Page 107 of Shattered Souls
Like the crash of waves against the shore, I implode.
My limbs are still heavy, my breathing ragged as I push myself upright. Fisting the back of Grayson’s top, I pull him up my body, ripping off the Henley so I can run my hands over the hard, lean planes of his torso.
Grayson smirks, the expression flooded with pure masculine smugness. “Eager, are we, Tempest?” he teases as I tear open the button of his jeans before shoving them over his ass.
“Are you saying you aren’t?” I challenge with an arched eyebrow.
“Fuck no,” he snarls, surging forward to claim my lips. The momentum has me falling back to the bed, Grayson settling on top of me as he kicks off his jeans and boxers. “Having you is all I’ve been able to think about since seeing you stand up to Lydia like that. That fucking slap, Tempest, had my fucking balls aching. I’ve never been so proud.”
He nips my lip, and I yelp, before he slides the head of his cock teasingly along my slit, never actually entering me and giving me what I need. What webothneed.
“Need you,” I pant, rolling my hips and digging my heels into his ass in a bid to get him moving.
“Fuck, I love you like this. Wet and needy for me.” Fucking finally, he pushes between my folds. Sighing, I stretch around him. His head falls to my shoulder as he seats himself inside me. “God,” he groans. “You have no idea how much I needed this. Needed you. I don’t know how you calm the chaos, but it’s so fucking quiet.”
Rapturous pleasure has smoothed the lines on his face as he lifts his head to look at me. Chemistry buzzes along my skin, yet what simmers in the air between us is so much more than simple attraction.
“We’re in the eye of the storm,” I murmur, feeling that same peace and contentment he does. Like the world has stopped turning. For a blissful moment, everything is frozen in time.
Then he begins to move, and that tranquility melts into a molten desire that sizzles along my nerves and fries every thought in my head until all that exists is the slide of skin againstskin, the heat of Grayson’s warm body, and the insane pleasure every grind of our hips elicits.
My nails dig into his skin, clawing marks down his back as he thrusts into me with bruising force while leaving marks all along the column of my neck with his teeth and lips. Despite his sweet words, this is not lovemaking. It’s a battle of wills. A clash of titans. The way I imagine it will always be with Grayson.
Sliding a hand into my hair, he fists the auburn strands. Pain dances along my scalp as he wrenches my face to his. “Mine.”
“Yours,” I agree, because there truly is no denying the inevitable. I think I’ve always known it was the truth, but opening myself up to Grayson is terrifying. Scarier than falling in love with Royce or Logan. Not because of what he did when I first came to Halston, but because he’s my teenage crush. The one man I put on a pedestal. Who seemed so far out of reach that he was nothing but a fantasy that I’d immerse myself in in my darkest moments. He was the spark in the night that kept me going when my demons were pressing in on all sides. He’s the reason I didn’t give up sooner. The reason I clung to hope for so long.
Without him, I’d have died before I was far enough along for that pregnancy stick to turn positive. Before I found out about Aurora. Before I found a reason tolive.
“I’ve always been yours.” I curl my hand around the back of his neck, squeezing. “I might be your eye in the storm, but you’ve always been my candle in the dark.”
“Good. I’ll be your guiding light, and you can be my shelter from the storm. Together, we’ll make it through the night. Now, show me how those pretty eyes spark when you’re coming on my cock.”
Reaching between us, Grayson rubs his finger against my clit until stars blanket the clear sky, and there’s no fear of either of us getting lost.
We spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Every time one of us would stir, our hands and lips would wander until Grayson had me seeing stars all over again.
By the time the gray light of dawn battles the night for dominance, muscles I didn’t even know I had hurt, and a sleepy smile graces my lips as I slide out from between the sheets. Not wanting to wake a sleeping Grayson, I tip-toe to the adjoining bathroom and quickly relieve myself.
The room is lit by only the weak daylight straining through the window when I step back into it. I don’t immediately go back to the bed. Instead, I wander the room to the soothing backdrop of his soft breathing. I’m struck by how minimalistic it is, yet each item here carries weight and meaning.
On his nightstand is a framed photo of his Gran, her smile warm and loving. I pick it up gently, feeling a pang of emotion at the sight of her kind eyes. Nearby, I notice a small stack of ticket stubs tied together with a thin piece of string. I untie the string and carefully sift through them, recognizing one from Logan’s championship game last year. The edges are worn from handling, and I imagine Grayson’s excitement and pride as he watched his brother achieve such a milestone.
On a shelf above his desk, there’s a sleek frame housing an article clipping. It’s about a huge deal his company landed, demonstrating Grayson’s pride in the company he has reconstructed in the wake of his father’s actions. The headline is bold, praising his strategic mind and leadership. I trace the edge of the frame, feeling a surge of admiration for his accomplishments.
I trail my fingers over the rigid spines of business books and classic novels as I pass a modest bookshelf, before approaching his dresser. A small, intricately carved wooden box is perched on top that draws my eye. My fingers hover over the top of it before I open the lid. Inside, sit a pair of antique-looking cufflinks and…
… a bright pink scrunchie.
It can’t be.
Gingerly, I lift it out, the fabric silky smooth against my fingers.
“I stole it from your bedroom when we were teenagers.”
I whirl toward his husky voice. “Why?”
He’s sitting upright in the bed, his lean torso on display, the sheet pooled around his waist as he stares at me. His hair is sticking up on end, and he has never looked sexier. Something about seeing Grayson undone gets to me—knowing that he’d never let justanyonesee him like this.
