That, and neither of us has brought up the pregnancy just yet.
“Anyway, don’t answer me now. Just … think about it. You know I want you. It’s out there. Now it’s your problem. You decide what to do with it.” He sighs and leans back into the pillows, closing his eyes and pretending as if he’s just relaxing with his woman on his lap. In reality, our interaction’s sapped the last of his strength. He just can’t stand the thought of being vulnerable, so he hides it well.
The hospital gown has now sagged all the way to his waist, and I can see multiple bandages across the center part of his chest. If anyone has a right to feel vulnerable right now, it’d be Cade.
I move to climb off, and he actually squeezes my ass.
I toss an awful look back at him.
“You don’t deserve an entire girl to yourself anyway; you’d drain her dry.”
“You’re the vampire here, doll,” he tells me, opening his eyes back up just in time to match the dirty smile that’s curved over that obscene mouth of his.
I turn around to look at Cade, finding that intense gaze of his sweeping over me. It wouldn’t hurt to wonder if, in the past, some of our attraction had to do with circumstance.
After all, Beast was right: forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
I wasn’t allowed to have these men; they wouldn’t allow themselves to have me.
The setting matters, too, right? Like, motorcycles and leather and darkness are all very erotic, sexy things. But this? Standing in a bright sterile hospital room with a million unknowns spread across the sky like storm clouds, Grainger in a hospital bed, the soft shush and beeping of the machines monitoring him.
All of those other things are stripped away; it’s just us in here right now.
Even more than that, it’s raw as hell. It’s … tender in a way I’ve never experienced before.
I decide to change the subject before the atmosphere thickens any further.
“Did you hear about Gaz?” I ask, because I don’t have any fancy words or pretty prose to feed him or myself right now. I’m coming undone on the inside. It’s for the best; it’s what I needed. But it’s also the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, opening myself up to both love and pain.
Because in order to get the former, you accept that the latter is an inevitable part of the equation—especially when Cade motherfucking Grainger is involved.
Grainger adjusts himself a little, trying to sit up and then cursing. He squeezes his hands into fists on the sheets, digging his fingers into the bed and gritting with frustration. It’s like he’s royally pissed off at himself for being human.
“I heard.” His voice is starless, a night that’s black and endless, crawling with dark things with even darker intentions. “I should’ve fucking killed him sooner.” Grainger puts his hand over his face and breathes into it.
“You were hamstrung by Cat,” I say, trying to comfort him, which is just, like, weird? Me, comforting Cade goddamn Grainger. Whoever would’ve thought? “By me, even more so. If I’d just killed Grey, things might’ve gone down a hell of a lot differently.”
Grainger drops his hand into his lap, studying me like he’s never seen me before. It’s as if a veil’s been lifted, one that he placed over his own eyes. He isn’t looking at me like something that should be resisted. No, instead, he’s staring at me like something that should be consumed.
“I hope Crown remembers where he buried him so I can take a piss on his grave,” Grainger growls out, reaching up to swipe a thumb along the edge of my jaw. “Leave it to you to almost die on your wedding day.” He withdraws his hand, watching me warily, with a tightness to his face that disguises the real emotions hiding underneath that pretty scowl. “I’ll be home soon,” he assures me, but I’m not entirely certain that’s true. “Then we can talk this out more.”
Talk.
And I know exactly what it is that he wants to talk to me about. This pregnancy. The arrogant surety that the baby is his. Ugh.
“You think you’re capable of that?” I quip, drawing back just enough so that he can’t keep touching me. If he does, I’ll soon find myself incinerated to ashes on the floor. “Talking things out? That doesn’t seem like your style. Why don’t you lay out a line of coke and snort it with a sixteen-year-old girl?”
Grainger scowls at me, but his eyes track my movements as I head for the door, pausing as a nurse slips in and gives me a look. This is not the same nurse from before and, now that the swelling’s receded just a little and I’m dressed up like a proper club princess, she doesn’t look at me with pity anymore.
