No family.
One chance at love that I stole.
A horde of admirers, and no one. Lonely. That must be so lonely.
I kept trailing my fingers along the crooked ridges of his nose. “You get into a lot of fights.”
His hand covered mine as if he was going to take it off, but then it just stayed. Covering mine, engulfing my fingers with his heat.
“My grandpa broke my nose when I was fourteen,” he said.
My fingers froze on the bridge.
“He found me crying. Over Lottie…ironically…said he would give me something to cry about.”
“Grayson…”
His eyes met mine, burning, but a small crooked smile quirked his lips. “I didn’t get it fixed out of spite. He wanted the perfect son Dad never was. Every time he looks at me he has to see his imperfection.”
Grayson dragged my hand down from his nose, across his lips, to his jaw, holding me there. Holding my hand with his, a look in his eyes that I was too afraid to decipher.
I swallowed. “Am I the only one who knows the truth about you? Not even your best friends?”
“After all you know now, you think I’d tell anyone? My ‘best friends’ Alaric Carmichael and Geoff Black have sold every word I’ve ever told them.”
Tell me who sent you and I might let you live…The Carmichaels? The Blacks?
The very first night with Grayson slammed into me. Oh my God. He thought his best friends had sent me?
He tried to shrug it off like it was no big deal. “You learn early to keep shit to yourself.”
“Because they can’t take what they can’t find,” I said. “You can talk to me. I know I’m not supposed to have this secret. It’s not mine. But you can talk to me.”
Another look I was afraid to decipher, then his eyes fell to my lips.
“You have witchcraft on your lips,” he said quietly, reverently.
“Henry V,” I whispered.
His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly at my words; then he yanked me to him by the waist, separating my thighs with his knee, hiking me up against his thigh. I had no panties on, and my naked flesh pressed against his. I knew the moment he figured it out, because he grinned.
“Dirty little nun,” he said, voice rocky. “Do you always sleep without panties?”
He hiked his thigh against my aching core and a sound fell from my lips, but before it could fully fall, he gripped my jaw, tilting it. Ripping my face closer. Locked on my lips. Jaw so tight I could see the muscle quirking.
“Have you ever come on someone’s hand, Snitch?” he asked, still fixed on my mouth. His free hand floated from my hip to the naked skin at the back of my thigh, just below my ass.
I swallowed, throat thick. “No.”
He groaned. “Do you want to?” His self-control is so fucking intense. I can feel his cock throbbing at my hip, but he just stared at my mouth.
Even as I lay spread on his thigh, he didn’t try to force anything more. His hand only held me tight to him. Oddly and surprisingly, he seemed to respect my boundaries. And yet that made it worse, because Grayson Crowne dripped sexuality. He wasn’t the threat…I was.
Maybe it was just in my head, but was he leaning closer to me? Millimeters of air that were nothing on the outside but in this moment, may as well have been miles.
His lip slowly curved, hooking right, arrogant. “Your answer is all over my leg.”
His smile was arrogant, but his tone wasn’t. It was almost sweet. Wondrous.