26. Grey

Chapter 26

Grey

I squeeze Delilah's hand as we walk the short way to the pub sitting on the corner of the street, reminding myself she's here, that she's willing to take the plunge and give us another shot. I know that can't have been easy for her to do.

Grinning wildly, I push the heavy mahogany door open, ushering Delilah in before me. The pub isn't packed, I hadn't expected it to be what with it being a Wednesday evening, but there's a few regulars sitting at the bar, their pints of foamy beer all at varying degrees of emptiness. Couples and families sit dotted around the place, a small toddler runs himself ragged and I can see two teenagers messing about in the arcade machines at the back of the pub, but it's certainly not crowded.

Crossing the slightly sticky floor and the dated, crimson red carpet, Delilah picks a booth tucked away in the corner. She slides in first, while I take the spot opposite her, pulling two menus from the holder in the middle of the table.

I don't bother to open mine, I only come here for the fish and chips, but Delilah opens hers, skimming through the multitude of classic pub food options.

The golden, boarding on yellow, light from the old light fixture hanging from the wall beside us, baths Delilah's hair, the length and tip of her nose, the curve of her sweet Cupid's bow. I take in it all, rubbing across the lines on her left palm mindlessly, feeling the softness of her skin, the solid warmth of her flesh, telling me she's real.

"What are you looking at?"

"You," I say, the truth rolling off my tongue. "I'm looking at you, thinking how I can't believe you're in front of me, that you're here with me, and how I'm not going to screw it up this time."

A pink blush crawls across Delilah's cheeks, the bridge of her nose and part of her neck. It matches the pretty blouse she's wearing, and when she leans forward, I can see it matches the pink bra she's got on her tight body underneath.

"Can I get you two started with some drinks?"

Blinking up at the waiter, I reel off a half pint of beer for myself. "Delilah?"

"Can I have a glass of the house white wine? And a glass of water, please?"

"Sure." The waiter scribbles down on his old-fashioned pad of paper with a pencil. "Any food?"

"Fish and chips for me, please."

I hold up two of my fingers. "Make that two."

"No problem, I'll have that right out for both of you."

Delilah waits until we're alone again when she opens her mouth. I can tell she's not nervous, but skittish, her fingers coming up to pluck at her earlobe.

"Are you—"

"Grey, do you think the press is going to find out about us?"

"Potentially." I pause, gauging Delilah's reaction, the sudden tensing in her body. "I'm not in the tabloids as much as I was when I was younger, but sometimes they still like to catch up on what I'm doing, yes."

"And does that bother you?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes not. If they're not too invasive, the cameras aren't up in my face and it's not awful, untruthful press being spouted about me, then it doesn't usually massively impact my day-to-day life. I can walk around without being followed or harassed…"

Delilah nods, fixing her gaze on the old cracks and wooden rings marring our table.

"Just say it, gorgeous. Get it off your chest so we can work through it."

"I-I'm terrified about what's going to happen when, if , the press finds out about us, Grey."

"Can you tell me what about it scares you?"

"All of it," Delilah admits, lifting her eyes to meet mine. "Obviously it's not going to be nice to read if they spout mean things, but at least I'm older now, I know as long as Aurelia and my friends, my colleagues, don't think those things about me then it doesn't matter. But it's the-the thought of it, I guess. I don't want a repeat of what happened with my ex. I want, no, I need , you to stick up for me if and when the time comes and I'm terrified you're not going to do that and it's going to break my heart all over again."

I close my eyes for a second as I exhale, feeling my stomach roll.

Peering into those beautiful brown doe eyes of Delilah's, I nod. "You have every right to feel that way, gorgeous. I wish I could say more than I need you to trust me, and I know that isn't going to be easy after what I've just done to us, to you, but I won't let that happen to you, Delilah. I promise."

"Grey, I—"

"A half pint, a glass of our house white wine and some water," interrupts the waiter. "I'll just go and grab your food."

I take a sip of my beer, its yeasty taste coating my tastebuds, while I watch Delilah straighten in her seat.

"I'm putting my heart on the line by trusting you, Grey, but something inside me tells me there's something here. Something between the two of us I don't want to let go of no matter how scared I am. I want to dive into our relationship headfirst with you, so I hope you're at the bottom to catch me when I fall."

My heart pangs with pure, unfiltered joy. It rushes through my veins, creating a heady sensation. "I promise, Delilah. I would ask you to catch me, but I've already fallen."

The hidden meaning behind my words swims around us, cocooning us in, just the two of us. I don't elaborate, I don't want my first time saying those three little words to Delilah to be in a pub that's probably been here since the 1800's.

I don't know where I want us to be when they finally escape my lips, I'm counting on fate to be the decider of that, but I can tell by Delilah's face she's read between the lines.

"I'm not ready yet," she admits, almost shyly, fingers pinching at her untouched wine glass stem.

"And that's okay, gorgeous. I told you in my letter, when you're ready I'll be waiting, don't put pressure on yourself."

Our food arrives, fish coated in a delicious layer of batter I instantly want to sink my teeth into. Mouth-watering, I pick up a crispy chip, biting into the fluffy, steaming hot centre. While I break my fish in half with my fingers, ignoring the set of cutlery wrapped in a gaudy red napkin beside me, Delilah squeezes her slice of lemon across the surface of her fish, picking off a stray lemon pip and snapping off a piece of white, flaky fish.

By the time both of our plates are cleared, our hands are covered in shiny grease from the fryer. My beer glass has sticky fingerprints along its circumference, but that doesn't stop me from raising the rim to my lips and polishing off the rest of my drink.

"That was so good," Delilah praises, sliding her thumb between her lips, her cheeks going concave while she sucks. I stare, unable to help myself, vehemently trying to ignore the mental image of her sucking my cock just like that. Shifting in my seat, I spread my legs, feeling my length thicken, blood rushing to my crown.

"I'm glad you liked it," I manage to get out, wishing I could make myself look away while she repeats the finger licking process with all five of her digits. But I've not that much will power. "Do you want another drink?"

Delilah shakes her head, dabbing at mouth with a paper napkin. "Not for me, thank you, but if you'd like another one…"

"Anything else I can get you two?" asks the server, collecting our plates on the way to the kitchen.

"Just the bill, please, mate."

Fishing my wallet from the depths of my boardshort pockets, I pluck my bank card from its slot, aware of the heat of Delilah's gaze warming my face.

"What?" I repeat the same question she'd asked me when she'd caught me staring.

The same burst of energy I've always felt when Delilah and I are together sparks between us, poker hot and addictive. No matter where we are, I feel it. The first time had been in the infirmary room where I patched up her thigh, holding my breath at her proximity, giving me a close up look at her pretty curves, the small of her skin, the tempting plush look of her bottom lip I wanted to taste.

I'd tried to play it off, but the stirring in my gut stuck around, unwilling to let me forget or ignore.

I felt it again in the pool at the beginning of her swim lessons, at the speakeasy bar we'd accidentally found ourselves in, on the street where she told me she didn't do relationships. It sparks between us in her bedsheets, scorching hot, and on Delilah's sofa while eating a takeaway from a tinfoil container, dripping sauce down my chin, watching her slurp up a forkful of noodles, both of us hardly dressed and uncaring what we look like.

Delilah smiles, gaze unwavering, causing my own lips to tick up at the corners. "Nothing."

"I thought we were being honest with each other tonight, gorgeous."

"We are."

"So…"

Delilah's inhale is audible before she speaks. "I was thinking you look very handsome and I'd very much like to kiss you. Your turn, Grey"

My grin widens, Delilah's honesty and the sound of my name on her lips, sending my head into a little bit of a tailspin.

"I'd like to kiss you too."

A huff of laughter escapes Delilah's nose. "That's nice to hear, but you didn't answer my question."

"I'm thinking about how much I want you. By my side, in my life, in my bed. How much I want you to be mine. Every fucking gorgeous inch of you."

Eye dipping downwards to watch her own movements for a split second, Delilah traces her delicate fingers, nails painted a pretty red colour, around the wide rim of her wineglass. I watch too, waiting for her reply, taking in every inch of her.

"Even the bad parts?"

"Even the bad parts, gorgeous. I'm not perfect either, I think we've gathered that."

Delilah quietens, her mind processing what I'm saying. In the background, I hear a cheer from the men sitting at the bar, followed by a round of clinking glasses. Somebody on the rugby match, the one lighting up the small TV screen above the doorway to the kitchen, must have scored a goal.

"Grey?"

"Yeah?"

"I-I want you, too. Every part of yourself."

Once I've paid the bill for our pub date, pretending I can't hear Delilah's protests of splitting the payment down the middle, I reach for her hand, pulling her out into the night beyond. Darker nights are drawing in, bringing with it a blanket of cold too, making gooseflesh break out over my calves.

Delilah laces her fingers through mine as we brave the gust of musty wind blowing through the closest underground station, hopping on a mostly empty carriage.

"Do you want to come back to mine?" she asks while we sway, wheels clicking along the rail.

I drape my arm around her shoulders, bringing her into my body. "Do you want me to come back to yours?"

She nods without hesitation.

"Then, yes, gorgeous."

I let my brother Hudson know where I am as I walk through the door into Delilah's apartment, following her into her space; knowing this is a big step, letting me back in after everything that has transpired.

"I'm going to go grab a shower. The remote is on the coffee table if you want to watch some TV."

While Delilah pads off to the bathroom, I kick off my shoes, grab a book from her shelf with a dark, matte cover that looks intriguing and make myself comfortable on her sofa. The bunch of red roses I bought her, plus my letter, are both in the centre of her glass coffee table; the letter open and spread out as if it's been read repeatedly.

I'm hooked on the romance book in my hands from chapter one, devouring each page with a flick of my wrist, so much so I don't hear the shower stop running or the sound of Delilah coming up behind me.

"I was wrong about suggesting you borrow those books so you could learn, you know."

I fold down the top corner to keep my place, turning my head to find Delilah, her skin pink and glowing from her shower, dressed in a pair of silk, long sleeved champagne coloured pyjamas.

"You were?"

"Yep."

"And why is that?"

"You know you don't need tips in bed, Grey. Far from it, actually."

Unable to hold back a smirk, I pretend to think about Delilah's words. "Do I?"

Delilah rolls her eyes but indulges me anyway, a smile of her own across her soft looking lips. "Yes, Grey… now are you coming to bed or not?"

Leaving the book behind me, somewhere within the depths of the sofa cushions, I take Delilah's outstretched hand, waiting while she double checks the lock on her apartment door and then leads me into her bedroom.

She crawls under the covers, while I undress, the scent of chlorine still strong on my skin. I linger once I'm down to just my briefs, unsure what Delilah is expecting or wanting from tonight.

"Delilah, are you sure—"

Peeling back a corner of the cover for me, Delilah pats the space beside her. "Yes, Grey, I'm sure. Come lie down."

Slipping into bed, I prop myself up on one hand, staring down at Delilah; the fan of her brunette hair across the white pillows, the soft pink bow of her lips, the hint of collarbone peeking out beneath the thin material of her night clothes. I want to drag my lips across the smooth skin there, up to her jaw and take her lips, taste her with my tongue.

Acutely aware of Delilah's foot beginning to rub up and down one of my bare legs, I grip her hip beneath the sheet, pulling her until her breasts brush up against my chest. The silk of her pyjamas glides easily, without resistance, so thin I can feel her nipples harden, creating a perfect outline I want to lean down and suck.

"Grey?" Her voice is soft. Almost as soft as the small hand cupping my jawline, smoothing along my bottom lip. "Have you slept with anyone else since we…"

I shake my head quickly. "No. Have you?"

My stomach bottoms out just asking the question, yet I know I can't react badly if Delilah's answer is yes. If she has slept with someone else… well, I can't do anything about that. We weren't together. But still, my mouth sours at the thought and I fucking hope she hasn't.

"No, Grey, I haven't slept with anyone else. I couldn't even bear the thought of someone else kissing me, touching me, being inside me—"

"Thank fuck," I whisper against Delilah's mouth before taking it for my own. I suck at her bottom lip, nibbling until her flesh is puffy and red. Sliding the tip of my tongue along the seam of her lips, Delilah grants me access into her mouth, meeting me in the middle, tilting her head to deepen our kiss.

My skin prickles hot when Delilah throws one of her legs over my waist, grinding into me, our lips never breaking apart. I can feel the heat emanating from her core, warm and damp on my muscled upper thigh. Cock swelling, my balls ache, precum smearing itself inside my underwear, leaving my length sticky.

Rolling us over, I hover above Delilah, my chest heaving with lack of oxygen, lungs burning, until I finally break our kiss. Delilah licks at her swollen lips, staring up at me with her glassy brown doe eyes, the collar of her top all rumpled to reveal the creamy swell of her upper breast.

"Do you think we're moving too fast?" She pants, a sudden knit between her eyebrows. "Are we doing it wrong… having sex too soon after we've gotten back together and—"

Tracing my thumb over the fold in her skin, I gently smooth out the wrinkle. "Only if you feel like we are, gorgeous. There's no right or wrong in this situation. What we choose to do together is nobody's business."

Delilah nods, but her head is bobbing too fast, and I can see the tense set of her mouth. Her mind must be whirring, unable to turn off completely or even slow down.

I know the moment has passed, but still my cock twitches at her pressed up against my body the way she is, the smell of her in my nose, the taste of her on my tongue, not yet getting the memo.

Bending my neck, I place a chaste kiss on Delilah's lips, rubbing the tip of my nose along hers. "Do you want to watch a movie instead?"

We settle on a new blockbuster neither of us have seen, but I'm not sure Delilah is really paying attention. Laying on my chest, she sighs, only beginning to full relax when I smooth the hair back from her forehead in a repetitive motion.

"I'm sorry I changed my mind," she whispers, almost fifteen minutes into the movie.

Ignoring the epic car chase happening on the screen, I tip Delilah's chin up until she's looking at me. "Delilah, you don't ever need to be sorry for changing your mind, or saying no. Okay?"

She swallows, turning her head to kiss the inside of my palm splayed out over the side of her head, my fingers cupping the nape of her neck, and then returns her cheek back to my chest until her breathing evens out and she drifts off, safe and content in my arms.