Page 83 of Liars and Liaisons

She’s becoming incoherent, and I’m not into somnophilia or forcing myself on someone.

So, I gently dip her back on the bed, lowering her head to the pillow, and slide her legs under the white comforter. In less than a minute, she’s out cold.

28

I stareat Grayson like he’s suddenly sprouted seven heads.

The wounds on his chest, shoulder, and neck have stopped bleeding, though I don’t think it would take very much to restart them. On the walk back, he said they were flesh wounds and that I needed to work on my aim.

Until a few seconds ago, I was floating on sunshine, still reeling from the sunflower field. The thrill of being chased, caught, and fucked by a strong, terrifying man like Grayson buzzed beneath my skin like little fireflies.

Now, my stomach sinks to my ass, and a knot lodges in my throat. Confusion thrashes around in my head, and I try my damnedest to remember the fundraiser. The heat from that night, the phantom sensation of hands caressing and teasing, the blur after we went upstairs.

Everythingfrom that point on was a blur—until I woke up in a strange bed, beside an even stranger man the next morning. My head throbbed, and my muscles ached, but I recall the overall lack of change. Even after he painted a picture of what’d happened, what we’d done, disappointment fizzled in my bones that I was no different from the woman I’d been before it all.

A vast contrast to how I feel right now, after what happened in the sunflower field. My body moans with each step, gloriously exhausted from all the orgasms and the stretching. I’ve rinsed the blood and cum and exertion, but I still feel fundamentally changed. Like my soul has turned some new, dark leaf and can’t be reversed.

But that night—nothinghappened? The fog, the thrill, the utter devastation that I’d betrayed Nate and myself. All of that was just… a lie.

My arms retreat from around his neck, and I unhook my ankles, trying to slide down. His grip on my ass tightens, and he presses me into the wall more. The faucet handle grates against my spine.

“What happened?”

He hesitates, his jaw working as he stares at me. Into me maybe. “I knew who you were when you kissed me. So, when I had a chance, I went downstairs and sought you out again. There was kissing and some petting… I might have even gotten alittlecarried away with my exploration.”

The teeth marks on my breasts.God, I remember those.

“You were lucid through everything we did,” he says.

Lucid?I’d only had three drinks, so the memory loss and hangover didn’t make sense. But…

I blink again. “You drugged me.”

When he doesn’t say anything, only adjusts his hold on my ass, I let out a small sound of disbelief. Though I’m not exactly sure why.

Since I met him, I’ve known exactly who Grayson James is. It’s my fault for choosing to ignore that.

“I think you should let me down,” I say, my voice barely audible over the water’s spray. I can’t even look at him right now, my mind trying to grapple with the new depths I’ve swum into.

No wonder I’ve been on edge since arriving at the estate, constantly feeling like something was off in the air, in the foundation. It’s been him the entire time and the lies he fed me to get me here.

On the one hand, a small sense of excitement courses through me at the fact that my first real sexual experience isn’t a total loss. Instead, it’s marked by blood and sweat and cum, and a general sense of wonder.

On the other, I’m angry with him for drugging me. For manipulating me, just to get me here.

“If I let you down, you’re going to run.” His fingers bite my skin, and I just know I’ll have little constellations painted in the shape of his hands by morning.

“So? You didn’t have a problem with that outside.”

“I’m no longer in the mood to chase.”

My chest heaves with anxious breaths as he continues to keep me pinned in place. He reaches up, tucking several strands of wet hair behind my ear, studying me with those glassy emerald eyes.

“I saw you with them,” he says after a prolonged silence, throat bobbing. “The day Nathaniel and Harrison came here to convince me to go back home. I refused because, at the time, I didn’t want to goanywhere. I still don’t really. The idea of being out in public, of being stared at or spoken to by strangers…”

He inhales a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I was born a spectacle. My mother was a seventeen-year-old Broadway hopeful, and my father wasn’t even divorced from his previous wife. I came into the world while it watched and judged and hoped I was better than my father. Better than my brothers, both musically gifted in their own rights. My parents’ scandal and our last name made me a target, and from the moment I began learning to play instruments and read sheet music, I knew I’d have to beso goodthat no one remembered my origin.”

One of his thumbs strokes the back of my cheek, and I watch his lips intently as they move, soaking up his secrets like candy.

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