All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Sixteen

        Smiling sweetly, I said, "Well, Grayson wouldn't dare do something like that, would he? I love work, he knows that." I put emphasis on the first half of my words, secretly begging him to remove his hand. Had I been standing, my legs would've turned to jelly. It was bad enough to have the swooping sensation in my stomach making my mind wander to much, much less innocent places.

        Instead of releasing me from my torture, he squeezed my thigh under the tablecloth and said, "No, I wouldn't. That would be ridiculous."

        Clay was now snickering behind his napkin. While I couldn't actually see his amusement, I knew that was the only reason for the napkin's presence. He'd figured it out, that Grayson had one hand under my skirt.  Clay would never use a napkin normally, he'd just probably lick the food away. 

        Meanwhile, Grayson seemed perfectly at ease, pretending as if he hadn't taken a claim of both my leg and my sanity. He was even eating with his right hand, the moron. Fine. He wanted to play games, I could play them right back.

        "Well, that is, I would work until I got pregnant, obviously." Keeping my eyes at the now-stunned faces at the table, I blindly reached over and undid the buckle of Grayson's pants.

        He clearly had not expected me to fight back. He was so surprised he slammed both hands down on the table, effectively cracking his dinner plate in half. Laura let out an unladylike shriek, horrified to see her fine China ruined. The remains of his dinner leaked onto the snow white tablecloth, probably leaving a permanent stain.

        "Goodness, son, are you alright?" Mr. Answell asked, concerned.

        "Oh, f-fine!" Grayson stammered, now aware of the fact that he had ruined his mother's dish and her tablecloth, and of the fact that if he tried to stand up, his pants would fall to his ankles. His face was the most gorgeous shade of scarlet I'd ever seen, and it took every drop of self-control to hold back my laughter. 

        I painted an expression of worry on my face. "Grayson, love, have you been sleeping well? I worry about you, you know."

        "Yes, I do know that," he said, a slight glint of murder in his hazel eyes. "Perhaps you're right, I haven't been sleeping well. I ought to retire for the night."

        At this point, Clay chose to fall out of his chair, silently laughing. "Oh, not you too," Laura fretted, but she was more occupied with calling a maid to clean up the mess.

        "No, no, I'm fine," Clay cackled. "Just delighted to see your dinner in shambles."

        She let out a polite gasp of horror. "Clay Answell!" 

        "Sorry. A little," he giggled. "Perhaps I need sleep too. I shall see you all the morning. Goodnight everyone! Grayson, Jackie." He addressed us specifically, a twinkle in his eyes. Internally, I grimaced. We would probably get a lecture from him later, one that was highly inappropriate and full of dirty jokes. Alas, it was kind of our fault. Actually, all our fault. Stupid us.

        During all the commotion, Grayson had unfortunately managed to secure his pants. He walked out of the dining room like a gentleman, extending his arm to me, which I happily took as a victory.

        Grayson held his tongue until we got to our room, which I thought was very noble and gracious of him. My pride in his self-control melted away when he coupled my wrists in one of his hands, pulling them above my head as he roughly pinned me to the wall the second the door was shut behind us.

        "Jackie Langford Answell, what in the name of Queen Elizabeth the second were you thinking?" he hissed.

        I made my eyes wide and innocent, batting my lashes. "I don't know, I guess I just wasn't thinking."

        "You weren't thinking? As if! That was some of the most calculated thinking I've ever seen!" he scoffed. His eyes, normally so gentle and sweet, were now sparkling with rage.

        "Okay, so I was thinking. You're the one who wanted to play stupid games, now you've won stupid prizes," I recited.

        Grayson didn't seem to have anything to say to that. "What about the pregnancy bomb? You have to admit that was stupid."

        "Oh, I thought that was rather fun," I said brightly. 

        "Fun? You realize that they'll be expecting a baby, right?" he asked in disbelief.

        I shrugged, or as much as I could since he still had my wrists captured above my head. "Eh. They'll get over it." 

        He shook his head, bitterly saying, "Don't come crying to me when in a few months, they all start asking."

        "Why would they ask?" I wondered, confused. 

        "Do the math. Say, this October or November, you'd be about four months along from now."

        "That's stupid." 

        "Yeah, it was stupid," he said, shaking his head before glaring at me. "Next time, don't undo my belt."

        "Next time, keep your hands to yourself," I said cheerfully.

        "Next time, don't be such a tease," Grayson retorted. 

        "Next time, I hope we'll be divorced by then," I growled.

        "I hope so too!"

        "Good!" I said firmly.

        "Good!" he snapped, not letting go of me. 

        We glowered at each other for another moment before he spat, "I hate you."

        "I hate you too!" I said angrily. 

        Grayson swooped in, delivering a crushing kiss to my lips. My head thunked against the wall, still stuck thanks to his grip around my wrists. Anger roared in my chest as I feverishly kissed him back. It just wasn't fair, that he could get away with being this annoying and inconsiderate and I was simply at his mercy. Because I've never been on drugs, but Grayson is something I'm addicted to. Even going a couple days without kissing or even holding hands put me in a bad mood. I hated it, especially knowing that someday I'd have to give him up. Even when I was so annoyed with him, in fact, mad at him, I needed him to kiss me more than I needed air to breathe. 

        I hated it.

        "Stop," I murmured, finally using my brain. Grayson stepped back, dropping my hands like they were on fire.

        "No, I—" Flustered, I said, "Just um, look, sorry for earlier, okay? I should be more considerate of our whole situation."

        He looked mildly confused. "Um, yeah, I should work on that too, probably, I mean, we're not exactly together," he said sheepishly. 

        "Yeah..." My words trailed off as I stared at his perfectly carved features and his lovely deep eyes.

        Clearing my throat, I grabbed my pajamas and headed into the bathroom. Changing quickly, and washing off all the makeup, I got ready for bed and said, "Goodnight, Grayson."

        "We're good, Jackie?" he asked worriedly, sitting down next to me.

        I pulled the covers up to my chin and laid down. "We're good."

        Or at least I hoped we were.