Summary: Grayson and Laurel drink and get flirtatious. Super fluffy. Set sometime after MC returns to Earth.
Marjorie’s wedding reception is more fun than Laurel expects. She’d expected for her to have no alcohol, no dancing, no noisy or raucous behavior-no fun, in all honesty. But though Marjorie is still her usual uptight self, Laurel manages to enjoy herself. Of course, that could also have something to do with the wine she’s been drinking, or the way Grayson looks in a suit and is a surprisingly good dancer.
Laurel notices more than a few sour looks when he twirls her on the dance floor and holds her close, kissing her sweetly. The more she sips on her wine, the more the dirty looks make her giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Grayson asks her with an amused look as they take a break, sitting at a table near the back of the room.
His arm is draped around her waist, her head resting on his shoulder, and he’s shed his suit jacket and undone the top two buttons on his dress shirt. His blonde hair is slightly mussed, his cheeks tinged pink from the wine and the dancing, and he smells so good that she’s momentarily distracted from his question.
“Laurel?”
“Huh?” she says, startled and looking up at him.
Grayson laughs, squeezing his arm around her. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh!” She gestures vaguely around the room. “I think a few people are a little disappointed you’re here with a date.”
Grayson glances around, and she sees his cheeks turn a shade darker as a redhead sitting near them flashes him a smile, then shoots a withering glare at Laurel.
“You’re just such a catch,” she says, nuzzling her lips against his neck. “Not even kidding.”
He adorably flushes even more, making her smile.
“You’re the catch. And you’re not the only one getting dirty looks,” Grayson comments, tilting her chin to the side so she can see the man who keeps glancing at her and frowning at the way Grayson’s arm tightens around her.
“Too bad for them we like each other,” Laurel says teasingly.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, then tilts her chin back towards him and kisses her deeply.
His tongue brushes over hers, making her whimper and fist her hand in his shirt. When he finally pulls away, she smiles up at him.
“I love when you get possessive,” she sighs, stealing another quick kiss.
“Hey,” he protests half-heartedly. “Can I help it if I don’t want anyone stealing you away? And I really, really like kissing you.”
“The feeling’s mutual. And I really, really like kissing you too,” she teases him.
Grayson tugs her in closer and she rests her hand lightly on his knee. She really wants to kiss him again, the wine and the music and his lips so close to hers making her forget temporarily that they’re in the middle of a wedding reception, but she’s interrupted by Poppy and Dax joining them, laughing at something.
“Are we interrupting?” Poppy asks as she sits down.
Grayson smiles. “Of course not.”
Poppy smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Then why are you two so flushed?”
“It’s the wine,” Laurel says easily, taking another sip from her glass.
“Uh-huh,” Poppy says.
“And the kissing,” she adds cheerfully after a minute, pressing her lips to Grayson’s cheek.
Grayson brushes his mouth over her forehead. “Have I told you how adorable you are when you babble?”
Laurel lifts her head up from his shoulder and looks at him in disbelief.
“What?” she protests. “I don’t babble.”
Poppy starts laughing as Laurel vehemently insists that she doesn’t babble, she’s just having a good time and likes talking to her friends and was just answering a question. Dax just shakes his head, a look of amusement on his face.
“You definitely talk more when you drink,” Dax laughs.
“Hmph,” Laurel says, taking another sip of wine and pointedly not saying another word.
“I like when you babble,” Grayson reassures her.
He runs his fingers lightly up and down her side, making her squirm until she starts laughing.
“You two are disgustingly cute,” Poppy announces.
“I don’t babble,” Laurel insists again.
She pokes Grayson in the stomach. “You flirt more when you drink,” she says accusingly, then pauses, her brow furrowing. “Wait. I like the flirting. Keep doing that with me.”
His chest vibrates underneath her as he laughs. “I’ll flirt with you more when we’re alone.”
“And that is my cue to leave,” Dax announces, pushing his chair back and holding his hand out for Poppy.
Her face lights up suddenly as an upbeat song starts playing, and she drags Dax to the dance floor, calling “See you later, lovebirds!” over her shoulder.
“Do you want to dance?” Grayson asks her.
“No,” Laurel says immediately with a hint of a smile, tilting her head up to brush her lips over his. “I want you to take me up to our room and flirt with me some more.”
Grayson chuckles, standing and gently pulling her to her feet. Laurel wraps her arms around his waist and presses her cheek to his chest, his heartbeat a steady thrum in her ear. They sway for a moment until she tilts her head back.
“I thought we were going to our room,” Laurel says.
“We are,” he answers, kissing her briefly before threading their fingers together as they walk down the hall.
They’re the only ones in the elevator, and Laurel smiles at him suggestively as the doors close, pushing him against the back wall and pressing her lips to his. His fingers dig into her hips, his teeth teasing her lower lip, making her groan and rake her fingers through his hair.
“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” Grayson asks when they part, flushed and panting.
“A few times,” she giggles, reaching up and trying to smooth his disheveled hair.
The elevator softly dings as they reach their floor and tumble out, Laurel holding onto his arm. She laughs as Grayson fumbles with the room key.
“Damn,” he mutters as it drops to the carpeted hallway for the third time.
“Someone’s buzzed,” she says in a sing-song voice, tracing her fingers low over his back.
“Someone’s distracting,” he corrects her, laughing.
She kicks her heels off once he finally gets the door open, then strips out of her dress and climbs onto the bed in her underwear. Grayson is still fully dressed when she peers over at him, his eyes locked on her bare form.
“Am I sleeping alone tonight, Mr. Prescott?” she pouts, rolling onto her side and propping her head on her hand.
“Of course not, baby,” Grayson answers in a low voice, toeing his dress shoes off.
Laurel groans quietly and bites her lip as he starts to undress. She never would have taken Grayson for one to use ‘baby’, but when they’re alone and he’s relaxed, and especially when he wants her, it slips out. Laurel watches him unabashedly as he undoes the buttons on his shirt, his eyes lingering on her as he shrugs it off and pulls his undershirt over his head. An appreciative “Mmm” slips out of her mouth when he’s bare-chested and Grayson glances up from where he’s started working on his belt buckle.
“Did you say something?” he asks her with that little half-smile she loves.
“I did,” she murmurs, rolling to her back as Grayson steps out of his pants and socks and climbs into the bed over her.
“Are you gonna tell me what it was?” he asks, slowly kissing down her chest.
“I might. But you have to flirt with me more first,” she sighs, arching as he kisses lower and slipping her hands into his hair.
His voice is soft, muffed against her stomach as he says, “I can do better than flirting.”