Ached.
Goose bumps ignited my arms, legs—everywhere. Even before we’d been separated, Grayson and I had spent too long apart. My lips brushed his—the door behind us opened.
I pulled away, focusing on the golden swirls in the marble. On my breathing. In…out… Not the twisting ache in my gut.
I was really about to fuck Grayson in the middle of the hallway.
“You’re still here?” Gemma eyed us on the floor. “The fuck? Ever heard of a bed?”
Grayson stood, hot stare still on me. “Gemma, I need you to watch Sonnet for a few hours.”
“So…let me get this straight. I’m midwife, maid, fairy godmother, and now I’m your fucking nanny?” She laughed, incredulous. “Fuck you. I’m Gemma Crowne.”
Gemma brushed past us, but Grayson’s arm shot out, gripping her and holding her in place. She wiggled her arm, trying to yank free.
“Gemma,” his voice was so low—grating. “There is no one else I trust to watch her. You saved my wife. You saved my daughter. I owe you so much—”
“Gross, stop talking this way.” Gemma shook like a thousand spiders had been spilled on her head. She looked at me, then to Grayson. “Fine. Give her to me.”
My grip tightened involuntarily on Sonnet. It was one thing to let Gemma watch her when we literally had no other options.
Grayson dropped to his knees, one palm on my cheek, the other on Sonnet’s head. “Little wife, I’m happy to just lie with you.”
“I want you,” I whispered.
Still I clutched Sonnet.
Behind him, Gemma exhaled loudly.
Bizarrely, I did trust Gemma. She’d saved us, all of us. My eyes collided with hers, and for a split second, her haughty mask slipped.
Grayson was right. She was the only one I trusted.
I held Sonnet out to Gemma, heart pounding.
She took Sonnet, walking back to her wing. “You owe me,” she called over her shoulder. “I expect her middle name to be Gemma.”
She slammed the door shut.
Grayson stared down at me, letting out a breath that rolled his entire body. His shoulders, his pecs. I expected him to tackle me, I hoped he would—but then he turned on his heel, following Gemma.
I thought maybe he’d changed his mind, decided he couldn’t let Sonnet go. Then I heard Gemma swear. Her cursing grew louder and more frequent—until he was back in the hall, slamming the door behind him and silencing her.
He didn’t take his eyes off me, until he was right before me, knotting my hair and yanking my head so I could see the pain and feral desire burning in his eyes. “What’s your safe word, little wife?”
I looked around the hall. “Shouldn’t we go back?” Somewhere…private.
“We’re not leaving this wing.”
I knew then what he meant. Sonnet might not be able to watch, but ever protective Grayson Crowne wouldn’t let Gemma’s door out of his sight—wouldn’t let Sonnet out of his sight.
I wet my lips, and his eyes darted to the
motion.
“Story,” he gritted, licking his own lips. “Safe word.”
“Mr. Crowne,” I breathed.