Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
My voice finally cracks free. “I thought you were crying.”
The words sound hollow and pathetic even to me. She says nothing but keeps staring, cheeks flushed, pulse hammering in her neck. I’m already halfway out the door, heart threatening to tear out of my chest. I can’t make my legs move fast enough. My fingers tighten around the doorframe like it can anchor me in the hurricane of shame and heat tearing through my chest. I’ve never run from anything in my life. But this? This feels like I’ve crossed a line.
Her voice stops me. “Wait.” Soft. Breathless.
I squeeze my eyes shut. That word. That tone.
“Don’t go.”
The words hang in the dark. A tether. A damn lifeline pulling me back when every inch of me screams to bolt.
I turn my head slightly.
Grace is still sitting upright in bed, the sheet held close against her chest, her breathing still uneven, but her eyes are steady now. Soft. Full of something that isn’t fear or anger.
It’s want.
I run a hand roughly through my hair, every nerve screaming at me to be smarter than this, to not be the asshole who lets this happen. But she says it again.
“Please. Just stay.”
My chest tightens painfully. I take half a step back into the room before I even realize I’ve moved. My dick throbs painfully against the seam of my shorts, a brutal reminder of how bad an idea this is. I clench my jaw so tight it aches, willing my body to obey what my brain is screaming. Leave. Now.
“Grace… You don’t know what you’re asking.”
Her gaze holds mine, flickering with vulnerability, maybe, or defiance. I don’t want to hurt her.
“I know exactly what I’m asking.”
And there it is. The pull I’ve been fighting since the second I met her. The gravitational force that won’t let me go. I’m locked in place, barely breathing, and for the first time in my life, I lack the strength to walk away.
17
GRACE
The aftershocks are still rippling through me, my pulse throbbing low and deep between my legs. My body feels both heavy and weightless all at once, like a balloon tied to a boulder. I’m still riding the edge of sleep and sensation, as the sharp ache of release tangles with the hot sting of mortification.
Oh. My. God.
I’ve managed to keep this weird quirk a secret. My secret slumbering orgasms that wake me up hot and wet between my thighs. All my pent-up desires come out through dreams rather than in my real life, at least before Levi cracked me open.
And now?
It’s Jaxon who knows what I do. Jaxon, who saw what I’ve never seen myself.
His chest is rising hard and fast, his eyes dark as coal, burning hot enough to set me on fire if he gets any closer. His hands are clenched at his sides like they want desperately to reach for me, but won’t.
I don’t know which of us is more horrified.
I don’t know which of us is more turned on.
The air between us feels heavy and saturated with everything we’re both pretending not to want. My heart pounds hard enough that I swear it must be audible. His silhouette fills the doorway, tense and motionless, like one wrong word will send him fleeing or hurtling toward me. The static that’s been simmering since the first moment I laid eyes on him has gone from a low hum to a deafening roar, loud enough that it drowns out reason. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want to be alone. Not with the ache still curling low in my belly and the memory of his eyes locked on me like I was too tempting to resist.
Slowly, without thinking, I stand, reaching for the hem of my shirt and dragging it over my head in one smooth pull. The fabric whispers across my skin and falls to the floor. My voice comes out low, soft, and steady.
“Close the door.”
The click of the door latch sounds louder than a gunshot in the stillness of the room.
I don’t breathe. I can’t.
Jaxon turns, and in two long strides, he’s in front of me. That same black fire burns behind his eyes as his fists clench at his sides like he’s fighting a losing battle.
And then he moves.
His hand fists in my hair as his mouth crashes against mine, brutal and consuming, erasing every inch of space that’s ever existed between us and fusing us brutally. I gasp, and he swallows the sound, teeth scraping my bottom lip, tongue demanding entrance.
The heat flares bright and sharp, wiping out thought, reason, everything except the hunger clawing at my skin, and I answer him with equal fury, dragging my nails down his back, tugging at the waistband of those goddamn flannel shorts like they’re the only thing standing between me and oxygen.