Page 262 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Solene

I’m cold, so cold. A shiver runs down my spine, traveling all the way to my feet, then bounces up the front of my legs.

A chill wracks me. My teeth chatter. I bring up my knees, curling them into my stomach, trying to keep in the warmth, but pain cuts through my side.

I gasp. The shivering intensifies. I’m cold, so cold.

So lonely. Where am I? Where is he? Declan? Why aren’t you here with me? Dec—

"Shh, baby, I’m here now."

As if my thoughts have conjured him, I hear his voice in my ear. The next second, warmth heats my back. What can only be his big body curves around me. Heat wafts off the hard muscles that spoon my back. I instantly push my ass back until it connects with a familiar thickness.

A groan rumbles from him. "Fuck, baby, don’t do that."

A weight descends about my middle, and he pulls me even closer. As if trained, I lift my head, and he slides his other arm under my neck. The heat intensifies, sinks into my blood. The chill finally dissipates. I stop trembling, let the sleep pull me under.

I come awake with a start. The scent of antiseptic that teases my nose, and the beeping of machines around me tells me I am in a hospital.

The last thing I remember is trying to fight off the pain in my body and then, nothing.

At least, the pain in my body seems to have ebbed somewhat. I open my eyes and still.

Facing me are dark, sooty eyelashes that block out those startling blue eyes from the world. For the first time, I watch him unobserved. I’ve never seen him sleep before this. How strange is that?

He’s always awake, doing something or glaring at me with that cold-fire gaze that makes my knees buckle.

That makes me want to sink to my knees and beg him to have his way with me.

It’s so distracting, I’m often unable to string my thoughts into sentences around him.

I’m too busy trying to cope with the overwhelming emotions he raises in me.

That complex need of wanting to be with him, to sink into him, to welcome him into my body, to allow him to have his way with me.

But I fight myself on this. I fight how he makes me feel. How he makes me want to conform to what he wants me to be, to be the kind of woman I thought I left behind. I didn’t want my family to tell me what to do but when he does, I like it; and I can't explain it.

I feel needy and weak when I'm with him, yet he also makes me feel safe and secure.

There’s nowhere else I’d be rather than by his side, but he makes it so difficult for us to be together.

It started because I was too young, too immature to stand up to my brother for him.

But he was older than me, and he should have known better than come to my room when I was alone.

What my brother did to him was unpardonable, but I've apologized to him for that. Declan says he’s forgiven me, yet he keeps hurting me.

And a part of me knows that’s because of his issues.

If only I could get through to him. If only he’d let me get through to him.

If only there were a way to start all over again. If only...

Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and it’s crazy, really, that I should be crying now, when so much has happened between us, but I’m unable to stop the tear that slides down my cheek.

"Don’t cry, Rabbit."

I still.

He flicks open those eyelids, and his powerful gaze settles on my features like the warmth of the early morning sun.

"You weren’t sleeping, were you?"

He doesn’t reply. He simply continues to take in every angle of my face. Without touching me, he manages to make me feel his phantom touch over my eyebrows, down my nose, under the curve of my lip.

I swallow. My pulse picks up. That familiar heat slides like honey down to the place between my thighs.

"Declan," I whisper.

He raises his hand and cups my cheek. "I’m sorry I left you like that. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come with me earlier. I’m sorry… so sorry, baby."

I frown. "Where’s this coming from?"

"I’m going to ask you something, and you’re not going to deny me this."

I look between his eyes. The look in them is so serious, so unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, a shiver of apprehension runs up my spine. "What is it?"

He swallows. For the first time, I sense Declan-motherfucking-Beauchamp is uncertain, and that fills me with apprehension.

"You can tell me, baby." I place my hand on his, then turn my face into his palm and kiss it. When I look back at his face, he’s shut his eyes.

There are hollows under his cheekbones, and he seems to have lost weight since I last saw him.

Also, when did he get here? "When did you get here?

" I ask aloud, then glance around the room. "How long have I been in here?"

"You’ve been out for almost an entire day."

"Whoa." I shake my head. "Guess I was really run down, eh?"

He brings his other palm up to frame my face. "Remember, I told you I would take care of you?"

I nod.

"Clearly, I’ve been doing a shit job of it. I’ll never forgive myself for this."

"For what?" I smile a little, but when he doesn’t reciprocate, that weird sensation in my belly intensifies. "I feel fine now. All the aches and pains seem to have disappeared, and I’m sure I can be back on my feet really soon."

"There’s something you need to know, baby."

"Okay, now you’re really scaring me."

The skin around his eyes tightens. "I’ll do anything for you, Rabbit. I’d give my life up… I will give my life up, if that’s what it takes to get you back on your feet."

"Now, now. Surely, there’s no need for such a dramatic gesture, and—" I nod slowly. "Now, I see what you’re doing."

His eyebrows knit. "You do?"

"It’s that last quarter of a smutty book, when the hero realizes he’s been wrong all along—which of course, you have been—"

"Of course," he murmurs with a small smile.

He smiled. OMG, it’s a teensy smile, but still… He smiled, so things can’t be that bad, eh? "— and decides the only way to win the heroine back is to grovel. That’s what this is, right?"

"You’re right." He nods slowly. "You’re always right, baby. Only, this is not only the groveling—a part I have yet to master—but this is also something more I want to do for you.”

I blink. "So, this is your... Grand gesture?” Yep, reading those smutty novels has also provided me with the vocabulary to express myself.

He leans in until his nose bumps mine, until his breath intertwines with mine, and those long, thick eyelashes of his tangle with mine.

Until I can make out the individual sparks in his eyes—a dizzying mix of blue and silver.

Until his lips are so close, I can taste him on my palate.

Until his features seem to soften and wear a look I’ve yearned to see on his face.

Mine. Mine. Mine. He couldn’t proclaim it louder if he shouted it out.

Funny how, sometimes, the unspoken word can be so much more powerful.

And coming from a word-slut, that’s saying something.

"You could call it that. You can call it by any name, as long as”—he pushes his forehead into mine and looks deeply into my eyes—"you promise to accept it.”