Page 59 of Sparrow

I DIDN’T TELLGrayson what happened in the bathroom. I couldn’t risk Jaxon making good on his word. I refuse to let him hurt them.

So I splashed some water on my face, adjusted my clothes, took a breath, and made my way back to him, telling him there was a line when he mentioned I was gone awhile.

It wasn’t easy carrying on with our promised game of Skee-Ball without Jaxon creeping back into my mind.

He’s been there since I left the bathroom, and he’s there even now as I sit on Grayson’s sofa as he tucks Cadence into bed.

I rise from the sofa and creep up the stairs, pausing outside of Cadence’s bedroom door, leaning against the wall, just out of sight, listening to him read her a bedtime story.

He’s so good with her it makes my heart ache. I reach up to touch the sparrow at the base of my throat, and something I think I’ve always known deep down comes rushing back like a gust of wind, knocking me sideways.

I’m so in love with him.

I don’t know what is going to come from my time with Jaxon tomorrow, but I do know I can’t leave Grayson tomorrow without showing him how I feel. I want to burn his touch into my skin tonight. I want to etch his kiss into my lips and sear his scent into my nose.

I want to absorb him into my body and keep him with me forever.

I want to forget what lies before me and focus on now. On him. On me. On us.

I peek in just as he turns to leave and he spots me. I don’t speak until he’s in the hallway and her door is closed. “‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spy on you, I just, I wanted to hear a story too.”

“You don’t have to apologize. How about I give you a bedtime story of your very own?” he asks, cupping my cheek.

“I think I’d like that.” I lean into his touch.

“Mills, are you all right?” He strokes his thumb across the apple of my cheek.

“I will be.” I rise up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. I want to pour all of my love and affection into this kiss. I want him to remember tonight. I want us to become one being—one soul.

We won’t be talking tonight. I can’t, because if I do, I’ll break, and I have to be strong. We won’t talk, but our bodies will speak volumes for us until the sun comes up.

I wrap my arms around his neck and let him lift me from ground, carrying me down the hall and into his bedroom.

He kicks the door closed, sealing us in darkness, but that won’t do. I peel myself from him and walk around to the side of the bed, turning on his lamp.

“I want to see you,” I say quietly.

“You can have anything you want.” He comes around to where I’m standing and kisses my shoulder before curling his fingers under the hem of my shirt, lifting it up until I raise my arms so he can remove it completely.

The cool air from his ceiling fan kisses my heated skin, sending a shiver over me. I pull my hair over one shoulder and reach back to unhook my bra, then let it slip from my body and expose my breasts to him.

“You’re so beautiful. I will never have enough of you,” he whispers and bends forward, sucking my hardened nipple into his mouth.

“Ahh.” Moaning, I slide my hands into his hair and tug.

He pays special attention to each inch of my body. Removing layer after layer of clothing, kissing every morsel of new skin that is exposed until I’m a naked, quaking mass of need.

I tug at his shirt until he gives me the space to lift it off of his body, then I trail my hands over his strong torso to his belt, opening it up.

I undress him as he did me, exploring and worshiping him, kissing his skin, his scars, his tattoos, committing every part of him to memory.

I take his hand and turn my back toward the bed, then sink down onto the mattress, pulling him with me.

Our limbs tangle together like a vine as we lie on our sides, facing one another. He slides his hand from the back of my calf, behind my knee then hoists my leg up, curling it over his hip, leaving me open and exposed.

“Make love to me,” I whisper against his lips.

I lay my hand on his chest, and I can feel the racing of his heart underneath. It feels like a steady beat. Like music.

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