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I nod. “Hmm. The guys said they were getting worse, I guess I didn’t realize the extent of it.” There’s a tenderness in his voice that’s never been there before. A longing for more of it stirs in my belly.
I hold up the torn piece of my nightgown and laugh. “This is a first.”
We laugh, and for a moment, the heaviness that’s been weighing on me eases up, then we fall back into the silence.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks hesitantly.
Greyson has never been big on talking about anything, but I appreciate the sentiment.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
He hums, accepting my response, but moves to leave. My heart beats fast, and the cold sweat immediately starts up again.
I lunge sideways to grab hold of his wrist, almost tumbling out of the bed, but he catches me before I fall. Lifting me up, he places me back on the bed, and for a brief second, I forget my breasts are on display.
The flash of heat passes between us as he gets another eye full. My stomach flutters, and I find myself short of breath as he licks his lips.
His hand softly grazes down the side of my face. The pad of his thumb runs across the side of my lips.
My chest heaves in search of a breath.
He moves down my throat, tracing small circles along my collar bone, and when I think he’s going to touch me, his touch leaves me, and his hand pulls the covers up over me and he steps away.
“Grey, wait!” His feet falter. “Please, don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone. I hate being alone.”
I watch him take a deep breath and shake his head as if he’s internally wrestling with what to do. His back is still to me.
“Please.” My voice comes out barely a whisper, but the heavy fall of his shoulders tells me he heard me.
He huffs loudly, then turns to face me, swiping a hand down his face.
“I really shouldn’t, Princess.” My chest deflates. “I can wake Cyra if you need someone to sit with you.”
“Why would you wake Cyra when you’re already here?” I snap.
His tone is sharp and rough. “Because...” he growls.
I hop out of bed, covering my chest with the torn garment. My feet don’t stop until my body is flush against his. He tries to step away, and a piece of me knows I should let him go. But instead, my hand moves to his chest, clutching his shirt and pulling him to me. “Don’t make me beg, Grey. Please, stay. At least until I fall asleep.”
“I shouldn’t be in here with you in this state. You’re vulnerable, and I’m weak. Let me get Cyra.” I raise a brow as my head swims with frustration.
Weak.
There’s that word again.
“I’m the one pleading for you to stay and you’reweak?No, I think you have that backwards. Why isn’t Tristan on duty? I wouldn’t have to beg him to comfort me.”
His body tenses as he lets out a slow, feral growl.
His hands shoot up, grabbing me under my arms and lifting me off my feet. My gown falls to the floor with one swift move.
He freezes realizing what’s just happened, then carries me back to bed.
He tosses me like a rag doll, and my body bounces onto the bed. Greyson moves between my legs, and I spread them willingly.
He looks me up and down before his eyes lock with mine. He leans over me until there’s an inch between us. “Is this what you and Tristan do? What game are you playing at, kitten?”
“What I do with Tristan isnoneof your concern.” I watch as something inside him snaps. His hand shoots up to my throat, pushing me back onto the bed. His grip flexes against my throat.
