Dear little wife,
Meet me in our room.
Thirteen
STORY
I met Grayson in the antique room, under the cover of darkness like two lovers torn apart by war. He leaned against the windowsill that overlooked the ocean and must not have heard me come in, so I didn’t make a sound, using the time to watch him.
I wondered if he watched me like this that first night between us.
I wondered what thoughts spiraled through his head then, and now.
He stared out the open window into the salty black night, his features muted in deep irons, yet still so striking. His profile was one I had memorized, etched into my heart from so many nights sleeping sideways on his pillow.
Plush, rose petal lips.
A slightly broken nose.
And those eyes. Pensive. Powerful. Aching.
Why did I suddenly feel so nervous? Like this was the first time, the first night? As if we didn’t have hundreds of nights between us?
“I…” I dragged my bottom lip, gut clenched. “I got your letter.”
Grayson spun from the windowsill, eyes landing on me, piercing through the darkness.
“I need to tell you everything. Everything before I can’t.” The words rushed out of me, tumbling, spilling. “Everything before…”
Before West noticed I haven’t come back.
Before I literally lost my voice again.
Before…
I’m not safe—we’re not safe.
The servant’s warning still burned like the candle I used to erase the evidence of our meeting.
Fate was once again a runaway boulder.
“I lied,” I said, then looked away. “Obviously.”
Grayson took a step to me and my heart lurched to him, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen by the look in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw.
“I’m so sorry. It doesn’t change anything but…” I swallowed. “I am. Sorry. I tried to write you—I—” I broke off. Grayson stopped with our chests touching and I had to tilt my neck to look into his eyes. How was it that words failed me when I looked into his eyes, even now, even after everything we’d been through?
“He took my phone. I’m sorry,” I managed a whisper again. “I’m—” I broke off, words disappearing in my throat as Grayson’s thumb met my bottom lip. My heart splintered with his gaze as my stomach bottomed out into a deep ache.
Just that single touch, on one small section of my person, was enough to consume.
A gnawing, dripping need stole my breath, my lip throbbing beneath his thumb.
Hold me, touch me, fuck me, bite me—
Wild thoughts spiraled, but of course, Grayson was in control. He pressed his pink tongue to his upper lip, blue eyes roaming every inch of my body, still holding my bottom lip captive. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but it felt like he needed to do this.
Maybe to see I was okay.