Grayson had little to no restrain when it came to you. He had to always be touching you in some sort of way whether it was a light graze of skin, hand in hand, or bare skin against bare skin in private. The last one being one of his favorites.

He had you sat on the counter as he made a quick thing to eat after quite the eventful past few hours. As something sizzled on the pan that sat on top of the stove that housed the fire that cooked it. His hands were already on you.

One of his hands slid up and under your shirt to your hip and the other on your thigh. His face was impossibly close to yours until it wasn't anymore. Grayson was placing gentle kisses to your lips without another care in the world. He only stopped when he heard the clearing of someone's throat.

"Do y'all need a room or somethin'? Cause I'm completely sure I would not like the kitchen... ruined." Nash's southern drawl was evident as he tipped his cowboy hat to hide the scene as he moved to the fridge.