His words were a jagged growl, and my heart pounded and ached from them. I was drunk, I was needy. He vibrated in my soul and clouded the air.

Grayson pushed up my dress and bruised the inside of my bare thigh. I thought he would rip at my panties, fuck me, and get it over with. My first time with West had been like that. Quick, dirty, efficient.

All Gray did was rub my thighs. I wanted him inside, deeper, but he rubbed me over the fabric, an excruciatingly teasing rhythm. I tried to push myself into his hand, and he smiled against my neck.

“Ask for it, Snitch,” he said, breath hot on my flesh. “Beg.”

I wanted him to bite me like he did before, but I couldn’t be the one to say it, so I held on to him tighter. The coarse fabric of his jeans rubbed against my bare legs, his shirt silk beneath my nails.

“Please,” I whispered.

Grayson pushed aside my panties, swallowing what sounded like a groan. “You’re so fucking wet.”

With two fingers he rubbed a delicious, aching friction that made me throb. I don’t know if I was breathing. I only knew him. Making me throb, ache. Up and down, but not going inside me.

Then he gently spread me, and our eyes collided.

A small sound escaped my lips, and I dug into his shoulders. His eyes blazed, his jaw feathered. Since that night, we’d skirted crossing the line. Tiptoeing up to it, stepping a little over, then always hopping back. With his fingers almost inside me and his eyes locked on mine, that thing between us more than popped.

It exploded.

This felt like something meaningful. Something important. Something more.

“You are perfect,” he groaned. “Fucking divine.”

This is why I can’t rip the tether out, why I can’t let this go. There’s more to him than cruelty. He uses it like armor. I’m addicted to these stolen moments. These gentle touches and soft words and softer moments.

No…not addicted. I’m strung out.

“You are mine,” his voice warbled, so low it was like chimney smoke. “Fuck. Say it.”

He spread me further with his fingers, yet still not inside me, and I arched, begging him with my body for what I couldn’t with words, just to go deeper. Deeper, more, inside, please.

“Say it,” he said, voice gravel. “Fucking say it.”

I couldn’t say those words. Because even though they’re true, he would never be mine.

With his free hand, he ripped my hands off his shoulder, holding them above my head.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, eyes going dark. “Don’t fucking look at me, Snitch. Nothing’s changed.”

And then he finally thrust his fingers inside me.