Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
A soft hum sounds in my bedroom. I press my head into the pillow, practically stuffing the fabric into my ear, but the sound doesn’t stop.
If anything, it seems to get louder. The low hum shifts, taking on a gentle melody.
I flop my hand onto the nightstand, sending my fingers crashing into the alarm clock.
With a grunt, I slam the snooze button. I don’t know if it’s early, but it feels too early for me to be awake.
The humming stops, replaced by a masculine chuckle. I rip my eyes open and force my body upright, nearly slamming my head into the headboard. My head whips around the room, seeking out the source of the sound. When I find it, I let out a shriek.
Perched on my window bench, with a book in one hand and a mug in the other, is Gray. A very freaking shirtless Gray. The muscles in his stomach ripple as he crosses one leg over the other. He lowers the novel to the bench beside him and pulls off his reading glasses to lay them on top of it.
God, why does he have to have glasses? The feral thing inside of me instantly pops her head up and licks her lips. Men who read are hot, she purrs, and men who read with glasses are double-hot. I ignore her and pretend my cheeks are heating at the sight of him.
A panty-dropping smile breaks across his face and points to a mug sitting on the windowsill. “I made you coffee.”
I tuck the sheet under my armpits and clench them tight, ensuring every inch of me below my collarbones is hidden.
My jaw drops into my lap as my eyes pan over his just-woke-up hair, his gray sweatpants, and his bare feet.
How long has he been here? My stomach begins to bubble with anger.
He’s just barged in and made himself at home in my home?
And he’s been reading in my book nook? And he made coffee?
“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” I hiss.
“You are my home,” he says.
His home. He keeps saying that. He states it without fear, like it’s just some trivial fact and not a declaration that most men run screaming from. A warm emotion flutters in my belly and I immediately tamp it down. I stomp on those butterflies like they’re moths eating my favorite sweater.
I spit out a frustrated growl. “How long have you been here?”
He turns, grabbing the mug from below the window, and my eyes catch on the movement of his abs.
My mouth waters, which is obviously because of the smell of the fresh coffee and not from anything else.
He places the mug into my hands and I immediately gulp down a mouthful of its caffeinated goodness.
“Oh, little bird.” He chuckles. The bed dips under his weight as he sits. “I’ve been here since before you screamed my name last night.”
Coffee erupts from my mouth, spraying over my comforter. I cough and sputter, tasting hazelnut creamer in my nose.
I shake my head, feeling my cheeks heat. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Gray interrupts, grabbing the mug from my hand and placing it onto the nightstand.
Slamming his hands down on either side of me, he cages me with his arms. Warmth radiates from his body as he leans in close.
I force myself to be still, ignoring the misguided instinct that begs me to push my body towards his.
His enticing scent surrounds me and I suck in a breath through my nose, filling my lungs with that smell that uniquely belongs to him.
The romance novels are right. Bad guys smell really freaking good.
A shiver runs through me as his breath ghosts across my mouth. His full lips are only inches from mine and I can't stop thinking about how soft they are. I watch them change, curling into a smirk. It's only then that I realize I've leaned in closer, nearly pressing my mouth to his.
I clench my hands at my sides, ignoring the way my fingers ache to touch him.
I don't want to want him the way I do. I don't want to crave his attention, his psychotic devotion. I shouldn’t want any of it, but I do.
The butterflies in my stomach flutter and flap like they're trying to bust out through my belly button.
Gray wraps a tattooed hand around the sheet and yanks.
I try to reach for it as it falls, but his arms keep mine locked at my sides.
Cool air hits my skin, immediately tightening my nipples into hard buds.
Gray rakes his eyes over me. His tongue darts out, licking a line over his bottom lip.
I feel his gaze like a physical touch, caressing my breasts and trailing down my abdomen.
My eyes drop toward my belly. I stare down at it, wondering what he sees when he looks at me.
Surely, he notices the softness of my stomach, the creases in my skin, the scars that mark it.
Something tightens in my chest. It presses against my lungs, making it hard to pull in air.
My eyes sting and my vision begins to blur.
I blink away the tears, even as I wonder why they’re coming.
I’ve never felt ashamed or particularly self-conscious of my body.
Men have seen me naked before. A pretty good number of them, actually.
I’ve never felt nervous showing my body.
Not until now, until Gray. He doesn’t look at me with the simple appreciation that men do.
His eyes burn me, heating my blood until I think I might boil alive from the inside out.
Looking into his eyes is like a rabbit staring into the eyes of the wolf that’s about to have its dinner.
His eyes are feral, hungry, frightening.
Gray makes me vulnerable in a way that no man has before.
He breaks down my shields and exposes me.
I didn’t invite him in. I didn’t let him get close to me willingly.
I never let them get close enough to truly see me.
He didn’t wait for an invitation; he forced himself into my life.
He dug into my life, learning everything about me that I never would have told him. He saw my scars.
“Look at me,” he demands. His thumb digs into my chin until I tilt my head back, meeting his gaze. “Don’t hide from me.”
He tears the blankets from my legs, tossing them away from the bed. I shiver against the shock of cool air as the wad of fabric flutters to the floor.
I gasp at the feel of his hand on my ankle.
The rough skin of his palm wraps against my flesh as he drags it slowly up my leg.
He presses his nose into my neck and sucks in a breath through his nose.
“Fucking perfect,” he purrs against the sensitive skin below my ear.
“I love that you’ve started sleeping naked. You never did before.”
What?
My limbs freeze and my spine snaps to attention.
I try to clear the fog in my mind, to think through the haze of arousal that’s settled in my brain.
How many times did he watch me sleep? How long has he actually been watching me?
Weeks? Months? How many times has he been inside my house while I lay unconscious in this bed?
“Oh, yes, precious,” he smiles against my neck, “I’ve been here more times than you know.
” He breathes out a chuckle that makes goosebumps rise on my skin.
“You and I, we’ve shared your most private moments together.
For so many nights, I've been your shadow, watching you sleep, watching you read…” He nips at my neck and I choke out a moan.
“Watching you rub your fingers against your needy little clit, wishing it was my hand down your pants.”
This is sick, a panicked voice inside of me screams as liquid heat pools in my belly. This is wrong, it screeches as my core heats. This is insane, it yells as wetness drips down my thighs.
His hand moves higher up my leg, trailing a lazy line toward my bare sex. I shift, trying to clench my thighs together to keep some distance between us. He stops me, wrapping his hand around my upper thigh. He squeezes hard enough to bruise and my flesh dimples beneath his fingers.
“Absolutely fucking not, little bird,” he growls. “You’re going to open these legs for me and let me see how wet you are.”
He wrenches my thighs apart and leans in. My legs jerk as his nose brushes against my core. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath through his nose. “You smell so good. You smell like mine.”
The scrape of his stubble against my pussy makes me groan. I look down, meeting his hungry eyes just before his tongue darts out and flicks my clit. My teeth slam down on my lower lip, holding back the pornographic sound that tries to jump from my mouth.
Desire pours through my body, lighting my nerve-endings on fire. I struggle against the feeling, as if by sheer willpower I could grab onto my sanity and bind it to myself.
“I could eat your pretty cunt all day,” he rasps against my folds, “lick you until I drown in your cum. But you haven’t earned that privilege today.”
God, yes, drown in me, the horny creature inside of me mewls. Wait, what?
Suddenly, I’m in the air, my body flipping before I tumble back toward the bed.
The air rushes out of me with a grunt when my stomach collides with his legs.
I wiggle and push, but a strong arm bands around my waist, keeping me locked against him.
My breath comes in short pants, fanning against the mattress before huffing back into my face.
Gray wraps his hand around my ponytail and yanks.
A tingling burn spreads through my scalp as he pulls my head back.
I release a yelp when his hand slams down on my bare ass. “You will stop lying to me,” he demands, punctuating each word with a stinging smack. “Stop denying what you feel for me. Stop pretending you don’t want me, that there’s nothing between us.”