Page 46 of Letters of Faith
“How did you know?”
“Peach, I’ve watched you from the sidelines since we met, but I can’t stand on the sidelines anymore.”
He takes another step forward, and I take one back, hitting the counter.
“Did Nate make you promise to take care of me?”
A flicker of emotion crosses his face, but in a flash, it’s gone, replaced by an intensity so bright, I’m afraid I might burn from it.
“Not in so many words.” His answer is vague, leaving me with more questions than answers, but before I can ask what he means, he says, “Last question—better make it a good one.”
“Is that why you kissed me?” My heart is pounding so hard I’m afraid it might burst out of my ears. If he says yes, a piece of me will crumble. “Is that why you’ve done everything for me this last year?”
“No,” he answers. His voice is rough, sending goosebumps down my spine.
“Then why?” I demand, standing taller.
He looks me straight in the eyes and answers, “Because I’ve been in love with you most of my life.”
I don’t think before I lunge and crush my mouth to his.
We’re like fire and ice, melting into each other.
He wraps his arms around me and lifts me up on the countertop, pulling his lips away from mine and peppering them along my jaw.
“We should probably talk about this,” I say, my breath harsh, even to my ears.
“About what?” He murmurs against my jaw.
I can’t think. My mind is a jumble, only concentrating on the scruff of his beard against my skin.
“Hmm,” I hum.
His laugh is deep and infectious, spreading through my veins and causing my heart to skip.
“Am I distracting you, Peach?” Grayson asks, his breath fanning against my skin.
My only response is a harsh swallow, followed by another laugh from Grayson.
“I guess I know what to do in the future for those panic attacks of yours.”
That’s like a bucket of cold water over my head. He starts to bring his lips to mine again, but I push myself back further on the counter.
“Wait—wait, Gray. We have to talk.”
He studies my face, taking in the seriousness of my expression, and rubs his hand across his mouth as he steps back. His face is a careful mask, devoid of any emotion. It makes my chest ache.
“Don’t do that, Grayson.”
He doesn’t let anyone in—no one has ever asked him to—but I’m asking now. For that to happen, though, we have to have everything out in the open, with no secrets between us.
“Do what?” He asks casually, shoving his hands in his pockets like he isn’t pulling away.
“Act like I’m telling you no.”
He shrugs, “Aren’t you?”
Jumping off the counter, I stand in front of him and run my hand along his jaw.
