I looked over my shoulder, finding Grayson, hands fisted, a look in his eye I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen before. Unhinged. Ready to kill.
Lottie stood feet behind him on the dance floor, face twisted like he’d left her there in the middle of a dance.
“Do you have a fucking death wish, du Lac?” Gray gritted.
West smiled at me. “Think about it, Angel.”
West walked away, laughing, in on a joke that felt an awful lot like I was the punch line. Gray watched West walk away, eyes zeroed and sharp like a predator, until he was completely out of view. Then they landed on me with the same intensity.
He gripped my wrist, dragging me to the arched doors of the ballroom.
I looked over my shoulder at Lottie’s caving brow. “Grayson...”
People were definitely watching.
Staring, even.
But he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
He pulled us out of the ballroom, a few feet down the hallway, before opening a door. It was a small closet used by the servants for spare linens. It smelled clean and soft. The light dark, but soft, like the muted string music.
“Grayson,” I started again, when he slammed his hands on either side of my head, eyes furious and searching. By the fiery look in his glare, I was certain he was going to punish me.
I swallowed.
“Grayson. You can’t bring me to events and expect me not to talk to people. It’s insane and—”
“Snitch,” he cut me off, voice rocky. I sucked in a breath, expecting the worse. “Shut up.”
He dove for my neck, biting and sucking.
Thirty-Six
STORY
* * *
He’d leave marks.
Visible marks.
“Grayson,” I breathed. I grasped his shoulders for support as his lips found my collarbone, kissing, sucking, biting.
“I fucking love my name on your lips.”
My knees weakened, and he slid his hand from the wall, grasping the small of my back, hiking me up against him and the wall, his hands under my ass.
He hiked me harder against his thigh, his dick iron against my stomach.
“Y-You’ll leave marks.”
He looked up at me, sultry and heavy lidded, then grazed his teeth along my collarbone. Goose bumps followed after them, tingling in my teeth. Between my thighs ached and throbbed. I threw my head back and sucked in a sharp breath.
“Yeah, give me those sounds,” he said. His voice was rough like sandpaper, abrading my blood and making me squirm. He bit harder, and this time I gasped. “Fuck, those are mine. You don’t make those noises for anyone else.”
Another bite, this one at the juncture between my neck and collarbone. A whimper escaped as my vision twirled into a kaleidoscope of pleasure.
“You like that. Fuck.” He groaned. “Of course you do.”