He spills on my lower back and presses in close, grinding into the mess he just made like he can’t stop. His forehead hits my shoulder, and his voice drops.
He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“Mine,” he says softly.
“Yours.”
It’s been two weeks. Two weeks we’ve lived in peace. Fucking, training, more fucking, licking, sucking each other and so on. Freedom feels good. I’ve never felt this way before.
He taught me how to handle a blade. Well … most of the time, we ended up doing more than just training, but I’ll admit, I got pretty good at it. Makes me feel like a badass and more confident.
Grayson is an absolute cutie. He never asks questions, even though, for some reason, I think he knows everything. He accepts Adam the way he is, without asking or wanting anything in return. He takes care of us like a father, despite Adam trying to cut him off.
He holds grudges in him, and that’s fine. That’s who he is. He won’t admit how much he needs a father figure to take care of him like he’s never been taken care of.
This house feels like a fortress. It’s more reinforced than mine, and I feel safe here. The kitchen is quiet—quieter than mine—and it always smells like the most delicious food I’ve ever had. Grayson is great at everything.
I look outside the window at the sunny day and can’t help but think about how peaceful everything feels. For once, my mind is quiet, and I’m exactly where I want to be.
“What a view,” Adam quips, walking into the room.
“Indeed. This room has the best one,” I reply, biting on my apple.
He comes up behind me while I’m sitting on the stool, pinning me between the table and his body. His eyes lock onto mine.
“I meant you, little orchid.”
He takes a bite from my apple, his gaze never leaving mine.
“You’re such an asshole,” I joke.
He smirks. “You like me anyway.”
I chuckle, unable to resist his annoying charm.
“How did I end up in this mess?” I say, shaking my head. “Trapped in an asshole’s house and apparently getting way too comfortable about it.”
“The only difference is that now, after such training, you can kick my ass.”
He’s something else.
I have to admit, he’s the best teacher I’ve ever had. I’ve learned things from him that changed me. Well, when we don’t fuck in the middle of the gym.
He lets out a long sigh. He’s suddenly solemn. I’ve never seen him like this again.
“I never apologized,” he says, his eyes meeting the floor.
My brows knit together. “For what?”
“Hurting you.”
I give him a small, steady smile. “I’m fine, aren’t I?”
“I’m not.” He pulls the stool next to mine and sits close to me. “It’s this fucking house. I haven’t had nightmares in years, but the second I set foot in this shithole, they came back.”
I don’t speak. I let him explain in his own way, even if it’s messy. Even if it hurts.
He hesitates again, pinching the bridge of his nose.
