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Grayson groaned. And she grinned like a Cheshire cat. Without a word, he followed her into the darkened room. Something told her that his capitulation was out of pure curiosity and the fact that no matter how much he wanted to deny this thing between them, he simply could not.
“You might want to close the door,” she suggested without making any effort whatsoever to turn on the light.
“Annabelle—”
“Trust me.” She moved toward the bed.
He groaned again and inwardly she laughed. Who knew Grayson could be so much fun? Or maybe the fun was in her being bold and sassy. Her smile broadened.
When the door snicked shut, she could hear Grayson’s soft footsteps behind her. He wanted this night as much as she did. He hadn’t been with anyone since his girlfriend, which was understandable and even a bit admirable, but it was time he moved on. It was time that she spread her wings with a man who wasn’t intimidated by her father or her security team. And a man who took her opinions seriously.
“Can you unzip me?” She wished she could see the look on his face right now.
“I...I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“If you don’t, I’ll have to sleep in this beautiful gown,” she said as innocently as she could muster. “Mrs. Chambers already went to bed. She never goes to the ball. And I can’t reach the zipper.”
He stepped closer. In the next moment, his fingers were touching the bare skin of her upper back, sending shivers of excitement tingling down her spine. He sucked in an unsteady breath. Millimeter by millimeter the zipper came undone. His fingertips were surprisingly smooth. His touch was being tattooed upon her mind.
This was the sweetest torture she’d ever experienced. And then her gown floated to the ground, landing in a fluffy heap. With nothing but moonlight streaming in through the tall windows to see by, she stood there in her black bustier and organza petticoat.
She didn’t move. She could feel his gaze on her. The breath caught in her lungs. What was he thinking? Did he want her as much as she wanted him?
Desire and anticipation mounted within her. This was the most exquisite moment as they stood at the fork in their relationship. No matter which direction they took, after tonight, things would never be the same again.
And then his hands gently caressed her shoulders. His touch was arousing. She imagined turning in his arms and pressing her lips to his mouth, but she didn’t. Not yet. She knew what she wanted, but she wasn’t sure if he’d overcome the ghosts from his past. For this to work, for this to be right, he had to be all-in too.
His thumbs moved rhythmically over her skin. “Annabelle, are you sure?”
She blew out the pent-up breath. “I am. Are you?”
His response came in the form of a gentle kiss on her neck. She inhaled swiftly, not expecting such a telling response. Not that she disapproved. Quite the opposite. Most definitely the opposite.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“HOW LONG HAVE you been up?”
Grayson’s deep, gravelly voice came from the doorway of the library. Annabelle was wide awake, showered and working to find the answer to the clue in the latest note. She glanced up from one of the history books of Mirraccino.
When she saw Grayson, memories of being held in his arms came rushing back to her. Along with the memories came the emotions—powerful emotions that sent her heart racing. Last night had been so much more than she’d ever envisioned.
She was in love with Grayson.
And she had never been so scared.
She’d never been in love before. She’d never wanted to let another man into her life. She already had enough men telling her what to do, why add one more? But Grayson was different. He spoke his opinion, but left room for her response.
The truth of the matter was that she could imagine keeping him around, but never once last night or any time since she’d known him had he mentioned sticking around or inviting her to be a part of his life. He’d warned her in the beginning that he wasn’t in this for anything serious. She remembered that moment quite vividly. Why hadn’t she listened to him then? Now she’d complicated everything exponentially.
“Annabelle, what’s wrong?” Grayson approached her, concern written all over his face.
She held up her hand, maintaining an adequate distance between them. She couldn’t bear for him to touch her. And she refused to give in to the tears that were stinging the backs of her eyes. This was her problem to deal with, not his. He hadn’t done anything but what she’d asked him to do.
“I...I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Listen, if this is about last night—”
“It’s not. And I’d prefer not talking about it.” She couldn’t stand the thought of him letting her down gently. She could just imagine him giving her some sort of pep talk.
