Page 22 of Entangled

Grinding his teeth, he looks away, staring unseeingly at my window. “It’s all my fucking fault! You said you wanted to stay, but I convinced you to leave.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Luca.” I’m a hypocrite. I lie awake at night, wracked with guilt, too.

“Idoblame myself because itismy fault. They’ll sentence him to death because of me.”

“He killed her, Luca! He sentenced himself to death.”

“He swears he’s innocent!”

“Do you hear yourself? Don’t you think I’ve asked myself the same questions? It’s futile. The evidence says otherwise, Luca. He killed her.”

“He’s innocent!”

“CHLOE’S BLOOD WAS IN HIS ROOM!” I scream, surprising us both with the sheer power of emotion in my voice. We’re glaring at each other, chests panting. Neither of us wants to back down.

In one swift motion, he grabs the back of my head and slams his lips to mine, making me gasp into his mouth. He takes the opportunity to brush his soft tongue against mine; it’s the only gentle thing about him. His touch is rough, suffused with anger and guilt. The grief I taste on his hungry lips draws a moan from my throat. I clutch him tighter before shoving his jacket off his shoulders when he guides me onto my back. Climbing on top of me, he shrugs it off, tossing it to the floor, then pulls the back of his T-shirt over his head and discards it too. My hands instinctively find his warm chest, exploring the hard muscles as his lips descend on mine, kissing me until all thoughts leave my head. We’re using each other to dull the ache, our shared grief and guilt. If not for us and the decisions we made, we wouldn’t be here today.

“Fuck, Willow,” Luca moans, gripping my chin and turning my face to trail a path of scorching kisses down my arched neck.

My eyes collide with Grayson, who stands at his window with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. His tie is loose, and his sleeves have been rolled up to the elbow. He watches me steadily while Luca slides his hand underneath my tank top and bra cup. Deft fingers tweak my nipples, drawing another soft gasp from my lips. I can’t look away from Grayson, not even when Luca dives down to suck on the hardened peak. His warm mouth envelops me, and I let go of him to fist the sheets. I’ve never felt pleasure like this before. It makes sense now why Chloe always talked to me about sex with Dylan. I’ve only done it once before. It happened at a party last year. I was drunk, and the guy didn’t last more than five minutes. It would be an understatement to call it a disappointment.

Luca pops back up again and grips my chin, forcing my eyes back on his. His mouth descends again, kissing me hungrily while he works his belt buckle.

Breaking away, he shoves his jeans down to his thighs. I roll my head to look at Grayson, but he’s gone.

Luca shifts, breathing in my ear as his hand comes to my jeans button. I’m no longer hot. Staring numbly at Grayson’s empty room, I wonder what the hell I’m doing. Before I can push Luca off, there’s an insistent knock on the front door.

“Don’t open it,” Luca whispers, popping the button.

I shove him off. “I have to see who it is.”

The knocking turns into banging. Luca and I share a look as I straighten my clothes. He pulls his T-shirt back on.

“I’ll be right back.”

Leaving my room, I hurry down the steps to the entryway. The banging continues before it stops just as abruptly as it started. Grayson peers in through the window, and our eyes lock. I’m strangely relieved. The elation I feel inside me is entirely unwelcome.

When I unlock the door, he slams it open and shoulders past me. “Where the fuck is he?! Is he still in your bedroom?” Grayson doesn’t wait around for me to reply as he storms upstairs.

I run after him, pulling on his arm to get him to stop, but he’s all muscle and strength. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I’m throwing the piece of shit out!”

I pause at the top of the stairs, watching him stride down the hallway. Chasing after him, I hiss, “Are you insane?”

He doesn’t slow his stride.

Throwing open my bedroom door, he walks straight up to Luca and hauls him up by his T-shirt. “You think you can put your fucking hands on her?”

Luca stutters, “I-I’m sorry, M-Mr. Taylor—”

Grayson drops him. “Mr. Taylor? I’m not her fucking father!”

Luca looks between us before backing out of the room. Without another word, he bolts.

Grayson and I glare at each other in the ensuing silence. Neither one of us speaks until the front door shuts.

“What was that?” I demand. My voice is slightly hysterical. “I can’t believe you barged in here and scared him off like that!”

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