Twisted(51)
“Guess not. Though I would find you sexy in a parka and snow pants.” He held up her dress and lifted an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to let you leave in this? Where’d you park anyway?”
“Two blocks down, behind some bushes.”
“Damn, total spy mode. You walked two blocks in those boots?”
“I would’ve crawled on glass to get to you. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited?”
He shifted toward her with her dress bunched in his hands. “Unless it’s the better part of a decade, you’re going to lose this contest.”
“It is. Why did we waste so much time?”
From the way he set his mouth, she didn’t get the feeling they’d be going down that road anytime soon. Maybe it was just as well. The future was what mattered now, not the past.
Swallowing deeply, she brushed her fingers over his jaw and tried again. “It’s always been you for me. Always, since long before—before he—”
The melting warmth in his expression turned glacial. “Don’t say his name. I don’t want any part of that fucker to touch us here.”
She turned her face away, hating that she’d brought even an instant of sadness into what had been such a wonderful night and morning-after. The sadness existed entirely on her part. She would never forgive herself for having any part in driving a wedge between them. From him, she felt only cold rage. “He’s your brother.”
“I don’t have a brother anymore.” He pitched what he held across the room, nailing the top of the still-open window. Her dress fluttered to the ground.
“Gray.” She cupped his shoulder. “I’m okay. I swear. He didn’t hurt me.”
“Yes, he did. I heard you screaming. I hear it in my nightmares.”
Tears filled her eyes, but not for her. His anguish ripped her open. “It was so long ago.”
“Goddammit, no.” He shoved to his feet. “It’s like it happened yesterday for me. I don’t care how many years pass, I’ll kill that bastard if he ever looks at you again.” He walked to the window and picked up her dress, clutching it to his chest before turning back and giving her a half-smile that didn’t begin to mitigate the fury vibrating off his body. “Sure you have to go?”
His rapid mood shift knocked her off-kilter but she tried to return his smile. She wouldn’t let anything ruin this, especially Brent. They’d fought too hard to get here. “Unfortunately, yes.” She rolled off the bed and winced at the first step. “Ow. Ouch. Someone broke me.”
That brought his grin back in full force. “Someone will make you better later,” he promised, returning to her side to tug her dress over her head.
“I just bet.” She yanked on her boots and zipped them up, then she grabbed her phone. “What am I forgetting?”
“This.” He hooked a finger in the bodice of her dress and hauled her close.
His tongue slipped in to tangle with hers, and damn if she didn’t still taste herself in his kiss. The thrill tingled from her nipples to between her legs, and she moaned, already halfway gone again. He grinned and kissed her harder, making her grin back even as their mouths moved together in perfect harmony.
Loving Gray was the easiest—and hardest—thing she’d ever done. But today it was easier than breathing. More right than anything she’d ever known.
Finally he eased away and nudged her toward the window. Must be the door to the deck didn’t work or something. “Tell Harper I’m sorry too.”
“Okay.” Still dizzy, she started to climb over the windowsill then smiled dopily over her shoulder. “Same time tonight?”
“I’ll be waiting for you.” He leaned his forearm on the casing and drew his fingertip from her mouth to her jaw. “Think I’m going to write your song today. All that sugar on my tongue, I can taste it now…” He sang softly, making her flush and screech as she darted out the window.
His laughter followed her off the deck.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Then
Gray watched her sleep, tracing the tangled blue-and-black swirls of hair that flowed over her shoulder. She slept like the dead, never making a single sound. Even her lashes didn’t flutter. But her heartbeat stayed strong and true under his other hand.
If that had changed for even a second during the long night he’d spent sitting with her on the lumpy couch in the Feldmans’ basement, he would’ve hauled her off to the E.R. He wouldn’t risk her health even if his parents found out and grounded her for a century. But that steady beat never wavered, so he’d called his worried parents shortly before midnight and told them Jazz was with him. She was fine. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, ever.