Page 20 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

"You’re coming with me," he says abruptly.

I blink. "What?"

He turns back to me, his expression dark, unwavering. "Pack a bag. You’re not staying here."

I hesitate. "Grayson…"

"Now, Margot." His voice is sharp, leaving no room for argument. "I’m not letting you stay here alone. Not after this."

I should argue, push back, but the truth is, I don’t want to be alone. Not now. Not when I can still feel the weight of Liam’s presence lingering in the air. So, without another word, I turn and walk toward my bedroom, knowing that, for the first time inyears, I’m letting someone else protect me, and that terrifies me more than anything.

The tension between us lingers as I pack my bag, my hands moving on autopilot while my mind spins. Grayson leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

"You don’t have to hover," I say, trying to inject some normalcy into the moment.

He smirks. "You don’t have to pretend you’re not shaken."

I huff out a breath, zipping up my bag. "I’m fine."

He steps closer, his presence filling the space, and suddenly, the air shifts, charged, heavy. His voice drops lower. "You don’t have to be. Not with me."

I look up, meeting his gaze, and something flickers there, something dangerous, something that sends a shiver down my spine for a completely different reason. Neither of us moves at first, but then... something snaps. A shift so small and yet so inevitable, like gravity pulling us toward something we can’t fight anymore. By the time I realize what’s happening, it’s already too late.

His hands slide down my neck, slow and deliberate, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of my collarbone like he’s memorizing the shape of me. I shiver under his touch, every nerve alight, every inch of skin he grazes feeling claimed. When his hands settle on my hips, it’s not casual. It’s anchoring. Like he needs to hold on just as much as I do.

His grip tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh with a desperation that steals my breath. It’s not just desire, it’s something deeper. Like he’s trying to say everything he hasn’t found the words for yet. His body presses against mine, the hard line of his arousal unmistakable, insistent, making it impossible to ignore how badly he wants me. But it’s not just lust. It’s longing. It’s need.

I exhale shakily, leaning back into him without thinking. His mouth finds the curve of my neck, brushing a kiss there so tender, so reverent, it nearly undoes me.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs against my skin, voice rough with restraint.

My heart lurches at the confession, simple and raw. I turn slightly, just enough to see him over my shoulder, his face closer now, his eyes dark and full of something that makes my chest ache. “Then why did it take you so long?” I whisper.

He huffs a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in it, just regret. “Because I didn’t know if I could have you...”

“And now?”

His hand slips around my waist, holding me tighter, pulling me flush against him. “Now I think I’d risk it all. For you.”

The words land like a blow and a balm all at once. I reach up, covering his hand with mine on my hip, holding it there, grounding myself in him. In this moment. In the terrifying, beautiful truth of what we’ve become.

“Grayson,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need. I reach up, my hands tangling in his blonde hair, pulling his head down to mine. Our lips meet in a kiss, hungry and desperate. His hands are touching my body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if memorizing my shape. His fingers hook into the waistband of my pants, pulling me closer, grinding me against him. The heat between my legs was undeniable, a wetness that betrays my desire. His hands are trailing up my sides, cupping my breasts through my thin sweater. His thumbs circle my nipples, hardening them into tight peaks. His mouth trail down her neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. I tilt her head back, exposing more of myself to him, my hands clutching at his shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice hoarse with need. His mouth finds my collarbone, his tonguetracing the hollow before moving lower, to the swell of my breast. Then his lips close around it, sucking it into his mouth. His hands continue trailing down my stomach, quickly slipping inside, brushing the lace of my panties. My breath catches as he pulls both my pants and panties down in one fluid motion.

“Margot,” he groans, his voice thick with desire. His fingers part my folds, circling the clit with a slow, deliberate motion. My hips synchronize into his touch, my body craving more. Then he slips two fingers inside of my pussy, moving them in and out in a quick motion.

“Grayson, please,” I gasp, my body tensing as my orgasm builds. He leans in, his mouth capturing mine, swallowing my whimpers as his fingers work their magic. He holds me tightly, his body pressing against mine as I ride out the waves of release.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grows, as he inserts his cock into me. His hips are moving in a steady rhythm, as he is sliding in and out of me. I wrap my legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with my own, my body responding to his with a hunger that matches his. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady, anchoring me to him as we move together in a rhythm that’s desperate and deliberate all at once. His mouth finds the curve of my neck, lips dragging across my skin as he murmurs my name like a prayer, like a secret only he’s allowed to speak.

Every thrust sends heat curling low in my belly, every brush of his skin against mine making my nerves spark with electric need. I dig my nails into his shoulders, needing something to hold on to, needinghim, all of him, like air. The room fades away, the rest of the world dissolving until there’s only this: the sharp pull of desire, the soft gasp of breath, the feeling of being completely, irrevocably undone by someone who knows exactly how to break through my walls.

Our rhythm builds, a dance of need and emotion, every movement deepening the connection neither of us wants tobreak. His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together as he drives into me with a raw, aching intensity and when we fall together, hearts racing, bodies trembling, it’s not just release. It’s surrender. To each other, to this moment, to something neither of us can deny anymore.

Later,as I stand in front of the mirror, my reflection is a mess of emotions I don’t want to analyze. My lips are swollen, my skin warm, and my pulse still erratic. Behind me, Grayson is pulling on his shirt, watching me in the reflection, his gaze unreadable.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice rough, low, laced with something almost tender.

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