His Trouble Maker
Chapter 52
Chapter 52
JESSICA
Grayson never invited me inside his room. I only have that realization once I’m sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him lock his done Funny how you can be so close to someone and still feel miles apart.
The mattress sinks beneath me, the unfamiliar give of it making my stomach tighten. His room smells like him–pine and that expensive Cologne he pretends not to care about. He turns, eyes darker than usual, and takes three deliberate steps toward me. My mouth goes dry
“Where have you been?”
“Just… around,” I manage, hating how defensive it sounds.
Grayson’s jaw tightens. He moves closer, stopping right in front of me. His fingers reach for my chin, tilting my face up to his.
“Around,” he repeats, the word bitter on his tongue. “That’s all I get these days, isn’t it?
He leans down suddenly, his intention clear in the hard set of his shoulders. I turn my head at the last second, his lips grazing my cheek instead of finding my mouth. The kiss that never lands leaves a hollow ache between my ribs.
“Don’t,” I whisper, not sure if I’m talking to him or myself.
He pulls back, hurt flashing across his face before hardening into something colder. I don’t want to kiss him. I don’t want anything that
involves touching him. It makes me feel sick and disgusted.
“When are you going to tell me about your father’s ultimatum?”
His head snaps up, eyes wide. “How did you-”
So, it’s true.
“Does it matter?” My laugh comes out hollow. “What matters is you didn’t tell me.”
I push myself off the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. The chill shoots up my legs but doesn’t compare to the ice forming around my heart. I pace to the window, arms wrapped tight around myself, fingernails digging into my skin.
“Jess, wait-” Grayson reaches for my arm, his fingers grazing my skin.
I jerk away, knocking over a lamp on the nightstand. It crashes to the floor, the sound matching the shattering feeling in my chest. “You asshole.” My voice cracks. “I fucking hate you.”
He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “I was going to tell you.”
“When? After you’d already made your decision?” I spin around, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Or maybe after you humiliatè me again because that’s what you do right? Fuck. I almost forgot how Grayson Westwood loves to bully me.”
“That’s not fair.” His jaw tightens as he steps toward me. “You know I never meant those things–”
“Do you?” I back up until I hit the wall, the framed photos rattling behind me. “I’m so stupid sleeping with you.”
for me again, but I slap his hand away. His eyes darken, a muscle jumping
chest hard. He barely
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Chapter 52
to me for one damn minute!” He
struggle against him, memories flooding back–years of pretending his words didn’t cut,
hear me out.” His voice
and you ask how high, right? You’re a fucking dog Grayson. I almost
He shouted, backing me against
to pretend I didn’t hear what he said but what the
expression. “You don’t know how much leash you have on
me go,” I whisper, hating how
“You think I
turn my head away, blinking back hot tears. “Then what?
me to look at him. His fingers dig into my skin, not enough to hurt but enough to hold me still. I try to jerk away, but
here,” he growls,
his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “Because you didn’t tell me
Grayson shouted, making me still. ” Fuck. Can you listen for just a damn second and stop
I slap him. Hard.
room, and Grayson’s head snaps to the side. My palm stings,
victim here,”
his hand touches the reddening mark on his
mistake,” he
arm snakes around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I
scream, clawing at his arms. “I hate
throws me onto the mattress, and before I can scramble away, he’s pinning me down. I feel something against my wrists – a
tie – I can’t
growls, securing my hands to the headboard. “You
“Untie
His face hovers above mine jaw clenched tight. “What will you do, Jessica? Because right
they burn. Tears of frustration sting
of him.
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Chapter 52
breaking despite my best efforts. I
to the mattress. His eyes travel down my body slowly, possessively. The aggs in met shifts to something else–hunger. He licks
His voice is rough as he leans closer, his breath hot
trying to throw him off. “Get
him. “I never lied about how
to my boots, unlacing them with deliberate slowness. I kick
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