His Trouble Maker

Chapter 23

GRAYSON

She’s pissed.

She won’t even look at me when she gets inside my car.

I shouldn’t be glancing in the rearview every five fucking seconds just to see if she’s still got that look on her face–that one that says she’s two seconds away from either crying or tearing the world apart

But I do.

I heard her and Pierce shouting earlier back in their house.

I am not a man who dwell in other’s business but fuck it, I want to tear Pierce just by shouting at her like man, that’s my fucking girl.

“This is not the direction to the training center,” Jess said.

Tss. I know, baby. I almost pull over and fuck the attitude out of her right then and there–not because I need to correct her, but because seeing her this furious makes my cock hard in a way nothing else does. Her mouth says stop, but her body twitches in that way it always does when she wants me to keep going.

I grip the wheel tighter. Not to calm down, but to keep my hands busy soil don’t drag her over the console and bury every inch of her protest with my cock and a fist in her hair.

I love pissing her off

I hate it when someone else does.

“Grayson!” she shouts now, turning toward me, face flushed, eyes wild with fury she barely knows what to do with

I feel her shitting beside me, throwing her body on the passenger seat. When I didn’t answer, she lunges, grabs at me making the fucking car

swerves

“Fuck, Jess-“Islam the brakes.

throat before she can fling herself through the damp windshield. I shove her back into the seat with enough force to knock the fight

Her eyes water instantly. Red rims. Wet lashes. “You almost killed us, baby,” whisper, leaning

hands go to my arm, weak little scratches that make me squeeze harder. I understand that she’s fucking angry–but hell, I almost killed her. My grip stays another second, just long enough to feel the panic spike

shove her. Sharp, brutal,

seat hard and starts coughing–raw, wet, painful. Her body curls on instinct, shoulders heaving, and I just stare at her. Watch her Every twitch, every flinch, every broken breath. Her hair’s a mess around her face, lips parted, throat

fucking wrecked.

Chapter 23

her. My hands are back on the wheel but I don’t move. I don’t drive. I jua sit there jaw

mutter, Quiet this time. Flat, More to

you fucking insane?” she

open–palmed, careful for once–but she flinches the second my fingers

Shit

say, and it comes out rough. “I–I’m sorry. Are you

it might open, like she might snap something back–but all that fury from before is caged now. Quiet Sill sparking but trapped behind

but it sounds too much like an excuse. I bite it off. Just sit there, breathing hard, staring straight ahead Be if I don’t

a minute.

So small I almost

Not looking at

off. Like she can’t even

want her sorry I want her closer. Want her mad, want her clawing, want her voice back up in my face sol know she still has fight

y head. Slow

I turn my h

at her lap, hands clenched tight like she’s holding her own apology

I say again, quieter

“Look at me.”

then her

I ask, my voice low, raw, wanting to know what’s turning inside her head. “Tell me what you

breath, swallowing hard ke the words are fighting their way out, struggling to keep her voice

She doesn’t know.