidence.

Not right now.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes," he admitted, sounding annoyed by it. "My right hand can't keep up with my left one no matter how much I practice." He sighed as he put the car into park. "I've been going to therapy, but the progress is so slow."

"The stroke...it was on the right side of your brain?"

He shook his head. "The left. It's the opposite. One of the last things I really remember is losing feeling in this stupid thing." He flicked his hand, taking out his irritation on his palm even though that heart of his was the real culprit. "I dropped my phone. I'd been about to—"

Grayson let his hand fall into his lap, his eyelids lowering like they suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. My pulse ticked up.

"About to what?"

He looked at me slowly, mulling over some words in his mouth. His lips looked like they couldn't decide if they should open and let the words out.

"Call you. Let you know I made it home."

Tears instantly pricked the back of my eyes, but I willed them away. I hated hearing of everything he went through when I had no idea. It destroyed me every time. But Grayson didn't need to see me cry again.

So I swallowed the urge, grabbed his hand, and spoke with as much confidence that an insecure person like me could muster.

"You blew me away the first time I heard you play, Grayson. And I know you'll do the same tonight."

For the first time since I jumped in Grayson's arms a few days ago, he looked like he might shed tears. And so I promised myself that I would never, ever get annoyed with his cockiness again. Because the self-doubt in his eyes right now was so heartbreaking and so out of character.

Eventually, he got to the point where he could give me a small smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I squeezed his hand. "If there's one thing I know about my boyfriend, it's that he's really—I mean, really—good with his hands."

The possession rolled off my tongue so smoothly. Almost like I hadn't been thinking about it night and day since Tuesday morning when he'd called me his girlfriend.

The grin that widened on Grayson's face was nearly as overtop as the way he groaned and hit the steering wheel.

"Say it again."

I laughed. "What?"

"I need to hear you say that again. Just to make sure I heard right."

His steely eyes were watching me so closely now that I almost couldn't get myself to say it. But somehow, I managed.

"If there's one thing," I said, slow and soft, "that I know about my boyfriend, it's that he's really—I mean, really—good with his hands."

I felt the heat of his smoldering eyes in every inch of my body.

"God, Nessa." Grayson looked like he could run a mile just about now, his mood meter shooting up with every second that passed. He flashed me an earth-shattering smile. "Just you wait for tonight, baby. Anything I do on that piano will only be a warm-up."

****

Our room was elegant in a sort of coastal and quaint way, like the hotel wanted luxury but the designers decided to go for charming and pedestrian. It had a downright gorgeous view of the ocean, and I could practically smell the spray of it from here. It was a dream. This whole thing was a dream.

Grayson went down to the dining room a little before he was scheduled to start performing, leaving me to get ready on my own.

I didn't often curl my hair, but I did tonight, parting it in the middle and letting it fall over my bare shoulders in loose waves. The weather was warm but breezy, the wind drifting through the window and rustling the hem of my skirt. My skin prickled beneath my black tights.

Nerves settled in the base of my stomach. This was crazy, wasn't it? I kept asking myself that because I knew it should feel crazy. But it didn't. It felt like this was exactly where I was supposed to be. In every timeline of my life, there couldn't possibly be another place I was meant to be tonight, another person I was meant to be with. It was only here, and it was only Grayson.

I supposed the crazy part was simply how long it took me to figure it out.

The piano was pushed off the side of the dining room, designed to be heard but not exactly seen. But my eyes were drawn straight there when I walked in. Grayson's fingers were definitely tapping out an easier piece than what he was typically capable of. The melody seemed to switch between both hands, but the baseline was mainly a stream of steady arpeggios while his other hand laid out chords. It was simple but elegant. Breathy and soothing. Fitting for a restaurant where the entire back wall was open to a deck lining the Pacific.

I passed a sign boasting the happy hour prices and strode over to lean against the marble counter of the bar. Everything here was crisp and clean, from the starchy aprons that the bartenders wore to their smiles as I sat down in the high chair.

Grayson's eyes connected with mine just as a drink was placed in front of me. His gaze ate me up, hot and heavy, even as he continued to play. And then he winked.

"The gentleman at the piano ordered this for you."

I ripped my eyes away from Grayson to look at the bartender. And then down at my amber-colored drink.

"How—?"

"You're Nessa, right?"

A mute nod.

"Then this is for you."

With a charming glint in his eyes, the bartender pointed to the drink. I took a cautious sip, breathing in the heady scent of rye. Whiskey with a hint of orange swirled in my mouth, and I smiled. An Old Fashioned. How the hell Grayson had gotten away with ordering this when we weren't even close to turning twenty-one, I had no idea. But I was going to savor it.

The bartender, whose name tag read Bassel, lingered on the other side of the bar. I gave him a smile. "He told you what I liked and what I looked like, huh?"

It was as if I needed Bassel to validate how perfect Grayson was. Even though I already knew.

He raised an amused brow. "Down to every last part of your outfit."

My jaw didn't quite drop, but my lips parted. Grayson hadn't even known what I was going to wear.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Well, it's perfect. Thank you."

Bassel gave me a satisfied smile and nodded before walking down the length of the bar to another customer.

I swirled the cocktail straw in the cup, letting the ice clink against the glass as I listened to Grayson play. As I watched his shoulders flex in his suit jacket. As I imagined those fingers playing something entirely different.

Desire zipped through me. Desire that I had been fighting all week as we bounced between campus and the Everett's house and even my house for dinner one night, where Dad made Klepe for Grayson, who then smiled his way into my family's heart. Kinda like he did with mine.

I worried we were doing too much. That he was doing too much. Shouldn't he be resting more? Recovering? I wasn't sure, but Grayson didn't want to hear it.

"Is this seat taken?"

A low voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see a bearded, handsome face grinning down at me. It was attached to a man who looked like he'd just gotten done with a long day of business deals and lunches with partners and talk of more money than I'd ever touch.

"No," I said, reciprocating his smile as I shook my head. "It's not."

After he sat, I returned to my drink and my man, watching Grayson over the edge of the glass as I took a sip. But business guy had other plans.

"Drinking alone tonight?"

I took an extra-long sip, giving myself a chance to think of a response as I let the whiskey burn my throat.

"No." I set the glass back down. "I'm just waiting for someone."

His smile was genuine enough as he nodded in response. But I still wasn't interested in exchanging small talk. Not when it distracted me from the reason I was here.

"Friendly advice," he said, "don't wait too long. It usually isn't worth it."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I don't know about that. I think sometimes the wait makes you realize how much it's worth it." My gaze flicked to Grayson. His eyes were focused on the music, but there was a slight crease between his brows now. I wondered if he was already getting fatigued. I frowned.

A heavy sigh came from my left, drawing my attention again. But Bassel took that moment to rescue me, swooping in to take the newcomer's order. Business guy rattled off the name of some kind of martini, and I hoped that would be the end of our conversation. But as soon as Bassel marched off, the man set his elbows up onto the bar and turned back to me.

"Can't judge you for being an optimist."

Dry laughter rolled off my tongue. "I'm not usually."

He arched his brow. "Well, that says something."

Once again, Bassel appeared, and I quickly decided he would get a good tip for his excellent timing. But this time, he wasn't looking at the guy next to me. Or at me. His eyesight was trained over my head. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I knew immediately who it belonged to.

"Just a quick water break." Grayson's smooth voice cut through the low hum of chatter in the room. He leaned past me, taking the drink that Bassel had quickly procured. After gulping down half of it, he set the glass down on the bar, loud enough that I jumped a little. "Thanks," he said with a nod of gratitude, sliding the cup back across the counter.

When he turned to me, I saw a flame, setting off the smoke in his grey eyes. He cupped my cheek slowly, palm sliding over my skin with a sensuality that made me shiver. His thumb landed on my chin, and he tilted it up. "Hi, darling."

"Hi—"

His lips crashed over mine before I could finish. They plundered and pulled the very breath from my lungs. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I had to swallow a groan, so it didn't escape. But then the kiss ended before it truly began. Ripping his mouth from mine, Grayson gave me one more kiss on the cheek before striding back toward the piano, adjusting his suit jacket a little bit as he walked.

Heat pooled between my legs, and I crossed them, squeezing tightly. Who gave Grayson Everett the permission to be so goddamn hot?

A low whistle cut through the dangerous haze floating in the air. Next to me, the businessman chuckled, sipping from his drink as he gave a little shake of his head.

"Message well received."

"What?"

He smiled into his glass. "I don't think you're going to have to wait much longer."

****

The next time Grayson walked over to me, my neighbor had vanished and so had my whiskey. I'd drained it dry. I wished I had more, though. Anything to wash down the parched feeling in my throat as my eyes took Grayson in. His strides were long and purposeful, as usual. He looked relieved to be finished with his set, unbuttoning his jacket while he walked and swiping it open as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

He needed to wear suits more often.

"Adler." His voice was rough as it found my ear. "If you keep eye-fucking me like that, we're not going to make it through dinner."

I searched his eyes, which were brimming with heat. "Who needs dinner?"

His mouth set in a stern line, deflating me. "You."

"I had a big lunch."

"No, you didn't. You had some fruit and a bowl of soup. You can't live on soup."

I cocked my head to the side. "I think technically I could."

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I decided it would be a good time to place my hand on his chest. It was such a nice chest. I hoped later I would get to see it again without clothes. Maybe even touch it. And kiss it.

The whiskey pumping in my veins seized control of my hand, but I didn't try to stop the overhaul of my body. I slid my palm lower. And lower.

Blinking up at Grayson, I gave him my very best pout. "Maybe we can order room service and eat upstairs?"

Grayson caught my wrist and leaned closer, brushing my hair out of the way so he could whisper and I could still hear it.

"If we go back to the room now, the only eating that's going to happen will be the kind that I plan on doing between your legs."

No, it simply wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he could have that much control over me with just a few words. Forget the whiskey, Grayson was at the helm of this vessel. I squeezed my legs even tighter.

"Sounds good to me."

Grayson let go of my hand and took a step back again, putting distance between us. He looked to the ceiling for a second, and when his eyes flashed back down, he held up two fingers.

"I have two possible plans for our dinner date, and I want you to pick."

I waited, trying to resist the urge to pull him back closer to me.

"I have a reservation for us here on the patio." He nodded toward the back of the restaurant where the ocean was calling. "Or else there's another place just a few miles down the road that we could check out if you wanted a change of scenery."

"Let's stay here," I said with a grin that I knew was a little bit wicked. My end goal was to get Grayson back to our room as quickly as possible, so it only made sense not to drive off down the road.

He nodded. Giddiness filled his step as he bounced off toward the hostess. I almost felt bad stopping him, but my limbs moved of their own accord, reaching out after him to grab his hand.

"Grayson, baby?" 

I bit my lip as soon as I realized what slipped out, watching as he turned around with a throaty moan. Wrapping an arm around my waist, Grayson tugged me close even though we were standing in the middle of the restaurant. "God, you're really doing things to me tonight, Adler," he said into the crook of my neck.

"I just wanted to tell you that I could listen to you play the piano for hours," I whispered.

Pulling back, Grayson smiled. "We could arrange that."

"You were amazing up there."

"There you go again." He shook his head. "Doing things to me."

I dropped my voice, careful not to be overheard. "I plan on doing a lot of things to you tonight, Wilder."

Grayson swore beneath his breath and then let go of my waist to grab my hand.

"Come on, my wild girl," he said. "Let's soak up that whiskey with a little food."

I didn't protest this time, following him with a sloppy grin on my face.

💗

Thank you for all the song suggestions!! You are all amazing. I made a spotify playlist with them since you gave me so many. My username is AmieRrrr if you'd like to check it out.

Thanks for reading!

xoxox