Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
The sight of him so disheveled tugs at my heart. Until I remember that I'm not supposed to feel anything for him anymore. He's a stranger with six years of history I know nothing about.
"What are you doing here, Grayson?" I ask warily. "And who let you into my office?"
"Marcus."
"Great. So I don't have to feel bad when I fire him," I mutter, crossing my arms to glower at Grayson. "That's only one answer. Why are you here?"
"Your dad died."
I flinch.
"Why didn't you tell me, baby?" He takes a step toward me, searching my face.
"When was I supposed to tell you? When you were hiding out in Mexico? When you were on stage last night?" I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. "Or maybe when you were lying to me?"
"I didn't—"
I throw my hand up, silencing him. "You did."
"Dammit." He rakes his hair back from his face, the scars across his hands pulled taut. "I didn't come here to upset you again, Mina. I came…" He exhales a heavy breath. "I found out about your dad, and I just wanted to check on you."
"You checked on me. I'm fine. You can go now."
A pained smile twists at his lips. "Now who's lying?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"You aren't fine, baby. I see it written all over your face."
"Yeah, well. I guess that happens when your dad dies and leaves you his stupid company, and then your husband comes back from the dead." I press my palms to my eyes, taking a centering breath. "I'm dealing the best I can, okay? It's not like my father and I were even speaking."
"You weren't speaking?"
I drag my hands down, staring at him. "Seriously? I thought…" I huff out a breath. "You know what? It doesn't matter because I was wrong about it. About all of it."
"It matters to me." He watches me like he's trying to stare into my freaking soul. "Why weren't you speaking to your dad, Mina?"
"Because I thought he was the reason you were in Mexico!" I snap. "He's the one who convinced me to have you declared dead. But it doesn't matter because I was wrong." Tears well in my eyes. I blink them away, but not before Grayson sees them.
He's across the office to me in two steps, standing before me like my own personal savior again. Except…he's the one I need saving from this time. He's the one who broke me.
"Please don't touch me," I plead quietly. "Please just go away and let me pick up the pieces of my life and pretend that I didn't spend the last years of my dad's life hating him for something he didn't even do wrong."
He stares at me for a long moment and then groans. "Is that really what you want, Mina? You want to pretend I died six years ago? That I'm not standing in front of you right now?"
"I want it to stop hurting," I whimper, so freaking miserable I can't stand it. "Please, make it stop hurting."
"Jesus," he rumbles, reaching out to touch my cheek.
I don't know why I do it, but I throw myself into his arms, sobbing his name. Everything hurts, and I just want it to stop. Even if it can't last, I just want to remember what it feels like to have his arms around me. I want his lips on mine. For five minutes, I want to pretend that he's mine again and that none of this ever happened.
"Mina," he whispers, dragging me up against him. "Christ, Mina."
"Please," I beg, clawing down his back. "Please, Grayson. Make it stop."
"What do you need, baby? Tell me."
"You!" I cry, frustrated that he doesn't get that. "I need you to make it stop."
He groans, a rumbling, broken sound that vibrates all the way to my bones. But he doesn't make me repeat myself again. He doesn't ask for instructions, either. He never needed that. He always knew exactly how to kiss me, precisely where to touch me.
He does that now, hauling me up against his chest as one hand delves into my hair, angling my head. His lips come down on mine, so damn familiar it hurts and doesn't hurt nearly enough.
I sob into his mouth, shoving my hand between our bodies to grab his cock through his clothes.
"Fuck," he growls, biting my bottom lip as he bucks his hips into my hand. "Careful, baby. You'll have me coming all over your fucking hand if you keep that up."
"Good. That's the plan." I rip through the button of his jeans, shoving my hand into his pants.
"Goddamn," he growls, his head kicking back when I wrap my hand around his cock, pulling it from his pants. God, I missed the weight of him in my hands. The hard heat of him. His length and the way he always stole my breath on that first thrust.