Page 82 of When He Defends

“What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” Gray spun away.

“Why didn’t you tell me that I had disappointed you?”

Those words froze him. Gray shook his head because he must have misheard.

“I wondered why we didn’t talk about what happened between us this morning. Or at all during the day. Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going to pressure you for a repeat performance.”

He spun around so fast that Gray was kinda surprised that he didn’t give himself whiplash. “You can’t be serious right now.”

Those had better not betearsgleaming in her eyes.

She blinked, quickly, to try and bat them away.

Dammit, thoseweretears. His hands rose. He cupped her face. “There is nothing about you that could ever disappoint me. Not one single thing, do you understand me?”

“You don’t have to lie?—”

“Emerson, I have no tells when I lie. Unless Iwantto show someone a tell. Then I’ll rub my nose or swipe a hand over my jaw. Toss out some shit to make people think they understand me.” He used his fake tells in order to trick and manipulate others. “So you just have to take me at my word. I’m not lying. You were the best fuck of my life.”

She…squeaked.

So freaking adorable.

Then she confessed, “You were the best of mine, too, though I didn’t exactly have a lot to compare you against.”

Yeah, just her two-minute wonder of an ex.

“You didn’t mention what happened between us last night,” she breathed.

“Because I was trying to betactfuland not say, ‘Hey, Emerson, I want to fuck you up against the nearest wall at the earliest opportunity.’”

“Oh.”

Uh, huh.Oh.

She licked her lips. “When we came in this room—the first time, you know, with Hannah?—”

“Yeah, I know Hannah.”

“You just dropped me on the bed. Then you backed away.”

“The better not to fuck you because I was afraid I’d made you sore the night before. What with it being two years and all, and my dick being so big that I could feel you stretching around me with every inch that you took in that sweet, hot pussy.”

Her eyes held his. “I was sore.”

“I was trying to be a gentleman.”

A pause. “I don’t care about being sore.”

His breath expelled. He kissed his control goodbye and told her, “And I am sick to death of being a gentleman.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Touch my wife and I’ll rip you apart. Does that sound good? Am I getting the possessive vibe down just right? Let me try again…No one fucking touches my wife. Better?” – Gray Stone, practicing for no reason in particular because he already has the possessive vibe down when it comes to Emerson Marlowe

He grabbed her.Those big, warm, strong hands curled around her waist, and he lifted her up. Their mouths crashed together. Open. Hot. Eager. She sank her fingers into his hair and loved the softness against her skin even as his powerful grip held her upright.

He was aroused. His heavy dick shoved against her.