16. Delilah

Chapter 16

Delilah

I throw myself into work for the rest of the week, happy to be in the throng of something comforting, something familiar.

The nervous butterflies in my stomach continue to pester me, but they're full on causing a riot by the time I step out of the shower on Saturday morning, freshly washed, moisturised and shaved. Date ready.

Just in case – I like to be prepared.

It's almost one by the time I've finished applying a light coat of makeup to my face, taming my curls with some serum, and securing them with a claw clip in a half up, half down style.

For how long my curls will last, I have no clue, seeing as outside the rain is flying down from the heavy clouds, soaking everything in its wake until the concrete pavement below has taken on a darker colour. It's impossible to even see the skyline, the tips of the tallest buildings visible, but only if you know where to look for them.

Usually, weather like this makes me tired, sluggish almost. Practically hibernating, I'll typically brew myself a cup of tea, pick up a book and curl up in my reading nook, whistling the hours away.

But I can't sit still today even if I wanted too.

Anticipatory energy running rampant through me, I head to my wardrobe, plucking out a cream-coloured maxi dress, which highlights my smooth decolletage and clings to my large bust, cinched in waist and rounded hips. Paired with some gold jewellery, my black and white trainers and a lightweight chocolate brown cardigan to ward off the chill, I'm ready to go.

Grey knocks on my door at exactly one, standing in the hallway, wearing a dapper pair of tailored black slacks and a white button down. I grip the edge of the door, so I don't fall down at the sheer sight of him.

"Hi."

"Hey, yourself." He grins, both dimples popping, and then pushes a small bouquet of red and pink roses towards me. "For you."

Heart stuttering, I gather the flowers from him, rising up on my tiptoes to wrap my arm around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. It feels wrong to kiss him on the cheek after everything we've already done together, so I settle for a quick peck on his soft lips, feeling the slightly damp fringe of his hair, from the rain outside, tickle my forehead as Grey leans down.

He smells amazing, minty and masculine, but there's a part of me that misses the chlorine scent which typically permeates his skin.

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me just put these in some water."

Grey waits while I find a vase, filling it with water and stuffing the flowers inside. I lock up, throwing my keys into my small cream handbag, and then descend the stairs, trying not to let my thoughts run wild.

It's not that I don't feel safe with Grey, far from it. Or that I don't want to be here, I do. It's just the never-ending sea of what-ifs my brain creates, which is causing me to feel—

Long fingers loop themselves through mine, our synced footsteps clattering down the stairs of my apartment building. Grey squeezes, once and then twice, until I'm peering over at him. "Don't overthink it."

Curls bouncing about my face, I nod, lips pressing together to smooth out my lip gloss before I speak. "Are you enjoying the book–wait–where are you going?"

Instead of turning left to head towards the nearest tube station, Grey pulls me in the other direction, urging me towards a black car.

"I hope you don't mind." He holds open the backdoor open, rain spitting down on both of us as I stare up at him confused. "I thought this way we wouldn't get soaked from the rain."

"I-is this your car?"

"No."

"Did you hire it out?"

"Sort of."

"Did—" The rain only seems to be coming down heavier, so I shut up, folding myself into the spacious backseat and making room for Grey to follow me inside. Tinted windows welcome me, with black leather upholstery and enough room to fit six more people.

Taking the seat beside me, Grey straps himself in, before directing the driver to the museum. With the car engine thrumming beneath us, I mimic Grey's movements, attempting to sit back and relax no matter how strange it feels to be riding in a private car instead of my usual public transport.

"You okay?"

I stretch out my legs, falling into the warmth of Grey's solid body beside me. "Yeah… this is nice."

His hand descends over my thigh, fingertips beginning to trace random patterns. "It is, isn't it? Weatherproof, too."

I crack open the window a tad while we whizz through traffic. Outside, the air smells distinctly of something metallic. A frosty opaque film seems to have draped itself over the city, a reminder of how fast the weather can turn. Another couple of blissful months left, and this type of weather will be a daily occurrence up and down the UK.

Our private car takes us right up to the entrance of the museum, allowing only a few fat droplets to burst on my skin as we step out of the car, quickly ducking inside the gothic building. Through the double doors, beneath the stone arches of the museum, I wipe the wet soles of my trainers on the supplied foyer mat, printed with a large, conjoining V Grey asking questions, simply because he wants to get to know me. Except, my answers are never, ever going to be that simple.

The wound inside my stomach slices open, stinging painfully, emotions bubbling out. I desperately attempt to shove the emotions back inside, but it feels like a layer of my skin has been shaven off, leaving me open and vulnerable.

Shying away, I go to unravel my fingers from Grey's, but he holds on. "Sorry, that was very personal of me to ask, Delilah. You don't have to answer, I—"

"No-no, it's okay."

It's not really, but I remember what it was like to be truly okay once, so I do my best impression of that.

Tearing my gaze away from my shoes, I settle on Grey's green eyes, finding a warmth there I wished to bathe in. There's a type of energy constantly radiating from Grey; a steady, safe, kind energy.

I wouldn't mind drowning in it.

"I-I don't think I was read to as a child, I found my love of reading at school." My truth pours out of me, out of the open wound I can't staunch. Something about Grey has me opening up to him, revealing parts of myself, which I promised to myself I wouldn't do… but I can't stop. I can't fucking stop my lips from moving, even if my brain warns me not to, internally screaming with terror. It's like staring into a midnight black, endless chasm, and being unable to stop yourself from pitching over the edge and freefalling.

"Mum and Dad…" I stutter over that word, not used to saying it. "They were toxic for each other. I spent most of my childhood listening to them fight and argue and… Aurelia and I were loved, don't get me wrong. By our mum at least, but… Dad left when I was thirteen, just upped and never came back with no real reason. Mum tried her best, still does, but it's not… it doesn't ever feel organic. More forced. I don't think being maternal, if that's even the right word, has ever come naturally to her. "

"Are you close to her?" Grey asks.

I shake my head. "Not really."

"And your dad…"

"I never heard from him again. Not a sorry, a birthday card, a Christmas card. Nothing."

Warm arms band around me, pulling me into his solid body and holding me there. With my cheek pressed up against his chest like this, I can hear the rhythm and each tick of Grey's heartbeat. It's oddly soothing, even when he speaks and his voice rumbles through me.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Delilah. I'm really sorry."

"Don't be." I inhale his comforting minty aftershave. "I should be the one apologising for dumping the start of my-my issues on you."

"Is this why you don't date? Because you're afraid to trust someone only for them to leave and—"

"You're too perceptive for your own good, Grey Millen."

He pulls back to peer down at me. "Am I correct?"

I nod, unable to actually say the words. "That, and my ex was a total arse and proved me and my trust issues right."

"Can I ask what happened between the two of you?"

"We started dating quite young, sixteen or so. He played rugby, wanted to play professionally, and got signed up for a team when he was seventeen. It didn't faze me. I enjoyed my studies, was working hard to get into publishing and I was happy for him when his dream started coming true. At nineteen he was picked up by another team and the ball started rolling. All of a sudden Daniel was in the tabloids, showcasing his talent on the field. I still didn't mind. He was my boyfriend, I wanted him to be happy, to achieve his dreams. But then all of a sudden, the media started writing about me as well as Daniel. They took pictures of us together, stole photos from my social media and tore me apart, all while putting Daniel on some sort of pedestal. They ripped into the way I looked, the way I dressed, my weight , the career I was working so hard to achieve. It tore me down; it tore Daniel and I apart. He never stood up for me, never corrected the press when they printed a lie or were derogatory towards me and… then he broke my trust just as Dad had done when I was a little girl. Photos were leaked of Daniel leaving hotels and pubs with other girls. He never corrected, nor denied those allegations either, I guess because at least those pictures were telling the truth."

Grey's face falls for a spilt second. If I hadn't been watching for his reaction so intently, I think I might have missed it. "Oh."

I flatten my lips into a straight line, suddenly extremely drained from the outpour of a part of my truth. "Yeah…"

"Delilah, I—"

"God, I'm doing this all wrong." I sniff, trying to put a shred of distance between Grey and I, but he's not having it. "Everybody knows you're not supposed to talk about your ex on the first date, it's like the number one rule and I—"

Large hands cup my shoulders, stopping my shaking and smoothing up and down my arms in a calming manner.

"It's okay." Grey smiles, although there's something clouding his eyes. I'm guessing it's probably concern. "There are no set rules, Delilah, and even if there were… we don't have to follow them. We've already broken a few and nothing bad has happened. Okay? I never followed the rules and I've turned out alright, don't you think?"

I nod my head jerkily.

"Just breathe. It's okay to break a few rules once in a while, gorgeous."

"I guess… It's just—"

Grey strokes the back of his finger down my cheek at the same time my stomach gurgles again, interrupting us.

"You wanna go get some food?"

"Yes, please."

"Come on then." Grey throws his arm around my shoulders, placing a quick kiss to my neck. "Let's go get some food."

We follow the winding corridors to the café inside the museum, waiting patiently to be seated while the scent of sandwiches and warm coffee waft by.

The waitress seats us at a window seat, although with the fine mist still hanging outside there's not much we can actually see, handing us each a menu, whilst eyeing Grey up like I'm not there.

"What can I get you?"

"Cup of tea for me," Grey answers, not looking at her, but keeping his eyes trained on me across the table. "And a chicken sandwich."

"I'll have the same… with a bowl of chips to share, please."

Orders placed, I stare out the window, noticing the people running from the relenting rain outside. Umbrellas pop up like wild, colourful mushrooms, while others cover their heads with coats and hoods, walking purposefully as if to out stride mother nature.

"Gorgeous—"

I meet Grey's warm gaze. "Why that nickname?"

"Because you are, Delilah. Inside and out."

I feel a blush prickle the apples of my cheeks and the bridge of my nose, while my heart does a strange stutter in my chest cavity. What on earth is happening to me?

Grey takes my hand across the table, unaware of my murmuring heart, his thumb tracing the valley of my knuckles. "Are you enjoying yourself, other than the…"

"Spilling my guts part?" I laugh quietly at myself. "Yes Grey, I'm enjoying myself."

"Good." He grins. "Me too."

Over our tea and sandwiches, I broach one of my favourite subjects again. "So, the book?"

"I haven't managed to read as much as I'd like," Grey admits, biting down on the edge of a salty chip. "My youngest brother has moved in with me so—"

"Which brother?"

"Hudson. The one I was supposed to meet at the speakeasy bar, but he blew me off. Kind of gotta thank him for that though, otherwise you might not have confessed your attraction to me."

I bat his hand away when he reaches for another chip, rolling my eyes and flushing scarlet again. "Like I was the only one."

"Oh, I've been attracted to you since you first walked in the pool, Delilah. I just didn't know what I was going to do about it yet."

I hum, taking a sip of my tea to hide my smile. "Why has he moved in with you?"

Grey blows a large breath from his lips, dislodging a strand of his fringe which had been hanging down his forehead. I, oh so desperately want to push it back with my own fingers. "Hudson isn't very good at sharing the details, never has been. He just said he'd been thrown out of his apartment. He didn't really say in as many words that he needed a place to stay, but he forgets his brothers can read him like a book."

"Is he working?"

"He's a personal trainer, but he's been fired from the gym he was working at, apparently." Grey shrugs. "I don't know what's going on with him, but I'm trying to be there for him as much as I can. As much as he'll let me, is probably the better way of putting it."

"That's very nice of you."

"It's what big brothers are for."

We lapse into a comfortable silence while we finish eating; me scrounging around in the bowl for the crispiest chips, while Grey laughs, pushing the bowl further towards me so I can continue my search.

"Will you be paying together or separately?" the waitress asks once we've finished.

"Together, please."

"Grey—"

The card machine flashes green with acceptance as Grey taps his card, slides it back into his beaten-up leather wallet and sends me a grin.

"You really didn't have to do that," I say, although, the bubble of butterflies in my stomach only seems to flutter more at the action.

"I wanted too," he says simply, pulling us both from the table until we're standing.

Happily, I let Grey lead us away from the café, away from the crowds, taking us down an empty marble corridor with alcoves dotted here and there. Hands on my hips, Grey gently pushes me into one of these alcoves, figures of angels and cupid carved within the wood.

"What are you doing?" I hear myself giggle, skin flushing hot at the long length of Grey's body lining up with mine until we're face to face.

He gazes down at me, eyes hooded, still smiling. "Something I've wanted to do all day."

Those eyes of his. Fuck.

They dip down to my lips, staying there for a moment or two, and then flick back up my face.

I'm warm all over, suddenly wishing I'd forgone the cardigan, but then Grey is pinching the thin fabric between thumb and forefinger, peeling it away from my chest so he can press a kiss to the bare skin there. My hips buck forward without a conscious thought, pressing up into Grey's body as much as humanely possible, feeling the semi hard bulge in his slacks.

"Grey," I breathe, nipples pebbling in my bra. With the way he swipes his thumb over my hard bud, I'm guessing he's noticed them too. I tip my head into the wood behind me, uncaring how uncomfortable it is, when my core suddenly awakens.

I shift, making to rub my thighs together but stopping when Grey places his knee there, granting me an ounce of relief. But it's still not enough. My body, my mind, my soul cries out for him, needing to feel him move against me, with me, in me.

Scrabbling, I untuck his button down from the waistband of his trousers, sighing against Grey's Cupid's bow when my fingertips are finally able to skitter across his warm, toned skin.

"We can't do this here," I mumble, contradicting myself as I grind down on Grey's thigh, eyes rolling back for a second.

"No," Grey agrees, leaving a trail of kisses on my neck, up to my ear so he can whisper. "We can't have you screaming in the museum, gorgeous."

"Uh…"

"I'm fucking desperate to kiss you. Have been all day."

I force my lids open, holding the weight of his thick stare. "Then why haven't you?"

Instead of answering, Grey's lips land on mine with a touch of roughness I'm coming to enjoy, tangling our tongues together and groaning, like he can't get enough of me.

That's good.

Because I'm coming to realise, I can't get enough of him either.