The muscles in his forearm popping in the most erotic way imaginable.

Watching him is hypnotizing. And fun. Who knew Greyson Montgomery was capable of enjoying himself? His obvious ease and excitement is infectious. I could sit here and watch him forever. I never in a million years would’ve guessed he’d be so good at making me feel comfortable and at home. Least of all in the vast expanse of his bachelor pad.

But that’s exactly how I feel. At home. The savory-starch scent of a homemade meal in the oven warming the kitchen. Good wine in hand. Cozy clothes. The delicious enigma of a man I have all evening to contemplate and ogle.

Rain outside. Warm inside.

Again. Not where I expected to end up. Not in a million years.

But if I’m being honest? I’m not sure there’s anywhere else I’d rather be right now.

Which scares me.

And also makes me feel happier than I have in a long, long time.

Chapter Fourteen

Julia

Greyson lifts an enormous pot out of the oven and sets it on the range. The delicious smell of home-cooked goodness intensifies.

I can’t help but check out his butt in those tight joggers.

I really like him in fitted pants. Really like him.

“Let me help,” I say, standing.

He shoots me a look over his shoulder. “I got this—sit. Do you prefer breast, thigh, or drumstick?”

“Breast, please.”

“Gotta ask, is it too early for boob innuendos?”

I grin. “Never.”

“Good. Because I have a real appreciation for the breasts. So tender.”

“Satisfying.”

“Big. A nice handful.”

I hold up my cupped hand, pretending to weigh one. “Bet yours are gorgeous.”

“Not as gorgeous as yours.”

Wrong that I’m smiling and blushing and preening at his terrible tit joke?

“You noticed.”

“I’ve stroked many things of yours,” he shoots my line back at me, grinning. “But I’m sorry to say your ego ain’t gonna be one of ’em, sweetheart.”

I bite my lip.

My God, this guy is Christian Grey-ing me. The meal, the muscles, the dirty mouth.

I like it when he calls me sweetheart.

The memory hits me out of nowhere. Greyson yanking down the neck of my dress. Leaning in and taking my nipple in his mouth, sucking it to a hard, hot point through the transparent fabric of my bra.

Arousal spikes through my center.

I never let him kiss my mouth. Felt too intimate for the kind of sex we had. But he sure as hell kissed me everywhere else. The heat of his mouth against my skin—

Makes me shiver, even now.

“You okay?” Greyson’s brow is furrowed as he sets a plate in front of me. “Is it too cold in here?”

The food smells so good.

He looks so damn good.

I am suddenly so, so turned on. By his sweats and his sweetness.

“Fine,” I say. “I’m fine.”

On fire, but fine.

He sits on the stool beside me, and we dig in.