His Trouble Maker

Chapter 35

GRAYSON

I squeered my fists so hand my knuckles popped “Your drunk, Jess?” iharked, grabbing her wrist before she could stumble thefucking

She laughed again, threw her head back, and try to touch my face. I backed her up on her as hit the side of my car with a hollow that. Her dress code up, Bashing bare thighs and the edge of pale lace where she hadn’t bothered with proper clothes tonight

No one’s around.

No one would slop the

I could open the door, shove her inside, and drive until this entire fucked up village was a smear in the rear vie

I could take her far away from everyone and everything and no one would find us until it was too late.

I dragged my gaze over her–filthy, hungry, sick with it–drinking in every drunken, ruined inch

Fuck, the her up, steal her, fix her.

“Get off me,” she mumbled, voice slurring, hands weakly pushing at me. Pathetic little shoves that didn’t even fucking move me an inchi laughed low, mimacing,

Itaged her in harder, pressing her into the side of the car until she felt every inch of the weight of me. Felt how hopeless it was felt how much could crush her if I wanted to

Her body went rigid, and I could feel her pulse quicken, the rapid beat of it against my chest. She was scared. But she’d never admit it

“You think you can still tell me what to do, baby?” rasped, voice low and soaked with a venom I was sure she could feel vibrating through her

“You think you can still fucking run?” I gritted out, moving my mouth closer to the shell of her ear, brushing my lips against the side of her neck. I could feel her shudder, but it wasn’t from the cold. It was fear.

Good. I wanted that

kept spitting out lies. “You’re getting married,” she said again, her hands shoving at me like it meant anything. “Damn you!

No idea what she was

her pain because

do for her right now, it’s

her wrist–quick, brutal–pulling her hands above her head and pinning them to the car. She gasped, a flash of panic flooding her face. Her lips parted,

her for making me want

ann just enough to make her wince. My other hand went to the back of her neck, holding her in place while! let my eyes roam over her

stand there tonight, wearing a ring that means nothing, dancing with a girl I don’t give two fucks about crushed her wrists harder into the wall, my whole body shaking. “I don’t have a

“I never

broken. Her eyes glistened, but she blinked the tears

couldn’t take

to hear straight down her fucking throat. She struggled for half a second, her body writhing against mine, and then

furious

“Grayson…”

“Give me a week I broke the kiss just enough to growl against her mouth, my forehead slamming lightly into hers. “Just a fucking week to sort this out.” Another kiss–harder, harsher – biting down on her lower lip until she gasped. “I don’t care if you hate me,” I rasped, tasting blood and wine and pure goddamn heartbreak. “I don’t care if you want to kill me.” I kissed her again, dragging her bottom lip between my teeth until she whimpered. My hand slid down from her wrist to the side of

and confusion and the kind

I’ll burn

וויוי

wrecked and raw. “This wedding. My fucking family. Everything. Just say the

her head, a sob

“No–no, you can’t-”

for you. Just…” I swallowed hard, the words clawing their way up my throat. “Just don’t walk away

over even as she shook

her again–rougher this

thumb brushed her