Strong hands came from behind me and unwrapped the napkin, and then Gray was investigating my small cut. Compared to his hand, it was nothing, but the care with which he held my hand? You would have thought I had a serious injury. Blood oozed out from the cut and trickled slowly down my index finger.
There was something fundamentally wrong with me, because when Gray’s tongue licked the blood from my finger, my insides clenched with desire. Slowly, his tongue traced the length of my finger again before his lips covered the soft pad, and I felt my body heat when he sucked slightly. Hooded eyes met mine as he looked at me, and I didn’t resist when his other hand reached out and grabbed my hip, pulling me into him.
His hand lowered to cup my ass, and then I was flush against him, feeling the hard length of him pressing into me as he pulled my finger slowly from his mouth, dragging it over his bottom lip before his tongue flicked out one final time, as if he were sorry that it was leaving the warmth of his mouth.
I felt his fingers dig into the softness of my ass as he dropped my hand to curl around the back of my neck and pull me to his lips.
“I’m angry.” His words were low, quiet, full of emotion. “I want to kill him. I want to kill them all. I want to rip them apart with my bare hands.”
“Gray—”
His lips pressed against mine, not in a kiss but as a way to stop me talking. With wide eyes, I watched him as his eyelids fluttered closed before they opened again and he stared right past all my defenses and into my darkest depths.
“I want to ripyouapart with my bare hands.” He spoke against my mouth, but I heard every word, felt every word. “But I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because as much as I may want to, it’s not my desire to hurt you.” Again, he cut my words off by pressing his lips to mine, but this time it was as a kiss. And like the helpless fool I was when it came to this man, I returned his kiss. It was slow and sensual and brought all my defenses crashing down around me. My hands curled into the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer to me. Gray gave a low growl, and his fingers dug into my ass as he pulled me into him, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed against mine, swallowing my moans as his hand on my neck tilted my head to give him better access to my mouth.
To my soul.
His hand on my ass slipped up over the curve of my hip and then dipped under my hoodie and caressed gently over my breast. His thumb ran over the pebbled nipple, causing me to moan louder against him. I felt him hard against me.
I winced when his teeth bit my bottom lip, but it only made me ache to be closer to him. Slowly, he pulled away, my blood staining his lower lip. His hand dropped from my neck and untangled itself from under my hoodie. Never breaking my gaze, with slow, measured steps, he moved away from me.
“I can’t be around you.”
“Gray—”
“I can’t,” he cut me off again. “Knowing what I know, what I always suspected, and seeing the film . . .” He hesitated. “You need to stay away.”
What could I say? No? I had no right to do that. I had no hold over Gray. What was between us really? Nothing. Nothing but heartache and hurt that we may never be able to move past.
How in the world could I deny him anything after the last few days? Days? After the last year.
“Okay.”
“I have . . .” He hesitated before he gestured to the door. “I haveto see this through. I need to do this, and I have . . . I have football. And I . . .” He shook his head.
“I know.” I wrapped my arms around myself as I watched him while I prayed that I could keep it together long enough so he wouldn’t see me break. “I know, Gray, it’s okay. I understand.”
He took another step back, his hands running over his hair and grabbing behind his head as his eyes searched mine. He stood there like that for a moment — beautiful, pained, broken.
I did this. I caused this. The urge to reach out to him and give him the comfort he didn’t want or probably need, at least not from me, was strong.
“It’s okay,” I repeated softly. “Go.”
He looked almost as if he wouldn’t, and I closed down my emotions as I felt a brief flare of hope in my chest, but he turned and, with purposeful strides, left the room.
Bending over, I clasped my arms around myself as I allowed myself to feel the pain. It rose from the pit of my soul and engulfed me, threatened to consume me, but I had to fight it. As I squeezed my eyes shut as if I could shut out his tortured words, I straightened. With my hands trembling slightly, I finished cleaning the mess. Realizing that my finger had stopped bleeding, I gave it an accusatory glare.
As I finished with the coffee cup and the numerous napkins I had probably wasted, I straightened my hoodie, pulled my hair over my shoulder, and sat back down again to wait for Jett or Onyx to come.
My life was in tatters around me, but I was not broken. I was not beaten. I had overcome so much; this pain, too, I would endure.
However, when Onyx opened the door later and looked at me with his usual scorn, I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised, even though my stomach plummeted with dread. Rising to my feet, I silently followed him to his car without a word spoken between us. He drove me back to college in total silence. I noted hisdamaged hand, and he noted the one tear that spilled over, but neither of us acknowledged the other’s hurt.
Thisrelationship, I had always understood.
