Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

“I don’t want to leave you here,” I whispered. “I feel like I’m abandoning you in this dark castle. I’m worried about you.”

He swiped his thumb across my cheek. “Then fucking stay. Stay with me. Don’t fucking leave, Story.”

“You’ll lose everything.”

“I don’t care.

“You will.” I pressed my forehead to his. “When your mom and sister are on the street. When your grandfather is trying to come for us. When West has everything and you’ve left a child fatherless… You will. I know you, Grayson Crowne.”

I think he wanted to say something.

Argue with me.

But maybe he felt the way I did, that with only a few more hours, it wasn’t worth ruining.

He kissed me more slowly, soul-deep, stealing all my sadness and giving me his passion. Getting his clothes soaked and wet as he kissed me. Yet he grabbed another towel for me, wrapping it around my shoulders as he kissed me.

My head fell back on a sigh as his lips came to the center of my throat, holding me steady. His lips slid to the side of my throat, up to my ear to whisper.

“I want to ruin you with bruises, Story. I want them down your thighs. On your neck. Inside you. When you leave me, you’ll feel me. He’ll know what he’s taking and who’s coming to get it.”

He grazed his teeth across my body, under my jaw, my neck, my shoulder, above my breast, my nipple, back to my shoulder. Like he’d been holding back for months and this was what he wanted to do first, love me, hold me, touch me, like he wanted to mark me forever before I had to go.

“Would you let me, my little wife?”

“Yes,” I gasped.

“I knew you’d be such a good wife, Story.” He pushed the stray curls out of my face, sliding a finger inside me, working me, devouring my reaction. “Where first?”

“Anywhere.”

He gave me a deep, bone-melting grin. “That’s my girl.”

I waited for Grayson to wake up, fist clutching the fabric of my shirt. It was slow agony watching him open his eyes, turn his head, and search for me in the bed.

When I wasn’t there, he jolted up, only to be stopped by the handcuff.

I clutched my shirt harder.

He found me standing a few feet from the bed.

“What the fuck is this, Story?”

“I knew you weren’t going to let me leave, Grayson. You had that look in your eyes. You can’t let me go. Not…willingly.”

He rattled the handcuff. “Open it.”

I can’t recall a time I’d ever seen that look in his eyes, heard the timbre in his voice. Not when he’d realized he’d mistaken me for Lottie. Not even when I’d had West inside me.

It nearly made me listen.

I shook my head. “I’ll be back.”

“You’re goddamn insane if you think I’m going to let you leave and tell the world you’re having his baby.”

“If you don’t let me go, we’ll only have ashes to live in.”

He pulled again, the headboard creaking.