His Trouble Maker

Chapter 23

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.

hand flies off the wheel, catches her throat before she can fling herself through the damp windshield. I

eyes water instantly. Red rims. Wet lashes. “You almost killed us, baby,” whisper, leaning in until my breath hits her tongue,

killed her. My grip stays another

her.

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

fucking wrecked.

Chapter 23

through my nose, low and ragged, eyes still on her. My hands are back on the wheel but I don’t move. I don’t drive. I

I mutter, Quiet this time. Flat, More to myself than her. “I didn’t

you fucking

for her–slow, open–palmed, careful for once–but she

Shit

and it comes out rough. “I–I’m

she might snap something back–but all that fury from before is caged now.

Just sit there, breathing hard, staring straight ahead Be

silence eats a minute. Maybe

small I almost

too,” she mutters. Not looking at me.

off. Like she can’t even finish the

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

y head. Slow

I turn my h

at her lap, hands clenched tight like

say again, quieter this time.

“Look at me.”

but then her eyes fick

I ask, my voice low, raw, wanting to know

watch her, waiting. She takes a deep breath, swallowing hard ke the words are fighting

She doesn’t know.

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