Page 165 of Mr. Wicked

“Jovana . . .”

“Don’t you dare,” I warned as he bent down to lift me. “I can do this.” I glanced at the doorman, who had the lobby door already ajar for us. It was only ten feet away. “I have to do this ... for me.” I squeezed Grayson’s hand.

With his arm around my waist, I slowly lifted a foot, holding my breath as I placed it back down, doing the same with the other leg, carefully making my way toward the door.

“Great to see you back, Ms. Winters,” the doorman said. “I hope you start to feel better soon.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

As we passed through the entrance, Grayson said, “Jovana’s parents will be stopping by later to bring lunch. Please send them right up. No need to call and notify us first.”

“Will do, Mr. Tanner.”

Grayson was bearing as much of my weight as I would give him, which I tried to keep to a minimum, but the closer we got to the elevator, the less energy I had.

Just a few days ago, I could walk miles without getting winded.

Now the journey from the curb to the elevator felt like a trek up Everest.

“You’re almost there. You’re doing great.”

Great, no.

But encouragement was so out of the norm for him that I clung to his words and tried to focus on the remaining steps, estimating how many I had left, celebrating in my head every time I completed one.

The relief was immense when I crossed into the elevator and leaned my back against the side wall, giving me the perfect view to see the screen and watch the numbers climb once we passed each floor.

But as soon as Grayson pressed the button for the penthouse, he obviously wasn’t pleased with my placement, and he slipped in behind me, holding me against his chest.

He wanted to be my wall.

To hold me up.

To make sure I didn’t fall.

Oh God.

What did I do to deserve this man?

His care?

His attention?

I laced my fingers through his. “Thank you.”

I wanted to say more.

I wanted to tell him how much I loved him.

But I kept my lips pressed together and took in the warmth from his chest and the strength of his arms as they enveloped me.

He leaned his face into my neck, and I felt him breathe me in. An act so subtle but so powerful.

Before Grayson, I didn’t know the weight of an inhale, the heaviness of an exhale.

But his were as meaningful as words.

I felt them.

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