They sat side by side at the kitchen island, the warm scent of eggs and toast filling the air between them. Olivia's towel had been traded for one of Grayson's oversized hoodies soft and cozy, sleeves hanging off her wrists. She looked completely at ease, legs tucked beneath her as she devoured her breakfast with clear appreciation.
Grayson leaned on the counter, sipping his coffee, watching her laugh through a mouthful of toast as he teased her about how she "inhaled" her food.
"Okay," she said, playfully glaring at him, "you just cooked like a Michelin chef at 7 a.m. after two rounds of sex. I think I'm allowed to be impressed."
"I'm just trying to keep up with you." His eyes crinkled with a lazy grin. "But honestly, I was thinking... I'd love nothing more today than to get to know more about you. Your body, sure..." he let his gaze slide deliberately over her in that slow, appreciative way that made her insides melt, "but your mind too. I want to spend the day just... being with you."
Olivia smiled around a bite, swallowing before she spoke. "That sounds tempting, but first I need to change clothes. And I've got a few things I want to check out while I'm in the city."
He lifted a brow. "Prey tell, what sort of mysterious errands does my little fox have in New York?"
"Mister Nosy," she teased, "since you asked I'm planning to check out a few bookstores and antique shops."
Grayson leaned back on his stool, something flickering behind his eyes. "That's really interesting."
She narrowed her gaze. "What is?"
He tapped his fingers lightly against the countertop, thoughtful. "When I was trying to find you in Chicago…" He paused, smiling faintly at the memory, "you were in several different areas—places surrounding antique stores, independent bookstores."
Olivia nodded slowly. "Yeah... I was looking for items."
He leaned in, tone softer but more direct. "But why, Olivia?"
His eyes locked on hers, intense but not demanding just open, searching. Waiting.
She took a breath. Part of her wanted to sidestep it, keep it light. Flirt it away with a smirk or a witty dodge. But something in his gaze unflinching, sincere held her in place.
Did she want to let him in this far?
Her pulse ticked in her throat. She could lie. Or dodge. Or deflect. But after last night the things she told him, the way he held her in the quiet afterward playtime felt over. This man had seen her body at its most bare and now... he was asking for her heart with that same gentle intensity.
She bit her lip and looked away for a second, then back at him. "Hey…" he said softly, sensing the shift in her expression. "Don't feel obligated to tell me anything you're not ready to, little fox."
He reached across the island, brushing his fingers over hers. "I want to know everything about you. But I want you to be willing to give it to me... like you give your body to me."
The words hit her harder than she expected. Her breath caught. Her cheeks flushed.
That's what this was about, wasn't it? She had given him her body so freely. It had felt easy natural, like breathing. But her heart? That was harder. She'd guarded it fiercely since...she shook the thought off.
She'd promised herself to live day by day. To make each one her own. Not let the ghosts of Asshat's past waste another moment of her time.
And yet, here she was, stalled in front of something real.
She looked into his hazel eyes, took another breath, and said softly, "I'm sorry, Grayson. You're right. I do trust you."
He didn't move and just watched her with quiet focus.
She continued. "A few weeks ago… my apartment complex had a massive pipe burst. Several units were flooded, including mine. I'm not on the top floor, but close to the main water lines. Everything in my apartment... was ruined."
Grayson's brow furrowed, his coffee mug forgotten.
"My books, pictures... rugs. So many of the things I collected over the years things from all my travels...they're gone." Her voice cracked, and to her surprise, her eyes welled up.
She hadn't cried when it happened. She hadn't let herself. She'd been too numb, too focused on fixing what could be fixed.
But now… in the warm safety of Grayson's kitchen, wrapped in his hoodie and surrounded by comfort she hadn't realized she missed, the weight of it all broke through.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
Grayson was out of his stool in a second. He came around the island and pulled her into his arms without hesitation.
Olivia didn't even realize how badly she needed the embrace until she was in it. His hands stroked her back. One anchored at her waist, the other curled protectively around her shoulders.
"I didn't cry then," she whispered against his chest. "I saw it all wet, ruined, and I just... started making calls. Started over."
Grayson held her tighter.
"But the photos… old ones, travel ones, some I never backed up digitally... those hit me the hardest."
He kissed the top of her head. "I'm so sorry, Liv."
She nodded into his chest, not even trying to pull away. Not now. Not when his embrace felt like safety wrapped in skin.
"I was going to try to replace things slowly," she said. "Not to recreate what I had, but just... little things. One piece at a time. I guess that's why I've been popping into bookstores and antique shops. They feel like little treasure hunts."
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his thumb brushing under her eye. "You didn't have to tell me that. But you did. Thank you."
She gave a small, watery smile. "I guess I'm giving you my mind now, too."
He smiled back, soft and real. "Best gift I've had in a long damn time."
Grayson still had his arms wrapped around her when he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes again. His expression had softened, but now there was a glimmer of something playful hiding behind it.
"So…" he started, drawing it out.
Olivia raised a brow, wiping under her eye with her thumb. "So?"
He gave her the look that hopeful, wide-eyed, irresistible face she was starting to realize he knew exactly how to use.
"I was thinking," he said slowly, "maybe I could tag along with you today?"
"Tag along?" she echoed, amused.
He nodded, eyes bright and a little too innocent. "Just as a supportive presence. You know... offer a second opinion when you're deciding between dusty old books and haunted-looking candlesticks."
Olivia laughed, the sound breaking through the last bit of heaviness that lingered in the air. "Are you giving me puppy eyes right now?"
Grayson didn't deny it. He just tilted his head a little more dramatically and widened his eyes, the picture of ridiculous charm. "Maybe."
She stared at him for a beat, then giggled and shook her head. "God help me, you're impossible to say no to."
"So that's a yes?" he asked, grin already stretching wide.
"It's a yes," she said, tapping his chest. "But only because I think you might pout otherwise."
He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. "I absolutely would have."
"I need to stop at my hotel first," she added, pulling back gently. "I need to change into something that doesn't scream 'I just had shower sex and stole someone's hoodie.'"
Grayson looked mock offended. "First of all, you look hot in my hoodie. Like dangerously hot. Like please steal it permanently hot."
She snorted. "I can't walk into an antique shop in bare legs and wet hair."
He folded his arms, pretending to think it over. "I mean… you could. But I suppose I'd prefer not having to punch a group of bookstore creeps for checking you out."
"Oh, look at you being territorial," she teased, already moving toward her purse.
"I'm a Leo," he said with a grin. "It's in the contract."
She shook her head, reaching for her phone. "Let me call the front desk and see if my room's ready. I didn't check in officially last night."
Grayson crossed the kitchen and poured a fresh cup of coffee on each of them. "Cool. I'll get dressed and prep for a full day of vintage treasure hunting with my beautiful, badass girl."
Olivia paused, the words catching her for a second. My girl.
He didn't say it with pressure. Just casually. Like it was already written in the margins.
She smiled to herself, heart skipping, and turned to make the call.
Hyatt Grand Central New York
The space was quiet and serene, filled with sleek mid-century accents and floor-to-ceiling windows offering sweeping views of the city below. The Commodore Lounge was known for its subtle elegance, and Olivia had chosen the suite intentionally, somewhere private, beautiful, and calm enough to collect her thoughts after chaos. She needed that.
She stood at the edge of her open suitcase, towel-clad from her second shower, sifting through clothing with practiced efficiency. A soft white robe hung loosely off her shoulders as she mentally assembled her outfit.
Grayson, freshly dressed, sat sprawled on the pillowy lounge across from her, legs crossed, looking every bit the smug bastard he knew he was. The grey turtleneck hugged him in all the right ways, paired with sleek black slacks and a long black trench coat that made him look like he walked straight out of a high-end fashion spread. His arms rested over a couple of the bed pillows on his lap, mostly because he was watching her far too intently.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked, patting the pillows around in front of him and raising an amused brow.
"Absolutely," Olivia said, planting her hands on her hips. "If I don't get dressed and start my day, we'd stay in this room... and I'd get nothing accomplished."
Grayson tilted his head. "Not saying I'd mind."
"I do enjoy you, big boy," she teased, "but I have other things on my agenda."
"Oh," he said, winking. "So I'm on the agenda?"
She smirked. "Uh, shut up... maybe. Let me get dressed, and we'll see if you make the final cut."
And with no shame, why would she? Olivia untied her robe and let it fall to the floor. She stood confidently in a light satin blue bra and matching panties, her skin still warm from the shower. Grayson's jaw locked. The pillow in his lap wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"Little fox…" he said, voice gravelly.
She grinned. "I'm getting dressed as quickly as possible. Patience, wolf."
She pulled on a fitted sky-blue turtleneck and paired it with dark navy flared slacks that hugged her hips just right. Sliding into nude heels, she walked into the bathroom, ran the blow dryer through her hair a few times, and coaxed her thick chestnut waves into soft curls that tumbled over her back.
When she returned, she buttoned up a stunning double-breasted white coat with black trim. Her entire look was crisp, stylish, and powerful.
Grayson was still holding the pillow, blinking slowly like he was trying to remember how to breathe.
"Well?" she asked, tossing her purse strap over her shoulder. "You ready, or are you going to sit there all day drooling?"
He cleared his throat, thudding all the pillows aside, and stood. "Outstanding," he said, his voice still a bit husky. Simply outstanding, little fox."
He crossed the space in two steps, tugged her gently into his arms, and kissed her feverishly. His hand slipped into her hair, and the other pulled her flush against him. Her lips parted for him instinctively, their tongues meeting, dancing, devouring. He tasted like mint and skin and something unmistakably him.
She moaned softly, her fingers gripping the lapel of his coat, pressing him closer. It was always hot with them. Always explosive. She couldn't get enough. Her body lit up like it had been waiting for his touch since the last one ended.
But before it could spiral out of control again, Grayson pulled back breathing hard, his eyes hooded and hungry.
"I couldn't resist you anymore," he said, his voice raw. "But you have plans. I won't let you lose the day."
She exhaled, head falling gently to his chest for a moment. "Thank you. I think," she said with a breathless laugh.
Grayson smiled and excused himself to the bathroom.
Olivia crossed the room, grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-bar, sipping slowly as her heartbeat began to settle. That man was dangerous. But she couldn't stop herself.
Sitting on the bed's edge, she heard his phone ring. She didn't mean to listen.
But she heard the tone of his voice shift. Not sexy. Not playful. Tense.
She moved closer to the cracked bathroom door.
Grayson (low, clipped): What do you want? I told you I'd be there. I said I would—I just have to go home first.
There was a pause. Olivia's breath caught.
Grayson: There's been some new situation lately, so I don't know what to tell you.
Another pause. A sigh.
Grayson: I don't feel I need to discuss the problem with you right now.
Grayson: I can't promise I'll be the person you're looking for.
Then, quieter:
Grayson: I know you're hoping I'll be the hero. But I'm not that guy not in this scenario.
A beat.
Grayson: Stop. Stop, okay? I've made up my mind. I'll go, I'll say what I need to say, and when I leave, that's it.
His voice dropped even more.
Grayson: Look, I have something I need to do right now. I don't have time to keep talking.
Grayson (frustrated): You're ridiculous.
Click.
Olivia stepped back quickly and returned to her suitcase, pretending to zip it up just as the bathroom door opened.
Grayson walked out, his expression composed but not quite as relaxed as before. There was something in his eyes still warm, still him but... clouded. Focused elsewhere.
She looked at him momentarily, then gave him a soft smile, forcing the heaviness from her shoulders.
"Shall we go, then?"
He blinked as if surprised by her tone, then nodded and walked toward her. Without saying a word, he reached for her hand.
She let him take it.
They had plans.
Plans to spend the day together. And for now... that was enough.
Because tomorrow, they'd go in different directions. Neither of them had said it aloud. Neither had confessed their exits.
Maybe they were afraid that if they did, the bubble they were in the strange, perfect little space of this would pop too soon.
And neither of them was quite ready to let it go.