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“Sit down, let me look at that.”
I stop struggling because I really need to calm my heart rate down and, to be honest, my elbow is throbbing. I sit on the bed as he extends my arm towards him and checks.
“No blood, but you’re going to have a nasty bruise.”
“Thank you.” I mutter and put some space between us.
He leans back with his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling. There’s something not quite right about him, and not for the first time, I wish I have the ability to scent feelings and emotions in people’s smells. I get one leg off the bed and then pause. I can’t leave him like this.
“What’s wrong, Grayson?”
“Call me Gray.” He says shortly.
“Okay, Gray.” I say hesitantly.
His eyes flick to me. “Lay down. I promise I won’t touch you, but I have to turn off this light. My head’s killing me.”
I hesitate. Everything urges me to leave but one tiny little morsel of compassion. I lay back on the pillow on the other side of the immense bed and stare at the ceiling, too. With another soft murmur, the light goes off.
“Why are we staring at the ceiling in the dark?” I ask.
“I don’t sleep well.” Gray shifts, and I can’t help but imagine his huge, toned body on the bed beside me.
“Oh. I can understand that.” Is my voice high? Damn it!
“You don’t sleep?” Grayson asks in a gruff voice.
“Well, I enjoy sleeping. It’s just that I'm normally either working or in pain, so I just can’t.” I wrap my arms over my stomach, but that feels weird, so I put them back at my side.
“My sister and I were kidnapped when we were little,” Grayson says with a sigh. “So, when I close my eyes, I have a tendency to relive it.”
I turn towards him, staring at the dark spot where I know he’s lying. “That must have been awful.”
“They kept us for two weeks. I was twelve, and she was six.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Gray. You must have been terrified.” And I mean it.
“I don’t like to sleep because when I sleep, I remember it all again when I wake up. Plus, I have terrible nightmares, and it’s embarrassing.”
My heart goes out to him. It shouldn’t. But I’m a sucker for a sad story, and the voice of the man beside me is not that of the confident alpha I normally see.
“I can stay for a while, if you’d like?” The instant it comes out, I want to bite back my words. I want to scream at myself for my impulsive mouth. I want him to say yes.
There’s a long pause where I prepare to leave the room in a flood of shame.
“Stay.” Gray murmurs.
It’s one word. But it feels like a door just opened.
I curl my hands up under my chin and lay there in silence, staring into the black. My thoughts race, but I force myself to think of all the jobs I need to get done tomorrow. Eventually, sleep wins.
I wake up because I’m hot. Unbearably, uncomfortably hot. I struggle, but there’s a weight over my waist holding me down.
I blink at the object several times before it suddenly makes sense. Fingers curled over my ribcage, stroking in a way that has butterflies exploding to life in my stomach. Am I dreaming?
There’s an arm holding me down. I sit upright, struggling up and away, frantically looking beside me.
The events of last night come back. Gray is laying on his side facing away from me. It takes me a moment to realise that it’s not his arm that’s pinning me. I whip my head to the other side and find Dylan staring at me.
