The heaviest moment passes—one that makes my fingertips ache and my limbs weighted. I force back a thick swallow at the sadness in Grant’s eyes and trail my finger along the back of his neck, hoping to bring him back. “How did you cope.”
He stiffens, and his jaw tightens. “I didn’t cope—I claimed control instead. Society doesn’t sway to people who ‘cope,’ my sweet. It surrenders to the men who shake off the ashes and tell the motherfucking world that it’s night even though it’s high noon. So, no. I didn’t cope, darling. I became more. I grew into someone who torments those who’d attempt to torment me.”
He steals my words for a flash as a carnal heat steams out of my skin. Only Grant could make words like that sexy and have me to the point where I want to ride his cock in a house that’s not ours.
Instead of doing that, however, I sit beside him on the bed and remained focused. “Was Seth investigated? You said you’re certain he was involved.”
“Oh, he was definitely questioned. I pointed the police straight to him, but like me, there was zero evidence tying him to anything. Whatever happened was meticulously planned and everyone present at the party said they never saw her, and half said they’d never even heard April’s name. The difference, however, is that my innocence was proved, and Seth just disappeared. I’ve kept track of him, though, and wherever he goes, strange crimes spike.”
My brows raise. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been caught yet.”
“Exactly why I told him that one wrong move was all it was going to take.” His voice darkens. “I’m not the stickler kid he knew in college, and he’s going to find that out.”
Again, so sexy. Especially as the words of “tormenting those who’d attempt to torment me” roil in my brain.
Without Grant knowing it, he’s planting a seedling of inspiration. I hope it takes root in my heart. If it does, maybe someday, I’ll rise above what happened to me and command the stars just like he commands the sun. A sweet smile twists across my lips at such a thought as I look at Grant and stare with admiration.
“You like hearing about what I turned into after college.” He’s not asking; it’s a statement.
“How can you tell?”
“Because you’re looking at me like you want to kiss me.” His fingers grip into my thigh while his thumb drags across my skin in delicate strokes.
I feel like guilt should be pressing against my chest or striking at my conscience, but none of that happens. A rough swallow scrapes down my throat as I worry about myself. “Is it wrong or strange that I find comfort in the way you’ve changed and operate?”
He takes his time leaning into me, closing the already small space between us, and when he finally brushes his lips against mine, my pulse is positively catatonic. I can feel each beat in the roots of my hair.
“Not if you don’t mind being smudged by my sins.” His breathy sigh hits my mouth, and I can taste the sin he’s talking about. But it doesn’t seem wrong to me—it possesses the flavors of bliss.
I’m swallowing back a groan as he sweeps his thumb across my mouth.
“You looked so pure that afternoon, walking into Layton’s office, and I loved it. But I saw more, my sweet. The day I threatened Mr. Loper, and you looked at me like I was your fucking hero? That’s the moment I knew you could be sullied, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to let you go if you gave into that. But you did, and the more time you spend with me, the more I see my black fingerprints all over you. You’re evolving into a creation that’s smudge-filled and sooty like me, but I think it makes you more breathtaking. The control I see you taking back. The more vocal you become like that night at the gala. The way you trust me, and don’t hide from me, and help me. You’re so beautiful.” A deep rumbling hitches out from his chest, and my pulse falters from the commanding pinch of him taking my chin between his thumb and index finger. “Knowing that, you tell me … does it bother you that I like you being tarnished?”
“No,” I stutter out. “If anything, it makes me a little more free.”
“Good,” he moans, a nearly non-existent smile touching his lips. He plants a gentle kiss on the tip of my chin and then drops his hand. “We don’t have any more appointments today?” he asks.
“No. Our last one was at ten.”
“Let's get out of here and go home. I’m going to need you soon.” He soothes over my hair, grabs my hands, then guides us out of the room. “I don’t think Alan would take too kindly to me ravaging you on this bed.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” I say, halfway laughing. “But I would.”
We leave the penthouse, laughing.
But through the light-hearted sounds, my focus is on the dark—my Grant. My knight in black armor who sews bits and pieces of my wings on a little more each day. I can feel my feathers starting to rustle against the iron bars of my heart. Soon they’ll be daring me to break out and soar.
And I’ll have Grant to thank for that—my beautifully ruthless lover.
I think I’m becoming addicted to the flight he dares me to believe I can take.
More than that, however—
I think I’m falling in love.