His love shone in the way his pink lips parted, his blue eyes gleamed.
Then his jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath. I saw every thought, every scenario, running through his head—all the ways he’d have to protect her.
“I did everything we discussed,” Gemma said. “I’ve had my music loud so no one could hear them”—them meaning Lottie’s child as well—“But no, don’t tell Gemma the important things. Apparently I’m not America’s Princess, I’m America’s fucking washcloth. Did we fucking win? Is my grandfather gonna come strolling up these halls—”
Still gripping my wrist, Grayson snatched Sonnet from Gemma.
The minute Sonnet hit his chest, Grayson’s knees buckled, and he fell to the marble. He held Sonnet to his chest, his fingers white with desperation, eyes closed.
Gemma’s mouth dropped, even she at a loss for words.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “We won.”
Tears fell from his red eyes, down his perfectly carved cheekbones. It was the first time I’d ever seen Grayson Crowne cry. It was like witnessing those miracles come to life, when the marble statues of deities weep.
I was looking at the most powerful person on the planet.
He’d given up his freedom, his dreams—his everything.
For us.
Atlas.
No—king.
Seventy-Three
STORY
“Gray—”
“Don’t. Move.” Eyes still closed, Grayson yanked me down to the ground, pulling me into a violent hug.
Harsh.
Desperate.
His heartbeat in my nose.
He exhaled a breath I felt in my bones. “I thought I’d lost you both.”
“I’m here. We’re here. I named her Sonnet…I…I thought you would be okay with that. But, if you’re not—”
“Sonnet…” His eyes drifted back down to her, and he smiled. That wide Grayson Crowne smile, which speared his lips and my heart. “It’s perfect, Snitch.”
We stayed like that until the moon dipped low in the sky, and the sun heated our backs as Sonnet started to fuss. Grayson released me enough so I could feed her.
He didn’t move an inch, just watched me. Desperation burned in his eyes like the red and orange sunrise staining the sky. It breathed into the room, hotter than smoke.
A new day—new beginning.
Grayson snaked his hand around my neck, bruising my forehead against his as I fed her. “I need to fuck you.” The word fuck growled on my lips.
I licked my lips. “So fuck me, Grayson.”
He pulled back and eyed Sonnet. “I don’t want to let her out of my sight. I nearly lost you. But the things I’m going to do to you…” he trailed off, dark gaze finding mine. “She can’t watch.”
I shifted.