Page 88 of Craving Francesca

“Ask what you wanna ask,” he said, looking over at me again.

“Why’d you fuck me if you’re with her?”

“I’m not with her.”

“Okay,” I replied quickly. My muscles were being soothed by the water, my mind was finally clear after so long. I was having a good time. I shouldn’t have even brought it up, and I was regretting it.

“Emma and I—”

“Could you stop saying her name?”

Gray’s head tipped down as he shot me a look. “We’ve never been exclusive. Neither of us were interested in that.”

“Got it.” I didn’t feel any better about it, but I was glad that I wasn’t the other woman or something.

“That’s done,” he said quietly. “Won’t be seeing her again.”

“Why?”

“Not interested.”

“All right.”

We sat there in the quiet for a long time, listening to the wind blow through the trees and the crickets and frogs singing. Eventually, though, I grew restless and had to move. Scooting out to the middle of the spring, I leaned back and let myself float. The water muffled the sound, but I still felt the disturbance as Gray moved. A second later, his hands brushed my back and thigh. I’d drifted toward him. As I let my lower half sink, he caught me on his lap.

“I think this is the longest you’ve ever been quiet,” he said softly, brushing the wet hair away from my face with both hands.

“Not all of us are the strong silent type,” I countered, reaching up to grip his wrists.

My heart was galloping, and my skin felt super sensitive as his thumbs found my cheeks. God, I loved to look at him. The moonlight highlighted parts of his face and cast shadows on the rest. He looked like a painting.

“There she is,” he said, searching my face. “That’s the Francesca I know.”

“I feel like myself,” I confirmed. “We should get hammered and dance on tables or something before it goes away again.”

He smiled. “Nah, she’s not going anywhere.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m keepin’ her with me,” he replied simply.

“Easy as that?”

“Easy as that.”

I glanced down at his lips, and he tensed beneath me.

“Not here for that,” he said so quietly that I barely heard him.

“Fuck it,” I murmured, closing the distance.

I should’ve been prepared for how the kiss rocked me, but I wasn’t. I’d told myself that I’d overinflated how good it was in my memory. Whenever I’d been with anyone else and they hadn’t measured up, I’d reminded myself that the only reason I’d imagined it was so good was because I couldn’t have Gray.

Kissing him again proved me wrong on every level.

I gasped, my nails digging into his wrists.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, his hands tangled in my hair as he dove back in again.

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