His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly at my words; then he yanked me to him by the waist, separating my thighs with his knee, hiking me up against his thigh. I had no panties on, and my naked flesh pressed against his. I knew the moment he figured it out, because he grinned.

“Dirty little nun,” he said, voice rocky. “Do you always sleep without panties?”

He hiked his thigh against my aching core and a sound fell from my lips, but before it could fully fall, he gripped my jaw, tilting it. Ripping my face closer. Locked on my lips. Jaw so tight I could see the muscle quirking.

“Have you ever come on someone’s hand, Snitch?” he asked, still fixed on my mouth. His free hand floated from my hip to the naked skin at the back of my thigh, just below my ass.

I swallowed, throat thick. “No.”

He groaned. “Do you want to?” His self-control is so fucking intense. I can feel his cock throbbing at my hip, but he just stared at my mouth.

Even as I lay spread on his thigh, he didn’t try to force anything more. His hand only held me tight to him. Oddly and surprisingly, he seemed to respect my boundaries. And yet that made it worse, because Grayson Crowne dripped sexuality. He wasn’t the threat…I was.

Maybe it was just in my head, but was he leaning closer to me? Millimeters of air that were nothing on the outside but in this moment, may as well have been miles.

His lip slowly curved, hooking right, arrogant. “Your answer is all over my leg.”

His smile was arrogant, but his tone wasn’t. It was almost sweet. Wondrous.

Our eyes collided and the breath rushed out of me. A bit of the mask dropped. Gone. Raw. A glimpse of Olympia. Grayson.

I felt like he was a second from pouncing on me.

And…I wanted that.

“I want to know what your face looks like when you stretch around my dick,” he said. “The sounds you make taking me in.”

“What about Lottie?” I whispered.

Something flickered in his eyes. Guilt?

His jaw tensed. “Maybe I’ve started rooting for you to fail.”

My eyes popped.

His own narrowed, like he’d realized what he’d let slip. In the same instant, he dropped my wrist, dropped me, and rolled back, staring at the ceiling.

“Get on the floor,” he said.

Nineteen

STORY

For days after Grayson let me into his bed, he ignored me. I woke up and he was gone, and that was the pattern for the next few days. He made sure to not look at me, not acknowledge me, never be alone with me. There was no party save the looming Fourth of July tomorrow, so I stayed in his wing. Tiptoeing like the ghost I was.

I don’t know why I expected anything different.