“Jesus Christ. Is everything okay in there?” The mysterious elevator voice was growing more desperate. Suddenly, the elevator began to shift, descending toward the lobby.

Sydney and I stayed forehead to forehead, panting into each other’s mouths. When I finally lowered her to the ground, I pulled off my T-shirt so she could use it clean up. Both our chests continued to heave wildly as the tension we’d built up over the last six weeks—hell, the last two years—left our bodies.

She pulled down her skirt, grabbed her torn underwear off the floor, and picked up her bag. I pulled up my boxers and sweats. We both stared at one another with no words to describe what just happened. That wasn’t true. I could think of one: life-changing.

“Well?” Grabbing Sydney’s hips, I pushed her back against the wall. “Can you walk?”

When I lowered my head to hers, the elevator doors slid open, but our eyes never wavered from each other’s. Sydney answered my question by meeting my swollen lips with hers, and I leaned my forearm above her head, taking hungry swallows of her tongue.

“Ahem.” A security guard standing outside the elevator cleared his throat. He tapped the wall with his flashlight, hoping the sound would tear us apart.

Sydney reluctantly ripped her mouth from mine and slumped against the wall, catching her breath. Lifting a finger toward the elevator panel, she rasped out, “You guys should really do your maintenance on these things.” With a hitch in her step, she made her way outside elevator.

The guard’s suspicious glare hovered over both of us, and he lifted his walkie-talkie from its holster.

“I mean, the last checkup was two years ago? I should call the fire department. I’m pretty sure that’s a violation.”

No sooner had she said those words than he dropped the talkie. He stepped inside and studied the written log. I stood, dumbfounded and half naked, waiting for Sydney to take off running.

“You gonna stay in there all night?” She arched an eyebrow at me, fixing her messy bun.

I smiled and picked up my T-shirt. “Going up?” I asked the guard and then slammed the top floor button, running out just as the doors closed.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Warm water slid down my body, mixing with Gray’s soap.

I was careful scrubbing over every swollen, aching part of me, but it was worth every second. I’d go back to that elevator so fast your head would spin. Gray’s hands roaming my body. The feel of this tongue slipping against mine. The sound of his groans against my neck. All things that made every sharp thrust against a metal elevator wall worth it.

But God I was scared. Katharine DeSonna (confirmed dream wrecker) knew about Sunday Lane. She knew about my thoughtless nickname for Allison—shallow puddle. She knew about me. And from her murderous glares at Gray’s party, it was now evident she was going to hand me my ass on a platter. Worse yet, she was going to hand it to Northern.

Shit.

I should be out hunting her down, not standing in the doghouse shower, but as much as I feared the imminent death of Sunday Lane, I couldn’t run from Gray.

I won’t run from Gray.

After what he said outside the elevator… how he wanted me… how I left without explanation... and all he wanted was a chance. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I wanted it too, and if we had any hope to right our wrongs, I couldn’t leave him again.

“Can I come in?” Gray’s timid voice floated around the shower curtain. “I mean, I’ll sit on the toilet while you shower. Not get inside with you.”

“Isn’t there another bathroom you can do that in? Gross,” I teased, waiting for him to burst through the curtain and take me up against the wall.

“What?” He was quiet for a second while his brain caught up to me. “No. I just want to talk to you… I’m not… Jesus, Sydney.”

Feeling a bit disappointed, I kept scrubbing myself as my mind drifted to Jack (no, I don’t think about Jack when I shower, or pee, usually), and naturally my obsessive mind fell back on Katharine. Why hadn’t she revealed Sunday Lane’s identity? I needed dirt on Katharine, and Gray knew the most about her, but I’d feel guilty using him. I’m not used to feeling remorse, but over the last few weeks Katharine had given me a crash course on the subject, and now my words were coming back to haunt me.

No, I refuse to use Gray. We were trying to start fresh. No more lies.

“No more lies, right, Gray?” I felt the words come out without thinking. His trust, along with his erroneously labeled micro-dick, was all I wanted. “No more lies between us.”

When he didn’t respond, I pulled the shower curtain an inch. Gray was sitting on the closed toilet seat with his elbows resting on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

“Gray?”

His eyes flashed to mine, and he gave me a small smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear over the water.” He stood and grabbed a towel from the cupboard. “Here’s a towel when you’re ready. We can still go out if you want. Or I can make you something to eat.”

I reached out an arm, grabbing the towel, and turned off the water. Gray turned his head as I stepped out onto the mat.

“You don’t want to see me?” I said, feeling a little sting of rejection.

“I’m just trying to give you some space,” he responded, eyes shut tight. “I mean, trust me. I want to badly, but I don’t want to offend you.”

Another wave of disappointment hit me as I dried off my hair. Ambushing me in the bathroom wasn’t giving me space. “So you’re going to say something offensive?”

He shook his head, eyes still shut to tight slits. “No. God, you’re twisting my words again.” Gray finally turned his head toward me, and I let the towel drop to the ground. He scanned my wet body and drew in a long breath. “So we can eat or we can go to my bedroom. My choice is the latter, but you know.”

I picked up the towel and swatted him on the butt. “Well, it’s nice to know I have that effect even if I’m not a supermodel,” I teased, wrapping it around my body.

Gray’s eyes darkened listening to my words. “Sydney Porter, you are beautiful. You’re perfect. Stop fishing for compliments.”

Dropping my jaw dramatically, I pushed him back on the toilet seat. “Gray Peters.” I mocked his voice. “I was not fishing for compliments.” I straddled him, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. “But I will take constructive criticism. I mean, look at you. It pains me to say this, but you’re like a demigod strutting around campus. Of course I’m going to feel a little self-conscious.”

He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “My only advice to you is to always wear those baggy clothes and ugly hats.” I swatted him in the arm, and he smirked. “That way I’m the only one who knows there’s a sexy woman underneath. And don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll be done with football and have a beer gut like my dad. You’ll see.”

Was my head in the oven? Because my face was beginning to roast.

Gray was hinting of a future together.

“No, I won’t see.” I leaned closer to him and ran my mouth along his neck. “Because I’ll make sure you work out every night.” He grabbed my ass and squeezed, letting out a soft groan. “Maybe even double-drills, twice a day.”

Gray pulled his hands underneath my towel, swiping his fingers over my wet, swollen skin. Giving me an arrogant smile. “Double-drills twice a day, huh? By my calculation, we’re up for round two.”

“As long as you call me Coach Samuels,” I whispered as seductively as I could into his satellite dish ear. I could barely finish my sentence before I started laughing.

“Syyyyddnneeeey,” he growled, lifting me off his soaked sweats. A look of disgust swept over him, but it quickly ended in a sly grin. “Let’s go, Coach.”