“Tell me all your words,” Story murmured, lips brushing my chest. “The ones you’re keeping on your shoulders. What happened to Lottie, to the du Lacs? What happened while I was waiting?”
“I reminded them of the prenup Lottie signed. I get everything. I said I might be willing to overlook it, if they got the fuck out before the sun goes down.”
Story lay her head on my chest, one arm wrapped around my torso.
Perfect.
I exhaled, all the tension releasing from my limbs for the first time in months. This was fucking perfect—my wife where she belonged, in my bed.
“How are you, Atlas?” she murmured. She lifted her head, eyes finding mine.
I looked away from her probing eyes, to the clearing sky. Stars were appearing between the fading clouds, lonesome bright spots.
“If she’d just told me the truth, none of this would have happened. You never would have…” I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palm. “We could have left. All of these months…we could have left. We’d be happy.”
“Would we?” she asked.
My eyes found hers, already staring at me.
“You lied to me that night. I didn’t know you were going to destroy your family, and I never would have been happy if you’d done that, Grayson, because you wouldn’t have been happy. I’ve been wondering if this was really all just destiny. And that night—”
I looked away, swallowing thick and cottony. “That was still my fault. Her fault.”
I ground my teeth, focusing on the pain in my jaw, trying to see past the red in my eyes.
Story crawled up my chest, palms on either side of my face. “I am mad at Lottie, not because she kept us apart, because…well nothing keeps us apart, not really. I’m mad at how much pain this has put you through. I see the struggle, the fear that you’ve become your father. So I’m mad at her for that.”
“That’s funny…” I dragged my thumb across her bottom lip. “I’m not mad at her for that. At least now I know without a shadow of a doubt I’m not him. But I don’t think I can forgive her.”
Story’s throat bobbed with her swallow.
“What? Speak, Snitch. I can always tell when you have a secret, anyway.”
“I don’t think she could accept your forgiveness. She told me she had a secret, and it was killing her to keep it, but telling it would ruin everything. I asked her who it would hurt the least, if she told it or if she kept it. So, I guess she chose you—chose us—and not her mother.”
I know how much Lottie depended on her mother. Without her mother, she was truly, utterly alone.
And that pissed me off, because I wanted to hate her.
We fell into a sweet silence. Story lay on top of me as much as she could with her pregnant stomach, one leg wrapped around mine. I stroked her back, between the shoulder blades.
“Are you still planning on giving the coins to your grandfather?” she asked.
“You want to leave Crowne Point, right?” I asked. She worked her mouth, silently drawing pictures on my chest. “It’s our only option, Snitch.”
“There has to be another way.” She lifted her head, eyes meeting mine. “Another way than giving someone like him all that power.”
“There is.”
Her glare shot to mine. “Another way than you giving up your freedom.”
We stared at each other for a moment.
“What are you thinking?”
“I think…” Leaving might not be an option. Maybe it never was. “You can’t leave this bed, ever again.”
She bit her lower lip, a smile twitching her cheeks. “What if I get hungry?”
I leaned up and over her, pressing her into the mattress. She was so big now—and it was fucking hot.
“I’ll bring it to you,” I growled against her lips.
“What if I want to see the stars?” she asked. My lips hovered over hers, because I wanted to feel her smile against my mouth.
“I’ll bring them to you,” I rasped.
“You’ll bring me the stars?” She laughed. Fuck. I’d missed that sound.
I smiled against her mouth. “Yeah, Snitch. I’ll bring you the stars. The moon. The ocean. You name it.”
“French fries from France?” she breathed.
“From wherever the fuck you want them.” I teased my mouth across hers, barely kissing. “Maybe even where they were actually invented.”
I could feel her heating up beneath me, and my willpower was a ragged shred. I pulled back, and she tangled her hands in my hair, knotted.
“Stop pulling away. Fuck me.”
I groaned. “When you rip out thorns, it’s supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be bloody. I need to protect you.”
“So do it. Protect me.”
I nearly caved, nearly gave into that sweet, desperate look.
But I fucking couldn’t. What she needed, I couldn’t give her. Not now, not while she was pregnant.
So I pulled away, ripping a sucker from the nightstand and slamming it between my lips.
STORY
Grayson’s cock had been hard for the past hour, but he just stroked me. Sliding up and down my spine, over the curve of my ass.
I couldn’t think.
He’d gone through at least five suckers and I was so wet my thighs stuck together.
Every time you eat a sucker, any time you watch me eat one, know I’m thinking of fucking you. Of eating your cunt. But I won’t.
“What do I have to do to get you to fuck me?” I demanded.
He froze, hooded eyes slowly finding mine beneath an arched brow. Some thought clouded his eyes, but then he reached like he was going to grab another fucking sucker. I grabbed his hand before he could, slamming it between my thighs.
He must have felt how wet I was.
How much I wanted him—needed him.
Then I heard the lollipop shatter between his teeth.
“Please. Please. Please.” I climbed on top of him, beyond shame, gripping the headboard. “Fuck me.”
A pained, ragged groan slipped from his lips. “I can feel you through my fucking jeans.” He closed his eyes, arching his cock into me.
I ground against his cock. “You told me once if I ruined your jeans you’d be pissed.”
His eyes opened, dark, half-lidded. “Ruin them. Fucking destroy them.” He snaked his hand around the back of my neck, yanking me down to his lips for a furious kiss.
I gasped into his mouth. “Is this like you imagined?” I groaned, gripping the headboard. “Your fantasy with me on top?”
I squeezed my legs. Aching. His eyes dropped to that, nostrils flared.
“No,” he growled.
I had half a second to register the dark lust in his eyes, before he wrapped his arms around my thighs and yanked me up onto his greedy mouth.
Oh my God.
His mouth.
“Fuck,” Grayson broke on a breath. His lips were red, wet, juicy—from suckers, from me. He dragged his nose across my inner thighs. “There’s a lot I want to do to you, Snitch.”
“So do it.”
“You’re pregnant. Really pregnant.”
“So?”
“The fuck did I say about being reckless?”