I… what? “Gray—”
His stomach touches mine. His hands move up and palm my cheeks. This guy could haveanyoneat school. But he’s here in my house, saying this, doing this.
“I don’t get it.” My eyes sting. I can’t explain why. Between the not breathing and the not thinking, tearing up couldn’t come at a worst time. But my head’s all over the place. My love, it’s too strong, and if he ever knew… Whatever’s burning between us, it’s enough to make my daydreams seem like a possibility.
“What don’t you get?” His thumbs caress my cheeks.
“This.”
He pulls back and snags my hand. My camera bag drops off my shoulder, landing at the base of the stairs as he drags me back up. The closer we come to my room, the more my stinging eyes and breathing problems rage.
Then we’re in my room. He shuts the door, and everything inside me tingles. My folks aren’t home. My brother’s in the basement. Just me and Gray behind my closed bedroom door.
“Sit down, Emma.”
If he hadn’t given me a little push, there’s a chance I would’ve obeyed and dropped to the floor right there. Carefully, I sit on my bed, watching him pace, lost in silence. The twist on his face is confusing.
“Gray?”
He stops and turns to me. “You’re the only one who can do that.”
“Do what?” I whisper, uncertain of… everything.
“Stop my head. Freeze my mind. Bring me to another place. Or keep me where I need to be.”
“Where’s that?”
“I thought far away.” He rubs his temples. “School’s over in, what, three weeks?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re off to Trydan.”
“In a few months.” Biting my lip, I don’t know where he’s going with this. He hasn’t said anything about college. I know he’s had a couple of scouts talk to him at school, but discussions about the future—just like his home life—are off-limits. I know where, or if, he’s going to college like I know what his bedroom looks like: I don’t.
And he won’t talk about it. I’ve tried more than once. His father is an asshole. That’s all he’s ever shared, but I picked up on that the few times I’ve seen his dad over the years. More than once, I’ve seen Grayson with bruises that he blames on football, though I’ve never seen Ryan like that. Gray’s home life is bad. I figured that out long ago when I started telling him stories. The future is what he avoids.
He crosses his thick arms, making his muscles flex. “This week fuckin’ sucked.”
I blink. “Why?”
“God,” he growls. “Are you that blind?”
My eyes go wide. My heart slams in my chest. “No—”
He drops to his knees in front of my bed. His hands tear into my hair. His mouth finds mine, pulling me to him. This isn’t a kiss. It’s a pleading. No one’s ever touched me like he does. It’s hard and hot, and I didn’t know kisses like this existed outside the movies.
“I’m sorry.” I kiss him, bite him. God, I need him. “I’m scared of you.”
He breaks from me, breathing hard. “What?”
“What if what you want isn’t what I want?” I bite my lip. “What if I’m so far past…”
His arms wrap around me, and Gray pulls me with him as he crawls onto my bed. “Don’t doubt this.”
I nod, and his mouth finds my neck. Everything inside my body ignites. Deep in me, I’m dying for him, all lust-drunk and love-crazy. His hips flex, pushing his weight between my legs. My hands claw into his shirt, ripping to get under it and palm his skin, and when I do, he moans as my fingernails dig into his hot flesh.
But then he stops. I’m panting, my mouth open against his. His eyes freeze on mine, his breaths the mirror of mine. I feel his hard-on between my legs, thick and hard.