“It’s Grayson,” he replies with a laugh, then covers me with his hot mouth. God, he’s sinful, going to town on my pussy like he can’t get enough. My back arches off the island, and my hands drag across the surface to grip the edges.

Slapping my clit, he orders, “Moan my name when you come.”

Delicious shivers run down my spine as praises pour freely from my lips. His tongue swirls faster and faster, increasing in intensity until a wave of pleasure floods through my body.

Placing one last kiss on my tingling clit, Grayson straightens up. He steps back and licks me off his lips while he watches me catch my breath on his kitchen island.

As I sit up, he opens one of the kitchen drawers and hands me a brown envelope. Placing his hands on either side of me, he smiles against my lips. “Open it, sweetheart.”

“What is it?”

His lips brush up against the corner of my mouth, and he whispers, “Open it.”

Unable to hold back a smile, I tear open the envelope and peek inside. My eyes flick up to his. “What’s this?”

“Plane tickets,” he replies, wetting his lips while watching me closely. “When the trial is over, I’m taking you away.”

“Paris,” I whisper as emotion clogs my throat. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“I know. You used to tell me all the time when you were younger. You and Chloe planned to study there together.”

I search his brown eyes, unable to stop myself from reaching out to trace my fingertips over his stubbly cheek. His beard rasps beneath my touch. He leans in, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. “Two weeks. You and me in Paris. We’ll leave all the drama behind. Forget about the trial and the death sentence.”

My fingers slide through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. I pull him closer, pressing my lips to his. His kiss is as fervent as mine, and his big hands grab me a little too hard.

“Fuck me, Grayson.”

His smile turns wolfish. “Since you asked so nicely.”

* * *

I’m rooting through the kitchen drawer—that one we all have where all the shit accumulates—when I hear a grunt followed by several thuds and a loud bang in the hallway. Leaving the drawer open, I run out.

Liam curses at the top of the stairs. “I fucking dropped it.”

The floor is covered in a sea of clothes, and his suitcase lies open next to the wall.

Pressing my lips together, I try not to laugh. “Unlucky.”

His feet stomp down the stairs while I start collecting his clothes.

“Just shove them in, don’t worry about folding them.”

Crouched on the floor, we work in silence. When the suitcase is packed, my brother reaches out to take my hand, squeezing gently. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“If you feel the need to keep asking, why don’t you stay?”

Staring at our clasped hands, he seems to weigh his words. “This isn’t my home anymore, sis.”