“Gray…” she mumbles, her cheek pressed against the wall.
“Tell me to stop,” I plead, even as I’m pushing her jeans down over her hips, taking her underwear along.
“Please…”
As the single word leaves her lips, her feet step out of the jeans puddled at her ankles, and she presses her naked ass back, tilting her hips in invitation.
“Baby, I can’t—”
Already I’m freeing my cock, sinking through my knees so I line the blunt tip up at her entrance.
“Please, Gray…”
What little restraint I had left vanishes when she whispers my name and I surge inside her tight heat.
Chapter Eleven
Robin
“Shit, Sunshine.”
He leans heavily against me and I can feel aftershocks coursing through his body.
That was unexpected. And fast.
“I’m so sorry.”
I feel him pull away and there’s an instant chill at my back.
“You disappear on me again and I’ll throat punch you,” I mumble, my face still pressed to the wall. My legs are trembling too hard for me to stand on my own.
“Not gonna disappear.”
I hear the sound of a zipper and feel his hand on my hip.
I swallow my ‘Thank God’ at the last second. I was hoping he wasn’t done yet, because I’m sure not. The next second I feel a trickle down my leg.
Well, shit.
“I’m leaking.”
I try to push off the wall but when that doesn’t work, I roll until my back is against the wall and I’m facing him. I see the guilt written all over his face.
“I swear I’m clean. Been no one since I went in. Jesus, Robin, I’m clean.”
The meaning of what he’s telling me is slow to register but when it does, it makes me curious.
“How long were you in prison?”
It’s clear he’d prefer not to answer by the way his eyes flit away.
“Can I grab a towel or something?”
Right. The slow drip down my leg.
I can’t bring myself to move yet, though. I’m part in shock and part mortified at my lack of control. I’m standing here with my panties and jeans on the floor at my feet, my business on full display. I should be mortified but the kicker is, there’s still part of me painfully aroused.
“Please,” I answer him. “Second door on the right is the bathroom. Grab my robe while you’re there,” I add last minute.
He doesn’t actually touch me, but I can feel his eyes on me, when he passes and heads down the hall.
I vaguely register sounds of running water as I test my legs and find them a bit sturdier. Before I have a chance to start moving, Gray appears with a washcloth and my ratty old robe. I hold out my hand but he ignores it, shocking me by dropping down on his knees in front of me.
“You don’t—”
“Eighteen years,” he interrupts me, as he carefully wipes the inside of my leg. I’m so shocked by his words; I forget what it is he’s doing. “Lost control. Did I hurt you?”
I hiss when the rough terrycloth brushes my sensitive clit and his eyes shoot up to mine. Those pale blue eyes full of concern. I quickly shake my head.
“No. You didn’t.”
“I gotta ask; are you protected? On the pill?”
“No.” Poor guy, I catch him flinching. “Had a hysterectomy after Paige was born,” I quickly explain, as he gets to his feet.
He pulls me away from the wall and wraps my robe around me, tossing the washcloth down the hall in the direction of the bathroom. Then he grabs my hand and leads me inside where he pulls me down on the couch, tucking me to his side.
I don’t fight him, I’m still trying to process what just happened, but at least I’m doing it with him right here.
“Eighteen years?” I tilt my head back and watch as an array of emotions plays out on his face. But I swear, the one left in his eyes when he turns them on me is guilt.
“Pled guilty to second-degree murder.”
I’m unable to stop my sharp inhale, and I instantly feel his body stiffen as he removes his arm from around my shoulders.
“Were you?” I ask when I find my words.
I have to know. Just because I can’t imagine him doing something like that doesn’t mean he didn’t. Still, I can tell my question makes him uncomfortable.
He stands up and walks over to the fireplace, where he studies my family pictures, while I wrap my robe around me a little tighter. Most of those photos are of Paige, but some include my parents and me. He trails a finger over a snapshot my father took of me when I was big as a house with my daughter, and still believed myself happy.
“Yes.”
I can barely hear his whispered response. His back is turned to me and with his shoulders hunched, it’s as if he’s bracing for impact.
It’s hard to reconcile the vulnerable man in front of me with someone who’d willingly take another’s life. In fact, what little I’ve seen from Gray Bennet, he’s a kind man and liked by people who know him better than I do.
“What happened?” I finally ask in a gentle tone.
He keeps his back turned, but I notice him gripping the edge of the mantle hard enough his knuckles turn white.
“My sister called me—crying. All I could hear was screaming in the background,” he starts, and already my heart is bleeding for him. He grunts. “Hadn’t even turned on the news yet, but then I did. Saw the smoke coming from those buildings, knowing Reagan was in there.” He takes a step back and bends over with his hands braced on the mantle, his head hanging down. “Asked me to help her, but all I could do was watch helplessly. Told me she loved me, and to tell
