Into You Series: The Complete Collection

31. Grace

CHAPTER 31

GRACE

“ T wirl for me again.”

“Don’t be such a pig,” I say.

“Please,” Cameron begs, bending a little at the waist in prayer. How am I supposed to say no to that? I spin in a circle with my hands raised above my head, my shirt lifting to expose my backside and cheeky underwear.

“That visual should last me until at least tomorrow,” he says, pulling me toward him. He kisses me, and I melt like butter in his arms.

Cameron is at my open door, standing in the threshold. A part of me wonders if neighbors can see us, but the other part is a willing prisoner in his grasp.

Over the past weekend, we’ve been wrapped up in each other. I’m still reeling from Saturday morning when his head was buried between my legs as we attempted to watch some movie I don’t even remember. I do remember that orgasm, though.

Unfortunately, tomorrow is Monday which also means it’s a workday and our joy ride will come to a record-scratching halt.

A smirk stays nestled behind his beard, and his eyes practically bore into mine. Just his gaze turns my legs to jelly. I have the sudden image of him taking me again—maybe on a piano Pretty Woman style—but it’s getting late and, hey, we’re responsible adults that don’t even own a piano.

I’ve considered the concept of responsibility this weekend—how what we’re doing is irresponsible and how I almost feel like I’ve doomed my career to hell. But when I rolled over this morning to see him sleeping beside me, his arm laid over my waist, I couldn’t help but think that the risk may have been worth it.

Is it possible to have both? Can we hide this mess we’ve gotten in and still maintain professionalism?

I want Cameron. I like him. I know for a fact that I’ve started to fall for him. But I also want my future in design secured.

I hold out my pinky.

“Oh boy, this again,” he says with an eye roll and a smile.

“Pinky promise this doesn’t affect our working relationship,” I say.

He laughs. “Holmes, I think we’re a bit past that.”

“I’m serious, Kaufman ,” I insist. He edges toward me, placing a hand on my hip. I lean into his touch but try to maintain my resolve. “I don’t want favoritism or more opportunities with clients or whatever. I want to succeed on my own merit.”

He grins, exposing both dimples.

“Okay,” he agrees, tilting his head to the ground and running his hand along the hem of my t-shirt. “Boss Cameron and Employee Grace. Got it.”

“Well,” I muse. “I like using the word ‘boss’ in non-workplace appropriate ways, so maybe not that.”

His eyebrows raise almost up to his hairline, and his other hand trails along my spine. It’s like a volcano erupting across every single bone, deepening as the sensation travels into my thighs.

“Say it again for me,” he whispers, his voice low and gruff, demanding more.

I want more.

No, we have work tomorrow. He’s had a hold on me all weekend, and we have responsibilities. Right. Like adults. Sure.

I don’t even believe myself.

I back up, extending my pinky out. “Focus. What we do here stays here. Outside of work. Just in this complex.”

His eyes scan across my entire body, pausing at my exposed panties and again at the low-cut V-neck that’s close to exposing my braless chest.

He smiles. “Deal.”

We tie our fingers in agreement and part ways, but not before he plants one more kiss on my lips.

I close the door behind him and exhale. It feels like an exhale I’ve been holding in all weekend, and I’m so exhausted that a bubble bath seems necessary. Anything to relax. I can only imagine how irresistible Cameron will be on Monday when I can’t reach out and touch him, mess up his hair, and feel the strength of his arms around me.

I bet he’ll be wearing a fancy suit too. That jerk.

I turn on the faucet in my bathroom, pour some Epsom salt bubble mix into the water—because boy am I going to be sore—and walk back into my bedroom to exchange my Cameron-scented clothes for something that won’t drive me crazy through the night.

I knew it would be like this once we were both aware of our shared apartment complex. It’s too easy to think that I could simply walk over there at any moment and demand more of him. He would probably oblige with no objections, too.

But, no, don’t think about that.

I’m filling up a bath. I’m gathering myself for the week ahead. I need to concentrate. Until five o’clock, he is Boss Cameron— and not the Boss Cameron that orders me around in a fun way, either.

On my dresser, my phone lights up with a new text. I hadn’t thought to check that all weekend. My stomach flips when I see “Cameron Sex God” pop up as the sender. Hah, he must have changed his contact when I was in the bathroom at some point. I never bothered to set up a lock on my phone. I always figured I had nothing to hide … But now I do have a dirty little secret, I guess.

Cameron Sex God: I can see your light on. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?

Grace: Why are you looking in my window, weirdo? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, too?

Cameron Sex God: I’m taking Buddy for a walk. I figured I’d see if the hot redhead across the street accidentally left her blinds open while she was changing. Sadly not.

Grace: You’re distracting me from pretending Cameron Sex God doesn’t exist.

Cameron Sex God: Haha, I think the new title is fitting. Much less stuffy than “Boss Cameron.” Plus, I thought we agreed that Boss Cameron was what you called me when you were incredibly happy?

Grace: Define happiness.

Cameron Sex God: Begging for more orgasms?

Grace: Goodnight, Cameron.

Cameron Sex God: See you tomorrow, Holmes.

Although it admittedly kills me to do so, I change his name back to Cameron Kaufman on my phone. God forbid the nickname were to pop up at work.

I look at my full page of texts and notice that Ramona has texted me upward of ten times, stopping the barrage once to call and leave a voicemail. I skim the first few texts and they all say about the same thing: Cameron is your boss?!

Oh, right. Ramona connected the dots between Cameron and “hot boss” right when Ian opened his mouth at Cajun chicken night. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything while we were there, but I should have expected calls or texts on the matter. It’d be cruel not to text her back, but I’m not even sure I want to reveal this weekend. I almost want it to just be between us—just Cameron and me. Our secret.

I end up dialing her up anyway, pressing the phone against my ear. She answers within a few rings already screaming.

“No wonder you had trouble focusing at work!” she yells. “My God, Grace, I’m pretty sure he could be a model!”

“Yep, I’m still in the room.” Wes’s voice comes through the line, and he’s much less excited than Ramona.

“You know you don’t have to yell on the phone, right?” I say, which she ignores.

“I saw the way you guys were talking during the movie.”

“I knew you were distracted …” Wes mumbles.

“Something totally happened afterward, didn’t it?” Ramona squeals. “You went home with him!”

“No, I didn’t,” I lie. “The best thing that came from that night was that now things aren’t as awkward.”

“‘Aren’t as awkward?’”

Well … try more awkward than ever. But at least it will be a good awkward.

Is that a thing?

“Good. Maybe work will be easier,” Wes says, but Ramona’s already screaming.

“Girl! There. Is. A. Connection!” Her hand hits the counter with each syllable. She doesn’t know the half of it.

I want to tell her. I want to scream from the top of this complex that Cameron was right: He is an absolute sex god. But he would get too much satisfaction from that, and I couldn’t handle his smug grin—or the police report when I get arrested for climbing to the top of an apartment complex and yelling at two in the morning.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Wes says, interjecting into his wife’s hysteria. “I do like the guy, but the same issue remains. It’s work. Don’t dip your pen in company ink. Or … I guess it’s his pen?”

“We use tablets.”

“You get my point.”

“Can I keep inviting him over?” Ramona asks, giddy with excitement. “He’s Ian’s best friend, you’re my best friend … it’s a connection from heaven.”

“Ray, honey, are you even hearing yourself?” Wes asks.

“Office romance can be hot!” she says, and I can hear small kisses being exchanged between the two.

Oh god, I really hope I didn’t just accidentally spark some new kink in their relationship.

“Okay, well, I was just returning your call and thousand texts,” I say, eyeing my now nearly full bathtub.

“Is that running water?” Ramona asks. “Is he over? Are you guys going to have hot bathroom sex?”

“Anddd I’m hanging up now.”

I press the button as she is mid-scream saying something about bubbles.

I settle into the water, letting the heat overtake me. I make a mental note about Ramona’s bath suggestion, and then let myself drift off, reliving every moment from this weekend and praying for Friday to come once again.