Chapter Seventeen Violet
Chapter Seventeen
Violet
For the past couple of days, the storm hadn’t decided whether it wanted to stay or leave. It teased little bits of sun before the darkness came back even fiercer.
I stood in my kitchen with the lights on—every single one—like that would keep out whoever waited for me in the shadows. The kettle hissed, and I went to pour myself a cup of tea. I’d just dipped the bag in the steaming water when a knock came, low and steady.
Three even beats that slid straight through my ribs. For a moment I didn’t want to answer, to pretend it never happened, that I wasn’t home.
“It’s me,” Grayson’s voice came muffled through the front door.
I exhaled and was by the front door, opening it seconds later. Rain and wind curled off the porch and behind him. Grayson filled the frame like he always did, all broad shoulders and storm-wet clothes. His hair was damp, water dripping off his face, as he watched me from under his lashes.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, with a touch of something I couldn’t name underneath.
“Hi,” I echoed, but my voice was softer, maybe hesitant. I stepped back to let him in. We were silent as he took off his jacket and then his boots. It felt good having him here, in my space, like I could finally breathe.
He didn’t reach for me, just stood there for a moment, looking at me in a way that made me feel both exposed and safe, as if his gaze was tangible and he was wrapping me in a warm embrace.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, and I hadn’t realized I was until the words hung between us.
“I’m fine.” It came out thinner than I wanted.
He glanced around, and I knew he noticed that every light was on in the house. “You sure you’re okay?” was all he asked.
“I’m on edge,” I admitted, and it was then, as I stared at him, that I knew I wanted to tell Grayson everything. I wanted to bare my soul, just cut myself wide open and let him see every ugly part of me.
His jaw flexed, the muscles ticcing, but he said nothing. I took in the sturdy, solid sight of him. Grayson wore a light T-shirt, now a shade darker from the rain. I could smell him even from where I stood—clean, fresh, with hints of smoke and pine.
“Do you want me to go?” he asked.
The question hit something raw, made me a little sick. I shook my head too quickly. “No.”
“That’s good, baby,” he said, like he’d hoped I’d say it.
The endearment hit me even harder than anything before, and he crossed to me. He didn’t crowd, didn’t reach for me. Grayson came just close enough that I felt his body heat, moved close enough for my body to remember what it felt like when he touched me, kissed me, and made me come.
A faint curve touched his mouth. “Let me hold you. Let me just . . . be with you.”
“Take me to bed, Grayson.” The words came out of me instantly, slipping past my lips from somewhere low and unguarded.
His body visibly tightened, and I moved those last few steps to be closer to him.
He lifted his hand then, slow enough for me to stop him, and touched my cheek with the backs of his fingers.
They were cool and damp from the rain. I stood still and let him use those digits to map out every line and dip of my face, as if he were memorizing me.
I let out a breath and rested my head on his chest because I needed the contact, needed to be reminded that being here with him meant things were okay.
I was safe. Without hesitation, Grayson lifted me easily into his arms and carried me into the bedroom.
His arms banded around me, and he tucked his chin so his mouth was by my temple.
I inhaled deeply, taking his scent into my lungs.
For a long moment that was all I could focus on. Grayson’s touch, his scent, and how he made me feel. His breathing was slow and steady, and I tried to match the rhythm of my heart to his.
I was strangely aware of how intimate and personal this all felt. I loved the quiet trailing of his footsteps, and the finality and intimacy of the door clicking softly closed behind us.
Grayson carried me to the edge of the bed, then slowly set me down, but kept his hands on my waist as if he didn’t want to fully let go. Maybe he saw the truth in my eyes, the need that had consumed me to the point of no return, because he asked, “Are you sure?” I knew what he meant.
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. Maybe I should have. But I was so tired of being someone who always looked over their shoulder, braced for the worst. I just wanted to experience what normalcy was like. “I want you.”
His throat worked as he swallowed, and I found the sight highly masculine and erotic.
I was already wet, my panties damp, my desire rising with each passing second we shared the same air.
The things I didn’t say—about the SUV, the text, my past that I’d never said out loud—hung between us like a weight about to drop.
Later, I’d tell him everything. But right now this was about feeling.
His hands were still on my waist as I reached for him, fingers at the hem of his shirt. The fabric was damp and clung to his skin. We didn’t need to say a word. Our silence spoke volumes.
Grayson lifted his arms and let me peel the material over his head.
His chest was all cut lines and defined muscle.
I stared like it was the first time, like I hadn’t already memorized every crease and plane with my hands.
A pale scar curved down his side, right under his ribs.
I let my fingers skim the length of it and felt him tense, then exhale slowly.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he murmured. He had his hands on my clothes now, tugging my sweater over my head, and then we both went for our pants. Where the air kissed my skin, goose bumps formed.
He stepped back and just looked at my now-nude body, as if wanting to brand the sight of me into his memory so he could pull it up when we weren’t together. That thought had my body heating, my pulse racing, and slickness smearing between my thighs.
Lightning flickered, a faint flash of white through the curtains, visible even though the room was fully lit. I held my breath, waiting to see what happened next.
“You’re so damn pretty,” he said, voice thicker.
More heat covered my body, rising up my neck and settling in my face. Before I could say anything in response, Grayson was kissing me like he was starving for it—for me. There was no rush in the way he licked and nipped at my mouth. He took his time. He savored me.
Cupping the back of my head, he angled me where he wanted me, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue between the seam of my lips. I opened fully for him, and liquid heat swarmed under my skin. Every place his hands touched burned. Every place he hadn’t touched yet suddenly felt cold.
I rose on my toes and curled my fingers at his nape, gently digging my nails into his skin, loving his groan in response. He broke away just enough to breathe me in and bathe me with praise.
I was perfect. I was beautiful. He’d never felt anything so incredible before.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
I shook my head before whispering, “I won’t.”
He rested his forehead against mine, closed his eyes, and for long moments just held me. “That makes me fucking happy, but I want to know you’re fully consenting to what we’re doing, baby.”
I shook slightly at how powerful his request made me feel. He kissed my forehead, then the tip of my nose, before giving me a slow, sweet, lingering kiss on my mouth. “I want this,” I said. Being absolutely clear on what I needed. “I want you.”
“That’s good, baby. That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say.” He slid his hand down my spine before pressing into the small of my back. After a second, Grayson moved his palm along the curve of my ass to settle on my thigh.
“I’m burning from the inside out,” I whispered, and as if he knew my need was making me crazy, he guided me back a step until my calves hit the mattress. Gravity took me down, and I sat. Grayson stayed standing, the hard, thick length of his erection right in front of my face.
“You can say no,” he said in a guttural tone, gripping the base of his shaft and keeping his length pointed right at me. I licked my lips as I saw a bead of precum dot the tip.
“Not going to happen.”
He smirked and stroked himself. The way he watched me, with hooded eyes and rapid respirations, made me clench my thighs together to stem the arousal pooling between my legs. “You’re beautiful,” he said, like it was something he hadn’t meant to let out.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was gripping his waist to steady myself. I leaned in and dragged my tongue over the crown of his dick. His flavor was salty but addictive, and I lifted my gaze so he could see my eyes as I sucked the crown into my mouth and licked him like a lollipop.
The sounds coming from Grayson were primal, bordering on animalistic, and it turned me on. He pumped his hips back and forth, not too forcefully, still giving me total control of the amount of his cock I took. I was hungry for him—starved, in fact.
A few minutes later, with a resounding pop, he pulled out of my mouth, groaned almost painfully, and used his body to ease me on the mattress.
He stayed with me as I fell back, and I felt the thick length of him press right against my pussy. One of his hands slid under my back and arched me into him, and the other found my wrist and brought one of my arms up by my head, not pinning, but gently holding me in place.
His mouth traced the line of my jaw, the hollow under my ear, and finally my throat. Every brush of lips felt like he was making a promise he intended to keep.
“Grayson,” I breathed, and he hummed against my skin, that low rumble that always made me feel like the world had shifted right out from under me.
“Yeah,” he said. “Say it again.”
“W-what?” I breathed, my thoughts jumbling together because of how good I felt.
“Say my name again.”
“Grayson.” Saying his name had him shivering on top of me.