Page 55 of Hunted Innocence

Then I got him.

It was perfection.

I don’t want him to see me any differently, and I thought he didn’t. I told him more than I’d ever told anyone else about what happened to me at Landon’s hands. Now that he’s seen it with his own eyes, the depravity of my husband, everything has changed.

God, just thinking about Landon as my husband makes me physically ill. Thinking about Grayson seeing it and feeling disgusted with me, refusing to talk to me, to touch me…

The bathroom door opens, and I watch as Grayson makes his way toward the bed wearing a pair of athletic shorts and no shirt. I should not be ogling him, but I can’t help myself. He’s beautiful. His muscles gleam in the glow of the moon.

Hands down, he is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life.

I wait for him to drop his shorts, anticipating the moment he stands beside the bed in nothing but his boxer briefs, but he doesn’t. It doesn’t happen. Instead, he climbs into bed beside me, beneath the sheets, his shorts in place.

Taking the moment to gently glide down the bed myself, I rest my head against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. I’m not sure how long we lie there in silence, both of us focused straight ahead at the white paint.

“Grayson,” I call out softly.

He doesn’t say anything. I almost think he didn’t hear me, but I know better. He is just ignoring me, refusing to speak to me.

Whatever the case, he says nothing.

Turning my head, I look at him, seeing his profile, his face focused straight upward. Still, he’s absolutely gorgeous, breathtakingly so. I should just be appreciative that he wanted anything to do with me the few times he did.

He could have anyone.

Slowly, he turns his head, and his eyes find mine.

“I’m okay,” I say softly. He hums but continues to keep quiet, so I repeat the words insistently. “Grayson, I am okay.”

“I know you are,” he murmurs. “But I’m not.”

Those words slam into me. They cause every fiber of my being to ache. Tears prick my eyes before they roll down my cheeks. I reach out, and my fingers tremble as I touch the center of his chest. He doesn’t say anything, but his body tenses at my touch, and I hate it.

“Talk to me.”

He wraps his fingers around my wrist as he holds me, keeping me from moving. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. I don’t want to talk tomorrow.

I want to talkright now.

Pushing up slightly so I can look down at him, I wait for his gaze to find mine. He doesn’t say anything as his eyes search mine. I decide to lay it all out on the line. If I don’t, I know that tomorrow he’s going to break this off and be done with me by morning—he’ll probably be done with me by morning anyway.

I should be happy for the few moments we had, but I’m selfish. I want more. I want him forever.

“You’re disgusted by what you saw. Grayson, I don’t even know what he did to me. And even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I’m still the same person I was before he kidnapped me.”

Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it for a moment before I continue, and I hold it because the next words I say hurt.

“I’ve been dirty since he took me, and you liked me just fine. But you’ve seen it now, and you want nothing to do with me. I’msure it’s seared into your mind, and I can understand that. How can I expect you to want anything to do with me anymore? I don’t know, but I wish you still wanted me.”

I know I’m rambling. But I can’t stop myself. The words just pour out of me, and by the time I’m finished, a fresh wave of tears slides down my cheeks.

I hate this.

I hate myself, but mostly, I despise Landon Tate. I despise the man who ruined me for any other man on earth. Because clearly, I am indeed ruined. Grayson’s brows snap together, then his eyes widen.

“You think that I don’t want you because you are somehow tainted?” he asks.

---