Page 69 of The Illicit Play

“Sounds like a lot of pressure,” Grady softly murmurs.

“It is,” I croak.

“Do you think that’s why you let loose in college? The pressure just got to be too much, and you exploded?”

“Probably.” My voice is barely audible, a mumble that would be unacceptable in my house. Mom hates mumblers.

“And the shoplifting? Was that all part of… breaking free?”

I sit back up with a sigh, hitching my shoulder. “I know, right? You think a little partying and carefree sex would be enough to sate me, but I needed an extra thrill. And what better way for a pampered rich girl to get that—by stealing stuff she doesn’t actually need.” I cringe, rubbing my forehead and hating myself a little more.

When I spell it all out like this, I seriously am the world’s biggest idiot.

Grady’s nice enough not to say it, but surely he’s thinking it, so I feel compelled to explain. “It was such a rush. There was something so thrilling about the danger of nearly getting caught. And then that triumph when I got away with it. We thought we were motherfucking queens of the world.” Shaking my head, I wish I could explain this better, but I can’t. “Everything about my life up to that point had been so ordered. I was the good girl who did exactly what she was told. Always. I spent my life creating study timetables and goals, sticking to them, freaking out when I thought I might miss a deadline. I’d berate myself for getting less than an A+ on any test or assignment. Less than a 98 was a fail, you know?”

I glance at him and he nods, his closed-mouth smile small yet so understanding.

Seriously?

He’s sexyanda sweetheart.

Yeah, my heart is officially screwed!

Covering my face again, I let out a screaming wail. It’s a weird sound that probably scares the wildlife around me, but I can’t keep it in anymore.

“It’s okay to want to get out from under that pressure. It’s too much for anyone,” Grady states, filling the silence after my theatrical meltdown. “Maybe you just need to find some healthier ways to do it, you know?”

Dropping my hands, I look at him.

His lips twitch as he reaches up, tucking a reckless clump of hair behind my ear. “I can bail you out anytime, but there are more ways to have fun than being locked in the back room of Liquor King.”

A watery laugh punches out of me, my stomach shaking as it quickly turns into a whimpering little sob.

Grady gives the back of my neck another gentle squeeze before running his palm down my spine.

He feels so good. So sure and steady.

“I’m so lost right now, Grady,” I whisper. “And I can’t find my way out, because I don’t even know what my way is. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to settle this…” I tap my stomach. “This feeling inside me.”

“You’re gonna find it.” His calm, easy voice almost makes me believe him. But it can’t be that simple.

Nothing is ever simple.

Except the way that he’s looking at me right now.

No expectations. No pressure.

Just a calm, quiet look that doesn’t demand anything from me.

There’s no judgment here. He’s not silently telling me to put on a bright smile. I can be a wreck, and he’s not gonna mind.

Reaching up, I brush my fingers down his cheek—a silent show of thanks.

My thumb skims along his lower lip, and I can see the remnants of the split lip he got defending me. Saving me.

“Thank you,” I mouth, leaning forward before I can stop myself and pressing a soft kiss to the wound.

He stiffens against me, but I hold steady, not pulling away like he probably wants me to.