Alpha Grayson
Although Alphas aren't my taste, his body is to die for, with even his back looking like something I could drag my finger nails down.
I cough lightly. He jumps, twisting around.
Spatula in hand, an apron strapped around his front that I never noticed before, Grayson meets my gaze.
"Lexia," he breathes.
I nod toward the spatula in his hand, noticing the grease on it. "What are you cooking?"
Why I decided to not acknowledge the obvious elephant in the room, I don't know. Maybe it's because I wanted to keep the conversation light, and not as awkward as it should be.
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