I looked at the floor, following Gray.
We’d barely made it out of Gemma’s wing when Gray stopped and gripped my face, dragging me to him. Our location rushed over me. We were in the no-man’s-land between Gemma and Abigail’s wings, a few feet away from the room where all of it began.
Gray gripped my face. “Say it. Say what you were going to say.”
“Why?” I fought to keep my voice even, steady. “It’s not going to change anything.”
His eyes were hard. “Say it, Story. Don’t make me rip it out of those beautiful lips.”
His eyes darted from my lips back to my eyes. He throbbed with a need I could feel all the way to my marrow.
“I love you, Grayson Crowne—”
The words hadn’t left my lips before his were on mine.
Forty-One
STORY
* * *
Devouring. Sucking. Stealing. Gray tangled his hands in my hair, pulling me closer, bruising our lips together. Hot and wet, his groans melding with my sighs. He dragged me by our kiss, through the halls, pushing open the door to the antique room with his back.
When I broke for air, he bit my bottom lip, never disconnected.
I put my hand out, trying to push him away, put distance between us.
“It doesn’t matter!” I said, breathing heavy. “You still have to marry her.”
He looked crazed, focused on my lips, a man with a single mission. He gripped me by the waist, dragging me back to him, eyes still locked on my mouth. I pressed my palm to his chest, but it was weak, like my resolve.
“Grayson…”
“I won’t,” he gritted.
It wasn’t so easy, was it? We’d just watched his sister attempt the same thing and fail. Her cries were still fading from my ears.
“But—”
He captured my mouth, shutting me up with furious lips. Sucking my top, then bottom one.
“I knew from the moment we kissed in this room you’d be trouble. Wicked, tempting trouble. Knew I’d have to watch myself around your lips. Do you know how hard it was not to kiss you?”
I couldn’t have responded if I wanted to. His words were a confession against my mouth, spoken as he devoured and bit. He pressed me so close to him I felt every hard pack of muscle, every rigid piece of him, just like that fateful night, but now the lights were on, and I could see him clearly.
“Every goddamn minute.” Another searing kiss. “Of every fucking day.” Another bite. “I wanted this.” A swipe of his tongue. “I wanted you.” Until I couldn’t think. Until I was Jello-O.
His fingers trailed the buttons at the back of my dress, up my spine, pressing cool metal into my flesh and leaving a burning trail of goose bumps.
“Fuck, Story. I’m going to undo each button.” He popped the one at my neck. “Unravel you like the dirty Victorian nun you are.”
Somewhere a part of me was saying this isn’t right.
He was still engaged, no matter what he tells me. His sister’s tear-stricken face was fresh in my mind, a portent of what’s to come. For me? Or for him? Or maybe…for both of us. Or maybe, it was screaming, when we have sex, this is all over.
“Grayson…” I started, then trailed off when he took my hand, pressing it against his cock. Thoughts fractured. All I could focus on was the hard iron throbbing beneath my fingers. How is that going to fit inside me?
Inside me.