Page 54 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

He silences me with a sharp kiss, pressing my jagged words back down my throat. When he pulls away, his glowing eyes pin me in place, clear and unwavering.

“I would,” he says simply, his tone threaded with quiet certainty. “I have.”

I blink, stunned into silence. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing softly over my skin—firm enough to ground me, gentle enough to soothe.

“And don’t you ever talk about my mate that way again.”

My jaguar stills, its restless energy settling beneath his hand. His lips curve into a faint smile, his fingers trailing down to rest lightly against my chest. The air between us crackles.

“Now,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, eyes burning into mine, “tell me what you want, Little One.”

I swallow, the words clawing at my throat before I finally force them out. “Fine.” I take a breath, sharp and fast. “I want to fuck you and bite you on the ass again.”

There.I said it. The world didn’t end. Ben’s still holding Sunday, and she’s flooding our bond with waves of pride.

Grayson’s smirk widens wickedly. “See? Not so hard.”

Before I can snap back, his hand slides down my stomach, slipping past the waistband of my jeans. Heat flares in my face. Yeah, I’m still dressed—there’s been a lot going on.His fingers linger just long enough to make my breath stutter before he pulls away, infuriatingly composed.

He arches a brow, eyes glinting. “Think you can lose the pants before you fuck me? A man does like to be romanced.”

I snort, my cheeks burning as I fumble with my belt. “Romanced, huh? Before or after I bite you?”Goddess, that was lame.

Grayson chuckles, his fingers brushing my jaw as he leans in. “Before, obviously. Do I look like a rough trick? I do have standards.”

A scrape of wood interrupts the moment. Ben’s up, rifling through the nightstand drawers. “Uh, guys? Hate to ruin the vibe, but our luggage is still in the kitchen, and there’s no complimentary lube.”Complimentary lube—where the fuck has Ben been staying?

Grayson arches a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I have some in my wallet.”

There’s a beat of silence as we all process that. I have the good sense not to ask, but Sunday’s eyes narrow, wary mistrust practically vibrating through the bond.

“Oh?” Her voice is light, but the tilt of her head says she’s not buying it. “You always carry it around like that?”

Grayson’s laugh is smooth, rich, and shameless. “Lover, preparedness is a virtue.” His gaze flicks to me, sharp and amused. “Besides, opportunities arise when you least expect them. And while blood works in a pinch, it’s… messy.”

I make a face, imagining the absolute crime scene that would be.

Sunday isn’t falling for the distraction. Suspicion crackles through the bond, her gift poking at his words, testing their truth. But it’s about us—of course it is.

Grayson leans down, retrieving his trousers with infuriating calm, completely unfazed by her scrutiny. Maybe even enjoying her possessiveness a bit.

And damn, but I love it, too. Should I want her to be so secure that jealousy never crosses her mind? Yeah. But this reminder that she’s just as human as the rest of us?Fuck yes.For someone who so often seems like a goddess floating above us, these moments humanize her, ground her in the best way.

Grayson straightens, wallet in hand. He pulls out a small, neatly packaged tube, letting it catch the light like a prize. His eyes dance with mischief as they flick to Sunday.

She rolls her eyes, her paranoia giving way to exasperation.

Then he hands it to me.

“I’d say, be gentle, but we both know you won’t be.” His voice is silk, threaded with just enough amusement to make my jaguar huff in irritation.

I take the tube, my fingers brushing his as I glare. “Oh, so you’re already an expert on my technique?”

“Let’s just say I have… high expectations.” His eyes glint, a flicker of red threading through them. My pulse spikes.Damn him.

Sunday snorts softly, “Well, I love their technique. You’re in for a treat, baby.”

Before I can snap back, all humor drains from Grayson’s face. In a blink, he’s inches away, eyes burning. His palm settles on my chest, warm against the hammer of my heart.

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