Page 88 of Seeing Grayscale

“More?”

“Dudes showing up here.”

I shake my head. “Brent only knows where I live because he’s a security guard here.”

He frowns. “So that’s your M.O., then? Security guards?”

Blowing out a breath, I run my fingers through my hair, that slimy feeling from earlier returning. “I don’t have an M.O. It’s difficult for me to find…lovers,” fuck that sounds horrible, “who are willing to practice discretion.”

“Discretion,” he repeats. “Am I meant to do that too?”

“You aren’t them, Gray. Nowhere even close to it.”

“Then what am I?” he demands.

How do I put it into words that don’t sound like pacification?

How do I accurately portray everything he makes me feel?

I don’t think I can because most of it remains a mystery. He shouldn’t compare himself to the men I’ve been with; that part is true. There is no comparison.

My entire adult life, I have kept emotions out of it, exercising a carnal need for release and pleasure—a necessity to keep myself sane. As much as the religious like to preach about abstinence, it’s no way to live. So I only allowed myself to have something physical for a short while.

Gray is infinitelymorethan physical.

He makes me want to set aside my body’s needs so I can learn whatheneeds. It’s as foreign to me as a new language—something I can’t even begin to comprehend, but I want to with everything in me. Gray gives me a glimpse into the shadowy hollow I pretend doesn’t desperately wish to be set alight and full. He gives me connection, recognition, and a profound sense of companionship while teasing me with intimacy.

I crave him.

I want him.

I fuckingneedGray.

“You are everything,” I whisper.

His hands reach up, gentle fingers brush over my beard before cradling my cheeks. “I’ve never been anyone’s everything.”

“I want you to be mine,” I admit before leaning down and sealing the admission with a kiss.

THIRTY-EIGHT

It’dbesoeasyto believe him. So stupid, but easy.

Which is why I won’t allow myself to do so.

That doesn’t change how I kiss him or wrap my arms around his neck. It doesn’t stop me from sealing our fronts together, so he can’t change his mind. Denying myself the one thing I’ve always wanted ishard, but kissing him comes as naturally to me as breathing.

I’m scared to death, addicted, and so in over my head. I don’t know what will happen when he turns me away like Brent.

All I can do is kiss him harder, snatch his lips like the thief I am. I’m stealing his affection like I have stolen to survive. Of all the white knights to come to my rescue, the universe sent me one I could never hope to keep. I can see it all playing out in my head as his tongue dips into my mouth, teasing and sweet.

When his heartbreaking hands squeeze my hips, I can taste the longing in his breath.

Hunter won’t be able to keep this up for much longer. He’ll help me, give me the tools I might need to become independent, while feeding me false hope.

That fact has me pushing his back flat against the door. A loud thud sounds in my ears as I tilt my face, demanding more. He groans, exploring more of me with eager hands. They travel over my sides, my back, toying with the idea of going lower.

I’m fueled by the inevitable future, attempting to change it with one fucking kiss that neither of us can seem to stop—not even to come up for air.

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