Page 2 of The Beast's Obsession

I can't breathe.

"Careful," he murmurs, voice low. "You'll cut yourself."

I realize belatedly that I was about to grab broken glass. God, could this get any worse? I want to sink through the floor, disappear completely. But Grayson's touch anchors me here, his thumb brushing my pulse point.

"What's your name?" he asks softly.

"Lily," I whisper. "Lily Hart."

His eyes never leave mine. "Well, Lily Hart. It seems we have a situation on our hands."

His fingers ghost over my skin as he takes the tray, setting it aside with practiced ease. My hands feel empty, vulnerable. I can't look away from the intensity in his dark eyes.

"I...I can pay for the dry cleaning," I offer weakly, knowing it's a pathetic solution. As if I could afford to replace a shirt that probably costs more than I make in a month.

Grayson's lips quirk, not quite a smile. "That won't be necessary."

He reaches for my hand again, and I hold my breath as he turns it palm-up. There's a smear of wine across my skin, stark against my pale flesh. With deliberate slowness, he begins to wipe it away.

The pad of his thumb traces delicate patterns, and something molten pools low in my belly. This is beyond inappropriate, but I can't bring myself to pull away. My breath catches audibly.

"You're trembling," Grayson observes, voice pitched low. It's not a question.

I swallow hard. "I...I should go. This is your private?—"

"Stay." The command is soft but unyielding.

My mind races. I should leave. Ineedto leave. But there's an inexplicable magnetism drawing me closer, even as alarm bells scream in the back of my head.

What am I doing? He's my boss. He's dangerous. He's...mesmerizing.

"Tell me, Lily," Grayson murmurs, still stroking my palm. "What brought you to my home?"

I can't tear my eyes away from his face, my heart hammering so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "I...I needed the work," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "My family?—"

"Ah." His thumb stills, but he doesn't release my hand. "And you'd do anything for them, wouldn't you?"

There's a weight to his words that makes me shiver. I should be offended, should yank my hand away and storm out. But I'm rooted to the spot, caught in the intensity of his gaze.

"I should go," I repeat, but it sounds weak even to my own ears.

Grayson finally releases me, and I stumble back a step, off-balance in more ways than one. "Of course," he says, his voice deceptively mild. "You have duties to attend to."

I nod jerkily, fumbling for words. "I'm so sorry again about the...the wine, Mr. Wolfe. It won't happen again."

His eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment I think I see a flicker of...disappointment? But it's gone so quickly I must have imagined it.

"See that it doesn't," he says, his tone clipped and businesslike once more. "You're dismissed."

I practically flee the room, my legs shaky as I hurry down the corridor. What the hell just happened? My skin still tingles where he touched me, and I can't shake the feeling that something fundamental has shifted.

God, I'm in so much trouble.

two

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Grayson

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