For people with limited emotional range, this is a frenzy.
In a fit of emotive overload, Grayson could profess his love or kill me with an equal measure of indifference. Both would satisfy his overstimulated state, and return him to his comfort zone.
I could fear what I know he’s capable of, but I don’t. His intelligence dictates that he’d never chance a risk like he did today, by coming here. He went against the grain of his nature in doing so. He’s here to reconnect, to feed the hunger that drives both of us toward an unknown destination.
It’s thrilling.
Frightening.
And neither one of us are capable of derailing this course now.
Once I jumped the tracks, I belonged to him, the same way exposing his innermost thoughts makes him mine. It’s more than trust—it’s dependence. We can no longer survive without each other.
Even in the face of discovery. Even with the threat of death.
Lydia would never survive this.
He’d devour her just as he’s devouring me now.
As Grayson ravishes my body, exposing his primal male nature, craving my flesh—I feel powerful. He’s reduced the smartest people to idiots with his mind, and the feel of him losing control beneath me nearly makes me orgasm.
His fingers drive into my hair, gripping at the roots to bare my neck so he can taste me. His stomach muscles flex under my touch as I feel my way down to the closure of his slacks. A sharp hiss lets me know that he’s just as wild with need as I am.
My heart thunders as I pull the clasp apart and yank his pants open. His unguarded thrusts work him free of his boxers, and I wrap my hand around his hard length, loving the way that one action twists his expression. Creased in a mix of pleasure and pain, his eyes flare with a silent challenge.
Lifting up, I slide my sex over his shaft…all the way up to the tip, slicking the smooth skin with my wetness. His dark groan encases us, the agony unbearable as my muscles clench to offset the achy need to feel him inside me.
He bears the torturously slow tease only a few seconds more before he meets the roll of my hips with an eager slam of his, stealing my breath and carving a blistering path right up the middle of my body.
A pleasurable shiver skitters down my back, replacing the spike of pain, and I’m lost—giving in completely as he guides my body to his brutal rhythm.
“God, fuck…” He’s streaming unintelligible profanities, breaking off only to thrust deeper, grip me harder to him, become one.
When the need becomes too much, Grayson kisses me passionately, and his arms anchor around my lower back. He hoists us off the chair and moves to the floor, spreading me out so he can drive inside me once more, eliciting a throaty moan.
My nails sink into his shoulders as he hooks an arm beneath my knee, positioning me where he can fuck me as hard and as deep as he wants with no obstruction. Every time he pulls out, my body rebels, a fiery spasm rolling through my muscles, my veins liquefying with the pulse of adrenaline pumping through my heart.
“Don’t stop,” I say, my breaths ragged around my shaky voice.
The impending climax grips me, the pain all-consuming until he fills me again. Every single thrust sends me spiraling. I arch off the floor, my body tensing, and the feel of him hard against my flesh, following in my wake, detonates a resounding orgasm.
All sounds mute as the tightness pulls everywhere, then the rush. My skin prickles, and still he drives in, one last time, rock-hard and throbbing against my walls. So fucking hot—I wrap myself around him as he groans into my neck.
Our breaths are heavy, merging together in the sudden stillness. The cool air is a relief to my flushed skin. The weight of his body resting on top of mine feels solid. Comforting. Then I feel the wetness trickle from the corners of my eyes. Shock snatches the air from my lungs.
I dab my temple, coming away with a trace of tears.
Grayson pushes onto his elbows, his gaze fierce.
“Adrenaline,” I say in explanation.
But the deep groove between his brows reveals his disbelief. He feathers my dampened hair away from my eyes, his finger tracing the tear track. I hold his gaze, trying to glimpse his thoughts. He says nothing as he presses his lips tenderly to my temple.
The action is so vulnerable, baring his wonder at my emotional state, that I’m awed by his perception. I desperately try to bank my introspective anxieties and place my palm to his cheek, questioning whether this sudden insight is true connection, or curated sentiment.
“What do you feel?” I ask.
His glacier blue eyes flick over my face. “Fascinated.”