Chapter Ten Grayson
Chapter Ten
Grayson
Her door opened before I knocked.
Violet stood there barefoot, her toenails bare of polish, wearing dark jeans and an oversize sweater fraying at the edges. Her expression said she’d been overthinking things.
She said nothing. Just stepped aside, a small smile on her face that seemed forced. Instantly I wondered what else she’d seen. Had someone left more things for her on the doorstep? Was it escalating?
I walked in, already on high alert. “What’s wrong?”
The silence that followed didn’t feel empty—it felt charged. Whatever this was felt heavier with every breath we took. I stared at her, but she averted her gaze.
“I’m fine,” she said, but I knew it was a lie. She looked at me then. “Want something to drink?” she asked, voice low. A little hoarse.
I shook my head once. “No.”
She nodded like she expected that. Like she was stalling and knew it. “Tell me what’s the problem, and don’t say it’s nothing, because I can tell something is wrong.”
“I’m fine, really. I mean, as fine as I can be. But I wrote more,” she said right away, lifting the notebook I’d given her.
I moved a step forward, took the notebook from her hand, but didn’t open it. I stared into her eyes, and for the first time I let myself realize what I’d been trying to suppress.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” I said. Quiet. Certain. “And I haven’t stopped.”
She sucked in a breath.
The notebook was heavy in my hand. This was why I was here . . . to find out what the fuck was going on. But just being in Violet’s presence felt like I was clutching an electrical wire and slowly frying to death.
Now only a foot of space was between us. We breathed the same air, shared the same energy. “And it’s not that I can’t stop thinking about you, Violet. It’s that I don’t want to.”
Her lips parted. I lifted a hand, slow enough that she could stop me. She didn’t.
I cupped her jaw, keeping my touch featherlight. Her skin was warm and so fucking soft. She was breathing harder with every passing second, but she didn’t push me away. She let me explore. I traced along the curve of her cheek, letting the moment stretch like wire pulled too tight.
“This scares me,” she whispered.
I leaned in, not touching her mouth—just letting my breath move along the pink, full swell of her lips.
“It terrifies me,” I whispered back honestly.
Fuck, it felt good to say that out loud.
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against hers.
For a long while we stayed like that, both of us confused as hell over what was happening.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was, and there was no stopping it.
When I was about to pull back, she grabbed my shirt in both fists, pulling me into her. I groaned when my lips touched hers, this sudden, powerful need consuming me. I was controlled, restrained at first, but when she parted her lips, her tiny tongue touching my bottom lip, I fucking snapped.
I kissed her like I’d wanted to my entire life—desperate and deep, claiming every sound she made like I owned them, like I was starved and they were the only thing that could sate this ravenous appetite.
Her lips were soft, but my kiss was brutal.
This primal, feral beast took over, and I lifted her off the ground. Violet wrapped her legs around my waist without hesitation, like it was instinct. Like we’d done this before and were addicts needing our fix again.
Her body fit against mine like she was made for me, like we hadn’t been brought together by happenstance, but by fate. Destiny.
“I need,” she breathed against my mouth. “I need more, Grayson.”
I groaned and carried her to the couch, positioning her to straddle my lap, and never stopped kissing her. I’d give her whatever she wanted, until we both were drowning from it.
I lifted my hips, unable to stop myself from grinding my erection between her thighs. She made a sound then—somewhere between a gasp and a moan—and I swear to God, it shattered something in me.
I sat there and let her have the control. Her hands were everywhere—my chest, my jaw, the back of my neck. She gripped every part of me, clung to my very soul.
“Touch me,” she breathed, and I wondered if she realized she’d said the words out loud.
I slid my hands beneath her sweater and found bare skin. Her body tightened—but didn’t stop me. Instead, Violet pressed her forehead to mine and whispered, “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Never,” I growled.
I pulled the material off her, slow enough that she could stop me if she changed her mind.
And she let me. She pulled free of her shirt like it was abrasive and all she wanted was my hands on her body.
She sat atop me in just a bra and jeans, panting like she’d just run for miles, her lips kiss-bitten and swollen, eyes wide and pupils blown. Because of me.
And Christ . . . I was so hard, her little cotton-covered pussy pressed right over the stiff length of my need for her. And the way she looked at me—like she couldn’t believe this was happening—made me even harder.
My arousal felt unbearable.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, cupping her face, trying to control myself. This was as much of a phenomenon for her as it was for me. She shook her head like she didn’t want to believe it. So I said it again. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
I leaned in and kissed down her neck to her collarbone, stopping at the soft skin just above the bra, where her breast rose above the lace. She arched for me, one hand fisting in my hair to keep me where I was.
She rolled her hips once, and the friction made me groan into her skin hard enough I knew it stung.
“Grayson . . .” She said my name like it was a call to prayer. She rolled her hips again and again, seeking her pleasure. Using me.
My cock jerked, the tip wet as my need rose. I slid my hand beneath the waistband of her jeans, looking her in the eyes. Her breath hitched—but she nodded, knowing what I silently asked.
I pushed past the fabric, found heat and wetness between her legs, and the softest sound left her.
God, she was soaked, primed for me. Her head fell back as I touched her with more pressure, sliding my finger into her slit, teasing her engorged clit. I moved my hand down her cleft, and she grabbed my wrist to hold me there, to guide the rhythm she needed as she rocked back and forth.
I was mesmerized as I watched her seek her ecstasy, watched her fall apart with my hand between her thighs and my mouth on her skin. Her body trembled and she sagged against me, gasping and panting against my neck as she worked her pussy against my hand.
As she controlled the situation.
When she came, it was like she was breaking open. No shame. No apology. Just surrender. It was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen in my goddamn life.
Afterward, she collapsed against me, both of us still breathing hard. I pulled my hand from her pants, and like a sick fuck—because I couldn’t help myself—I sucked on my fingers, licking her juices from the digits like I was dehydrated and she was a glass of water.
I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her hair, inhaling her scent. We didn’t speak for a long time. And when she finally looked up at me, her gaze held something I wasn’t ready to name.
Because saying it out loud made this a hell of a lot more complicated.