Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

The phone seemed to grow brighter the longer I stared at it.

Grayson.

That was only Grayson.

Each breath I took was stuttering and rocky. Without a poem to hide behind, I wasn’t sure what to say. How much to reveal.

I had it on the tip of my tongue.

I miss nighttime with you.

I miss sleeping side by side with you.

I miss seeing your crooked nose in the dark, the way your lips curve when I say something too brazen.

I miss the secrets you’d whisper in the dark, only for me.

Do you share them with her?

Could you really leave her…could you really leave with me? Aren’t we too far gone?

But in the end, I said nothing.

Because, in the end, he was sleeping next to her.

I kept the text open, staring at his words as my fingers drifted to his mark on my thigh. I pushed down, imagining Grayson’s growl urging me on.

Harder.

Sparks.

Fire.

Grays—

My mind came to a stuttering, screeching halt as my eyes landed on my now-open door.

I scrambled up my bed, grabbing the sheets as I went. “What the hell are you doing?”

Grayson was in my bedroom, bedhead hair wild and falling over wilder eyes. How long had he been there? What had he seen?

He either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. He walked straight to my nightstand, and then, eagle-eyed, looked at me, zeroing on my hand, my phone. He grabbed it, turning it over, as if inspecting for damage.

He studied me, his eyes searching. I held my blanket to my chest, flushed and embarrassed. Had he come all this way to gloat? He was married, he had all the power, he wasn’t even here, and still I caved.

But all at once, he exhaled. Deep and long, as though something seriously heavy had been crushing his chest.

He dragged his hands through his hair, blue eyes pinning me. “Answer your fucking phone, Snitch.”

He tossed it in my bed, leaving without another word.

Thirty-Seven

STORY

* * *

The next morning I woke to another text.