Stolen Soulmate (Crowne Point 2)

His stony blue eyes cracked and filled with so much emotion that I had to look away, down at the silky black sheets that barely separated us.

Sheets he’d said he wanted to smell like me.

“I like you in the dark,” I said quietly. “Away from everyone else. Why can’t you always be like this?” The quiet engulfed us. “I’m starting to think we have more in common than either of us wants to admit,” I whispered, looking up.

He arched a cocksure brow. “Oh yeah?”

“You’re born to be seen, and because of that, you hide your heart. I was born to be forgotten, and because of that, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I don’t think it’s working out so well for either of us.”

“Why do you keep fucking talking to me like this?” he asked. “Why is it only you?”

I sucked in a breath. “Everyone’s too afraid.”

“You’re not?”

“I am.”

Before I could blink, he was on top of me.

Grayson Crowne was on top of me. His arms caged me, holding his weight. A satin-pajama-clad knee separated my thighs, and his shirtless abdomen was a hot weight against my belly.

He traced my lips and every breath vanished. “These fucking lips…witchcraft.”

It was too much to focus on. Grayson’s hot, carved eight-pack only separated by my pajamas, his cock growing harder against my thigh. Caged by him, spelled by his dark, possessive eyes. The soft pad of his finger caught the ridges of my bottom lip, pulling, tugging.

“Please don’t make me leave Crowne Point,” I breathed against his finger.

His eyes softened. “You’ll go back to your world, I’ll go back to mine. That’s all, Snitch.”

Things must have gone well with Lottie then. I opened my mouth to ask, but he pushed the finger tracing my lips into my mouth, and all thoughts vanished. At my sharp inhale, his eyes flamed, then flashed down to my breasts, back up to me.

“I’m thinking I need to let you go, Snitch… There’s just one problem.” He dragged my lip out to expose my teeth, rubbing my gums. “I’ve also started thinking what happens at night doesn’t count.”

Then he slammed his lips against mine.

Grayson captured my face, biting and claiming my lips. I arched my back, and he freed a hand from my cheek, grasping the small of my back, sealing me against his body.

Every breath I took, he stole. Every movement, he corrupted.

It was like our first kiss, but darker, stronger.

More possessive.

“The bruises I’m going to give you, Snitch.” He groaned. “I’m going to cover you in them. No one will know.”

I gasped and he slanted his mouth, stealing it. I dragged my nails across his bare back. My heart pounded and ached and burned with his gentle kiss and brutal words.

I groaned his name.

“Fuck…” He dragged the fabric of my nightgown, exposing my shoulder, never leaving my mouth. “I’m going to make you scream that.”

He was still calling me Snitch, and a weird, twisted, dark part of me liked it. It was humiliating and savage and cruel, and combined with his attention it made my stomach ache in ways I didn’t know possible.

He bit my lip, and I tasted copper.

I hissed and he pulled back, watching me, waiting. I touched my lip, wet where he’d bitten.

“More.”