“I picked it out…Well?” I asked. I ran my hands down the silky material fitted around my hips. It was almost like my old clothes, but better material, and a little bit sexier.

His eyes flared, his jaw tightened, and a half second stretched into a millennia. My fingers froze on my hips, gut throbbing with the look. His eyes locked with mine.

“You did good, Snitch.” His voice was like the crashing wintry waves: shredded and raw.

Then Grayson fell to one knee.

He took my ankle in his hand, pushing at the swollen skin. “Does it hurt?”

On one knee, looking up at me, it was almost as if Grayson was proposing. My brittle heart cracked for the future I would never get.

Did it hurt?

“Just a little,” I whispered.

His eyes ached, too, but he lowered my ankle. He didn’t immediately stand up, just stayed on his knee.

“Grayson?” I asked quietly.

He thumbed the bone at my ankle. “You know, Crownes never get to propose. Not really. We’re told who we marry, and then a public proposal is planned with plenty of paparazzi. Or we stage one and leak it to the press. ”

He slid a hand up my leg, underneath my dress, pausing at the curve beneath the knee. I swallowed air as heat climbed up my leg from that one spot and eviscerated my gut.

“You asked me once about my wedding, but I never asked you.” His eyes burned. “What kind of proposal would you want, Story?”

Any.

Any kind of proposal, if it’s coming from you.

I tried to pull away, but his thumb and forefinger were a possessive bruising grip, keeping me stuck in the sand, stuck in his gaze.

“Stop.” I swallowed. How could I have so little air when the beach was breathing it?

The wind whipped the sand around us.

“I don’t want you leaving Crowne Hall…” he said, thumbing the bone.

I sucked in a breath, lungs paralyzed. I know I shouldn’t want to stay with him, shouldn’t want anything to do with him. But…

“What?” I finally managed.

His eyes found mine, burning. “It’s too fucking dangerous. Don’t leave without a guard. Don’t go out at night.”

Just like that, whatever spell he’d put on my heart shattered.

“That sounds like a curfew, Grayson,” I whispered. “Are you trying to give me a curfew?”

I didn’t let him respond. I shoved him away, putting space between us. Grayson stood with easy grace, following me.

“You can’t lock me in here.”

“The hell I can’t—”

“You’re supposed to let me go.”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” he yelled. “It’s all I’ve been trying to do since you crashed into my goddamn life.”

I mashed my lips as the ocean breeze grew angry, magnifying our silence.

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Crowne Point Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net